by B. M. Bower
CHAPTER 27. "ITS AWFUL EASY TO GET LOST"
The Kid wriggled uncomfortably in the saddle and glanced at thenarrow-browed face of H. J. Owens, who was looking this way and that atthe enfolding hills and scowling abstractedly. The Kid was only six, buthe was fairly good at reading moods and glances, having lived all hislife amongst grown-ups.
"It's a pretty far ways to them baby bear cubs," he remarked. "I betyou're lost, old-timer. It's awful easy to get lost. I bet you don'tknow where that mother-bear lives."
"You shut up!" snarled H. J. Owens. The Kid had hit uncomfortably closeto the truth.
"You shut up your own self, you darned pilgrim." the Kid flung backinstantly. That was the way he learned to say rude things; they weresaid to him and he remembered and gave them back in full measure.
"Say, I'll slap you if you call me that again." H. J. Owens, because hedid not relish the task he had undertaken, and because he had lost hisbearing here in the confusion of hills and hollows and deep gullies, wasin a very bad humor.
"You darn pilgrim, you dassent slap me. If you do the bunch'll fix you,all right. I guess they'd just about kill you. Daddy Chip would justknock the stuffin' outa you." He considered something very briefly, andthen tilted his small chin so that he looked more than ever like theLittle Doctor. "I bet you was just lying all the time," he accused. "Ibet there ain't any baby bear cubs."
H. J. Owens laughed disagreeably, but he did not say whether or not theKid was right in his conjecture. The Kid pinched his lips together andwinked very fast for a minute. Never, never in all the six years of hislife had anyone played him so shabby a trick. He knew what the laughmeant; it meant that this man had lied to him and led him away down herein the hills where he had promised his Doctor Dell, cross-his-heart,that he would never go again. He eyed the man resentfully.
"What made you lie about them baby bear cubs?" he demanded. "I didn'twant to come such a far ways."
"You keep quiet. I've heard about enough from you, young man. A littlemore of that and you'll get something you ain't looking for."
"I'm a going home!" The Kid pulled Silver half around in the grassygulch they were following. "And I'm going to tell the bunch what yousaid. I bet the bunch'll make you hard to ketch, you--you son-agun!"
"Here! You come back here, young man!" H. J. Owens reached over andcaught Silver's bridle. "You don't go home till I let you go; see.You're going right along with me, if anybody should ask you. And youain't going to talk like that either, now mind!" He turned his pale blueeyes threateningly upon the Kid. "Not another word out of you if youdon't want a good thrashing. You come along and behave yourself or I'llcut your ears off."
The Kid's eyes blazed with anger. He did not flinch while he glared backat the man, and he did not seem to care, just at that moment, whetherhe lost his ears or kept them. "You let go my horse!" he gritted. "Youwait. The bunch'll fix YOU, and fix you right. You wait!"
H. J. Owens hesitated, tempted to lay violent hands upon the smallrebel. But he did not. He led Silver a rod or two, found it awkward,since the way was rough and he was not much of a horseman, and in a fewminutes let the rein drop from his fingers.
"You come on, Buck, and be a good boy--and maybe we'll find them cubsyet," he conciliated. "You'd die a-laughing at the way they set up andscratch their ears when a big, black ant bites 'em, Buck. I'll show youin a little while. And there's a funny camp down here, too, where we canget some supper."
The Kid made no reply, but he rode along docilely beside H. J. Owens andlistened to the new story he told of the bears. That is, he appeared tobe listening; in reality he was struggling to solve the biggest problemhe had ever known--the problem of danger and of treachery. Poor littletad, he did not even know the names of his troubles. He only knew thatthis man had told him a lie about those baby bear cubs, and had broughthim away down here where he had been lost, and that it was getting darkand he wanted to go home and the man was mean and would not let him go.He did not understand why the man should be so mean--but the man wasmean to him, and he did not intend to "stand for it." He wanted to gohome. And when the Kid really wanted to do a certain thing, he nearlyalways did it, as you may have observed.
H. J. Owens would not let him go home; therefore the Kid meant to goanyway. Only he would have to sneak off, or run off, or something, andhide where the man could not find him, and then go home to his DoctorDell and Daddy Chip, and tell them how mean this pilgrim had been tohim. And he would tell the bunch The bunch would fix him all right! Thethought cheered the Kid so that he smiled and made the man think he waslistening to his darned old bear story that was just a big lie. Think hewould listen to any story that pilgrim could tell? Huh!
The gulches wore growing dusky now The Kid was tired, and he was hungryand could hardly keep from crying, he was so miserable. But he was theson of his father--he was Chip's kid; it would take a great deal moremisery and unkindness to make him cry before this pilgrim who had beenso mean to him. He rode along without saying a word. H. J. Owens did notsay anything, either. He kept scanning each jagged peak and each gloomycanyon as they passed, and he seemed uneasy about something. The Kidknew what it was, all right; H. J. Owens was lost.
They came to a wide, flat-bottomed coulee with high ragged bluffsshutting it in upon every side. The Kid dimly remembered that coulee,because that was where Andy got down to tighten the cinch on MissAllen's horse, and looked up at her the way Daddy Chip looked at DoctorDell sometimes, and made a kiss with his lips--and got called down forit, too. The Kid remembered.
He looked at the man, shut his mouth tight and wheeled Silver suddenlyto the left. He leaned forward as he had always seen the Happy Family dowhen they started a race, and struck Silver smartly down the rump withthe braided romal on his bridle-reins. H. J. Owens was taken off hisguard and did nothing but stare open-mouthed until the Kid was wellunder way; then he shouted and galloped after him, up the little flat.
He might as well have saved his horse's wind and his own energy. He wasno match for little Buck Bennett, who had the whole Flying U outfit toteach him how to ride, and the spirit of his Daddy Chip and the littleDoctor combined to give him grit and initiative. H. J. Owens poundedalong to the head of the coulee, where he had seen the Kid gallopingdimly in the dusk. He turned up into the canyon that sloped invitinglyup from the level, and went on at the top speed of his horse--which wasnot fast enough to boast about.
When he had left the coulee well behind him, the Kid rode out frombehind a clump of bushes that was a mere black shadow against the couleewall, and turned back whence he had come. The Kid giggled a little overthe way he had fooled the pilgrim, and wished that the bunch had beenthere to see him do it. He kept Silver galloping until he had reachedthe other end of the level, and then he pulled him down to a walk andlet the reins drop loosely upon Silver's neck. That was what Daddy Chipand the boys had told him he must do, next time he got lost and did notknow the way home. He must just let Silver go wherever he wanted to go,and not try to guide him at all. Silver would go straight home; he hadthe word of the whole bunch for that, and he believed it implicitly.
Silver looked back inquiringly at his small rider, hesitated and thenswung back up the coulee. The Kid was afraid that H. J. Owens would comeback and see him and cut off his ears if he went that way--but he didnot pull Silver back and make him go some other way, for all that. Ifhe left him alone, Silver would take him right straight home. Daddy Chipand the boys said so. And he would tell them how mean that man was. Theywould fix him, all right!
Halfway up the coulee Silver turned into a narrow gulch that seemed tolead nowhere at all except into the side of a big, black-shadowed bluff.Up on the hillside a coyote began to yap with a shrill staccato ofsounds that trailed off into a disconsolate whimper. The Kid lookedthat way interestedly. He was not afraid of coyotes. They would not hurtanyone; they were more scared than you were--the bunch had told him so.He wished he could get a sight of him, though. He liked to see theirears stick up and their noses stick out in a sharp
point, and see themdrop their tails and go sliding away out of sight. When he was ten andDaddy Chip gave him a gun, he would shoot coyotes and skin them his ownself.
The coyote yapped shrilly again, and the Kid wondered what his DoctorDell would say when he got home. He was terribly hungry, and he wastired and wanted to go to bed. He wished the bunch would happenalong and fix that man. His heart swelled in his chest with rage anddisappointment when he thought of those baby bear cubs that were notanywhere at all--because the man was just lying all the time. In spiteof himself the Kid cried whimperingly to himself while he rode slowlyup the gorge which Silver had chosen to follow because the reins weredrooping low alongside his neck and he might go where he pleased.
By and by the moon rose and lightened the hills so that they glowedsoftly; and the Kid, looking sleepily around him, saw a coyote slinkingalong a barren slope. He was going to shout at it and see it run, buthe thought of the man who was looking for him and glanced fearfullyover his shoulder. The moon shone full in his face and showed thetear-streaks and the tired droop to his lips.
The Kid thought he must be going wrong, because at the ranch the mooncame up in another place altogether. He knew about the moon. Doctor Dellhad explained to him how it just kept going round and round the worldand you saw it when it came up over the edge. That was how Santa Clausfound out if kids were good; he lived in the moon, and it went round andround so he could look down and see if you were bad. The Kid rubbed thetears off his cheeks with his palm, so that Santa Claus could not seethat he had been crying. After that he rode bravely, with a consciouslystraight spine, because Santa Claus was looking at him all the time andhe must be a rell ole cowpuncher.
After a long while the way grew less rough, and Silver trotted down theeasier slopes. The Kid was pretty tired now. He held on by the horn ofhis saddle so Silver would not jolt him so much. He was terribly hungry,too, and his eyes kept going shut. But Santa Claus kept looking at himto see if he were a dead game sport, so he did not cry any more. Hewished he had some grub in a sack, but he thought he must be nearly homenow. He had come a terribly far ways since he ran away from that pilgrimwho was going to cut off his ears.
The Kid was so sleepy, and so tired that he almost fell out of thesaddle once when Silver, who had been loping easily across a fairlylevel stretch of ground, slowed abruptly to negotiate a washoutcrossing. He had been thinking about those baby bear cubs digging antsand eating them. He had almost seen them doing it; but he remembered nowthat he was going home to tell the bunch how the man had lied to him andtried to make him stay down here. The bunch would sure fix him when theyheard about that.
He was still thinking vengefully of the punishment which the HappyFamily would surely mete out to H. J. Owens when Silver lifted his head,looked off to the right and gave a shrill whinny. Somebody shouted, andimmediately a couple of horsemen emerged from the shadow of a hill andgalloped toward him.
The Kid gave a cry and then laughed. It was his Daddy Chip and somebody.He thought the other was Andy Green. He was too tired to kick Silverin the ribs and race toward them. He waited until they came up, theirhorses pounding over the uneven sod urged by the jubilance of theirriders.
Chip rode up and lifted the Kid bodily from the saddle and held him sotight in his arms that the Kid kicked half-heartedly with both feet, tofree himself. But he had a message for his Daddy Chip, and as soon as hecould get his breath he delivered it.
"Daddy Chip, I just want you to kill that damn' pilgrim!" he commanded."There wasn't any baby bear cubs at all. He was just a-stringin' me. Andhe was going to cut off my ears. He said it wasn't a far ways to wherethe baby bear cubs lived with the old mother bear, and it was. I wishyou'd lick the stuffin' outa him. I'm awful hungry, Daddy Chip."
"We'll be home pretty quick," Chip said in a queer, choked voice. "Whowas the man, Buck? Where is he now?"
The Kid lifted his head sleepily from his Daddy Chip's shoulder andpointed vaguely toward the moon. "He's the man that jumped Andy's ranchright on the edge of One Man," he explained. "He's back there ridin' therim-rocks a lookin' for me. I'd a come home before, only he wouldn'tlet me come. He said he'd cut my ears off. I runned away from him, DaddyChip. And I cussed him a plenty for lying to me--but you needn't tellDoctor Dell."
"I won't, Buck." Chip lifted him into a more comfortable position andheld him so. While the Kid slept he talked with Andy about getting theHappy Family on the trail of H. J. Owens. Then he rode thankfully homewith the Kid in his arms and Silver following docilely after.
CHAPTER 28. AS IT TURNED OUT
They found H. J. Owens the next forenoon wandering hopelessly lost inthe hills. Since killing him was barred, they tied his arms behind himand turned him toward the Flying U. He was sullen, like an animal thatis trapped and will do nothing but lie flattened to the ground and glarered-eyed at its captors. For that matter, the Happy Family themselveswere pretty sullen. They had fought fire for hours--and that is killingwork; and they had been in the saddle ever since, looking for the Kidand for this man who rode bound in their midst.
Weary and Irish and Pink, who had run across him in a narrow canyon,fired pistol-shot signals to bring the others to the spot. But when theothers emerged from various points upon the scene, there was very littlesaid about the capture.
In town, the Old man had been quite as eager to come close to FlorenceGrace Hallman--but he was not so lucky. Florence Grace had heard thenews of the fire a good half hour before the train left for Great Falls.
She would have preferred a train going the other way, but she decidednot to wait. She watched the sick woman put aboard the one Pullmancoach, and then she herself went into the stuffy day-coach. FlorenceGrace Hallman was not in the habit of riding in day-coaches in thenight-time when there was a Pullman sleeper attached to the train. Shedid not stop at Great Falls; she went on to Butte--and from there I donot know where she went. Certainly she never came back.
That, of course, simplified matters considerably for Florence Grace--andfor the Happy Family as well. For at the preliminary hearing of H. J.Owens for the high crime of kidnapping, that gentleman proceeded tounburden his soul in a way that would have horrified Florence Grace,had she been there to hear. Remember, I told you that his eyes were thewrong shade of blue.
A man of whom you have never heard tried to slip out of the court roomduring the unburdening process, and was stopped by Andy Green, who hadbeen keeping an eye on him for the simple reason that the fellow hadbeen much in the company of H. J. Owens during the week precedingthe fire and the luring away of the Kid. The sheriff led him offsomewhere--and so they had the man who had set the prairie afire.
As is the habit of those who confess easily the crimes of others, H. J.Owens professed himself as innocent as he consistently could in the faceof the Happy Family and of the Kid's loud-whispered remarks when he sawhim there. He knew absolutely nothing about the fire, he said, and hadnothing to do with the setting of it. He was two miles away at the timeit started.
And then Miss Rosemary Allen took the witness stand and told about theman on the hilltop and the bit of mirror that had flashed sun-signalstoward the west.
H.J. Owens crimpled down visibly in his chair. Imagine for yourself thetrouble he would have in convincing men of his innocence after that.
Just to satisfy your curiosity, at the trial a month later he failedabsolutely to convince the jury that he was anything but what he was--acriminal without the strength to stand by his own friends. He wassentenced to ten years in Deer Lodge, and the judge informed him that hehad been dealt with leniently at that, because after all he was onlya tool in the hands of the real instigator of the crime. That realinstigator, by the way, was never apprehended.
The other man--he who had set fire to the prairie--got six years, andcursed the judge and threatened the whole Happy Family with death whenthe sentence was passed upon him--as so many guilty men do.
To go back to that preliminary, trial: The Happy Family, when H. J.Owens was committed safely to the count
y jail, along with the fire-bug,took the next train to Great Falls with witnesses and the HonorableBlake. They filed their answers to the contests two days before thetime-limit had expired. You may call that shaving too close the marginof safety. But the Happy family did not worry over that--seeing therewas a margin of safety. Nor did they worry over the outcome of thematter. With the Homeseekers' Syndicate in extremely bad repute, andwith fully half of the colonists homeless and disgusted, why should theyworry over their own ultimate success?
They planned great things with their irrigation scheme.... I am notgoing to tell any more about them just now. Some of you will complain,and want to know a good many things that have not been told in detail.But if I should try to satisfy you, there would be no more meetingsbetween you and the Happy Family--since there would be no more to tell.
So I am not even going to tell you whether Andy succeeded in persuadingMiss Rosemary Allen to go with him to the parson. Nor whether the HappyFamily really did settle down to raise families and alfalfa and beards.Not another thing shall you know about them now.
You may take a look at them as they go trailing contentedly away fromthe land-office, with their hats tilted at various characteristic anglesand their well-known voices mingled in more or less joyful converse,and their toes pointed toward Central Avenue and certain liquidrefreshments. You need not worry over that bunch, surely. You may safelyleave them to meet future problems and emergencies as they have alwaysmet them in the past--on their feet, with eyes that do not wave orflinch, shoulder to shoulder, ready alike far grin fate or a frolic.