CHAPTER XXIII

OCCUPATIONS OF A CRIPPLE

A few days after their return from Smith's Hole, Jack met with quite a bad accident. Joe had driven the waggon around on to the mountain to get a load of poles, and Hugh and Jack rode up by the short trail to help him. While they were loading the waggon, Jack carelessly dropped the end of a heavy pole on to his foot, and crushed it quite badly. Hugh at once took off his shoe and stocking and examined the foot, but did not find that any bones were broken. He bandaged it with a couple of handkerchiefs, wet with cold water, and putting Jack on his horse, they returned to the ranch. The ride down the mountain side was very painful for the boy, but whenever they passed a brook, Hugh bathed the foot in cold water, which somewhat relieved the pain.

When they reached the ranch Jack's foot was badly swollen, and he was at once put to bed, where he stayed for two days. After that he was allowed to sit up, with his foot resting on a chair, and the next two days he spent chiefly in reading, though his uncle and the men often came in and talked with him, giving him the news. Hugh made a crutch for him, and on the fifth day he was allowed to hobble about with that, but was warned not to put his foot to the ground, unless he wanted to go to bed again.

It was pretty dull work doing nothing, for Jack greatly preferred riding over the prairie to sitting on a chair in front of the ranch door.

The first day that he used the crutch, Jack amused himself for a time by calling his flock of tame wild ducks about him and feeding them; but after a while, the ducks having had all the grain they wanted, walked off in single file to the brush, and left him alone. He thought of getting one of the men to bring the elk to him, but this was such a stupid beast that he thought it would prove a poor companion.

As the men were leaving the house after dinner, Jack called to Hugh and said, "Hugh, can't you think of something for me to do? I'm getting awful tired of staying right here in one place."

"Well," said Hugh, "I wish it was so you could get on your horse and ride with me this afternoon. I'm going over into the pasture and then down round by the lake. I'd like right well to stop here and talk with you all the afternoon, but I can't do it. Them cows has got to be looked after. You surely ought to have some one to keep you company, though. I'll tell you what it is; I'll go down to the barn and fetch up Pawnee, and picket him around here close to you. Maybe he'd be sort of company for you."

"That's just the thing," said Jack; "I wish you'd do it. It's nearly a week now since I've seen him."

Hugh went down to the barn, and after a little while returned, leading the horse with Jack's rope about its neck. He drove a picket pin into the sod, not far in front of the boy's chair, and fastened the rope to it. Then he went into the house, and came out again with a cup in which were a dozen lumps of sugar.

"Now, son," he said, "I've got a job for you that'll keep you busy all the afternoon, and it's something that you'll like to do, and something that may some day be right useful to you. You put in your time this afternoon teaching this horse to come to you when you whistle to him. You can't much more than make a start to-day, but if you keep it up for a few days, you can make him so that he'll come to you just as far as he can hear you whistle."

"That'll be splendid, Hugh, if I can only do it; but how can I teach him? I remember reading a book once about a man who lived in Mexico, and he had trained his horse just that way; and I remember that whenever he had left his horse and was on foot, and his enemies got after him, he'd whistle, and the horse would come dashing up, and he'd jump into the saddle and ride away. You see, his was the fastest horse in all that country, and they never could catch him."

"Well, now," said Hugh, "there's no reason why you shouldn't teach yours to do just that same thing, and yours is just about the fastest one in all this country; so you might be just like the fellow you read about in the book. Now, after a while, when the horse is feeding quite a little way from you, you whistle to him, and then pull on his rope and make him come up to you and give him a lump of sugar. Don't give him only one, and then let him wander off and pick grass again, and the next time he gets pretty well toward the end of his rope, whistle to him again, and draw in on the rope and bring him up close to you and give him another lump of sugar. Do that half a dozen times, not too close together, and the first thing you know you'll see him start toward you just as soon as you whistle. Mind you always whistle to him the same way. Are you a pretty good whistler? Can you whistle loud?"

"No, I can't whistle very loud," said Jack. "I can whistle a little, but I can't whistle real shrill."

"Well, hold on now; what will we do for a whistle? Seems to me your uncle's got a dog whistle somewhere in the house, that he always used with old Dan, that bird dog that he hunted with. I think I saw that whistle this winter in the cigar box on top of the book shelves. Hold on a minute."

Hugh went into the house and a few minutes later came out again with the dog whistle and gave it to Jack. "Now," he said, "if you're going to teach the horse to mind that whistle, you'll have to get your uncle to give it to you, and carry it with you all the time. If he gets to learn one sound he'll mind that and no other. Try him now, before I start off."

Pawnee was busy eating grass, nearly at the full length of the rope, when Jack gave a long shrill blast on his whistle, and, at the unusual sound, the horse raised his head and looked about. Jack began to gather in the rope, and Pawnee, following it, walked up to him and stuck out his nose. Jack offered him a piece of the sugar, at which he at first sniffed rather suspiciously, and then ate and seemed to enjoy. He reached out his nose for more, but Jack threw down the rope and turned away, and presently the horse walked back and began to eat the grass again.

"That's all right," said Hugh, "you'll see that before night he'll come quick when you blow that whistle. Well, so long; I must be going;" and Hugh walked away to the corral to get his horse.

Jack sat there most of the afternoon, and from his chair trained his horse, and it proved as Hugh had said, that before supper time Pawnee knew that a blast on the whistle meant that he was to be offered a lump of sugar, which he was always ready to take. Jack was perfectly delighted with his success, and determined that he would keep up this education of the horse until it had been so thoroughly trained that it would seek him at the whistle wherever he might be. The interest that he felt in this lightened up the next two or three days wonderfully. Each day he hopped about on his crutch a little more easily, and at last he was able to put his injured foot to the ground without much pain. He worked with Pawnee down in the corral and out on the flat in front of the house, and at last he took the rope off the animal and turned it loose, letting it wander where it would, and when he found that he could call the loose horse from a distance of a quarter of a mile, and it came galloping or trotting toward him at the sound of the whistle, he felt that he had really accomplished a great feat.

Hugh congratulated him heartily on his success. "I had a horse once," he said, "that I trained to do this, and there was lots of times when it was mighty handy to me. Most folks think that a horse is just a fool and don't know nothing; but it ain't so. A horse, if you treat it right, is a mighty knowledgeable critter, but most people don't know enough to see what there is in one, and think you can't get nothing out of it without you use a quirt, spurs, and maybe a club. Of course it's a mighty nervous animal, and it's always been used to being chased, and so it is scary, but there's lots of sense to a horse if you take it right."

At length Jack's foot was well enough for him to ride; but his first two or three rides were close about the ranch and on old Grey, which could be trusted not to make any sudden movements, and so not to oblige Jack to use his lame foot, which, however, was recovering rapidly, the cold water treatment, which Hugh had insisted on giving it having proved very effective.

During this period of his confinement, Jack had seen more of Shep, the ranch dog, than he ever had before. This was a big yellow shaggy shepherd dog, very affectionate and a very good watch dog, but rather a foolish, puppy-like beast, that was not especially popular with anyone. Hugh had said of him, "That dog there thinks he's a runner, and he thinks he's a fighter too, and he ain't neither one nor the other. He'll start off and chase an antelope or a jack rabbit, like he thought he was going to catch it without any trouble, but the things run off ahead of him, not a bit scared, and he just runs himself down and comes back with his tongue hanging out a yard, looking, and I expect feeling, like a fool. He ain't never caught nothing yet, and I don't expect he ever will catch anything."

It was after dark one evening, when Jack and Hugh were sitting before the ranch door, and Shep was lying at Hugh's feet, that they heard a coyote howl right close to the house. The dog sprang to his feet and rushed around the corner of the house to where the sound had come from, and they could hear the patter of his feet as he raced down toward the blacksmith's shop. Suddenly from the shop there came a tumult of growling, yelling and worrying, a noise as if a lot of dogs were fighting.

"By George!" said Hugh, "I believe that fool dog has ran into a nest of coyotes." Hugh ran around the corner of the house, and toward the sounds, which still continued, and Jack, grasping his crutch, half ran, half hopped, after him. In a moment he heard Hugh shouting, the noise of the fighting ceased, and as Jack reached the corner of the blacksmith's shop, he met Hugh coming back with Shep running before him.

"Well, now, what do you suppose I found when I got down there?" said Hugh. "Just inside the garden fence was this dog and six or eight coyotes on top of him, just everlastingly making the fur fly. It's mighty lucky for him that he's got so much of this long yellow hair; if he hadn't had, he'd have been eaten up before I got there. I expect he's some cut up as it is." They took Shep into the kitchen, and by the light of the lamp looked over him, and found that, as Hugh had said, he was bitten and cut in a dozen places. None of the wounds were very serious, but only his shaggy coat had protected him.

"Do you know," said Hugh, after they were again seated in the bright moonlight, "I believe that was just a scheme of them coyotes to kill this dog. You took notice, didn't you, how close that one that howled was to us? I never saw a coyote come so close to the house before. I believe he just came up here to tole Shep down behind the blacksmith's shop, where his partners were waiting. It was a pretty sharp trick now, wasn't it?"

A few days after this, Hugh and Mr. Sturgis looked at Jack's foot and pronounced it well. It no longer pained him at all, but sometimes he thought it felt a little stiff as he walked. He now resumed his riding after the saddle horses and the milk cows, and besides this, went out almost daily with Hugh or with his uncle on their excursions in one direction or another, after horses and cattle.

One day, the cows that had been kept in the pasture were brought up to the corrals, in order that the calves might be branded. They were all put in one of the large corrals and then, one by one, the cows were cut out and driven through a chute into another large corral, leaving all the calves together; then the branding began. Fires were built just outside the corral fence, and the branding irons put in them to heat. Then, one by one the calves were roped, thrown and held down until the hot iron had been put on them. It took a long time to brand the hundred and four calves in this bunch, and by the time the work had been finished all hands were hot, tired and covered with dust. It was a relief to every one when the gates were opened and the calves and their mothers allowed to come together again.

"I'll tell you what it is, son," said Hugh, "working cattle and horses isn't all fun; there's a heap of hard work to it, and I believe I'm getting pretty old to do work of that kind. Fact is, you see, I wasn't raised to this sort of business. We didn't have no cattle in this country till about ten or a dozen years ago. That's the reason I always said I ain't no cowman and won't never be. A man's got to be brung up to the business to do it well."