CHAPTER X.
BATTLE ROYAL.
Mr. Worth had built for himself a plank house with shingled roof--thefirst real house the boys had entered since they left Bismarck.
Their father was away when they arrived, to be gone for some weeks, sothe boys had a chance to have some of the fun they had longed for. Theyexpected to have great sport with the miners' sons, but were keenlydisappointed to find that their tastes were utterly different. Thelatter were as a rule Eastern boys, and were versed in civilizedamusements: baseball, marbles, tops, and all the games of skill andstrength dear to the town dwellers. Of all these our boys knew nothing;their amusements were akin to their work--to ride well and shootstraight was a matter of business as well as pleasure for them. And sothe Worth boys and those of the camp stood aloof from one another, andJohn and Ben were soon almost as unhappy as they had been on the sheeprange.
They still hoped to have an opportunity to show their skill as wrestlersand fighters in the emphatic way that was the custom in that day andplace, but for a long time the camp boys gave them no provocation. Astime went on, however, the mining boys grew overbearing and insultingand never lost an opportunity to taunt and aggravate the youngWesterners.
"I'm going to lick that Jake Adams within an inch of his life," saidJohn, wrathfully, one day to his brother. "He's the worst one of thelot."
"All right," said Ben. "I'm with you."
Pretty soon an opportunity came, and John challenged Jake to fight. Heaccepted at once. A ring was formed on the outskirts of the camp by theboys and some of the men who guaranteed fair play. The contest thatfollowed was short, sharp, and decisive. John kept his head and madeevery blow tell, while Jake in his anger forgot all he knew and defendedhimself so poorly that his opponent soon satisfied him he was the betterman.
After this such contests, generally not quite so earnest, were frequent.From most of them John came out victorious, and for a time the othersceased to taunt the Worth boys. But the feeling was far from being asfriendly as it ought to have been between the two factions. Even thesettlement of the arguments in so thorough a manner failed to clear theair entirely.
MR. WORTH HAD BUILT FOR HIMSELF A NEW HOUSE. (_Page157._)]
THE SHEEP RANCH HOUSE. (_Page 137._)]
The miners admired pluck and skill, and John had many friends amongthem. His father, too, did not disapprove, for he also admired one whocould give and take hard knocks. His approval was never outspoken,however; on the contrary he made John's bruises the subject of hischaffing. To John--who, in spite of his apparent indifference, was verysensitive and craved sympathy--this was almost unbearable.
As John predicted, young Watson failed to get the mails in on time. Johnat once offered to undertake the job, and after some questioning theauthorities decided he was capable of accomplishing it. Here wassomething he could do that would test his intelligence, his strength,and his courage. It was work and amusement at the same time, and heaccepted it gladly.
Ragged Edge had sprung up in a gulch fourteen miles from the coal camp.It was a new camp of the mushroom variety, called suddenly into being bythe discovery of some gold-bearing gravel in the creek there. Deep snowson the range nearly cut off communication with the outer world for threemonths in the year. By following the high, wind-swept ridge, themountain could be crossed by a venturesome horseman till winter came onand the snows grew too deep, when snowshoes must be resorted to. Evenlate in the summer snowshoes were necessary to travel over the softmasses of the snow which always crowned the summit.
When John presented himself as a candidate for mail rider, Burns, theboss at Ragged Edge, looked at him in good-natured amusement. "Well,kid, if you think you can do it, go ahead and try. But it means work andp'raps danger." John told of his snowshoeing experiences in Dakotamodestly but straightforwardly, and satisfied him by his resolute mienthat he had the pluck to do it if any one could.
The boy spent several days in going over the ground, noting the bestline to follow and making sure of his landmarks before the snows shouldcover up everything. He found at the top of the pass an old, abandonedcabin and marked its location in his mind in case of future necessity.This bit of precaution served him well before the winter was over.
"You had better get a good strong horse," said Mr. Worth, as John wasmounting Baldy--for the trips had already begun. "Baldy's too old.You'll need a good young horse."
John said nothing for a minute, but patted his steed as if to expresshis confidence in him.
"Oh, no, sir. Baldy knows me and I know Baldy, and I think I can getalong better with him than I could with any other horse," he said,rather anxiously, for he was afraid that his companion would be deniedhim. "Besides," he continued, "Baldy can smell a trail through two feetof snow, and isn't he in good condition? You can't see a rib."
"All right," returned his father. "He's yours, and the job's yours. Goahead and work it out the way you think best."
So boy and horse encountered the perils of the mountain pass together,friends always, but now sole companions.
While there was no sign of snow in the valleys, it was falling steadilyin the mountains. John did not carry out his first plan of tetheringBaldy at the snow line on the mine side of the mountains and coveringthe rest of the distance on snowshoes. He found that by following thebare ridges he could go the whole distance on horseback. His route waschanged almost every day, for the wind formed drifts in different placesand blocked the old way ten feet deep over night. In certain places cutsin the ridge would become filled with snow, and through this horse andrider had to flounder till a hard trail had been packed. It was in suchspots that Baldy's cleverness manifested itself; he rarely missed thenarrow, packed path, though it might be buried two feet or more. Anincautious step to one side was sure to cause both horse and rider todisappear in the soft mass.
"Well, I must say you have done pretty well so far," said Burns one day,as John dismounted and handed him the packet of mail.
"Yes; haven't missed a trip," he answered rather proudly. "Don't know ifI'd have made such a good record if I hadn't the best snow horse goingthough. Been snowshoeing it two weeks ago if it wasn't for Baldy." Hestopped to stroke the animal's nose affectionately. "I vowed this shouldbe his last trip, it's getting harder and harder; but he's such goodcompany I hate to give him up."
Next morning, as Burns handed out the return mail, he warned the boythat bad weather was coming, and suggested that he leave the horsebehind, for he would be more of a hindrance than a help. "Those blackclouds mean that we're in for a big storm," he said, "and I tell youthat you and your horse had better stay here. I can't boss you, kid, butI advise you not to fool with that storm--it's coming sure and you don'tknow what it means up here." In spite of this John decided to go onBaldy, for he wished to leave him safe at his father's camp.
The hard travelling had begun to tell on the sturdy little horse; hisbody was not so round as formerly, nor his step so springy, but hecarried his young rider well for all that and was as knowing and carefulas ever.
John tucked the package of precious letters in his saddle-bag, and aftercalling out a good-by to Burns he set out. He had barely reached highground when snow began to fall heavily and with it came a blustering,roaring wind that buffeted the travellers roundly. The horse slackenedhis speed, and, by signs that John knew well, advised retreat. The boyurged him forward, however, saying aloud--for he always felt as if Baldycould understand everything he told him--"No, old man, if we go back nowyou'll have to winter in the Ragged Edge gulch and you'll die sure. Wecan make it all right." The good beast seemed to acquiesce in hismaster's judgment, for he went along without further hesitation. Thetrail now was covered almost knee deep, and the blinding mist andwhirling flakes blotted out nearly all landmarks. They pushed forward,at one moment right in the teeth of the blast, at the next turning asharp corner and running before it, heads down, eyes almost closed, therider depending on the keen senses of his steed to find the way.
At length Baldy stopped, and
John felt, with a thrill of real alarm,that he had lost the trail. To go forward seemed impossible, to go backalmost as bad. To and fro they went, in vain efforts to find the way.Baldy still floundered along, his hoofs covered with gunny sacks toprevent their sharp edges from cutting through the crust; but his sidesbegan to heave and his legs to shake under him, for the exertion ofbreaking through the drifts from one wind-swept ridge to another wasmost exhausting. John could stand it no longer; he slipped off his backand caught his head in both arms: "Why did I bring you out here?" hesaid, in bitter self-reproach. It was evident that if he did not findshelter soon his old friend would freeze to death.
There was one chance for himself: he was light and might be able to makehis way over the snow to Ragged Edge Camp, perhaps; but what would thenbecome of his faithful friend? Could he leave him to such a fate afterhe had so spent himself for his master's sake? Baldy stood knee deep inthe cruel, treacherous, white snow, his head down, quick, spasmodicpuffs coming from his nostrils, his body steaming, and his flanks all ina tremble. There was only one chance for the lives of both. Johnremembered the abandoned hut at the top of the pass--if they couldpossibly reach that, they might be able to weather the storm together.He determined to try. Fastening Baldy's bridle rein to his fore leg, sothat he could not follow, and giving him an affectionate pat on thenose, he started off, his teeth set determinedly. A few yards away thedriving snow shut Baldy off from his sight entirely, but a gentle whinnyreached him and brought a lump into his throat.
"That's all right, old boy," he called aloud; "I'm not going to leaveyou. I'll be back." He turned in the direction he thought the cabinshould be and fought his way on. The wind seemed like a howling fiend;it tore at his clothing, blew the particles of snow into his eyes, andraised such a veil of mist and frost that he could not see ten yardsahead of him. On the high, bare ridges the blast nearly took him off hisfeet and in the hollows the snow banks engulfed him. Still he struggledon, straining his eyes forward into the gray chaos that confronted him,determined to find the shelter. A vision of Baldy standing dejectedlyalone, his rough brown coat turned white by the sleet, his faithful oldeyes half closed, drove the boy on irresistibly, for, next to hisbrother, he loved his horse better than anything else in the world.
He ploughed through drift after drift, following one ridge, for only bykeeping one such landmark in sight was it possible to go in any givendirection. Would that haven of rest ever come into view? Even his stoutheart began to despair; he was weary, his body bathed in sweat, yet hisface, feet, and hands numb with cold; the elements seemed to conspireagainst him. He was only a boy, and it seemed hard that he should giveup his life. He stood still and looked drearily down the hillside.Nothing, nothing but the deadly snow. He began to wonder if it was worthwhile to fight against such odds any longer.
And then in this abjectness he suddenly gave a cry of delight. For thewind rent the snow apart for an instant and he caught a glimpse throughthe driving flakes of a dead tree and near it a peculiarly shaped, greatgray rock. They seemed positively human, like old friends, for theshelter he sought stood just to the left of them.
He began at once to look for a place where Baldy might be led down insafety. This was impossible where he stood--it was far too steep androcky. A detour made with infinite pains and exertion brought him to thecabin by a path that he thought the sure-footed beast might follow.
How John found his way to the half-frozen beast and then slowly got himback to the cabin he never knew. Only his indomitable pluck and histraining pulled him through. But at last the terrible journey was safelyaccomplished, and boy and steed stood before the low door.
John took off the saddle, and the intelligent animal, bending his kneesa little, squeezed through. The boy followed, throwing the saddleblanket over the horse's shivering flanks and wondering if they weresafe, even now. At best it was a poor shelter; the wind blew the sharp,powdery snow through the chinks in the logs and kept the temperaturealmost as low within as without, but at least there was a roof and awind break.
After a short rest, John scrambled up the slope to the dead tree andbroke off some branches. The wood was still dry, except on the veryoutside, and made good kindling. Soon a fire was blazing, and boy andbeast absorbed the heat gratefully. Only those who have suffered greatand deadly cold can realize the delight of sitting before a blaze oncemore. The very sight of the flames puts life into the veins and makes amere nightmare of what was just now a grim and awful reality.
Thoroughly warmed, and with new courage and strength, John went outsideagain and began to stop up the chinks with snow and to scrape banks ofit up against the walls. The heat from within melted the inner surface,which afterwards froze and prevented the wind from blowing it away.
All day John was kept busy gathering wood and patching the walls. Bynightfall a good supply of fuel had been collected and the little cabinwas by comparison comfortable. There was little sleep for the boy thatnight, however. The fury of the storm did not abate; the wind howledround their little refuge, shaking it so it seemed as if it would beimpossible for it to withstand the blast.
All night long he listened to the roaring of the wind, taking "cat naps"during the short lulls that came at intervals. The fire requiredconstant replenishment, and Baldy, unaccustomed to confinement in such asmall space, was so restless that continual watchfulness was necessaryto keep from under his feet, though the good horse would never haveharmed his young master except by accident. Both boy and beast beganalso to suffer greatly from hunger.
At dawn the gale subsided somewhat, and John realized that he must getfood at once if his life and that of his horse were to be saved.Breaking through the snow bank which had piled up against the rude door,he made his way to a creek half a mile down the mountain and cut withhis knife an armful of poplar saplings and carried them back to the hut.Baldy tore off the bark from these and munched it contentedly; anotherarmful was added to the store, and then John bade his equine friendgood-by and started off to find food and shelter for himself.
The six miles that separated the lonely cabin from the mining camp werethe longest and most trying that John had ever travelled, he thought.Great drifts barred his way, the wind, still strong, blew in his faceand seemed bent on his destruction, his empty stomach weakened him, andlack of sleep undermined his resolution.
From dawn till noon day he battled with the snow, and when at last hereached his father's house he was hardly able to answer the questionswhich his overjoyed family put to him.
A man was sent back to look after Baldy. He found that good horsechewing poplar bark as calmly as if he was in his own stable, thoughthe cabin was so small and the horse so large in comparison that itappeared to be resting on his back, like the howdah on an elephant. Forseveral days Baldy was kept in the cabin and fed on hay, which had to becarried to him on foot; then, after considerable trouble, for a trailhad to be stamped down much of the way, he was led back in triumph tothe camp, where John, rather weak in the knees, greeted him joyfully.
For a week Ragged Edge Camp did not receive any mail. Late one afternoonJohn appeared on snowshoes, bearing the precious packet. He had torepeat his story many times, and Burns had the satisfaction ofqualifying his admiration of the boy's pluck with an emphatic "I toldyou so."
John continued to carry the mail between Ragged Edge Camp and therailroad every three or four days: at first on foot, then, as the snowmelted, on his faithful Baldy once more.
Though his work took him away from camp much of the time, John wascontinually running foul of the boys who belonged to the other faction,and Ben was the object of their unceasing abuse. A crowd of thesefellows would stop their games and yell at them those taunts which areso exasperating to a boy:
"There go those Western jays."
HE ... BUCKS, PITCHES, KICKS. (_Page 265._)]
"Look at the kids that don't know the difference between a baseball anda lump of mud."
It was true that our boys were not up on the national game or any othergame played
simply for amusement; their sports were merely another formof some kind of work.
Then the camp boys began to taunt John on his fighting abilities, theirobject being to get him to stand up against some one who would be sureto beat him. This was one of John's weak points; he was immensely proudof his prowess as a fighter; so when one of the boys said in hispresence: "Worth said to-day that he could lick Casey," he did notcorrect the falsehood there and then, but put on an air of superioritythat had the effect desired. Casey, though not a big fellow, was out ofhis 'teens, and had the reputation of being a "scrapper from 'way back,"as the boys said. He also heard the young mischief-maker's statement."Jab him, Casey; he's only a bluffer," said several of his companions.He could not ignore the challenge which was plainly indicated, and,according to boy customs, not to be avoided. Few boys know how muchbravery it takes to dare an unjust imputation of cowardice. John andCasey were soon talking hotly--not that they had anything against eachother, but they were being egged on and neither could withstand thepressure. The result was a fight, the consequences of which had greatinfluence, on one of the principals at least.
Casey was really a grown man, and John had never fought in earnest withone old enough to wear a mustache, but his blood was up now and he wouldnot back down.
The two retired behind a large stable and a crowd of men and boys formeda ring.
"Keep him at arm's length," whispered Ben, as he took off his brother'scoat and _cinched_ up his belt firmly round his waist. "Don't let himhug you and you'll lick him, sure." Ben spoke confidently, but he was inreality consumed with anxiety. John said nothing, but the look ofreckless determination on his face spoke volumes.
The two antagonists now stood face to face, but neither had yet struck ablow. "How do you want to fight?" Casey asked.
"You fight your way and I'll fight my way," John answered; and at theword struck out. The crowd yelled "Foul," but neither took any notice.The blow was not a hard one, but it served its purpose, for it stoppedthe talk and began open hostilities.
Casey came at John, his arms jerking back and forth, but hittingnothing. John drew his lead and then, as his guard was lowered, threw inhis own left with staggering effect. This angered Casey greatly, and herushed his opponent in a vain effort to get in a deciding blow at once;but his rushes were avoided nimbly, and as his defence was careless manyblows were rained on his head and body. Evidently the boy knew moreabout boxing than he did, Casey thought, and as the method of fightingwas left undecided he determined to change his tactics. In arough-and-tumble fight he knew his age and strength would tell. To closein and grapple with John was his purpose now. So far the battle was inthe boy's favor, and a number of the wavering ones came over to hisside. "He's getting low now, Worth. Swing on him," said one of them; andJohn, acting on the advice, quickly landed a stiff one on the jaw. Caseyfell, but John stood to one side and waited till he got up. He was angryclear through. Again and again he rushed, but was beaten off each time.He aimed a savage blow, which John almost succeeded in dodging. Itlanded lightly, but gave Casey the opportunity he sought and theyclinched, the miner hugging with all his might.
"Oh, John!" muttered Ben.
"Good work," yelled the crowd, who had suddenly deserted to Casey'sside.
It was the greatest squeeze that John had ever had. The blood rushed tohis head, his breathing became more and more difficult, but still hestruggled, twisted, and strained, and at last both fell and the man'sterrible grip was loosened. He did not let go, however, and in a coupleof seconds both were on their feet and struggling with might and main togain the mastery. Again they went down, this time John underneath and onhis back. The crowd paused an instant before pulling Casey off, butduring that pause he made good use of his time, raining blow after blowon John's upturned face. John was licked.
Most of the spectators followed the victor, but some remained behind,not to sympathize and condole, but to jeer at John's defeat and laugh athis discomfiture. It was gall and bitterness to the boy, and he was gladto get away out of earshot. Ben helped him put on his clothes and ledhim down to the creek to bathe his bruised face. "What's the matter withyour hand?" Ben said suddenly, as he noticed the blood trickling overthe knuckles of his brother's right hand.
"He chewed it," John answered.
"What! bit you!" Ben exclaimed.
"My arm was around his neck and he grabbed my thumb in his mouth. Hewouldn't have got me so easy but for that."
For a time neither boy said a word. How a man could do such "dirtywork" as Ben said, was more than he could understand.[A]
[Footnote A: John Worth bears the marks of Casey's teeth on his thumb tothis day.]
On the way back to the house several fellows stopped to call at John ashe went by, for the news had spread. He realized that it would take along time to live down this disgrace. His heart was sore; it seemed asif this was the culmination of all his hardships; he felt as if his lifehad been all work and no play, that his efforts to do his duty had notbeen appreciated, that though other boys might enjoy themselves much ofthe time (and he had seen them in this very camp) he must work, work,work; he felt, in short, very much abused and at swords' points witheverybody--his brother excepted. One more blow of bad luck, he thought,would "cap the climax" and would result in he knew not what desperation.
Before the boys had reached the house the news of his defeat had beenmade known there, and Mr. Worth, thinking that John had become more orless a bully, determined that the lesson he had received should be alasting one.
"Hello, John!" he said jovially, as the two boys came slowly in, "youmet your match to-day, I hear. Whipped you well, didn't he?"
John hung his head and tried to hide the tears that would rush out overhis swollen cheeks.
"Hold up here, let me see your face," said the father roughly. "Well, hedid give it to you: eyes blacked, face scratched, mouth swollen--you'rea sight. You'll be more careful next time, I guess," he added.
John turned on his heel and left the room.
"Ben," he said, on meeting his brother outside, "I'm going away."
"Going away?" Ben repeated in wonder. "Where are you going?"
"I don't know; I don't care. I'm not going to show my face in campagain; even father at home laughs and jeers at me. I'm going to leaveto-night."
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