by B. M. Bower
CHAPTER X.
I Shake Hands with Old Man King.
For the second time in my irresponsible career I stood on the stationplatform at Osage and watched the train slide off to the East. It's ablamed fool who never learns anything by experience, and I never haveaccused myself of being a fool--except at odd times--so I didn't landbroke. I had money to pay for several meals, and I looked around forsomebody I knew; Frosty, I hoped.
For the sodden land I had looked upon with such disgust when first I hadseen it, the range lay dimpled in all the enticement of spring. Wherefirst I had seen dirty snow-banks, the green was bright as our lawn athome. The hilltops were lighter in shade, and the jagged line of hills inthe far distance was a soft, soft blue, just stopping short ofreddish-purple. I'm not the sort of human that goes wading to his chin inlights and shades and dim perspectives, and names every tone he can thinkof--especially mauve; they do go it strong on mauve--before he's through.But I did lift my hat to that dimply green reach of prairie, and thankedGod I was there.
I turned toward the hill that hid the town, and there came Frosty drivingthe same disreputable rig that had taken me first to the Bay State.I dropped my suit-case and gripped his hand almost before he had pulled upat the platform. Lord! but I was glad to see that thin, brown face of his.
"Looks like we'd got to be afflicted with your presence another summer,"he grinned. "I hope yuh ain't going to claim I coaxed yuh back, becauseI took particular pains not to. And, uh course, the boys are just dreadingthe sight of yuh. Where's your war-bag, darn yuh?"
How was that for a greeting? It suited me, all right. I just thumpedFrosty on the back and called him a name that it would make a lady faintto hear, and we laughed like a couple of fools.
I'm not on oath, perhaps, but still I feel somehow bound to tellall the truth, and not to pass myself off for a saint. So I will saythat Frosty and I had a celebration, that night; an Osage, Montana,celebration, with all the fixings. Know the brand--because if you don't,I'd hang before I'd tell just how many shots we put through ceilings,or how we rent the atmosphere outside. You see, I was glad to get back,and Frosty was glad to have me back; and since neither of us arethe fall-on-your-neck-and-put-a-ring-on-your-finger kind, we hadto exuberate some other way; and, as Frosty, would put it, "We sure did."
I can't say we felt quite so exuberant next morning, but we were willingto take our medicine, and started for the ranch all serene. I won't say aword about mauves and faint ambers and umbras, but I do want to give thatcountry a good word, as it looked that morning to me. It was great.
There are plenty of places can put it all over that Osage country forstraight scenery, but I never saw such a contented-looking place as thatbig prairie-land was that morning. I've seen it with the tears runningdown its face, and pretty well draggled and seedy; but when we started outwith the sun shining against our cheeks and the hills looking so warm andlazy and the hollows kind of smiling to themselves over something, and theprairie-dogs gossiping worse than a ladies' self-culture meeting, I tellyou, it all looked good to me, and I told Frosty so.
"I'd rather be a forty-dollar puncher in this man's land," I enthused,"than a lily-of-the-field somewhere in civilization."
"In other words," Frosty retorted sarcastically, "you _think_ you preferthe canned vegetables and contentment, as the Bible says, to corn-fedbeefsteak and homesickness thereby. But you wait till yuh get to the ranchand old Perry Potter puts yuh through your paces. You'll thank the Lordevery Sundown that yuh _ain't_ a forty-dollar man that has got to drillright along or get fired; you'll pat yourself on the back more than oncethat you've got a cinch on your job and can lay off whenever yuh feel likeit. From all the signs and tokens, us Ragged H punchers'll be wise totrade our beds off for lanterns to ride by. Your dad's bought a lot morecattle, and they've drifted like hell; we've got to cover mighty near thewhole State uh Montana and part uh South Africa to gather them in."
"You're a blamed pessimist," I told him, "and you can't give me cold feetthat easy. If you knew how I ache to get a good horse under me--"
"Thought they had horses out your way," Frosty cut in.
"A range-horse, you idiot, and a range-saddle. I did ride some on afancy-gaited steed with a saddle that resembled a porus plaster andstirrups like a lady's bracelet; it didn't fill the aching void a littlebit."
"Well, maybe yuh won't feel any aching void out here," he said, "but ifyuh follow round-up this season you'll sure have plenty of other brands ofache."
I told him I'd be right with them at the finish, and he needn't to worryany about me. Pretty soon I'll show you how well I kept my word. We rodeand rode, and handed out our experiences to each other, and got toPochette's that night. I couldn't help remembering the last time I'd beenover that trail, and how rocky I felt about things. Frosty said he wasn'tworried about that walk of his into Pochette's growing dim in his memory,either.
Well, then, we got to Pochette's--I think I have remarked the fact. And atPochette's, just unharnessing his team, limped my friend of White Divide,old King. Funny how a man's view-point will change when there's a girlcached somewhere in the background. Not even the memory of Shylock'sstiffening limbs could bring me to a mood for war. On the contrary, I feltmore like rushing up and asking him how were all the folks, and when didBeryl expect to come home. But not Frosty; he drove phlegmatically up sothat there was just comfortable space for a man to squeeze between our rigand King's, hopped out, and began unhooking the traces as if there wasn'ta soul but us around. King was looping up the lines of his team, and heglared at us across the backs of his horses as if we were--well,caterpillars at a picnic and he was a girl with nice clothes and a fellowand a set of nerves. His next logical move would be to let out a squawkand faint, I thought; in which case I should have started in to do thecomforting, with a dipper of water from the pump. He didn't faint, though.
I walked around and let down the neck-yoke, and his eyes followed me withsuspicion. "Hello, Mr. King," I sang out in a brazen attempt to hypnotizehim into the belief we were friends. "How's the world using you, thesedays?"
"Huh!" grunted the unhypnotized one, deep in his chest.
Frosty straightened up and looked at me queerly; he said afterward that hecouldn't make out whether I was trying to pull off a gun fight, or hadgone dippy.
But I was only in the last throes of exuberance at being in the country atall, and I didn't give a damn what King thought; I'd made up my mind to besociable, and that settled it.
"Range is looking fine," I remarked, snapping the inside checks back intothe hame-rings. "Stock come through the winter in good shape?" Oh, I hadmy nerve right along with me.
"You go to hell," advised King, bringing out each word fresh-coined andshiny with feeling.
"I was headed that way," I smiled across at him, "but at the last minuteI gave Montana first choice; I knew you were still here, you see."
He let go the bridle of the horse he was about to lead away to the stable,and limped around so that he stood within two feet of me. "Yuh want to--"he began, and then his mouth stayed open and silent.
I had reached out and got him by the hand, and gave him a grip--the gripthat made all the fellows quit offering their paws to me in Frisco.
"Put it there, King!" I cried idiotically and as heartily as I knew how."Glad to see you. Dad's well and busy as usual, and sends regards. How'syour good health?"
He was squirming good and plenty, by that time, and I let him go. I actedthe fool, all right, and I don't tell it to have any one think I was asmart young sprig; I'm just putting it out straight as it happened.
Frosty stood back, and I noticed, out of the tail of my eye, that he wasready for trouble and expecting it to come in bunches; and I didn't know,myself, but what I was due for new ventilators in my system.
But King never did a thing but stand and hold his hand and look at me.I couldn't even guess at what he thought. In half a minute or less he gothis horse by the bridle again--with his left hand--and went limping offah
ead of us to the stable, saying things in his collar.
"You blasted fool," Frosty muttered to me. "You've done it real pretty,this time. That old Siwash'll cut your throat, like as not, to pay for allthose insulting remarks and that hand-shake."
"First time I ever insulted a man by shaking hands and telling him I wasglad to see him," I retorted. "And I don't think it will be necessary foryou to stand guard over my jugular to-night, either. That old boy willtake a lot of time to study out the situation, if I'm any judge. You won'thear a peep out of him, and I'll bet money on it."
"All right," said Frosty, and his tone sounded dubious. "But you're thefirst Ragged H man that has ever walked up and shook hands with the olddevil. Perry Potter himself wouldn't have the nerve."
Now, that was a compliment, but I don't believe I took it just the wayFrosty meant I should. I was proud as thunder to have him call me a"Ragged H man" so unconsciously. It showed that he really thought of mesimply as one of the boys; that the "son and heir" view-point--oh, thathad always rankled, deep down where we bury unpleasant things in ourmemory--had been utterly forgotten. So the tribute to my nerve didn't gofor anything beside that. I was a "Ragged H man," on the same footing asthe rest of them. It's silly owning it, but it gave me a little tingle ofpleasure to have one of dad's men call dad's son and heir "a blastedfool." I don't believe the Lord made me an aristocrat.
We didn't see anything more of King till supper was called. At Pochette'syou sit down to a long table covered with dark-red mottled oilcloth andsprinkled with things to eat, and watch that your elbow doesn't cause yournearest neighbor to do the sword-swallowing act involuntarily anddisastrously with his knife, or--you don't eat. Frosty and I had walkeddown to the ferry-crossing while we waited, and then were late gettinginto the game when we heard the summons.
We went in and sat down just as the Chinaman was handing thick cups ofcoffee around rather sloppily. From force of habit I looked for my napkin,remembered that I was in a napkinless region, and glanced up to see if anyone had noticed.
Just across from me old King was pushing back his chair and gettingstiffly upon his feet. He met my eyes squarely--friend or enemy, I like aman to do that--and scowled.
"Through already?" I reached for the sugar-bowl.
"What's it to you, damn yuh?" he snapped, but we could see at a glancethat King had not begun his meal.
I looked at Frosty, and he seemed waiting for me to say something. SoI said: "Too bad--we Ragged H men are such mighty slow eaters. If it's onmy account, sit right down and make yourself comfortable. I don't mind;I dare say I've eaten in worse company."
He went off growling, and I leaned back and stirred my coffee as leisurelyas if I were killing time over a bit of crab in the Palace, waiting for myorder to come. Frosty, I observed, had also slowed down perceptibly; andso we "toyed with the viands" just like a girl in a story--in real life,I've noticed, girls develop full-grown appetites and aren't ashamed ofthem. King went outside to wait, and I'm sure I hope he enjoyed it; I knowwe did. We drank three cups of coffee apiece, ate a platter of fried fish,and took plenty of time over the bones, got into an argument over who wasLazarus with the fellow at the end of the table, and were too engrossed toeat a mouthful while it lasted. We had the bad manners to pick our teeththoroughly with the wooden toothpicks, and Frosty showed me how to balancea knife and fork on a toothpick--or, perhaps, it was two--on the edge ofhis cup. I tried it several times, but couldn't make it work.
The others had finished long ago and were sitting around next the wallwatching us while they smoked. About that time King put his head in at thedoor, and looked at us.
"Just a minute," I cheered him. Frosty began cracking his prune-pits andeating the meats, and I went at it, too. I don't like prune-pits a littlebit.
The pits finished, Frosty looked anxiously around the table. There wasnothing more except some butter that we hadn't the nerve to tacklesingle-handed, and some salt and a bottle of ketchup and the toothpicks.We went at the toothpicks again; until Frosty got a splinter stuckbetween his teeth, and had a deuce of a time getting it out.
"I've heard," he sighed, when the splinter lay in his palm, "that somestate dinners last three or four hours; blamed if I see how they work it.I'm through. I lay down my hand right here--unless you're willing totackle the ketchup. If you are, I stay with you, and I'll eat half." Hesighed again when he promised.
For answer I pushed back my chair. Frosty smiled and followed me out. Forthe satisfaction of the righteous I will say that we both suffered fromindigestion that night, which I suppose was just and right.