Bob Chester's Grit; Or, From Ranch to Riches

by Frank V. Webster

  CHAPTER XX

  BOB BECOMES OWNER OF A DOG

  Interestedly Bob gazed about him as he entered, for the first time inhis life, the home of a ranchman. At the left of the door, a bunk,covered with brilliant-colored blankets--which, had the boy known theywere the handiwork of Indians, would have interested himgreatly--extended from the wall. Above this crude bed was a rack holdingthree rifles and several revolvers. On the opposite side of the roomwere a cupboard and table, while in the rear was another cupboard, and astove. A rocking and two straight-backed chairs completed thefurnishings.

  Just what Bob had expected to find in the cabin he could not have told,but its severity and barrenness disappointed him.

  "Sit down," grunted the ranchman, motioning Bob to one of thestraight-backed chairs while he himself sank into the rocker.

  As Bob obeyed, the dog stretched himself at his feet.

  Searchingly the ranchman scanned the boy's face, and the silence wasbecoming embarrassing when Ford broke it by demanding suddenly:

  "What did you say your name was?"

  "Bob Nichols."

  "Where do you come from?"

  "New York."

  This answer caused the ranchman to sit up straight and again scrutinizethe boy's features, as he asked:

  "Got any folks?"

  "No, sir."

  "Live alone in New York?"

  "No, sir. With my guardian."

  "What made you come out here?"

  "I wanted to be a cowboy and make my fortune."

  "Cow punching ain't a paved highway to riches."

  "But you are rich, aren't you?"

  At this leading question, the grizzled man of the plains scowled, asuspicion of Bob's purpose in seeking a job with him flashing into hismind as he replied:

  "Mebbe I am and mebbe I ain't. What made you think I was?"

  "Mr. Higgins and the other men said you were."

  "Huh! them fellows had better mind their own business," grunted theranchman; but the ingenuous reply and the open honesty of the boy's facebanished his suspicions, and he continued his questioning.

  The length to which the catechising extended amazed Bob, in view of whathe had been told and had read in regard to not asking questions, and hemade his replies as brief as possible, taking good care to give only themost general information about himself.

  Perceiving this, Ford finally asked:

  "How much wages do you want?"

  "I'll leave that to you, Mr. Ford. As I don't know anything aboutranching, I don't expect much and I'm willing to trust you to do what isright."

  This confidence in his squareness appealed more to the ranchman thananything else Bob could have said or done.

  Leading the life of a recluse as he did and assuming a manner offorbidding austerity when forced to meet his fellows, the man had beenendowed by them with a reputation for close--if not sharp--dealing, andthis trust in him evinced by the boy moved him deeply, and with a voicein which there was a half sob, he returned:

  "You won't lose by leaving the matter of wages to me, boy. Don't youworry about that, no matter what Ned Higgins or his cronies tell you."

  "I shall not discuss my affairs with outsiders," replied Bob withseriousness that brought a smile to the plainsman's face.

  "Good! Now, let's get down to business. Can you ride?"

  "No. But I can learn."

  "You'll have to. A man on a ranch who can't ride is about as useless asa rifle without cartridges. Let's see, you'll need a safe pony to learnon. I guess I'll let you try old Sox. He never was mean and he still hassome speed. Pick up that saddle there," and he pointed to what is calleda Mexican saddle, which has a high pommel and back; "the bridle is tiedto it, and we'll go out to the corral. You ought to get so you can dopretty well by night. You've got to, because I need another puncher withmy short-horn herd over by Red Top."

  The thought that he was to be stationed close to the town that mighthold secrets of the greatest importance to himself so excited Bob thathis hands trembled as he seized the saddle.

  Attributing this action to fear of the broncho, Ford said:

  "You sure ain't scared of riding a pony when you faced Chester, areyou?"

  "No, I'm not."

  "Then why are you trembling so?"

  "Oh, because I'm so happy at having found a job, I guess," dissembledBob. And then, in order to direct the ranchman's attention fromhimself, he asked:

  "Why do you call your dog Chester?"

  This question served Bob's purpose better than he could have desired,for it caused the grizzled plainsman to start suddenly.

  Instantly recovering himself, however, he countered by demandingsharply:

  "What makes you ask that?"

  "Because it's such a queer name for a dog."

  "Well, he's a queer dog," returned Ford tersely. "Now, come along withthat saddle."

  As though aware of their purpose, the dog had preceded them from thecabin, but as Ford and Bob stepped forth, he stopped, began to sniff theair and then emitted a long, low growl.

  "Somebody's coming," announced the ranchman, pausing and following thedirection of the wolfhound's gaze.

  Eagerly Bob did the same, and in a few moments beheld a man riding ahorse and leading another.

  Instantly it flashed to the boy's mind that the horseman was his friendthe station agent, who, having learned his destination, had followed,and he exclaimed:

  "That's Hal Thomas!"

  "What makes you think so?" demanded Ford sharply.

  "Because he's a friend of mine and he was trying to buy a horse for mewhen I started for your ranch."

  "Well, you couldn't have a better friend," asserted the ranchman.

  During this colloquy the dog had set up a furious barking and snarling,leaping about in evident readiness to spring upon the horseman when heshould get well within the clearing.

  By this time the two men and boy were near enough to recognize oneanother, and Bob's surmise was correct, for the rider was none otherthan Hal Thomas with Firefly.

  "Hey, Ford, call off your dog," yelled the agent.

  "Ain't my dog!" retorted the ranchman harshly.

  "Since when?" inquired Thomas, with difficulty managing the two poniesthat were plunging in fright at the antics of the snarling, snappinghound.

  "About thirty minutes ago."

  "Whose is it, then?"

  "This boy here."

  "Mine?" exclaimed Bob in amazement.

  "Uhuh! I ain't no use for a dog anybody else can handle."

  But Bob did not hear the last words. No sooner assured that the savagebeast was his, than he called:

  "Steady! Chester! Come here, sir!"

  Uncertain whether or not to obey, the dog looked from Bob to the horses.But the boy quickly repeated his commands, running toward the hound, andthe animal, with a parting snarl at the agent, turned and trotted to theside of his new master, where he took his stand as though waiting todefend him, should it be necessary.