CHAPTER VI
"NOTHIN' BUT A HOSS THIEF, ANYWAY"
The island teemed with early sunflowers and hints of goldenrod yet tocome. The fine, white, sandy soil deadened the sound of the horses'hoofs. They seemed to be spinning through space. Under the cottonwoodsit grew dusky and still.
At the toll house a dingy buckboard in a state of weird dilapidation,with a team of shaggy buckskin ponies, stood waiting. Jim drew up. Twomen were lounging in front of the shanty, chatting to the toll-man.
"Hello, Jim!" called one of them, a tall, slouching fellow with sandycoloring.
"Now, how the devil did you git so familiar with my name?" growled Jim.
"The Three Bars is gettin' busy these days," spoke up the second man,with an insolent grin.
"You bet it is," bragged Jim. "When the off'cers o' the law git tosleepin' with hoss thieves and rustlers, and take two weeks to arrest abunch of 'em, when they know prezactly where they keep theirselves, andhave to have special deputies app'inted over 'em five or six times andthen let most o' the bunch slip through their fingers, it's time forsome one to git busy. And when Jesse Black and his gang are so desp'ritthey pizen the chief witnesses--"
A gentle pressure on his arm stopped him. He turned inquiringly.
"I wouldn't say any more," whispered Louise. "Let's get on."
The hint was sufficient, and with the words, "Right you are, MissReporter, we'll be gittin' on," Jim paid his toll and spoke to his team.
"Just wait a bit, will you?" spoke up the sandy man.
"What for?"
"We're not just ready."
"Well, we are," shortly.
"We aren't, and we don't care to be passed, you know."
He spoke indifferently. In deference to Louise, Jim waited. The mensmoked on carelessly. The toll-man fidgeted.
"You go to hell! The Three Bars ain't waitin' on no damned hossthieves," said Jim, suddenly.
His nervous team sprang forward. Quick as a flash the sandy man was inthe buckboard. He struck the bays a stinging blow with his rawhide, andas they swerved aside he swung into the straight course to the narrowbridge of boats. In another moment the way would be blocked. With aburning oath Jim, keeping to the side of the steep incline till theriver mire cut him off, deliberately turned his stanch little teamsquarely, and crowded them forward against the shaggy buckskins. It wasteam against team. Louise, clinging tightly to the seat, lips pressedtogether to keep back any sound, felt a wild, inexplicable thrill ofconfidence in the strength of the man beside her.
The bays were pitifully, cruelly lashed by the enraged owner of thebuckskins, but true as steel to the familiar voice that had guided themso often and so kindly, they gave not nor faltered. There was a snappingof broken wood, a wrench, a giving way, and the runabout sprang overdebris of broken wheel and wagon-box to the narrow confines of thepontoon bridge.
"The Three Bars is gettin' busy!" gibed Jim over his shoulder.
"It's a sorry day for you and yours," cried the other, in black and uglywrath.
"We ain't afeared. You're nothin' but a hoss thief, anyway!" respondedJim, gleefully, as a parting shot.
"Now what do you suppose was their game?" he asked of the girl at hisside.
"I don't know," answered Louise, thoughtfully. "But I thought it notwise to say too much to them. You are a witness, I believe you said."
"Then you think they are part o' the gang?"
"I consider them at least sympathizers, don't you? They seemed down onthe Three Bars."
In the Indian country at last. Mile after mile of level, barrenstretches after the hill region had been left behind. Was there no endto the thirst-inspiring, monotonous, lonely reach of cacti? Prairiedogs, perched in front of their holes, chattered and scolded at them.The sun went down and a refreshing coolness crept over the hard, bakedearth. Still, there was nothing but distance anywhere in all the land,and a feeling of desolation swept over the girl.
The air of August was delicious now that night was coming on. There wasno wind, but the swift, unflagging pace of the Boss's matched team madea stiff breeze to play in their faces. It was exhilarating. Thelistlessness and discouragement of the day were forgotten. Throwing herrain-coat over her shoulders, Louise felt a clumsy but strangely gentlehand helping to draw it closer around her. Someway the action, simple asit was, reminded her of the look in that brakeman's eyes, when he hadasked her if she were homesick. Did this man think she was homesick,too? She was grateful; they were very kind. What a lot of good peoplethere were in the world! Now, Jim Munson did not call her "little whitelamb" to himself, the metaphor never entered his mind; but in his big,self-confident heart he did feel a protecting tenderness for her. Shewas not like any woman he had ever seen, and it was a big, lonesomecountry for a slip of a girl like her.
The moon came up. Then there were miles of white moonlight and lonelyplain. But for some time now there has been a light in front of them. Itis as if it must be a will-o'-the-wisp. They never seem to get to it.But at last they are there. The door is wide open. A pleasant odor ofbacon and coffee is wafted out to the tired travellers.
"Come right in," says the cheery voice of Mary. "How tired you must be,Miss Dale. Tie up, Jim, and come in and eat something before you go.Well, you can eat again--two suppers won't hurt you. I have kept thingswarm for you. Your train must have been late. Yes, Dad is better, thankyou. He'll be all right in the morning."
Langford of the Three Bars Page 6