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Read Ebook: Repertory of The Comedie Humaine Complete A — Z by Cerfberr Anatole Christophe Jules Fran Ois McSpadden J Walker Joseph Walker Translator
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Ebook has 2181 lines and 168371 words, and 44 pages
A DISHEARTENING LOSS
Clucking to their horses, the Manley boys proceeded toward Eagles. The road led downward now, and the going was easier.
"Speaking of the 8 X 8, did you hear what happened there?" Teddy asked, as he pulled gently on General's leading rein.
"Yep! Twenty head of short-horn Durhams stolen; wasn't it? Pete ought to put better men to riding his cattle."
"Now, I don't know," Teddy replied slowly. "They've got some good punchers over on the 8 X 8. Way I figure it, those rustlers are mighty clever. They ride into a herd at night, cut out as many head as they can handle, and drive 'em away before the riders can get to them. But, by jinks, they'd better not try to get away with any of the X Bar X cattle! They'll have one sweet fight on their hands if they do;" Teddy looked down at the side of his saddle where the insignia X--X, burned in the leather, could be plainly seen. The X Bar X was proud of its mark. It stood for many years of upright, square dealing.
Pop Burns, the oldest hand on the X Bar X ranch, claimed that he had "invented" the brand for Temple Manley, the grandfather of Roy and Teddy. Pop was inordinately boastful of this distinction, which he had conferred on himself, and he never tired of telling newcomers how he had happened to hit on the device of the "two sawbucks with a piece of rail fence in between," as he sometimes described it. So vain was he of the mark that he placed it on everything brandable--saddles, bridles, wagons, the autos, and all. Jim Casey claimed he had even caught Pop marking Jim's fancy vest with the X Bar X, but this the veteran denied.
"Yes, sir, there'll certainly be something doing if those rustlers take any of our stuff," Teddy went on. "Pop would be on their necks in a minute! I can just see the old geezer raving mad, and frothing around about: 'Steal one of my brands, will ye? I'll get ye fer that if it takes me ten years!' Oh, baby!" and Teddy laughed.
"That's right!" Roy remarked. "But, say, I hope dad's train is late. If it isn't, we'll never make it! Come on, let's hit it up!"
The boys urged the horses to a faster pace, and, somewhat winded, reached the station at Eagles in a cloud of dust, much of which clung to them and their mounts, where they slipped from the saddles with grunts of relief. They tied the three horses to a hitching rail not far from the station and concealed from the highway and the railroad office by a rough shack that served as freight and express depot.
"Yep, she's late, all right," announced Foley, the ticket agent, as the boys tramped into the station. "All of thirty minutes behind time. Your dad's comin' today, ain't he? I see you got General out there. Spotted him when ye swung around to tie up. That road to your place must be some dusty, with the wind blowin' up your back, hey?"
"I'll tell a maverick it is!" agreed Roy, and then he and his brother, after a glance about the dingy waiting room, sauntered out to look over the town.
Perhaps "town" would be dignifying Eagles beyond its merits. There was a main street, consisting of two restaurants, a post-office, six stores and the railroad station. A little way down the track was a large corral, used as a temporary retention place for dealers who sent their steers to this point to be shipped. Often there would be a delay of a day or more before sufficient cattle cars would arrive at Eagles.
It was the cattle that brought the station; the station brought the town, and the town brought all sorts of things, one of which was now leaning against the front of Rimor's Place, hat pulled low over his face, smoke from an invisible cigarette drifting lazily about his head.
Rimor's Place was one of the two restaurants, although as an eating house it failed to qualify. Yet its habitues were never heard to complain of the quality of its food. The "hard-stuff" was good.
"There's a tough-looking baby," Teddy said in a low voice, nodding toward the figure of the man outside of Rimor's. "Seems like his breakfast had soured on him."
"It's a rare bunch that hangs out at Duck Rimor's," Roy replied. "They ought to close that place. Slim Dery's restaurant is enough for Eagles," he declared emphatically.
A short time later the brothers again stood on the station platform, eagerly watching for the express from the city. It pulled in, and a tall, well set-up man of perhaps fifty-five alighted. He wore a heavy dark mustache, and beneath his broad sombrero his black hair was here and there tinged with gray. As his foot struck the platform he reached in his pocket, and by the time Roy and Teddy had greeted him, a corncob pipe reposed in the corner of his mouth.
"Hello there, Roy and Teddy! The two sons of the prairie come to meet their father, who has been far away in the land of the snicker-snackers! Greetings! Boys, I've got a surprise for you."
"What is it, Dad?" Roy asked, grinning at his father.
"A whiffletree, hey, Dad?" Teddy inquired.
"No, not a whiffletree. Nor a wham-wicker either. Behold! Nell and Ethel, allow me to present my two dutiful sons, Roy and Teddy. Pardon me, Theodore! Boys, this is Nell Willis, and this Ethel Carew. They're Peter Ball's nieces."
The boys now saw two young girls, of about their own age, who had just stepped from the train to the platform. Small hats were set over piquant faces; laughing eyes looked into those of Roy and Teddy. Somewhat in a daze, the boys acknowledged the introduction.
"Yes," went on Mr. Manley, tamping the tobacco gently down into his pipe, "they're Peter Ball's nieces from New York, goin' to visit the 8 X 8. Met 'em on the train. I used to know 'em a long time ago--" applying a match to the pipe--"but they wouldn't remember me. I want 'em both to come over and see your sister, Belle Ada," he explained to the boys. "Golly, it's good to be back again!" Thereat, with a contented sigh, he blew out a huge cloud of fragrant smoke.
"Oh, we'd love to come!" one of the girls said, she whom Mr. Manley had introduced as Nell Willis. Then she looked at Roy. "You know, I've always wanted to come West. I think it's so--so weird, don't you?"
"Weird?" Roy repeated, as though to himself. "You mean--weird? Oh, yes! Sure! Awfully weird! Yep! Sure is!"
"And do you ride just all the time?" the other, Ethel Carew, asked Teddy.
"Who, me? Nope! Sit down to eat," and Teddy grinned. Nice eyes the girl had.
"How's your mother?" Mr. Manley interrupted.
"Fine," Roy answered, turning to his father. "She'll be glad to see you again. She's been a little lonesome."
"No trouble?" his father asked quickly. "I heard something about rustlers getting away with some of the 8 X 8 stock. Man on the train told me. They haven't been around our place, have they?"
"Not that I know of," Roy replied. "I guess mother's been a bit upset ever since--er--" He glanced over at Teddy, who was explaining to Ethel Carew why they called a cowboy a puncher. "Ever since you had that fuss with Gilly Froud," Roy went on. "She's always sort of afraid he'll come back and do some damage."
Mr. Manley scowled and removed his pipe from his mouth.
"He better not let me catch him around the X Bar X," he said sternly. "And if he's wise, he'll steer clear of Teddy, too. Froud may be big, but I wouldn't bet a plugged nickel on him if Teddy ever saw him kick Flash again."
"Who, me? Shoot a rustler?" Roy's father demanded. Then he saw that Nell was looking at Roy. "Oh, you mean him. I thought you were talkin' to me. That's Roy, there."
The girl reddened slightly.
"Roy, then! And you call me Nell. But tell me--did you ever shoot a rustler--Roy?"
"No, I can't say that I did," Roy answered, with a laugh. "But if you'd like it, I'll try to arrange to do it for you," and he laughed again.
"Roy's only joking," Mr. Manley stated. "People back East think we've got nothing to do but chase Indians and string up hoss-thieves. Why, even if there were Indians runnin' around loose, we wouldn't have time to chase 'em. We have plenty to do on a ranch without lookin' for trouble," he declared. "That reminds me, Teddy--who's doin' most of the outridin' these days?" Outriding was the process of investigating the condition of the stock on the range.
"Nat Raymond and Jim Casey, mostly," Teddy answered. "Then, I thought maybe it would be a good idea to have Nick Looker take a hand, too. Since the rustlers started raiding the 8 X 8, I've been kind of worried about our own cattle."
"Yes, have Nick do that," replied the lad's father approvingly. Mr. Manley thought it best that his sons should assume responsibility early in life. Accordingly, he gave each one the practical management of the ranch on alternate weeks. This week Teddy had been the foreman.
"Well, no use standin' out in the hot sun," Mr. Manley continued, with a glance at the fair skin of the two girls. He wondered how long it would be before a coat of tan covered those pink-and-white faces. "Roy, just cart the bags into the depot, will you? Some one coming out from the 8 X 8 for you, I take it?" and he looked over at Nell and Ethel.
"We expect a car," Ethel answered dubiously. "Although Uncle Peter may send horses--" and she glanced down at her traveling dress.
"Now, don't worry about that," Mr. Manley said, with a hearty laugh. "We have autos out here, same as you have in New York. Pete's got two of the finest cars in the state, though mostly he uses flivvers. You won't have to fork no bronc--pardon me, I mean ride a horse."
Seizing the girls' two bags, Roy carried them into the station while the others followed more slowly. Mr. Manley had but a small hand bag, and Teddy left this with the station agent to be brought over later on the wagon. When the ranch-owner traveled, he wanted to be ready to "light out in a hurry," as he expressed it. Usually a clean shirt and some collars completed his traveling kit. Mr. Manley had lived in the West all his life, and had the Westerner's contempt for "dofunnies," as unnecessary equipment was called.
"But once you get used to a horse," Mr. Manley went on, as he walked toward the rear of the station, "you'll never set foot inside an auto again," he assured the girls. "Now, I have a horse I call General. Gentle, strong, and quick as a flash. Him, me, an' this corncob pipe have been through plenty of rough places together in the last four years. Tell you, I wouldn't trade General for ten of the best mustangs in the state!" and he nodded his head decidedly, so that little rings of smoke detached themselves from the bowl of the pipe and drifted gently away.
"I'm sure we'll just love it out here," Ethel remarked enthusiastically. "Of course, we've both ridden in the city, but we always used much smaller saddles than you use here," she commented as she saw a rider pause in front of Rimor's Place.
"Postage stamps!" Mr. Manley said, with a grin. "That's what we call those saddles out West. The kind we ride are real saddles. Like the one I have on General, for instance. He wouldn't know what to do if some one pasted one of those English saddles on his back."
"Now I'm goin' to show you three of the prettiest ponies you ever saw," he declared. "Whenever I go to the city I always have Roy or Teddy meet me with General, so's I can ride back on him. I suppose you tied 'em in the usual place, Teddy?" he asked.
"I sure did, Dad," Teddy answered. "Tied right on the old rail."
With a smile of anticipation on his face, Mr. Manley stepped forward. Then he paused, and those behind him heard him give a gasp of surprise.
"Why," he said in a puzzled tone, "what's this? A joke?"
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