CHAPTER XV

AN ENGLISHMAN IN CAMP

As Mason stepped out of the saloon, turning up the street toward the stable, he saw Ross walking toward him with a tall, large, red-headed young man, who was evidently an Englishman. As they met, Mason spoke.

"I'm going to start back now, Ross. I've finished up my business here in town."

"Hold on a minute," said Ross. "Here's a man just come in on the passenger this morning, who wants to go out into the country where you're going, and I told him maybe you could help him. Mr. Donald, this is Jack Mason."

"If I can help you, Mr. Donald, I'll be glad to," Mason said as the two shook hands; "but I'm just going back to the round-up camp, forty miles or so from here."

"Well," explained the young man, "I was thinking of going out to Mr. Sturgis's ranch. He lives somewhere up North, about forty miles, I think he told me, from the railroad. Is his place anywhere near your camp?"

"No; but there are two or three of his men along with our outfit, and if you want to come out there with me, some one of them may be going over to his place before long, and could take you there. It's a perfectly plain road from here out to the ranch, just as soon as a man knows the road, but if he doesn't know it, he's liable to get lost a good many times before he gets there."

"Yes," said Ross, "I told Donald that it was a plain road out to the Sturgis ranch, but that there were about twenty roads turning off from it, and it wouldn't be easy to take the right one."

"Have you got a horse to ride?" asked Mason.

"No," answered Donald, "I have no horse; but I was going to buy a horse and saddle, or perhaps two horses, here in town. Mr. Ross says that he has one that he would either sell or hire, and that he thinks he could find another that I could use as a pack horse."

"Are you used to the saddle?"

"Yes; I have ridden a little."

"Let's go back to my house," said Ross, "and sit down and talk it over, and I can soon find out what we can do about horses."

As they walked back up the street, Ross turned to Mason.

"So you've finished up all your business, have you, Jack?" he asked.

"Yes; I'm ready to pull my freight as soon as I can put the saddle on my horse."

"Well," commented Ross, with a little twinkle of his eye, "it seems to me you got through pretty quick."

"So, so," drawled Mason. "It didn't take me long after I once got at it."

"Well," said Ross, "I don't want to quarrel with you, Jack Mason; but you look to me like the biggest fool that I've seen since I come into Wyoming Territory."

Mason laughed heartily.

"Come on, come on, Ross," he said. "What's your riddle? What do you mean?"

"Why," Ross answered, "I believe you didn't come into this town for a single thing except to find Claib Wood and break him all up, when the chances were all in his favor that he'd kill you before you could bat an eye."

"Oh, come, Ross," said Mason; "you're doing a lot of guessing. Didn't I tell you when I first came into town that I didn't know that Claib Wood was here?"

"Yes, you did say that, but I'll bet you a new suit of clothes that if you didn't know he was here, you felt mighty sure that he was; and that if you hadn't felt sure you wouldn't have come to town."

"If I had an imagination like yours, Ross," laughed Mason, "and could use a pen a little better than I can, I'd have made a fortune long ago writing for the newspapers."

"Oh, come off, Jack," returned Ross. "I've known you too long. Don't give me any guff of that kind."

They reached the door of Ross's house, and Mason changed the subject.

"I understand that you've got a horse and saddle for Mr. Donald. Is that so?"

"Right," answered Ross.

"Then, suppose you take him around and see if you can get a pack horse and saddle on any terms that'll suit him, and come back here. I'll go up and saddle the two horses, and we can put Mr. Donald's bed on the one you get; then roll, and get to camp to-morrow morning."

The preparations for the journey did not take long, and the sun was yet two or three hours high when Mason and the young Englishman trotted off over the dry prairie. Mason led the pack horse and Donald rode behind, to urge it on in case this should be necessary, but it went so very well that before long, its hackamore was tied up, and it trotted swiftly on behind or beside Jack Mason's horse, though Donald still rode behind it as a precautionary measure.

About ten o'clock at night they reached the point where the road must be left to go across the prairie to the camp. Here they stopped and removed the saddles from the horses, allowing them to roll and to eat a bite of grass. Then they saddled and started off again; and it was getting light when Mason pointed out to Donald the white wagon covers of the camp, and the cattle that dotted the hillsides not far from it. Mason had told Donald that he would better turn his animals into the cávaya the next day, in order that they might rest, and had suggested that he himself might like to ride in the bed wagon and sleep during the day, but the Englishman very quietly said that he thought he would go along with some part of the outfit, if he had a horse which he could ride.

As the new arrivals sat by the fire, waiting for the announcement of breakfast, the sleepy cowboys rose one by one from their beds, and after dousing their heads and arms in cold water, gathered around the fire. Breakfast was soon over, and just as the men were saddling up, Jack Danvers and Vicente, who had been on the last relief of the night herd, came trotting into camp. Jack was introduced to Donald, who told him he was headed for Swift Water Ranch when he could get there, and the two young men shook hands cordially.

"I have been out in this western country two or three times," said Donald, "but this is the first time I have stopped in a cow camp. It must be very interesting and full of excitement, I should think."

"Well," said Jack, "that depends on what you call excitement. I can tell you it is full of hard work; and just about as soon as the bloom of novelty has worn off, hard work is all you see of it. I can remember when I was a little fellow that I used to think it would be the greatest fun in the world to have a string of horses and ride around wearing shaps and clinking spurs, and maybe with a silver saddle-horn; but I have seen too much of it to care for it greatly now. How is it with you, Joe?" he asked, turning to Tulare Joe, who stood rolling a cigarette by the fire, with his horse's bridle rein over his arm.

"Well, Jack, I guess you've been through some school and have learned some lesson. Cow punching is awful good fun to read about, but reading is the best part of it. Books don't ever tell you how thick the dust is, nor how dry you get, nor how sore you become from riding, nor how mean a horse or a cow or a steer can be. No, the books leave out all that sort of thing."

"Well, Mr. Donald," said Jack, "you are going along with us for a few days until you get a chance to go over to Uncle Will's, aren't you?"

"Yes," answered Donald; "that is what I should like to do. But if I am going to stay in the camp, I should like to be of some use. I don't want to just ride a horse up and down and nothing else. I'd like to earn my grub, if I do nothing more."

"Mason says you have no horses to ride," said Jack; "and, of course, on a round-up a man cannot do much without horses."

"No," admitted Donald; "but I was wondering whether I could not hire three or four horses--say one from each of four or five men, so that I could really do some riding. I would enjoy the experience; and, while I do not know anything about the work, I fancy I could learn. Of course, I am more or less used to the saddle."

"Of course you could learn," replied Jack. "It is just riding and being able to put your string on an animal when you need to."

"There is where I am weak," Donald said. "I know nothing about roping. Of course, if a horse is walking in a corral I can put a noose over his head; but as for standing off and throwing it far, I cannot do that."

"That's easy to learn," explained Joe, as he threw down the end of the brand with which he had lighted his cigarette. "Any of us could teach you all you have to know about that in a mighty short while."

"What are you going to do to-day?" asked Jack.

"Why, Mason said that he would lend me a horse out of his string for the day, as both of mine traveled all night, and I thought I would ride along either with the cattle herd or the horse bunch, and use my eyes as much as I could."

"That's a good idea," said Jack. "Now Joe and I are going out with the cattle herd to-day, and if you want to come with us, you can see something, and I think you can learn something too."

"Ripping," was Donald's answer.

"Well, I'll go over and see Mason and find out what horse he wants you to ride and then we'll get started; but, hold on, here's Mason now;" and a moment later Mason rode up to the fire and handed to Donald the rope that was about the neck of a small but beautiful bay horse.

"Have you fixed on what you're going to do, Donald?" he asked; and Donald told him what they had decided on.

"That's bully," said Mason. "I'm riding with the herd to-day, so we'll be together again."

As they rode off toward the herd, Donald turned to Jack.

"It seems to me that Mason is a great man," he said.

"How do you mean?"

"Why, all last night as we rode along he was singing and whistling and making jokes, and telling funny stories. Three or four times I nearly fell off my horse from laughing at him; and yet the day before that, according to the story, he beat up a man in town so that he will have to be in bed for six weeks."

"Beat up a man!" exclaimed Jack. "That couldn't have been Mason."

"Why," said Donald, in some confusion, "I hope it is not a secret. Everybody in town was talking about it. I was only there a few hours, and five or six men spoke to me about it. It seems that a man there tried to draw his gun on Mason, and Mason was too quick for him. He picked him up and threw him pretty nearly through the side of the house and almost broke his neck."

"Great Cæsar's ghost!" exclaimed Jack. "That will be news to everybody in this camp."

"Hold on," said Donald; "I wish you would not say anything about it until somebody else does. I do not want to be carrying gossip around from one place to another; but, as I told you, it was the only thing that they were talking about in town day before yesterday. I fancy it is the most exciting thing that has happened there for a long time."

"Yes," assented Jack, "I guess it's quiet enough there most of the time; but say, what was the name of this man that Mason got into a quarrel with?"

"I cannot remember what the full name was, but almost everybody spoke of him as 'Claib.' I do not know any such name as that, but I suppose it may be a nickname."

"Good Lord!" cried Jack; "why that must be Claib Wood! They say he is one of the worst men in the country--a regular killer. He was ordered away from here because he was suspected of cattle stealing--and they say that there is hardly anybody in the country as quick with a gun as he is."

"Well, he was not quick enough for Mason, it seems," said Donald. "I asked one of the men in the saloon how it happened, and he said it was so quick he really did not know how it did happen. He said that the two men seized hold of each other, and that Mason called out to somebody to take away both guns, that there was not to be a shooting-match; and then a minute or two later Mason lifted up Claib and threw him against the side of the house and through the plaster and almost out through the boards. I saw the place and it certainly did look as if something very heavy had been thrown against the wall."

"I'd like to know just what happened," said Jack; "but one could not very well ask Mason; and I suppose we will have to wait until somebody comes out from town to tell us the news."

"If you don't mind, I'd rather not have you say anything about what I have told you, to any one here, for, as I say, I do not want to be carrying tales."

"All right," promised Jack; "I'll keep quiet. But say, it seems to me that this thing is one of the biggest jokes that ever was. I think a lot of Mason and it seems to me that he was in great danger if he was quarreling with Claib Wood; but you seem to have brought him back perfectly well and sound."

The young Englishman grinned.

"Oh, yes; I brought him back."

All day long the men kept with the herd, and all day long the young Englishman was practising throwing the rope, so that toward evening he had a good idea of how to handle it, though oftener than not he missed the object at which he was throwing. At the same time he was learning the eccentricities of the rope, and a little more practise was likely to make him reasonably skilful. All the boys insisted that practise, practise, practise was the only way in which he could become expert, and Donald determined that he would devote much time to this work for the next two or three days.

That night at the fire, Jack, with a grave face, and having warned Donald to be careful, began to ply Hugh and McIntyre with questions about Claib Wood, asking how bad he was, whether he had killed many men, and other pointed and pertinent questions. He seemed most anxious for all possible particulars as to Claib Wood.

All the time he was watching Jack Mason, who, sitting by the fire with an awl and a piece of buckskin string, was mending a pair of ripped shoes. Mason, however, gave not the slightest evidence of interest in the conversation, and at last Jack was obliged to abandon his examination of the two older men, feeling that he had wholly failed in his efforts to make Mason respond.