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Show jjf I ' "IFi 1 ::. Robert J. C. Stead j: If 1 ll 11 ' lHll Illustrations by i $ jl IRWIN MYERS ! tact, and the boy rode back, muttering and disappointed. He reasoned with his horse as he rode : "'Tain't no use, you ol' Slop-eye; a fellow can't get the bead if he ain't got the fillin' cooked meals an' decent de-cent chuck. I could plug 'em sis out o' six you know that, you ol' flop-oars. flop-oars. Don't you argue about it, neither. nei-ther. When I'm right inside my belt I smash 'em six out o' six, but I ain't right, an' you know it. You don't know nothin' about it. You never had a father; leastways you never had to be responsible for one. . . . Well. it's comin'. to a finish a d lame finish, you know that. You know " But he had reloaded his revolver and set up two more bottles. This time he broke four and was better pleased with himself. -As he rode back his soliloquy was broken by a strange sound from beyond the belt of trees. The horse pricked up his ears and the boy turned in the saddle to listen. "Jumpin' crickets! What's loose?" he ejaculated. He knew every sound of the foothill oountrv. but this was ,g, THE COW "PUNCHER Here's an up-to-date story of the ranch country, the city and "over there." It's a love story the story of the master passion that drives a man onward to success suc-cess for the sake of the woman he loves. The hero is a maverick mave-rick of the foothills. The heroine is a city girl born to the con- ventions. As the boy was practicing shooting with his cayuse on the dead run along came the first automobile he harj ever seen. It obligingly tipped over right behind be-hind the ranch house and broke the owner's leg. So there was time for Dave and Irene to get acquainted which was to fall in love. ( They parted with a kiss she . to go back to her city life, he to win his way up to her. ' -57 "Very good, my boy," said the man. "That was a wonderful lift. The leg is broken compound. Can you get some way of moving me to shelter? I will pay you well." The last words were unfortunate. Hospitality in the ranching country is not bought and sold. "You can't pay me nothin'," he said rudely. "But I can bring a light wagon, if you can ride in that, and put you up at the ranch. The old man's soused," he added, as an afterthought, after-thought, "but it's better than sleepin' out. I won't be long." He was back at his horse, and in a moment they heard the clatter of hoofs galloping down the hillside. The girl rested her father's head in her lap. Tears made her bright eyes brighter still. "Don't cry, Reenie," he said gently. "We are very lucky to be so close to help. Of course I'll be laid up for a while, but it will give you a chance to see ranch life as it really is." He winced with pain but continued : "I fancy we shall find it plain and un- strange to him. A kind of snort, a sort of hiss, mechanical in its regularity, regu-larity, startling in its strangeness, it came across the valley with the unbroken un-broken rhythm of a watch tick. "Well, I guess it won't eat us," he ventured at last. "We'll just run it down and perhaps poke a hole in it." So saying, he cantered along the road, crossed the little stream, and swung up the hill on the farther side. He was half way up when a turn in the road brought him into sudden sight of the strange visitor. It was the first he had seen, but he knew it at once, for the fame of the automobile, automo-bile, then in its single-cylinder stage, had already spread into the farthest ranching country. The horse was less well informed. He bucked and kicked in rage and terror. But the boy was conscious not so much of the horse as of two bright eyes turned on him in frank and surprised admiration. "What horsemanship !" she exclaimed. ex-claimed. But the words had scarce left her lips when they were followed by a cry of alarm. For the car had taken a sudden turn from the road and plunged into a growth of young poplars that fringed the hillside. It half slid, half plowed its way into a semi-vertical position among the young trees. The two occupants were thrown from their seat ; the girl fell clear but her father was less fortunate. veneered. What a horseman ! If I could run an automobile like he does a horse we should not be here." "ile's strong," she said. "But he's rude." "The best fields for muscle are often poor schools for manners," he answered. an-swered. The boy was soon back with a wagon and a stretcher. He avoided the eyes of his guests, but quickly and gently enough he placed the injured in-jured man on the stretcher. "I guess you'll have to take the feet," he said. The words were for the girl although he did not look at her. "I could hustle him myself but it might hurt 'im." But the injured man interrupted. "I beg your pardon," he said, "that I did not introduce my daughter. I am Doctor Hardy ; this is my daughter Irene, Mr. ?" "They don't call me mister," said the boy. "Misters is scarce in these woods. My name is Elden Dave Elden." v The girl came up with extended hand. He took it shyly, but it made him curiously bold. "I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Elden," she said. "I'm glad to meet you, too," he answered. an-swered. "Misses is scarcer than misters mis-ters in this neck o' the woods." Carefully they lifted the injured man into the wagon, and Dave drove to the ranch building with an unwonted un-wonted caution that must have caused strange misgivings in the hearts of his team. CHAPTER I. The shadows of the spruce trees fell northeastward, pointing long, cool fingers across belts of undulating prairie or leaning lazily against the brown foothills. And among the trees it was cool and green, and clear blue water rippled over beds of shining shin-ing gravel. The house was of round, straight logs; the shingles of the squat roof were cupped and blistered with the suns of many summers. Refuse loitered loi-tered about the open door: many empty tins, a leaky barrel with missing miss-ing hoops, boxes, harness, tangled bits of wire. Once there had been a fence, a sort of picket fence of little saplings, sap-lings, but wild broncos had kicked it to pieces and range steers had straggled strag-gled unscarred across its scattered remnants. ' Forward, and to the left,' was a small corral, mill slabs on end or fences of lodgepole pine; a corner somewhat covered in, offering vague protection from the weather. The upper up-per poles were worn thin with the cribbing of many horses. The desertion seemed absolute; the silence was the silence of the unspoken unspo-ken places. But suddenly it was broken bro-ken by a stamping in the covered part of the corral, and a man's voice saying: say-ing: "Hip, there ! Whoa, you cayuse ! Get under your saddle ! Sleepin' against a post all day, you Sloppy-eye. Sloppy-eye. Hip ! Come to it !" Horse and rider dashed into the sunlight. The boy for he was no more than a boy sat the beast as though born to it, his lithe frame taking tak-ing every motion of his mount as softly as a good boat rides the sea. With a yell at his horse he snatched the hat from his head, turning to the sun a smooth brown face and a mane of dark hair, and slapped the horse across the flank with his crumpled headgear. The animal sprang into In an instant the boy had flung himself him-self from his horse, dropping the reins to the ground, and the animal, although al-though snorting and shivering, had no thought of disgracing his training by breaking his parole. With quick, ungainly un-gainly strides. the boy brought himself to the upturned machine. It was curious cu-rious that he should appear to such disadvantage on his feet. In the saddle he was grace personified. For a moment he looked somewhat stupidly upon the wreck. Had it been a horse or a steer he would have known the procedure, but this experience experi-ence was new to his life. Besides there were strangers here. He had no fear of strangers when they wore chaps and colored handkerchiefs, but a girl in a brown sweater and an oldish man with a white collar were creatures to be approached with caution. cau-tion. The oldish man was lying on the ground, with a leg pinned under the car, and Brown Sweater raised his head against her knee and pressed his cheeks with small white fingers, and looked at the boy with bright gray eyes and said : "Aren't you going to do anything?" That brought him back. "Sure," he said, springing to her side. "Whadii ye want me to do?" "I am afraid my leg Is broken," said the man, speaking calmly notwithstanding notwith-standing his pain. "Can you get the jack out of tho toolbox and raise the car?" The girl pointed to the box, and in a moment ho had the jack in his baud. But It was a new tool to him and he fumbled with it stupidly. The handle would not fit, and when it did fit it operated the wrong way. "It ain't much of a place," he said, as they pulled up at the door. "I guess you can see that for yourself," he added, with a grin. "You see there's just dad and me, and he's soused most of the time, and I handle a lasso better'n a scrubbin' brush." He was already losing his shyness. "Now you take the feet again. Steady ! Look out for that barrel hoop. This way now." He led into the old ranch house, kicking the door wider open with his heel as he passed. A partition from east to west divided the house, and another partition from north to south divided the northern half. In the northeast room they set the stretcher on the floor. "Now," said the boy, "I'm goin' for the doctor. It's forty miles to town, and it'll likely be mornin' before I'm back, but I'll sure burn the trail. There's grub in the house, and you won't starve that is if you can cook." (This w'as evidently for Irene. There was a note in it that suggested the girl might have her limitations.) "Dig into anythin' in sight. And I hope your father's leg won't hurt very much." "Oh, I'll stand it," said Doctor Hardy, with some cheerfulness. "We medical men become accustomed to suffering iu other people. You are very kind. My daughter may remain in this room, I suppose? There is no one else?" "No one but the old man," he answered. an-swered. "He's asleep in the next room, safe till mornin'. I'll be back by that time. That's my bed," indicating indi-cating a corner. "Make yourselves at home." He lounged through the door, and they heard his spurs clanking across the hard earth. The girl's first thought was for her father. She removed his boot and stocking, and, under his direction, slit the leg of his trousers above the injury. in-jury. It was bleeding a little. In the large room of the house she found a pail of water, and she bathed the wound, wiping it with her handkerchief handker-chief and mingling a tear or two with the warm blood that dripped from it. "You're good stuff," her father said, pressing the fingers of her unoccupied hand. "Now if yon could find a clean cloth to bandage It " The Animal Sprang Into the Air, Then Dashed at a Gallop Down the Roadway. the air, then dashed at a gallop down the roadway, bearing the boy as unconcerned un-concerned as a flower on its stem. Suddenly he brought his horse to a stop, swung about, and rode back at a gentle canter. A few yards from the house he again spurred him to a gariop, and, leaning far down by the animal's side deftly picked a bottle from among the grass. Then he circled about, repeating this operation as often as his eye fell on a bottle, until lie had half a dozen ; then down the road again, carefully setting a bottle on each post of the fence that skirted It to the right. Again he came back to the house, Vut when he turned his eye was on the row of posts and his right hand Jay on the grip of his revolver. Again ills sharp yell broke the silence and the horse dashed forward as though shot from a gun. Down the road they went until within a rod of the first bottle ; then there was a flash in the sunlight tnd to the clatter of the horse's hoofs came the crack-crack of the revolver. Two bottles shivered to fragments, but four remained iu- "Oh, let me have It," she cried impatiently. im-patiently. In a moment she had it set under the frame of the car and was plying the handle up and down with rapid strokes. The boy looked on, helpless and mortified. He was beginning to realize that there were more things in the world than riding a horse and shooting bottles. He felt a sudden desire to be of great service. And just now he could be of no service whatever. But the foot of the jack began to sink in the soft earth, and the girl looked up helplessly. "It won't lift it," she said. "What shall we do?" It was his chance. He was eighteen, and his wild, open life had given him muscles of steel. "Here," he said roughly, "move his leg when I get it clear." He turned his back to the machine and crouched down until ho could get his hands under the steel frame. Then he lifted. The car was in a somewhat poised position, and ho was able to swing it up far enough to release the injured le. "Is that you, Dave?" "Yes, Reenie, arvd the doctor, doc-tor, too." (TO iiH. CUNTINUKD.) |