by Ralph Connor
CHAPTER XVI
BILL'S FINANCING
Bill's method of conducting the sale of the pinto was eminentlysuccessful as a financial operation, but there are those in the SwanCreek country who have never been able to fathom the mystery attachingto the affair. It was at the fall round-up, the beef round-up, as itis called, which this year ended at the Ashley Ranch. There wererepresentatives from all the ranches and some cattle-men from acrossthe line. The hospitality of the Ashley Ranch was up to its ownlofty standard, and, after supper, the men were in a state of highexhilaration. The Hon. Fred and his wife, Lady Charlotte, gavethemselves to the duties of their position as hosts for the day with aheartiness and grace beyond praise. After supper the men gathered roundthe big fire, which was piled up before the long, low shed, which stoodopen in front. It was a scene of such wild and picturesque interest ascan only be witnessed in the western ranching country. About the fire,most of them wearing "shaps" and all of them wide, hard-brimmed cowboyhats, the men grouped themselves, some reclining upon skins thrown uponthe ground, some standing, some sitting, smoking, laughing, chatting,all in highest spirits and humor. They had just got through with theirseason of arduous and, at times, dangerous toil. Their minds were fullof their long, hard rides, their wild and varying experiences with madcattle and bucking broncos, their anxious watchings through hot nights,when a breath of wind or a coyote's howl might set the herd off ina frantic stampede, their wolf hunts and badger fights and all themarvellous adventures that fill up a cowboy's summer. Now these were allbehind them. To-night they were free men and of independent means, fortheir season's pay was in their pockets. The day's excitement, too, wasstill in their blood, and they were ready for anything.
Bill, as king of the bronco-busters, moved about with the slow, carelessindifference of a man sure of his position and sure of his ability tomaintain it.
He spoke seldom and slowly, was not as ready-witted as his partner, HiKendal, but in act he was swift and sure, and "in trouble" he couldbe counted on. He was, as they said, "a white man; white to the back,"which was understood to sum up the true cattle man's virtues.
"Hello, Bill," said a friend, "where's Hi? Hain't seen him around!"
"Well, don't jest know. He was going to bring up my pinto."
"Your pinto? What pinto's that? You hain't got no pinto!"
"Mebbe not," said Bill, slowly, "but I had the idee before you spokethat I had."
"That so? Whar'd ye git him? Good for cattle?" The crowd began togather.
Bill grew mysterious, and even more than usually reserved.
"Good fer cattle! Well, I ain't much on gamblin', but I've got a leetlein my pants that says that there pinto kin outwork any blanked bronco inthis outfit, givin' him a fair show after the cattle."
The men became interested.
"Whar was he raised?"
"Dunno."
"Whar'd ye git him? Across the line?"
"No," said Bill stoutly, "right in this here country. The Dook thereknows him."
This at once raised the pinto several points. To be known, and, asBill's tone indicated, favorably known by The Duke, was a testimonial towhich any horse might aspire.
"Whar'd ye git him, Bill? Don't be so blanked oncommunicatin'!" said animpatient voice.
Bill hesitated; then, with an apparent burst of confidence, he assumedhis frankest manner and voice, and told his tale.
"Well," he said, taking a fresh chew and offering his plug to hisneighbor, who passed it on after helping himself, "ye see, it was likethis. Ye know that little Meredith gel?"
Chorus of answers: "Yes! The red-headed one. I know! She's adaisy!--reg'lar blizzard!--lightnin' conductor!"
Bill paused, stiffened himself a little, dropped his frank air anddrawled out in cool, hard tones: "I might remark that that young ladyis, I might persoom to say, a friend of mine, which I'm prepared to backup in my best style, and if any blanked blanked son of a street sweeperhas any remark to make, here's his time now!"
In the pause that followed murmurs were heard extolling the manyexcellences of the young lady in question, and Bill, appeased, yieldedto the requests for the continuance of his story, and, as he describedGwen and her pinto and her work on the ranch, the men, many of whom hadhad glimpses of her, gave emphatic approval in their own way. But as hetold of her rescue of Joe and of the sudden calamity that had befallenher a great stillness fell upon the simple, tender-hearted fellows,and they listened with their eyes shining in the firelight with growingintentness. Then Bill spoke of The Pilot and how he stood by her andhelped her and cheered her till they began to swear he was "all right";"and now," concluded Bill, "when The Pilot is in a hole she wants tohelp him out."
"O' course," said one. "Right enough. How's she going to work it?" saidanother.
"Well, he's dead set on to buildin' a meetin'-house, and them fellowsdown at the Creek that does the prayin' and such don't seem to back himup!"
"Whar's the kick, Bill?"
"Oh, they don't want to go down into their clothes and put up for it."
"How much?"
"Why, he only asked 'em for seven hundred the hull outfit, and wouldgive 'em two years, but they bucked--wouldn't look at it."
[Chorus of expletives descriptive of the characters and personalappearance and belongings of the congregation of Swan Creek.]
"Were you there, Bill? What did you do?"
"Oh," said Bill, modestly, "I didn't do much. Gave 'em a little bluff."
"No! How? What? Go on, Bill."
But Bill remained silent, till under strong pressure, and, as if makinga clean breast of everything, he said:
"Well, I jest told 'em that if you boys made such a fuss about anythin'like they did about their Gospel outfit, an' I ain't sayin' anythin'agin it, you'd put up seven hundred without turnin' a hair."
"You're the stuff, Bill! Good man! You're talkin' now! What did they sayto that, eh, Bill?"
"Well," said Bill, slowly, "they CALLED me!"
"No! That so? An' what did you do, Bill?"
"Gave 'em a dead straight bluff!"
[Yells of enthusiastic approval.]
"Did they take you, Bill?"
"Well, I reckon they did. The master, here, put it down."
Whereupon I read the terms of Bill's bluff.
There was a chorus of very hearty approvals of Bill's course in "nottaking any water" from that variously characterized "outfit." But theresponsibility of the situation began to dawn upon them when some oneasked:
"How are you going about it, Bill?"
"Well," drawled Bill, with a touch of sarcasm in his voice, "there'sthat pinto."
"Pinto be blanked!" said young Hill. "Say, boys, is that little girlgoing to lose that one pony of hers to help out her friend The Pilot?Good fellow, too, he is! We know he's the right sort."
[Chorus of, "Not by a long sight; not much; we'll put up the stuff!Pinto!"]
"Then," went on Bill, even more slowly, "there's The Pilot; he's goingfor to ante up a month's pay; 'taint much, o' course--twenty-eight amonth and grub himself. He might make it two," he added, thoughtfully.But Bill's proposal was scorned with contemptuous groans. "Twenty-eighta month and grub himself o' course ain't much for a man to save moneyout ov to eddicate himself." Bill continued, as if thinking aloud, "O'course he's got his mother at home, but she can't make much more thanher own livin', but she might help him some."
This was altogether too much for the crowd. They consigned Bill and hisplans to unutterable depths of woe.
"O' course," Bill explained, "it's jest as you boys feel about it. MebbeI was, bein' hot, a little swift in givin' 'em the bluff."
"Not much, you wasn't! We'll see you out! That's the talk! There'sbetween twenty and thirty of us here."
"I should be glad to contribute thirty or forty if need be," said TheDuke, who was standing not far off, "to assist in the building of achurch. It would be a good thing, and I think the parson should beencouraged. He's the right sort."
"I'll c
over your thirty," said young Hill; and so it went from one toanother in tens and fifteens and twenties, till within half an hour Ihad entered three hundred and fifty dollars in my book, with Ashley yetto hear from, which meant fifty more. It was Bill's hour of triumph.
"Boys," he said, with solemn emphasis, "ye're all white. But that leetlepale-faced gel, that's what I'm thinkin' on. Won't she open them bigeyes ov hers! I cherish the opinion that this'll tickle her some."
The men were greatly pleased with Bill and even more pleased withthemselves. Bill's picture of the "leetle gel" and her patheticallytragic lot had gone right to their hearts and, with men of that stamp,it was one of their few luxuries to yield to their generous impulses.The most of them had few opportunities of lavishing love and sympathyupon worthy objects and, when the opportunity came, all that was best inthem clamored for expression.