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

by Frank V. Webster

  CHAPTER XXIII

  BOB OVERHEARS A SECOND PLOT

  Chester had accompanied Bob and Ford to the cowboys' station, and whenthey saw that the dog showed no signs of returning, Yellow Tom calledout:

  "Hey, you Ford. Take this cur of yours with you--or I won't stay on thejob another minute."

  The ranchman, however, either did not hear or pretended not to, andafter a minute Bob said:

  "Mr. Ford has given Chester to me."

  "What?" chorused the cowboys, in amazement.

  "I said that Mr. Ford had given Chester to me," replied Bob.

  "And you let him?" queried Crazy Ned, staring at the boy as though hemust be daft.

  "Why not?"

  "You're liable to wake up in mincemeat some fine day, that's all,"commented Yellow Tom drily.

  "Oh, I guess not," answered Bob. "Chester and I are good friends, aren'twe, my boy?" and dismounting, he called the dog to him and stroked hishead.

  A moment the cowboys watched the proceeding in amazement, then ShortyFlinn voiced their feelings by saying:

  "Am I dreamin' or is this tenderfoot pattin' that ornery cur?"

  "He's pattin' him, all right," returned Merry Dick. "Say, kid, you're awonder. There ain't no man ever dared touch that dog so long as I'veknown about him and that's for ten years."

  "But can you make him mind?" demanded Yellow Tom.

  "Surely."

  "Then stop his growlin' at me."

  Recognizing this as a test, Bob stroked the dog's head caressingly,saying, in a matter-of-fact tone:

  "Stop growling, boy. None of these men are going to harm me."

  A moment the dog looked at Bob, then leisurely glanced from one toanother of the cowboys--and stopped snarling.

  "That beats all," declared Crazy Ned. "Say, kid, you don't need to fearanybody's playin' tricks on you when that brute is with you."

  "No, I guess not," smiled Bob. And then in a burst of confidence headded: "But I don't want people to be nice because they are afraid ofChester. If they don't like me for myself, I don't want them to like meat all."

  "That's all right, kid. But there's some ornery critturs wearin' theclothes of cowboys, so just take advice of a man who knows and keep thedog with you," said Yellow Tom.

  "Yellow's givin' it to you straight," asserted Shorty Flinn. "There'ssome folks ain't never happy unless they're makin' others onhappy."

  Bob took the advice in the spirit it was given and, while Merry Dick wasputting together enough food to last them for the three days he was tobe with the boy, chatted and joked with them, answering such questionsas he saw fit and turning off those he did not care to. And suchmanliness and good nature did he display that he won the respect of thefour cowpunchers, than whom there were no harder characters riding theplains.

  At last Merry Dick had stowed the food in his saddle bags, unhobbled andmade ready his broncho, and as he waited for Bob to mount, the othersbegan to tease him.

  "No tricks, now," said one. "Remember what John said about thecomparative value of cowboys and steers. Don't put salt instead of sugarin Bob's coffee."

  "Don't worry about _me_," laughed Bob. "With Chester my friend, we'remore likely to play tricks on Merry Dick than he is to play any on us."

  And amid the shouts of merriment this suggestion produced, the cowboyand his youthful companion galloped away.

  "Ain't that Firefly you're ridin'?" asked Merry Dick, after having triedin vain to leave Bob behind by sending his own pony at a mad gallop.

  "Y--yes," returned Bob. "Mr. Thomas, the station agent, bought him forme."

  "_Bought_ him?" repeated the cowboy in amazement. "You must be rollin'in money, kid. Simons said he'd never sell for less than two hundreddollars."

  Bob had no idea as to the value of horseflesh, so he asked:

  "Is that much to pay for a pony?"

  "Much? Well, I don't know what you call much, but I do know that you canbuy all the ponies you want, good ones at that, for fifty dollars."

  This knowledge of the expense to which Mr. Nichols had been put toprovide him with a mount, for Bob believed it was he who had ordered theagent so to do, grieved the boy and he became silent, wondering if heshould not send back the one hundred dollars present in part payment.

  Merry Dick, however, mistook his silence for displeasure and exclaimed:

  "I don't mean Firefly ain't a good pony. He's the best within fiftymile, so you didn't get stuck."

  In due course of time, they reached a spot where a few trees surroundeda spring, and there the cowboy said they would pitch camp.

  With surprise, he watched Bob hobble his pony and then rub him down,observing:

  "I reckon you ain't so green as you make out."

  Ignoring the left-handed compliment, Bob asked:

  "What do I have to do with the cattle?"

  "Mighty little, so long as you have the dog with you. He's as good asany cowboy." And then Merry Dick explained that Bob's duties lay inriding around and driving back the cattle that strayed from the herd,especially in the morning, and in case of a stampede, than which thereis nothing more dreaded by cowboys, in outrunning the leaders andchanging their direction, yelling and waving arms, until the frenziedanimals are made to tire themselves out traveling in a circle.

  The hours till twilight passed quickly with the stories the cowboy toldof experiences he had had and had heard, in both of which he did nothesitate to draw freely on his imagination.

  As the sunset bathed the plains in a glorious red, the two rode out anddrove the straggling cattle back to the herd, and then Merry Dick showedBob how to boil coffee over a bed of coals and fry bacon by holding iton a fork.

  As night fell, many sounds reached the boy's ears, but none scared himexcept the melancholy howl of the coyotes.

  Without incident the hours of darkness passed and the two days thatMerry Dick was with him, and, on the third, Ford rode over to see howthey were getting along.

  "He'll do," announced the cowboy, nodding toward Bob.

  "Then you can go back to the others," returned his boss, who remainedwith the boy.

  Day followed day with monotonous regularity, and many a time Bob wasglad of the dog's company. Several times Thomas came to see him,bringing letters from both Mr. Perkins and Mr. Nichols and taking backBob's answers, which told of his experiences, gratitude for theirassistance, and delight in his new life.

  Once a week, Ford came to bring his food, a signal mark of favor, forthe ranch cooks supplied the others. And as month after month passed,Bob developed wonderfully. The free, outdoor life made his muscles likesteel and the responsibility and solitude matured him, so that insteadof the rather timid boy who had stepped from the limited that morning,he was a powerful, self-reliant young man.

  Realizing this and feeling his desire growing stronger, at the end ofthe sixth month to learn the truth about his father when Ford paid him,Bob asked if he could ride over to Red Top for a day.

  In reply to the ranchman's question as to the reason, he said he wantedto find out about a man.

  At this answer, Ford scanned his face closely, but, unable to read itsexpression, gave his permission, provided he took the dog, saying hewould stand Bob's tour of duty.

  His heart agog, Bob was on his way early the next morning, the faithfulChester at his side.

  The village of Red Top was similar to Fairfax, but being the location ofthe Land Office was of more importance. As the boy, accompanied by thedog passed along the one street of the town, they attracted muchattention, for many of the people recognized Chester.

  Drawing rein, Bob dismounted at the store, went inside and asked wherehe could find out who owned property in the town fifteen years ago.

  The interest of the loungers in the boy was no whit lessened by thisquestion and several of them chorused:

  "The Land Office, right next door."

  Thanking them collectively, Bob went out, leaving the idlers tospeculate over his identity and purpose.

  But though
he found the Land Office without difficulty, he could makeneither head nor tail out of the records.

  Noticing the perplexity on his face, the clerk, a kindly-faced,gray-haired man, asked him for what he was searching.

  "To see if Horace Chester ever owned any property in Red Top."

  "I can tell you that without looking," replied the clerk. "He had one ofthe best ranches in Oklahoma. It was good when he died. But it's worthten times as much now."

  This information set Bob's head in a whirl, and for some minutes hecould not speak, but when he did, he asked hesitatingly:

  "Was he--was he crazy?"

  "Crazy? well, I should say not!" ejaculated the clerk, staring at Bob inwonder.

  "Who owns the property now?"

  "A. Leon Dardus."

  "How'd he get it?"

  "By will. There was a long legal battle between Sam and John Ford andDardus. But Dardus finally won."

  "Where is the ranch?"

  "Twenty miles south of here. Jim Haskins hires it."

  At these surprising answers, Bob's heart seemed to come up in histhroat, stifling his speech. But noticing that his questions had arousedthe clerk's curiosity, he hurriedly left the office.

  Needing time to think, the boy hastened along till he came to a buildingwhich served as a saloon, diningroom and gambling den.

  Attracted by the food sign, he entered, took a seat near a partition,and ordered some pork and beans.

  But before it was brought, he had forgotten about eating. From behindthe partition, loud voices were audible and he caught the word "Ford."

  Listening intently, he heard a voice say:

  "Sure, we can do it! I've got the papers all ready, old Sam Ford'ssignature and all. Just pass over that two thousand five hundreddollars, and I'll give them to you."

  "But suppose Ford fights us in court?" exclaimed another voice.

  "He won't do that!" growled a third. "Leave it to me!"

  "Now, Bill, there's to be no----"

  But before Bob could catch the last word, the waiter came in with hispork and beans and, noticing that the boy was listening with head closeto the partition, shouted:

  "What you listenin' to? That don't go in Red Top!"

  And dropping his dishes, he leaped for Bob, just as the men behind thepartition, who had heard the waiter's angry words, struggled to getthrough the door.

  Realizing he was no match for so many, Bob took to his heels, the othersin pursuit.

  As he dashed from the restaurant, Chester leaped to his feet and, backbristling, jaws distended, faced the pursuers.

  "That's Ford's dog!" gasped the waiter. "That fellow must have been oneof his men!"

  The commotion had attracted the attention of the loungers in the storeand as they hurried to the street, the conspirators, pointing to Bob,yelled:

  "Stop him! Stop him!"

  But Bob, paying no heed, raced to where Firefly stood, vaulted into hissaddle and, with the dog at his heels, dashed up the street.