Ted Strong in Montana

by Edward C. Taylor

  CHAPTER XXX.

  "THE WOOFER" APPEARS.

  Presently Stella heard the clatter of many pony hoofs on the turf, thena succession of yells, and Ted, Ben, and Bud galloped into the circle oflight made by her fire.

  "Hello, what have we here?" asked Ted, riding up and flinging himselffrom the saddle.

  "I found this Indian girl, Singing Bird, daughter of Cloud Chief, lyinghere with a wound in her breast that would have killed an ordinarymortal, but I think she is getting better."

  "We got worried about you when you did not return for supper, andstarted out to find you. If we hadn't seen the reflection of your fireagainst the sky we would have passed you by. How did this happen?"

  "She tells me she is the squaw of Running Bear, with whom you had anargument at the beef issue."

  "Yes, I remember him. What about him? Why is he not here to take care ofhis wife?"

  "He shot her and left her here to die, because he was tired of her, and,she says, because she would not reveal to him a secret."

  "He certainly is a precious scoundrel, and deserves worse than I gavehim, and if I ever meet him again I won't do a thing to him."

  "But we must get this girl to a camp where she can be cared for, Ted. Itis cruel to leave her here on the cold ground when she can have a cotand plenty of blankets."

  "I don't know how we are going to manage it to-night."

  "One of you can ride back to camp, and get the wagon and a lantern, andcome back for her. She ought to have better attention than I can giveher here."

  "That's all right. Bud, ride back to camp and get the wagon out, andfill it with blankets and my medicine chest, and get back here as soonas your team will bring you."

  Ben had sauntered down to where the willows were seen, and soon returnedwith a big armful of wood, which he tossed upon the fire, then sat justoutside the blaze and popped away with his revolver at the little ballsof pale-green light, the wolves' eyes, which he saw floating among thetall grass, and he always knew when he had made a bull's-eye by thehowl, and the thrashing around that followed it.

  Ted sat with Stella, watching the Indian girl, who had again fallen intoa deep sleep.

  "Did she say what her secret is?" asked Ted.

  "No, I didn't ask her, and I don't intend to. If she wants to confide inme, well and good, but I am not a sharer of other peoples' troubles orsecrets. I have as many of my own as I can take care of."

  It was almost dawn when they heard the rumble of wagon wheels, and Buddrove over the top of the hill, and came toward them.

  "By my Aunt Hester's black cat's tail, I never had sech a time gittin' ateam hitched up as this one. It took me an hour to ketch 'em out o' therpony herd, and yer talks about drivers, I'd jest as soon try ter drivetwo bolts o' red-hot chain lightning. But I've got all ther gingerworked outer 'em now, an' I reckon that nigh bay will not never buck nomore."

  "Now we'll see if she can be moved," said Ted. "I think we can lift herright on the blanket on which she is lying, and into the wagon, if youwill lend a hand, Stella."

  Each of the four took a corner of the blanket, and with some difficulty,for Singing Bird suffered excruciating pain with every motion, they gother into the wagon and started for the camp, driving slowly over therough ground.

  It was almost daylight when they reached camp, where willing handshelped to make the girl comfortable in a tent which Ted rigged up.

  Then Ted and Stella went to work with all their surgical skill, and soonhad Singing Bird's wound properly dressed. Stella stood guard over her,and nursed her as tenderly as if the Indian had been a sister of herblood.

  Ted had stayed the herd until Singing Bird should be well enough to getup. The pasturage was fine, and after their arduous drive Ted thoughtthat it would do the cattle no harm to have a long rest.

  He was undecided what to do with the Indian girl. It was not altogetherpracticable to take her with them, and it did not seem to be the humanething to leave her behind to again fall into the hands of her brutalIndian husband.

  At last one morning Stella announced that Singing Bird was almost well.On account of her health and generally fine physical condition she hadmade rapid progress toward recovery.

  "What are we going to do with her?" asked Ted, when Stella announcedthat Singing Bird was well enough to travel.

  "I don't know what she wants to do," said Stella. "One thing I am sureof, I am not going to see her come to any harm. I have grown very fondof her, for she is a sweet, good girl."

  "Let us ask her what she wants to do. I suppose we shall have to abideby her decision, for we cannot turn her adrift."

  Singing Bird was sitting in front of her tent in the sun, watching thecowboys sitting around their camp, weaving horsehair bridles, cleaningtheir guns, mending their clothes, and doing other things that fall tothe leisure of a cow camp.

  "Singing Bird, you are well now, and able to travel," said Stella,sitting down on the grass.

  The girl looked at her and then at Ted with an expression of alarm inher face. They both saw that she feared what was coming.

  "What do you want to do, Singing Bird? We must be on the trail again,for we have a long way to go to the big pasture to the north," Stellacontinued.

  "I want to stay with you, sister," said the Indian girl simply. "I willdie if you send me away. I will slave for you if you will only let mestay near you. I have no one else on earth. My husband has cast me out;my father will not have me back; the white man does not want the Indian.I am alone in the world. You have saved my life. I am your slave."

  "That settles it," said Stella, with the hint of tears in her eyes. "Youshall stay with me, dear. Ted, get ready to move the herd whenever youare ready. Singing Bird goes with me."

  "All right," said Ted, glad that the matter was so easily disposed of."You can do whatever you want to with this outfit. If you say she goes,why, she goes."

  He went out to where the boys were to give orders for getting the herdon the move again.

  "We'll hit the trail in the morning," he said. "It will take some timeto break camp, and we might as well stay around here the rest of to-dayand get an early start in the morning."

  Far out on the prairie they heard a cheery shout, and saw coming towardthem a horseman, driving before him a bunch of six steers.

  "Git on to ther new herd crossin' our trail," said Bud derisively."Jumpin' sand, hills, but thet feller hez a big bunch o' cattle."

  "Wonder where he got them all. He's surely a big drover," said Kit.

  But the stranger hustled the six steers into the camp, and pulled up ascrawny little cayuse, and, taking off his hat with a flourish to Stellaand Hallie, who had joined the boys, said:

  "Your pardon, ladies an' gents, but what may be ther brand that isburned inter ther hides o' yer esteemed cattle?"

  Ted looked at him questioningly, and saw a tall, thin, bronzedindividual, dressed in a most unusual costume for a cow-puncher, forsuch he evidently was from the manner in which he had driven the cattle,and the way in which he sat and handled his horse.

  He had a strange face, half humorous and half sinister. One moment hewould be merry and gay, but in an instant, and for an instant only, itwould change to suspicion and caution. He was lean of frame, but verymuscular, and his eyes were of a keen, piercing blue.

  "Any particular reason for wanting to know?" asked Ted quizzically,smiling up at the tatterdemalion of a cowboy.

  "Well, I reckon," was the drawling reply. "I picked up six strays outhere a ways, an' they don't belong ter no brand in this yere part o'ther country, so I suspicions they belong ter some pilgrims' road brand.Now, yours is ther only bunch o' trail cattle what's passed this wayrecently, an' me, bein' wise ter ther ways o' ther plains, hez therhunch thet they might be yours. Right cute o' me, wa'n't it?"

  Ted laughed at the chap's half-humorous, half-serious manner.

  "Our brand is the Lazy Z," he replied.

  "Then them critters aire yourn. Look 'em over, an' if they don't belongter you, h
and 'em back, an' I'll make 'em ther noocleus o' a herd o' myown."

  Ted rode up to the six strays, which were peacefully grazing not faraway, and examined the brand. They belonged to the herd, all right, andhe said so.

  "Well, stranger, much obliged to you for picking them up and bringingthem in," said Ted. "Now, what can I do for you? Those critters areworth a hundred dollars or more to this outfit. I'll split with you."

  "No, you won't, stranger, seein' it's all ther same ter you. I may be ameasly, fleabitten, hongry, lone maverick o' ther plains, but thar's onething I ain't, an' that's a 'lost and found' department, 'suitablereward offered, an' no questions asked.' When I picks up a man's straysI hands 'em in if I can find him, or if I was so blame' hongry Icouldn't resist ther temptation I might butcher one fer ther sake o'sinkin' my molars inter a tenderloin steak. But thet's ther wust afeller could say fer me. If ther critters aire yours, take 'em, an'welcome."

  "All right, pardner," said Ted, who had taken a fancy to the fellow. "Atleast, you'll eat with us."

  "Shore I'll break bread. I'm as hongry ez a shipwrecked sailor. Whendoes ther tocsin sound?"

  "The dinner bell will ring in about half an hour. Get down and turn yourcayuse out to graze, and join us about the fire."

  "Which means ter open ther mouth o' my war bag, an' give up mypedigree."

  "Something like that," said Ted, with a laugh.

  The ungainly cow-puncher slid out of his saddle like an eel, and slippedthe saddle and bridle off his pony, and, giving it a slap on the haunch,sent it out to eat.

  Throwing his horse furniture on the ground near the fire, he squatted inthe ring of boys about, and proceeded to roll a cigarette in a leisurelyway.

  "Say, hombre," he said, looking at Ted. "You've got a mighty tidy outfityere."

  Ted nodded, and continued to watch the stranger's face.

  "Which outfit mought it be?" asked the cow-puncher, picking a live coalout of the fire and placing the end of his cigarette against it.

  "Moon Valley, Black Hills," said Ted.

  "An' your name mought be----"

  "Ted Strong."

  The stranger paused with his cigarette halfway to his lips, and liftedhis eyebrows.

  "Sho! Yer don't say?"

  "But I do."

  "Well, I'm right proud ter meet up with yer, an' be able ter do yer asmall service. My handle is numerous, not because I've ever had anyserious reason ter change ther one my daddy give me, but because thercow-punchers has a most humorous way o' hitchin' whatever label theythinks fits onter a man."

  "What's your present label?" asked Ted.

  "Ther cognomen what I packs with me now is sure fantastical. I'm knownon ther Western free range as 'The Woofer.'"

  "'The Woofer'? That's a strange name."

  "It ain't my real name, which is 'Tennessee Al.'"

  "How did you come to be named 'The Woofer'?"

  "Well, it's jest a piece o' foolishness," said the cow-puncher, laughingat the recollection of it.

  "Tell us about it."

  "Well, it was this away: About two year ago last Chrismus I wuz punchin'cows over on Coburn's ranch. Chrismus Eve ther boys got some cagy, an'we all decided ter go inter Cut Bank, ther tradin' town some ten mileaway, an' cellybrate. It wuz a bad night, with ther wind blowin' out o'ther nor'west, an' ther promise o' a bliz.

  "Wallace Coburn balks some at ther boys leavin' ther cattle, fer he seesthet thar's some danger o' their driftin' in ther night. But yer don'tcan up a lot o' cow-punchers Chrismus Eve when they wants ter go, sofinally he grunts out that we kin go, an' off we starts.

  "'Fleshy' Wheeler, so called because he wa'n't no bigger round nor alemonade straw, kep' a saloon in Cut Bank, an' thar wuz ter be a day.Well, we-all went ter ther dance, which progressed beautiful, when oneo' ther boys come in an' announces that a big herd o' cattle had driftedthrough ther town while we wuz trippin' ther light fantastic toe, andthat one o' ther critters had fallen inter ther town well.

  "Naturally, ther town people objected ter havin' range cow mixed in withtheir drinkin' water, an' hinted strong that it wuz up ter uscow-punchers ter git it out, at ther same time emphasizin' theirinvitation with a lot o' shiny six-shooters.

  "Well, we goes inter caucus, an' decided thet ther cow belongs ter therCoburn outfit, an' that we're too humane ter let a pore critter stay ina well Chrismus Eve, when joy an' peace an' merriment is reignin'everywhere.

  "Now, as you-all knows, when a cow is hauled out o' a bog or a well shedon't feel no gratitood, she jest gits mad plumb through an' h'ists hertail, an' runs fer ther fust thing she sees afoot, with her horns readyfer immediate business.

  "Before we goes out ter git ther cow outer ther well, we tells Fleshyter stand guard at the door, an' when ther cow charges, ter let us in,then slam ther door in ther cow's face. He agrees.

  "We ropes ther cow, an' altogether pulls her out an' puts her on terryfirmy. Then we hits it up fer ther house, with ther cow as mad as awoman scorned, an' only two jumps behind me, what is ther last man tergit under way.

  "Ther boys hits ther house, an' Fleshy lets 'em in, but me, bein' somefeet behind, he doesn't see, at least, that's ther way he explains terme later, an' he slams ther door in my face jest ez ther cow arrives.

  "My only chance is ter keep runnin', an' I starts around ther house,hopin' that when I gits ter ther door ag'in Fleshy will have discoveredhis mistake, an' have it open hospitablelike fer me, but cold feet ferther cow.

  "But, no, ther door is closed an' bolted, an' I start on another laparound ther house with Mrs. Cow a-snortin' an' a-blowin' in my immediatevicinity, an' comin' fast. Every time I hit ther ground with my hoofs Igrunted 'woof.' I wuz gittin' winded, what with runnin' an' yellin', sothet I wuz gruntin' 'woof' most all ther time.

  "Inside, all wuz merriment, an' me runnin' fer my life, fer ther cow wuzmost industrious, an' didn't know what it wuz ter git tired.

  "Well, ter make a long tale short, I kept runnin' an' gruntin' 'woof' atevery jump, ther sweat runnin' down an' freezin' on my clothes, untilmornin', when ther cow gits tired an' goes away. Then ther boys comesout an' finds me, an' says they're mighty surprised ter see me, havin'conclooded that I'd gone home.

  "'We hear somethin' goin' "woof" all night, an' thought it wuz thercow,' says Fleshy, 'an' we didn't dast open ther door fer fear she'dwant ter come in, an' as there wuz ladies there, it wouldn't do. Wuzthat you what was woofin' all night?'

  "After that I wuzn't nothin' ter them boys but 'The Woofer.'"