Part 2
“Oh, but you shouldn’t judge any city by what you see of it from a train, for remember, the tracks always run through the worst parts of the city. You should see this city’s boulevards and parks. They would make you change your mind, for they are among the finest in the world. I saw them on my way East, for Mr. Wilder stopped here a week and during that time kept me at a livery stable and every day he took a horseback ride. In that way I saw all of the city, its handsome residences, business districts, parks, and boulevards; and I can tell you there are none finer, not even in your beloved Boston.”
“Don’t you think I could manage to run away and see it all?” asked Billy.
“Not unless you wish to give up your trip West, for if you once left this car you could never find your way back among all those hundreds of others in the yard here that look just like it.”
“I could easily find my way back if that was all,” said Billy Jr., “but the thing I am afraid of is that they might start West and leave me, or switch you off to another yard where I could not find you.”
Their conversation was interrupted here by a man bringing them something to eat and a bucket of water.
“I do not see why they did not run this car over to the Stock Yards so these animals could have been taken out and fed and watered and their car cleaned in proper shape,” Billy Jr. heard a red-headed man say, as he pushed back the sliding door that shut them in. “For heaven’s sake! I thought it was two horses we had been sent to look after and not a car of goats,” as Billy Jr. appeared at the door.
“You can have the job,” said a jolly-looking, fat man. “I throw up my share right here. I had all I wanted to do with goats when I was a boy.”
“Why, what did they ever do to you that you should take such a dislike to them?” said the red-headed man.
“Well, I’ll tell you. The first thing they did to me when I was a little shaver was to chew my hair off.”
“Chew your hair off! How in the world did they get a chance to do that?”
“It happened in this way,” said the fat man, “I went to sleep on a bank by the side of the road one hot day, and when I woke up my hair was all chewed off, and the old Billy had commenced on one leg of my trousers. I stoned him good for this, but he got even a week after when he met me coming home from one of the neighbors with a basket of eggs in one hand and a pat of butter in the other. The first thing I knew I was standing on my head in the pat of butter and the eggs were all broken beside me with the basket turned upside-down. From that day on that goat and I were enemies. He would do me a mean trick and I would pay him back the first chance I got. But somehow or other he always seemed to get the best of me. And this goat is as much like him as two peas; and how do I know but what it is the same goat, though that was years ago? Goats may live to be a hundred for all I know, and I don’t care to take my chances; so I will attend to the horse and you look after the goat.”
As these words left his mouth Billy Jr. made a plunge for him and, landing in the yard clear over his head, ran off and disappeared behind some freight cars.
“Now, what did I tell you! He has got us in trouble right off, for most likely he will never come back and we will have to pay for him. Drat goats, I say! and double drat this one in particular!”
_Billy Jr. Gets a Taste of the West._
Just outside the car yard fence was a Chinese laundry, and ever since Billy’s car had been backed into the yard he had been watching the Chinamen at work at the open door. So now that he was loose he determined to get out of the yard and see what it was the Chinamen were sticking their cheeks out with and blowing on the clothes.
When he appeared at the door it startled one of the Chinamen so that he let all the water that was in his mouth and which he had intended to sprinkle the clothes with, fly in Billy’s face. Now Billy thought the Chinaman had spat in his face on purpose, and if there is one thing more than another that will make a goat fighting mad, it is to spit or even pretend to spit at him.
With a plunge forward he butted the Chinaman through a curtained partition that separated the front room from the back, knocking another Chinaman that was bending over a washtub into the tub headforemost and upsetting tub, Chinamen, and all. Then he quietly walked into the back yard where some nicely starched shirts were hanging out to dry. These he chewed until the two Chinamen tried to drive him out of the yard by turning the hose on him. They had only given him one squirt when he went for them and butted one into a limp heap in one corner of the room, while the other took to his heels down the street, as if the old man from the sulphur regions were after him.
On coming out of the laundry Billy Jr. heard Star whinnying for him in a distressed, excited voice, and he bleated back, “I am coming, Star. What’s the matter?”
Star answered back, “Hurry up or you will be left behind; they are going to switch our car on to the Santa Fe train.”
Billy knew he would not have time to go around the way he had come, so he crawled through a place in the fence where a couple of boards were off, and gained his car just as it began to back out of the yard.
“Well, old fellow, where have you been? You look all wet, and you have nearly given me nervous prostration by your absence. I have neighed and neighed for you until my throat is sore.”
“I never heard you,” said Billy Jr., “for I was inside the laundry seeing to a little washing,” and Billy Jr. commenced to laugh.
“What are you laughing at?” asked Star.
“At the funny frightened faces those pig-tailed Chinamen made at me when they saw me coming for them. I wonder if the Chinaman I frightened up the street has stopped running yet,” said Billy Jr.
“Tell me so I can laugh, too,” said Star, “for I know you have been in mischief.”
While Billy was telling of his adventure the train started on its way, westward ho.
The trip from Chicago to Kansas City was made without any excitement; and after they had left Kansas City behind and were well on their way across the state, Billy, who was looking out of his peephole, said:
“Well, I am glad I took your advice and did not try to walk or steal rides to the West. I would have been a tired, foot-sore goat by this time, if I had ever gotten as far as here, which I doubt. The map of the United States I chewed up never gave me any idea of the distance between the eastern states and the western. Look quickly, Star, at that woman with a baby in her arm, coming out of that hole in the ground. What on earth is she doing there? They don’t bury people alive out here, do they?”
Star laughed and said, “No, she lives there. That is what they call a ‘dugout,’ and lots of people in Kansas live in them.”
“Well, when I have to live in a hole in the ground I hope I shall turn into a groundhog and be done with it.”
“Mercy!” exclaimed Billy later, “isn’t it getting hot and oppressive in here!”
“Yes, and it bodes no good for us, for I am afraid it is the calm before the storm and that we are going to have a regular old-fashioned Kansas blizzard or cyclone. Do you see that black cloud rolling toward us from the northeast? Well, I think that is a Northeaster, as they call them, bringing a sand storm with it.”
“Ugh! how cold it has grown all of a sudden. I feel chilled to the bone, after that hot, stuffy air we have been having. And see how it is raining off there.”
“Off there _now_, but in less than a minute it will be here; only that is not rain but fine sand that will sting us like needles, blind us, choke us, and nearly suffocate us before it blows over as suddenly as it came. I know what they are like, for we passed through one on our way East.”
Before Star had stopped talking the first particles of sand were flying and had already shut one of Billy’s eyes and filled his mouth with grit.
“Oh, this is terrible! Why don’t some one come and shut our windows so the nasty sand can’t sift in? I would not live in Kansas if they gave me the whole state,” said Billy Jr., “if this is the kind of storms they have here.”
Two days later they found themselves in New Mexico in sight of the main range of the Rocky Mountains, and Star said that by three o’clock they would be at Las Vegas, where their journey was to end. “And I shan’t be sorry, for my legs ache from standing on them so many days without lying down.”
They were met at Las Vegas by Mr. Wilder, who had been very much worried about them since he heard of the wreck they had been in. But his fears were laid at rest when he saw them, for both had come through in fine shape and had stood the trip splendidly.
The next morning Billy was tied to a wagon filled with groceries and provisions for Mr. Wilder’s ranch, whither they were bound, while Star with his master on his back galloped ahead or followed behind as he saw fit. Once when Star was walking beside him Billy said:
“Star, do you know I feel lonesome for the first time in my life. When I look at those great solemn mountains, whose tops are always covered with snow, I feel about as big as a fly and as if they were trying to teach me a lesson in patience, and dear knows I need it badly enough. How do they make you feel when you look at them?”
“I love them,” said Star, “and the nearer I get to them and the more I look at them the nearer God seems to get. People think horses, dogs and other animals don’t know about God, but I guess we feel His presence more than they do sometimes, though we can’t talk about it.”
“How much further is it?” asked Billy Jr. “I hate walking behind a wagon, taking all the dust from the horses’ heels. And this dust seems to smart so when it gets in one’s eyes.”
“Yes, I know it does; that is because there is so much alkali in the ground about here. Don’t you remember my telling you about Dead Lake and the bones of animals you would see bleaching on its margin had you tried to walk across the desert? Well, this is not a desert, but we have to pass a small lake of alkali water, and, small as it is, you can see the bones of animals lying beside it. There is very little water out here, no large rivers, and only a few springs or little mountain streams.”
“Quick! look off there toward the foot-hills; do you see that grey dog running with a long loping trot?” continued Star.
“Yes, what of it?” said Billy Jr.
“Why, that is not a dog but a coyote or prairie wolf.”
“It is? I wish I had taken a better look at him,” answered Billy Jr.
Presently Star called out, “Cheer up, Billy. We are almost there, for I can see the smoke now rising from the ranchhouse in the distance.”
_Billy Jr. as Leader of the Sheep._
Early the next morning a small flock of sheep was driven from the corral, headed by their leader, an old mountain goat, who was always selected to take out the new flocks for the first two or three times and to break in the new leaders. And now it was Billy Jr.’s turn to be broken in and taught how to lead the sheep and give warning of any danger.
He found old Long Hair (so named from his exceedingly long hair) a very agreeable, patient goat and willing to answer all the new goat’s questions, which were not a few, as he wanted to know all about the country and the ways of Western sheep. Billy knew he must keep up a certain dignity or the sheep would never look up to him or have any confidence in him. Soon he was to get their confidence and a name for bravery in a way he least expected.
Old Long Hair had led them from the corral across the mesa and down into a valley where a little water was to be found in the bottom of an “aroya,” or deep ditch, which an Easterner would call a gully. It is made by the water washing down the sides of the mountains and plowing its way through the soft soil. When the flock got to the edge of this aroya, Billy noticed that a large ram with immense double twisted horns walked out of the flock toward him. But as he stood looking down into the muddy yellow water thinking to himself that it would not be fit to drink if he took the trouble to climb down after it, he forgot all about the ram, until he heard a voice at his side say:
“Well, young fellow, what do you mean by coming along with this flock without asking my permission? I suppose you know that I am master of this herd and I don’t need the assistance of any dandyfied goat like you. When I do, I will select one of my own choosing and not a stranger and tenderfoot from the East.”
Billy Jr. laughed in his face and said:
“Don’t provoke me, old fellow, or I may give you a butt that will land you in that muddy water.”
“What! You dare to speak to me like that, you--you impertinent black-haired goat! If you dare to say another word I will hook you with my strong horns.”
“And what do you suppose I would be doing while you were doing that?” asked Billy. “What do you suppose I would be doing with my own long horns about that time?”
“Look here, young impertinence, I don’t intend to stand here and talk to you all morning, so be off with you.”
“Neither shall I waste any more time over you, Mr. Puffed-up, so take that, and that!” said Billy, as he gave the ram two sharp hooks in his side and sent him rolling to the bottom of the aroya.
When he looked up he found that all the sheep had gathered around to see how the bully of the herd was going to come out with the slick black stranger. Billy made a bow to them and said:
“I would not explain to Mr. Puffer who I am, but I don’t mind telling you all that I am the goat selected by your master to lead this flock, and he brought me all the way from Boston to do it. He picked me out because he thought I was a good fighter and could take care of myself as well as protect you from the wolves, which he said were bad in these parts. Now if any one of you thinks I can’t take care of myself and would not make a good leader, I would like him to walk out of the flock and say so, and we can fight it out while the rest of you look on and see fair play.”
No sheep or goat walked out, and from that day until he left he was the most beloved and admired of all the leaders the flock had ever had.
The next day Billy, as the acknowledged leader, determined when he started out not to stop for water at that dirty aroya, but to push on to the foot-hills and see if he could not find a nice, cool spring, or at least some water that was not as thick with yellow mud as that they had drunk the day before.
He let the sheep graze as they went, but he always managed to keep ahead of them a few steps and in this way they unconsciously hurried forward and by noon found themselves climbing the steep sides of the foot-hills of the Rocky Mountains, which in comparison with the main-ranges seem like little hills.
Billy left them to graze there while he climbed to the top so he could get a view of the surrounding country and see what was in the opposite valley. The sight that met his eyes was beyond description--in the distance lay the main range of the Rocky Mountains, deep blue in color with a white cap of snow on their heads; and shading down in all the intermediate colors between deep purple, blue and pale gray were parallel ranges of mountains. Directly beneath him a silvery stream wound its way through a fertile valley, and nestled on its banks was a small settlement of adobe houses where lived the Mexicans that farmed the land.
He had only to turn around and at his back lay an entirely different scene. This one was grand in its lonesomeness, with its plains and mesas destitute of trees or life. Out across the barren prairie on a tableland equally as barren lay Fort Union, now deserted, from which the soldiers used to ride to fight the Indians. Whichever way the eye roamed one saw height, space, grandeur which awed into stillness and made one think of God. It was a silent sermon felt, not spoken.
Suddenly Billy was rudely awakened from his reverie. There, skulking stealthily along behind some rocks and bushes, he detected a moving object that seemed to come creeping, creeping nearer and nearer to his sheep. He looked again more intently, and yes, sure enough, it was a wolf he saw making for the flock. In a second the responsibility of his position, which he had forgotten for a time, rushed upon him, and with bound after bound he started down the mountain side. Only a moment he halted to see if the wolf were still coming, and as he did so, a little white, tender lamb ran on ahead of its mother right into the jaws of death, for not twenty steps ahead crouched the wolf ready to spring.
The little lamb came nearer. The wolf crouched on his hind legs a little more, opened his mouth, and sprang; but instead of his teeth closing on the tender morsel, he felt himself pinioned on a pair of long, sharp horns.
But Billy was also surprised to find on closer inspection that his supposed wolf was not a wolf at all, but one of the half-civilized dogs from the placita, or Mexican village. It seems that these dogs will guard their own flocks from an enemy, but will sneak out and eat up any young lamb that strays from the fold of a stranger’s flock.
After this the sheep were more fond of Billy than ever and would go anywhere he led them without a murmur.
_A Fight With Wolves._
Several days after this when Billy was out in the mountains he noticed that it grew suddenly cold and that light flurries of snow began to blow and swirl through the mountain passes. He climbed to the top of a peak whence he could get a good view of the clouds and saw, advancing from the direction of the main range, a terrible black cloud that was hurling snow and sleet on the mountains and valleys as it came.
It took him but a moment to decide what to do, for he knew if the young lambs were caught out in such a severe storm they would be frozen to death. So he turned back to the flock and told them to follow him as quickly as they could and not to stop to take even a mouthful of grass. He led them into the deepest, most sheltered cañon he could find and told them to stand close together so as to keep each other as warm as possible and to be careful to see that the young sheep and lambs were on the inside where it would be the warmest.
Here they stood while the storm raged and blew over and above the cañon, but the sheep were so sheltered that scarcely any snow fell on them, as the force of the wind carried it over. It grew darker and darker and time to go home, but Billy said:
“We will have to stay here all night. It will never do to go out in such a storm onto the open prairie. Half of you would perish with the cold before you got across the valley.”
So there they stayed in their little sheltered nook undisturbed until about midnight, when they were startled by hearing the weird yelping bark of a pack of prairie wolves coming straight down the cañon. This threw the sheep into a terrible panic, for they knew that same pack of wolves only too well; they had made raids on them before and carried off a baby lamb and now and then an old sheep.
Now Billy had never met or even seen a wolf in his life, but he had absolutely no fear of them, as he knew they were too much like dogs to be afraid of. Still he did not know how he would come out fighting a whole pack by himself, and from the sound of their voices it seemed as if there must be at least fifty of them.
“Now all you rams that have horns make a circle around the sheep, and if a wolf tries to get through in order to get at a young sheep, fight for your lives and theirs and don’t give up and run off. While you do this I will run here and there wherever I think a wolf is most likely to break through your circle and kill them one by one, for I am not afraid of any wolf I ever heard of.”
This stand of Billy’s gave them more courage, but they were so accustomed to turn tail and run at the approach of danger that Billy was afraid they would do so now at the first sight they got of the wolves.
All this time the wolves had been drawing nearer and nearer, until now only the bend of the pass separated them from the flock.
Soon the yellowish light of seven pairs of eyes glared through the blackness. This was met by the fiery red light in Billy Jr.’s eyes. The trembling sheep dared not move nor look up. Not so Billy! His eyes fairly blazed defiance, and with a snort of rage he bounded on the leader of the pack and killed him before he knew what had struck him. Billy was so black the wolves could not see him; all they could see were the red balls of fire that seemed to be here, there, and everywhere, the most deadly balls they had ever come in contact with, for wherever they appeared a wolf lay dead the next moment.
Billy heard a bleat of agony, and looking to where it came from saw a dark object in among the white, and knew that a wolf had broken through the ring he had formed for their protection and the old rams were deserting their post and running away.
“Come back, you cowards!” Billy cried. “You will only be killed if you go out alone.” This brought them to their senses and they closed in once more around the sheep, but left Billy to do all the fighting. This he did with a vengeance and to such good purpose that the wolves commenced to slink away, wondering what kind of a leader these sheep had in the place of old Long Hair.
The next morning Billy Jr. led the sheep home, thinking it would be better for them in the corral than out on the mountains until the weather moderated, for they were not used to such storms in this climate.
When Mr. Wilder saw Billy leading the flock home he went to meet him on Star and said:
“Billy, I was not mistaken in taking you for a born leader. You are worth your weight in gold. But it beats me where you hid yourselves last night, for we looked for you and could not find one of you. And then for you to come back out of such a storm without even a lamb missing is remarkable. I wonder the wolves did not get after you and kill some of the young lambs, even if they did not freeze to death.” And Billy Jr. wondered what he would have said could he see the dead wolves lying in the cañon.
Three days after the dead bodies were found by a man from another ranch when looking for his sheep that had been lost since the night of the storm and, seeing some small flecks of wool sticking to the side of the rocks opposite, he knew why his neighbor’s sheep had not been killed and his had. He immediately rode over and told Mr. Wilder, who rode back to see where Billy had fought his brave battle and saved so many lives. From that day on Billy was the hero he deserved to be and no amount of money could have bought him.
As the sheep stayed in the corral the next day after the storm, Billy thought he would try and find Star and have a talk with him. So he jumped the low wall of the corral and soon found his friend in the stable-yard chewing some corn husks.
“Hello, Billy Jr.! I am glad to see you,” said Star. “I have not laid eyes on you for ages and I am anxious to learn what you think of our Western country by this time.”
“Oh, I think it is good enough as far as the country goes for any one who likes it, but I am tired of it and am going back to civilization.”
“What, tired of it already, and with all the honors you have had heaped upon you!” said Star.
“Yes. I don’t like buffalo grass as a steady diet nor dirty cañon water to drink. And those sheep are altogether too stupid to suit me. I would rather live in a city; and that is what I have come to see you about. I am not ready to go home yet, but I can’t make up my mind whether to go to old Mexico or California.”