BARB BOX 
 
 OIL 
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 BD^WlNaSAB 
 
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BOOKS BY 
 EDWIN L. SABIN 
 
 *'Old^' Jim Bridger on the Moccasin 
 
 Trail 
 Pluck on the Long Trail; or, Boy 
 
 Scouts in the Eockies 
 
 great west series 
 
 *'The Great Pike's Peak Rush;'' or, 
 Terry in the New Gold Fields 
 
 On the Overland Stage; or, Terry as 
 A King Whip Cub 
 
 Opening the Iron Trail 
 
 range and trail series 
 
 Bar B Boys; or, the Young Cow- 
 punchers 
 
 Range and Trail; or, The Bar B's 
 Great Drive 
 
 Circle K; or, Fighting for the Flock 
 
 Old Four-Toes; or, Hunters of the 
 Peaks 
 
 Treasure Mountain; or, The Young 
 Prospectors 
 
 ScARFACE Ranch ; or. The Young Home- 
 steaders 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
^ 
 
 ALMOST SIDE BY SIDE GRAY JACK AND THE BANDED 
 STEER RACED ALONG. 
 
Bar B Boys 
 
 OR 
 
 The Young Cow-Punchers 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWIN L. SABIN 
 
 Lift yore tails an' roll 'em high. 
 You'll be a cowboy by an' by. 
 
 Old Song. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 
 
 PTTBLISHERS 
 
Copyright, 1909 
 By THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. 
 
 Eleventh Printing 
 
 Printed in the United States of America 
 
CHAPTER CORRAL 
 
 CHAPTEB PAGE 
 
 I. Phil Steps Off i 
 
 11. Phil Runs for His Life .... lo 
 
 III. Phil Joins the Utes 19 
 
 IV. Phil Joins the Cowboys .... 29 
 V. At the Bar B Ranch 37 
 
 VI. Phil Rides the Range .... 51 
 
 VII. Phil Holds the Little Red Bull . 60 
 
 VIII. Phil is Lost Again 68 
 
 IX. The Camp in the Arroyo , . . yy 
 
 X. Old Jess Instructs 88 
 
 XI. Phil Ropes the Banded Steer . . 102 
 XII. Cowman Simms Meets the Man 
 
 with the Limp 114 
 
 XIII. Phil Receives His " String " . . 130 
 
 XIV. The Man with the Frozen Smile, 
 
 Again 139 
 
 XV. The Roundup Camp 147 
 
 XVI. Phil Upholds the Honor of the 
 
 Bar B 158 
 
 XVII. The Big Circle 166 
 
 XVIII. The Signs in the Arroyo . , . 178 
 
 XIX. The Branding of the Big Maverick 187 
 
 M23082 
 
CHAPTER CORRAL 
 
 CHAPTEB PAGE 
 
 XX. Phil Proves Himself 195 
 
 XXI. Phil Meets the Enemy and is 
 
 Theirs . . o 211 
 
 XXn. The Last of the Man with the 
 
 Frozen Smile 220 
 
 XXHI. Mistress Cherry Joins the Camp 237 
 
 XXIV. The Branding of the Calves . . 252 
 
 XXV. No Woollies Allowed .... 266 
 
 XXVI. Mistress Cherry to the Rescue . 283 
 
 XXVII. Pepper Seeks the Wild Bunch . . 303 
 
 XXVIII. The Wild-Horse Camp .... 315 
 
 XXIX. More Rustler Signs — and Bears . 331 
 
 XXX. Something Happens to Cherry . . 347 
 
 XXXI. Phil Regains His Watch ... 358 
 
 XXXIl. Adios 374 
 
PERSONAGE ROUNDUP 
 
 Phil — Who is the Amateur on the Range 
 
 Chet — Who is a Regular Professional 
 
 Cherry — Who Also is a Professional, for a Girl 
 
 Mr. Sim MS — Who is Chet's Father, a Rancher and a Cowman 
 
 Old Jess — Who has been Punching Cattle Forty Years 
 
 Haney — Who is a Red-Headed Cowboy from Texas 
 
 Buster — Who Never has been Out of the Hills 
 
 Ford — Who is a Cowboy from Harvard; likewise Boston 
 
 HoMBRE — Who is a Mexican Christened Manuel but Never 
 
 Called So 
 Pete — Who is the Roundup Cook. 
 Tom— Who is the Bar B Cat 
 "Boys" from the Lazy J, the Open A, the Reverse R, the 
 
 Flying U, the Triangle Cross, the Three I, the Boot 
 Captain Billy, Ute Chief; Charley Pow-wow, and Other 
 
 " Good " Indians 
 Horses — Pepper, Medicine Eye, Grey Jack, Doc, Bow Legs, 
 
 Rover, Sam, Sukie, Nig, Hump, Lonesome, Ring, Old 
 
 Squaw, Ute, Monte and Seventy More 
 The Banded Steer 
 The Man with One Eye, the Man with the Limp, the Man 
 
 with the Frozen Smile, Seen by Phil first in the Box Caiion 
 
 BAR B RANCH AND RANGE 
 Seventy-five Miles from a Railroad, in the Rocky Mountains 
 
BAR B BOYS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 PHIL STEPS OFF 
 
 The passenger train was laboriously puffing, with 
 two engines, up one of those four per cent, grades not 
 uncommon in Rocky Mountain railroading. The 
 ascent was being made by a series of undulating, 
 snaky curves. Upon the back platform of the rear 
 coach stood Phil Macowan, enjoying himself. 
 There was a novelty in the situation, and this was 
 his first experience of the West. However, he soon 
 was to have experiences in plenty. 
 
 The train was almost at the top of the divide. A 
 massy rolling carpet of somber dark green patterned 
 here and there in emerald, below stretched league after 
 league of pine and spruce interspersed with occasional 
 patches of lighter quaking aspen. 
 
 Around-about, above the timber and much higher 
 than the train, although not all appearing so, between 
 the green of forest and the blue of sky, were outlined 
 snowy crests, and naked granite ranges seamed and 
 blotched with white; and had Phil been enabled to 
 see ahead over his own hill he would have descried 
 the mountains of Utah, one hundred miles and more 
 westward. 
 
 Far on the north the heavy timber area ended and 
 
2 BAR B BOYS 
 
 was succeeded by a country of mesas, or table-lands: 
 curious flattened formations with abrupt sides and 
 well-defined rims like walls. This mesa country 
 looked regular and bare ; but more intimate knowledge 
 of it was to acquaint Phil with its sheer ruggedness 
 and its arinpje covering of sage and grease-wood, 
 cedar and pinon. Now miles distant, in the clear air 
 it lay apparently plain to the eye, nevertheless just 
 enough softened by bluish haze to make it mysterious 
 and romantic. 
 
 Comfortably braced upon the lowest step of the 
 open-platform car Phil rode and thrilled. For no 
 sound was to be heard, save the exhaust of the two 
 engines. In that broad expanse of earth and sky 
 stirred no living thing save a striped gopher scamper- 
 ing among the rocks and the twin hawks floating like 
 sentries above a wooded vale below. It was a world 
 waiting to be explored; and at intervals touching the 
 ground with his toe Phil keenly wished that instead 
 of being bound, even alone, for California, to recu- 
 perate after his pneumonia, he might stop off right 
 here and begin adventuring. 
 
 The hour was about noon. The season was May; 
 but the sun was warm, the air was motionless and 
 balmy, and at this 9,000 feet elevation, where the 
 remnants of snow were still scattered, there was no 
 chilliness. The train (which repeatedly boxed the 
 compass) was traversing a south slope, open and 
 mellow, where last year's grasses were tall and feath- 
 ery, bushes were bursting into bloom, and the bright 
 scarlet flowers called Indian Paint Brushes were al- 
 
PHIL STEPS OFF 3 
 
 ready making gay show. Phil extended farther his 
 truant foot. Crouched, he dared to drag it. The train 
 was merely crawHng; and swinging down and out he 
 disembarked entirely, to run along holding to the 
 step rail. In bravado he dared to dismiss that also, 
 and to trot behind. 
 
 Urged by his spirit of adventure he darted aside, 
 and grabbed a flower as a trophy; and another; he 
 had time, with this slow-coach of a train — and he 
 veered still farther from the track to gather in a paint 
 brush, the giant of all. This gave the train a little 
 head-start; and when he had tugged the stem loose 
 an increasing staccato clankety-clankety warned him 
 that he had better sprint aboard. 
 
 For a few paces he ran laughingly — then on a 
 sudden he indeed put his best foot forward ; evidently 
 the train had struck a bit of down-grade ; with clank- 
 ety-clankety-clankety the wheels were rolling faster 
 and ever faster. He gained only gradually. He 
 snatched off his hat and spurted in earnest. Clankety- 
 clankety-clankety-clankety, sped the wheels. 
 
 Phil was no slouch at running, but this was a race 
 9,000 feet in the air — a mile and a half higher than 
 he was accustomed to. Besides, he had had pneu- 
 monia. His lungs were bursting, his legs wabbled, 
 he slipped on a piece of ice and staggered sprawling; 
 and when, with his trousers torn across the knees 
 and his hands bleeding, he lurched to his feet the 
 rear car of the train was just being swallowed by a 
 cut, fifty yards ahead. 
 
 "Toot, toot!" called back the engines, in derision. 
 
4 BAR B BOYS 
 
 Phil quit; he could run no more. But only for 
 an instant he stood, appalled. He must head her off; 
 on an up-grade he could catch her. He toiled to the 
 top of the bank. There was the track again, a 
 hundred yards on his right and apparently a fraction 
 up the hill. Scrambling, hurrying, desperate, he 
 made for it. He beat the train, and he sat down, 
 panting, to wait. 
 
 A most convenient arrangement of trackage was 
 this — where a fellow could drop off and pick flowers, 
 and strike across and get aboard again. He must 
 chuckle as he fancied how astonished the brakeman 
 would be to have him flag the train with his hat; to 
 see him in front when he had thought him behind! 
 
 He was well rested, and yet the train had not come 
 back. He grew uneasy and arose to his feet. Much 
 higher on the slope, and beyond, smoke floated above 
 another cut. There was his train! With a wide 
 circuit about the hill it had emerged — but he mas on 
 a track already passed over! He was left. 
 
 Now forth sprang Phil, running, frantically waving 
 his hat, yelling. But he made no impression upon 
 the train, nor upon the mighty world about; and 
 presently, with a sob of despair and of exhaustion, 
 he threw himself down. Stillness, broken only by 
 his gasps, ensued. 
 
 High upon this hillside, in the midst of the strange 
 Rockies, he was alone, an atom as compared with 
 those leagues of timber and rock beneath the limit- 
 less sky. 
 
 Abruptly he sat up, and dashed his hand across his 
 
PHIL STEPS OFF 5 
 
 wet eyes. He was not in such a bad fix, after all; 
 for here were the rails to follow, and they would lead 
 him out. But should he follow them forward, or 
 back? Fully an hour ago the train had snorted out 
 from the last station, which was merely a box-car 
 and a water-tank; but this was at least a habitation, 
 and how far ahead was the next station he did not 
 know. Therefore, he chose the box-car. 
 
 Hopeful and alive again, he took a survey to see 
 which direction was back. The track turned so often 
 that direction was an uncertain quantity. His ex- 
 perience in catching that train by a short-cut had be- 
 wildered him! He opened an envelope, which he 
 found in his pocket, and flattened it, and thrusting a 
 stick through it stuck it into the ground like a sign, 
 broadside to the right and left. Then he selected 
 the right-hand way, and trudged off. The track 
 curved, and having rounded the curve and emerged, 
 Phil, looking back, could distinguish the envelope 
 landmark against the hill-slope above. Consequently, 
 he was descending and on the backward road. But 
 he did not feel assured until another turn took him 
 still farther down. Then, reHeved, he set his face 
 to the fore and began to enjoy himself once more. 
 
 The thin and crisp but warm air, the glowing sun, 
 the perfect calm, the wondrous blue, the pungent 
 scents, the expanse of earth and sky, the sensation of 
 being alone and dependent upon his own wits, and 
 yet within reach of succor, led him to whistle blithely 
 and step springily. The track, turning upon itself 
 as was its habit, swung past a hundred yards below; 
 
BAR B BOYS 
 
 and leaving the portion that he was on he boldly went 
 sliding and scrambling down to it, thus saving time 
 and labor. 
 
 The track reappearing below again, in similar 
 manner he short-cut to that place, also — leaving the 
 grassy open, crossing a strip of young aspens, and 
 coming out at the friendly rails. 
 
 Such progression from terrace down to terrace, 
 along the great hillside, furnished a fine excitement. 
 Now far below was the track once more, as it swept 
 in a half circle and entered the dense timber. Reck- 
 less and elated, down plunged Phil, sliding, striding 
 with long step, ploughing the soft sod with his heels 
 and skipping from boulder to boulder; feeling a 
 veritable woodsman and explorer. 
 
 A foaming brook stopped him sharply; but after 
 skirting it for a few rods he made a run and jump, 
 and leaped it, landing in a copse of quaking aspen. 
 Through these, their new leaves a-quiver as if shud- 
 dering over some tragedy of wild life, he hastened — 
 only to become entangled amidst old fallen timber, 
 the relic of ancient fire or snow-slide. Now ducking, 
 now climbing, finally he escaped (and glad to do so) 
 into a clearer area of living spruce and pine. 
 
 Walking briskly again and constantly anticipating 
 to make exit upon the track, Phil found that the exit 
 was as constantly being postponed. The aisles of 
 reddish trunks standing above the dead strewn nee- 
 dles and the sparse grass and brush stretched endless. 
 
 Where was the track, anyway? He should be 
 encountering it. Surely he had gone far enough. 
 
PHIL STEPS OFF 7 
 
 and he had been aiming straight for it. He walked 
 vigorously for ten minutes; then he paused, and 
 peered. But only the thousand trees, and the slight 
 incline, brown and green and dappled with the sun 
 but monotonously unbroken, lay before, behind, on 
 either hand. There was no track nor token of a 
 track. Here, in this solitude^ man might never have 
 been. 
 
 Standing motionless, heart-sick, Phil listened. An 
 engine whistled, in faint and ghostly fashion. The 
 sound came from quite the opposite direction to that 
 which he might have expected. He turned and hur- 
 ried for that quarter. The engine whistled again. 
 No, he was heading wrong. He changed his course. 
 The whistle had seemed much nearer. But a third 
 whistle was farther away than ever, and at yet an- 
 other point of the compass. 
 
 Again a sob welled in Phil's throat. He was lost; 
 or, rather, as the Indian would say, the track was 
 lost, he was here. 
 
 The dreadful panic of the lost now seized Phil, and 
 he ran wildly, headlong, to the right, to the left, on- 
 ward; if the track was not in one direction it must 
 be in another. But he discovered it not. The engine 
 whistled no more for him. It had not waited. He 
 was deserted and left to perish. 
 
 And beside himself over his plight, running, trudg- 
 ing, shrieking, halting to gasp and listen but suddenly 
 running again, bruised by branch and trunk, scratched 
 by twig, torn by thorn, Phil roamed hither and thither 
 until with a moan he sank to the earth. 
 
8 BAR B BOYS 
 
 Around-about the forest stretched, as before, with 
 never a sign of human Hfe. He had given up on 
 the edge of a little opening or park, where the grass 
 was matted and deep and where the paint brushes 
 flamed. Across the park was a ledgy outcrop of 
 rock. It seemed to Phil that he heard the trickle of 
 water. This brought him to his feet, and lured him 
 on until, by the ledge, he found a tiny spring drip- 
 ping through the mossy verdure. 
 
 Making a cup of his hands he drank greedily ; then 
 he climbed the ledge at one end, wistfully to look 
 about him. But the view was the same, always the 
 same: trees, and trees, and trees, serried, stiff and 
 unfriendly. 
 
 The icy water which he had swallowed into an 
 empty stomach, combined with the strain that he was 
 under, caused a sickish sensation. The top of the 
 ledge was sunny and warm. Just for a moment 
 would he lie there, upon his back, his hat over his 
 eyes, in the angle of a log where the grass was long 
 and soft; just for a moment, miserable, to rest. 
 
 Far and near, around, the myriad trees breathed 
 musically; subtle scents floated on the almost imper- 
 ceptible breeze ; earth and sky were reveling in spring, 
 thinking good glad thoughts. And Phil, even while 
 wondering what was going to happen to him and 
 what his mother and father would say, drifted away 
 into peace. 
 
 He was aroused by voices. Struggling to open his 
 eyes and collect his wits he sat up in alarm. He was 
 
PHIL STEPS OFF 9 
 
 vaguely aware that the day had well waned, for the 
 log was casting a shadow across him and he was 
 cold. He must have been sound asleep. The smell 
 of burning wood was wafted to him; below, under 
 the ledge, men were talking and using many oaths. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 PHIL RUNS FOR HIS LIFE 
 
 " That bunch ther* ought to be worth two hundred 
 dollars, flat. They're mostly two-year-olds." 
 
 " They'd be worth more if we could hold 'em till 
 the market's up, an' didn't have to turn 'em into beef 
 as fast as we get 'em." 
 
 " By thunder, I've a notion to start a nice little 
 herd o' my own. What say, Joe? Want to be a 
 cattle king?" The speaker chuckled. His voice was 
 coarse, his chuckle was coarse, and Phil instinctively 
 shrank closer behind the log. 
 
 " Well, if we could raise cattle as easy as we do 
 brands we'd be plumb rich by nex' Christmas. What 
 you goin' to invent out o' that Lazy J sign? " 
 
 " Make her over into a Lazy Eight, I reckon." 
 
 "How 'bout a PJ like this?" spoke a third 
 
 man's voice. 
 
 " Good." 
 
 "Let's see," asked a girl's voice, timidly. 
 
 " You set back there," ordered a man, his voice 
 accompanied by an audible sm.ack as of open hand 
 against face. "Yuh want to see too much." 
 
 While the girl cried, in a stifled, convulsive man- 
 ner (Phil's blood boiled to hear her), the men con- 
 tinued their talking. 
 
 lo 
 
PHIL RUNS FOR HIS LIFE ii 
 
 " I hate too many o' these letters. We've got a 
 TB out o' them Bar B, yuh know. Willin' to stick to 
 that, fer Bar B caows seem to be the primest we git; 
 but while the PJ is purty an' might burn clean, Lazy 
 Eight strikes me as better." 
 
 " Jes' the same, we've a right to the hull alphabet, 
 same as anybody. An' ther' 's nothin' safe, no mat- 
 ter how you fix it; not even hides an' meat. I never 
 feel easy till I've got rid o' the critters, horn, hoof 
 an' tail, an' have the money in my pocket an' am out 
 o' the country." 
 
 "That's right. There's nothin' safe. Rustlin' 
 cows or rustlin' kids." 
 
 These must be thieves, decided Phil, with quick 
 alarm; cattle thieves, perhaps kidnappers. What 
 should he do? Retreat, or lie still? He scarcely 
 dared to breathe. 
 
 During these few moments the sun had withdrawn 
 entirely, and out of the pale twiHght was creeping a 
 chill. It was the lonesome hour when day is merg- 
 ing into night; when the creatures of the light hasten 
 homeward, and ere the creatures of the darkness 
 skulk forth. Bacon was sizzling in a pan; the odor 
 tantalized homeless Phil's nostrils. He stirred im- 
 pulsively. Under the weight of his elbow a branch 
 sharply cracked. 
 
 " Sht ! " hissed one of the men. 
 
 There was an instant of utter silence, while Phil's 
 heart was in his throat. 
 
 The men mumbled low and briefly. 
 
 " If it is anybody, git him if yuh have to shoot his 
 
12 BAR B BOYS 
 
 head off," said one of the men, with an oath. " Can't 
 nobody listen to us." 
 
 "Oh, don't hurt him. Please don't," pleaded the 
 girl, in terror. 
 
 " Shut up ! " was the growling response. 
 
 Phil instantly was frigid with horror. They were 
 about to search for him! Paralyzed with the thought, 
 as in a nightmare, he was unable to move. Then a 
 step among the twigs of the slope, adown the ledge, 
 on his right, electrified him into action; and like a 
 deer from its covert he bounced all at once to his feet 
 and bolted for the left. 
 
 "Hey! Halt, you!" 
 
 Wht! Bang! First the bullet (it seemed to cut 
 just behind his head), and closely following, the re- 
 port. 
 
 A hearty curse, and — thut! Bang! Phil was 
 tearing through a sprinkle of cedars and the ball 
 buried itself in wood right by his ear ! 
 
 Again, and dried needles and dirt (Bang!) flew in 
 a spurt so immediately before him that at the same 
 second his toe was set into the gash! 
 
 But he had crossed the cedared little ridge of which 
 the ledge was only a continuation, and in momentary 
 protection was descending the farther side. The trees 
 were thicker. Desperately he dodged among them, 
 to bury himself from those ruthless pursuers. 
 Hoarse voices, threatening, angry, shouted and an- 
 swered behind him. Through the dusky, looming 
 timber he scurried with the terror of any hunted 
 dumb brute, until, legs and lungs " all in," as if seek- 
 
PHIL RUNS FOR HIS LIFE 13 
 
 ing a hole he dived with one last effort amidst the 
 dense low branches of a spruce. Here, in an open 
 circular space around the trunk, concealed very clev- 
 erly by the branches' tips which swept about, touching 
 the ground, he cowered, waiting. 
 
 He heard footsteps — a rapid but somewhat irregu- 
 lar pace upon the forest carpeting of needles; and he 
 cowered more snugly still, while in annoying fashion 
 thumpety, thumpety, thumpety resounded his heart. 
 The steps came nearer, paused, went by; and peering 
 out through a peep-hole of the spruce fronds Phil 
 saw, traversing a twilight spot, a man — a lame man, 
 with a long-barreled revolver alertly poised in his 
 left hand. Limping on short leg, with a stealthy 
 quickness and a gazing right and left, he passed out of 
 sight. The dimness of the forest swallowed him, 
 
 Phil remained close in hiding. In the distance, 
 whence the lame man had disappeared, he heard next 
 a cautious "coo-ee," as a signal. And soon from 
 one side the lame man and another man carrying a 
 shot-gun or rifle returned, murmuring together. 
 
 " Light was so bad, or Fd a got him,'' was saying 
 the lame man, as they actually brushed the spruce 
 within whose circle Phil was crouching. " Only a 
 kid, but he has ears an' a tongue. He's a legal 
 witness." 
 
 " Kin make trouble, all right," agreed the other. 
 
 And they proceeded on. 
 
 The dusk swiftly deepened to darkness. Phil 
 stayed beneath his spruce. Cramped with hunger 
 and cold tho' he was, miserable, scarcely venturing 
 
14 BAR B BOYS 
 
 to change position, this was his only haven. A wind 
 started up, and the vast lonely reaches of forest 
 soughed dismally. An owl hooted. Afar something 
 screamed like an enraged cat. Under the spruce, and 
 around, were little rustlings as amidst the dead nee- 
 dles the wood mice played and foraged. Presently, 
 while Phil, straining his ears, listened for each fresh 
 noise of the night, without the spruce sounded a 
 scratchy patter, patter. It halted ; the branches beside 
 Phil moved. Some animal was seeking entrance. 
 
 " Get out ! " repulsed Phil, as loudly as he dared, 
 in a spasm of fear. 
 
 The animal retreated, patter, patter. Hastily and 
 stiffly straightening, bumping his head and scratching 
 his face, Phil forced a way upward among the thick 
 boughs; and six or eight feet off the ground cowered 
 anew. 
 
 The wind punished him, but he felt safer. The 
 pattering along the ground persisted. The animal 
 was busily ambulating hither and thither. Phil 
 stared, but could not see it. He heard a rasping, as 
 of teeth against bark. The animal was gnawing; 
 if it ate wood it hardly would eat boy, and he was 
 reassured. 
 
 His eyelids drooped, and closed. He tried to im- 
 press upon himself that even if he went to sleep he 
 must hold fast to the spruce trunk. At a sudden 
 scuffle, below — a growl, a jump, a whine — his eyes 
 flew open again. The whining continued, like that 
 of a dog greedy or disappointed. Two pale phos- 
 phorescent eyes looked up, through the darkness, at 
 
PHIL RUNS FOR HIS LIFE 15 
 
 Phil looking down; the whine changed to a snarly 
 growl, and with soft, lithe pit, pit, pit the beast 
 trotted away. 
 
 After an interval the patter, patter was resumed; 
 and it, also, withdrew. 
 
 Phil concluded that this was a porcupine, and that 
 a wolf or coyote (of which he had read) had pounced 
 upon it and been met by its quills. 
 
 Shuddering with the cold and the hunger and the 
 fears brought by strange noises he nevertheless went 
 to sleep, dozing uneasily and always hearing things 
 and seeing things. He was awakened by finding 
 himself with a thump upon the ground, outside the 
 tree. Terrified and confused he staggered to his feet ; 
 in the darkness he groped for his eyrie again. Fum- 
 bling about him, once more he wormed his way among 
 branches, until it seemed to him that he was far 
 enough. He must sleep. 
 
 When he opened his eyes next 'twas to the great 
 relief of dawn. The haunted blackness had given 
 place to all-revealing grayness. Where was he, any- 
 way? Was this the berth in the sleeper — or Salt 
 Lake — or what? How stiff and chilled he was! He 
 moved painfully, releasing a leg; and then, in a flash, 
 all recurred to him. He had left the train — the train 
 had left him — he was alone in the forest — he had lost 
 the railroad track — men had chased him and shot at 
 him — he had climbed this tree because of animals 
 pattering about in the dark — he — but, hold on! He 
 was not in a tree! He was upon solid ground! He 
 felt of the ground, wonderingly. It was there; and 
 
i6 BAR B BOYS 
 
 these twigs? They were the twigs of a bush, in the 
 center of which he was sitting. Now he recalled: he 
 had fallen out of the tree, and thinking that he was 
 climbing back into it he must have crawled into this 
 bush ! And here he had spent the night, and nothing 
 had molested him, after all! 
 
 What time was it? He believed that he had for- 
 gotten to wind his watch, but— oh, thunder; his 
 watch was gone! His vest pocket was empty, and 
 only a short fragment of chain hung from the but- 
 ton-hole. During his wild flight some twig had 
 snatched his watch from him. That was a bitter ac- 
 cident — to have lost the little gold watch given him 
 by his mother and father. For an instant tears 
 rushed to his eyes; but he held them back. There 
 was no use in crying over spilled milk. He could 
 not retrace his steps and find the watch. 
 
 His hat, also, was gone. Possibly it was in the 
 tree. He listened, wary of those ruffian men, those 
 bandits and cattle-thieves. Now was his opportunity 
 to escape, before they were up ; and cautiously emerg- 
 ing from his bush he sought for the spruce. There 
 it was, with the hat nicely balanced among the 
 branches. Hastily he seized the hat, and set off, 
 guessing at direction. 
 
 His numerous wounds of scratches, cuts and bruises 
 were sore; he hobbled; he was stiff and hungry. He 
 could scarcely realize that it was himself, Phil 
 Macowan, who was this castaway. Phil Macowan 
 should be in a comfortable bed, and about to get up 
 to a civilized breakfast; Phil Macowan presumably 
 
PHIL RUNS FOR HIS LIFE 17 
 
 was warm and clean and at peace. But this wretched 
 fugitive, trudging forlornly through the gray, frosty 
 woods of early morn, dinnerless, supperless and break- 
 fastless, his night's lodging a bush and no succor in 
 sight — who was he? 
 
 In a patch of frost-rimmed brush something large 
 moved; he stopped short, alarmed. A cow, her calf 
 lying upon its four legs beside her, raised her head 
 and surveyed him. She lowered her head and shook 
 her horns belligerently, with a snort. As Phil sadly 
 circuited her (so far, in the forest, the only friendly 
 things had been the spruce tree and the bush) he 
 saw that there was a big B, with a straight mark 
 above it, upon her hip. In the brush stirred other 
 forms, which proved to be more cattle — some with 
 the big B and straight mark, some with a capital 
 J printed lying on its back, so to speak, upon their 
 sides. 
 
 Phil knew. It came upon him with a shock — these 
 were the stolen cattle. And as if to emphasize the 
 fact and the danger, he witnessed, chancing to glance 
 aside, beyond in the timber, where the first rays of 
 the sun were penetrating aslant, a man on horseback 
 riding slowly among the trees. Again Phil knew. 
 This was the lame man. 
 
 Instantly sinking low in the brush, stooping, Phil 
 retreated until he struck a little gully; down this he 
 fled, quickening his pace and every moment expecting 
 to be assailed with shout and bullet. The gully deep- 
 ened to a gulch, with rocky bottom and sparsely tim- 
 bered slopes; now cold and dark, now warmer where 
 
i8 BAR B BOYS 
 
 the sun was reaching. Breathless, Phil slackened to 
 a walk. 
 
 The gulch gathered water, at first in the shape of 
 frozen puddles held among the boulders, next as a 
 casual stream gradually increasing. 
 
 His feet blistered, his head strangely light, Phil 
 halted; and with difficulty squatting scooped water 
 from a pool, to drink it and to lave his face. 
 
 He was trying to summon strength and courage to 
 stand again, when from behind and near at hand a 
 voice spoke, evenly: 
 
 " Hello." 
 
 Phil's heart skipped a beat. He turned his head 
 quickly. An Indian, in buckskin shirt, leggins and- 
 moccasins, a rifle in the hollow of his arm, stood 
 within a few feet, looking at him. 
 
 Phil stared. From white outlaws to Indian ! What 
 a life he was having! 
 
 "What you doing?" asked the Indian in plain 
 English. 
 
 ** Getting a drink," stammered Phil. 
 
 He would have straightened to his feet ; but Indian, 
 trees, rocks swam and wavered before him, ^nd 
 weakly he toppled over upon his side. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 PHIL JOINS THE UTES 
 
 When Phil reg-ained consciousness he found him- 
 self upon a pallet of blankets, underneath dirty, slop- 
 ing canvas. The place was circular, and although 
 where the canvas came to a peak, in the center, a hole 
 was open, as if for ventilation, it (the place) did not 
 smell extra sweet. 
 
 As he lay on his back, gazing languidly and col- 
 lecting his thoughts, somebody entered through the 
 doorway. A squaw in soiled draggled calico squatted 
 beside him, and grinning in wide and toothless, but 
 friendly fashion, extended a bowl which steamed. 
 
 " Good," she said. " Good " 
 
 The interior atmosphere was, as said, not very 
 sweet; the old squaw was decidedly not sweet; but 
 the steam from the bowl was the sweetest thing that 
 Phil had encountered in all his life — so rich, so 
 fragrant, so appealing it was, so perfect to his fam- 
 ished palate. And with his two trembly hands eagerly 
 grasping the vessel he sucked, regardless of table 
 etiquette, at the contents. 
 
 " Ah ! " He felt new life coursing through his 
 veins. Dog, rat, deer, bear, whatever it was he did 
 not care ; that broth was good, 
 
 " More," he gasped. 
 
 19 
 
20 BAR B BOYS 
 
 The old squaw took the bowl and shuffled out 
 with it. 
 
 "No. Mebbe un hora" (an hour), she delivered, 
 over her shoulder. " No now. Makee malo" (sick). 
 
 Phil lay back in blissful peace, the fluid warm 
 within him. His captors might be playing the part 
 of host simply to keep him strong for the torture, 
 but at least he had the broth! 
 
 A voice spoke briefly without, asking a question, 
 and was answered. Another figure entered the tepee 
 tent, to halt beside Phil's couch. Staring up, Phil 
 recognized the Indian who had come upon him in 
 the gulch. 
 
 "Feeling better?" inquired the Indian, with a 
 smile, showing sound white teeth. He was a young 
 man, with broad swart face. 
 
 "Yes. Had something to eat. What'd I do — 
 faint ? " responded Phil, now more courageous, and 
 smiling back. 
 
 " Yes. Want to get up ? We're going." 
 
 Phil scrambled to his feet, and stood unsteadily. 
 But in a moment he was quite strong. The broth had 
 helped him wonderfully. 
 
 " Come out," bade the Indian. 
 
 Phil followed him into the open air and across a 
 grassy little flat formed by the juncture of two 
 gulches. The flat was occupied by a score of Indians 
 old and young, their horses, dogs and camp belong- 
 ings. Fires smouldered, where tepees had been 
 located; but the camp already was broken. Squaws, 
 busy with packing and lashing, glanced at Phil 
 
PHIL JOINS THE UTES 21 
 
 askance as he passed ; lounging bucks looked upon him 
 stoHdly; dogs growled, and children dodged before 
 him or ran after, hooting gleefully. As comported a 
 prisoner, Phil endeavored to bear himself with no 
 sign of emotion — for this, as all know who have read 
 Indian stories, is the proper way. 
 
 Phil's guide, who had proceeded silently, with 
 straight, free stride, rifle in hollow of left arm, halted 
 before an old Indian sitting upon his hams upon 
 the ground and smoking a short black pipe. In one 
 hand he held the rope of his pony. He had on a 
 dusty, stained black slouch hat, with a feather stuck 
 through the crown, and wore a grimy calico shirt, 
 equally grimy trousers, and moccasins. A well-filled 
 cartridge-belt was around his waist. He was enor- 
 mously fat, and his countenance was large, flabby, 
 and almost as dark as any negro's. But despite its 
 flabbiness, about it was a certain dignity mingled with 
 cunning; and the mouth was a thin firm line. 
 
 The young man addressed him ; they spoke together 
 gutturally but not unmusically. 
 
 "This is my father. He is chief," explained the 
 younger Indian, to Phil. 
 
 Without moving otherwise the chief proffered his 
 hand. 
 
 "How do?" he said, ",Wueno. Muncho amigo, 
 hey?" 
 
 Phil shook hands. 
 
 " He doesn't speak English," explained further the 
 young Indian. " He says you can come along with 
 us and we'll leave you somewhere." 
 
22 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " All right," assented Phil, his scalp tighter upon 
 his head. Of course they might mean to leave him 
 somewhere dead, but he would make the best that he 
 could out of the words. 
 
 " I'll get you a horse." And laying his rifle by the 
 chief the younger Indian strode off. 
 
 The chief grinned up at Phil, and spoke to some 
 length. Phil shook his head. 
 
 " Can't understand," he informed. 
 
 The chief spoke some more, and gestured. Phil 
 interpreted the motion, and with a polite " Thank 
 you," sat down. 
 
 The chief, as if doing the honors, murmured and 
 gurgled and grunted in his strange language — he 
 seemed very good-natured and loquacious for an 
 Indian — and the younger man, his son, arriving lead- 
 ing along a buckskin pony, listened respectfully. 
 
 "He says to rub bear's fat on your hurts. I'll 
 give you some. You can ride this horse. It'll fol- 
 low." 
 
 The chief now, with a wheezy grunt, stood — a 
 well-paunched, heavy figure, straddle-kneed. Lift- 
 ing his voice he shouted a signal. Instantly the camp 
 was in an uproar — squaws screeching, children 
 screaming, dogs barking; and in the midst of it the 
 chief with dignity waddling to his pony, swung on. 
 
 " We go now," acquainted the younger Indian. 
 
 Phil clambered aboard his bareback buckskin, 
 whose bridle was a single rawhide thong looped about 
 the lower jaw. The old chief, without a glance be- 
 hind, rode away at a walk. Phil's pony followed, as 
 
PHIL JOINS THE UTES 23 
 
 a matter of course. Looking behind him Phil saw 
 that the tepee which had shehered him had vanished, 
 and that the whole camp was stringing out and fall- 
 ing into line. The young man who had been his 
 counselor came galloping up and stopped beside him, 
 to ride gravely, without a word. He carried his 
 rifle across his lap, at the pommel of his saddle; the 
 chief's rifle was in a scabbard, beneath the chief's 
 leg. 
 
 The route ascended the northward opening gulch, 
 through pleasant sage and quaking aspen, and soon 
 obliqued up the gulch's side. Here at the top lay 
 spread before a long expanse of level sage with now 
 and then a low pinon or cedar. Straight across it 
 jogged the old chief. Evidently he knew where he 
 was going. But trail there was none. 
 
 The sun was hot ; the motion of the pony although 
 easy was constant ; the effect of the broth was wearing 
 off, and all in all the combination made Phil dizzy. 
 The Indian beside him stopped abruptly, and waited 
 while the cavalcade passed. In a minute he galloped 
 up again and handed Phil a canteen. 
 
 "Drink," he bade. 
 
 Phil gladly obeyed. The tepid water gurgled down 
 his throat. 
 
 "Thanks," he gasped. 
 
 "Eat. Chew it well, though," bade the Indian, 
 next. 
 
 Phil accepted what resembled strips of dirty leather, 
 and rather dubiously examined them. He did not 
 wish to give offense, but 
 
24 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " Dried beef. Not store dried beef, but what we 
 call jerked beef. It's all right," assured the Indian. 
 
 Phil, chewing faithfully upon an end, found it 
 saltless but not unpalatable. He began to feel better. 
 
 On and on and on jogged the fat old chief, glancing 
 scarcely to right nor left, much less behind. He 
 ieemed perfectly indifferent to the condition of his 
 charges, who might follow or fall out. Across the 
 sagy, hot plateau the course dropped into a draw 
 rimmed by cedars. The bottom of the draw was 
 traversed by a cattle trail, and Phil was congratulat- 
 ing himself that they were approaching white habi- 
 tation when the old chief turned off the trail and 
 climbed the farther slope, to enter another stretch of 
 plateau covered with the eternal sage under the 
 cloudless blue. 
 
 On and on and on jogged the chief, never hesitat- 
 ing nor looking about. On and on followed the 
 cavalcade, ever northward and westward, through 
 draw after draw and across flat after flat, deeper 
 into the wilds. And Phil's heart sank. Was he 
 never to get a word to his mother and father? Were 
 these Indians never to halt to lunch and rest? Was 
 he wearing the pony's back as badly as the pony's 
 back was wearing him? He hoped not. 
 
 They were threading a draw wide and sagy and 
 sun-drenched and dry when suddenly the old chief 
 with a grunt changed direction and kicking his pony 
 in the ribs with both heels broke at a trot for the 
 right-hand slope. At a trot followed the cavalcade 
 all. Phil, bounced uncomfortably upon the buckskin's 
 
PHIL JOINS THE UTES 25 
 
 slippery back, and hanging for security to the long 
 mane, was astonished and annoyed. 
 
 Then quite by accident he descried two figures — 
 horsemen — far off and just commencing the descent 
 of the left-hand slope. Evidently the old chief was 
 trying to avoid them. 
 
 Up the right-hand flank pressed the chief, urging 
 his laboring pony through brush and scrub-oak, re- 
 gardless; up the right-hand flank pressed all; and 
 now they went streaming through the close cedars 
 on top, the chief's heels beating an incessant tattoo 
 upon his pony's sides, his elbows flapping, his whole 
 mien betokening a desire for speed. 
 
 Carried along, willy-nilly, hanging for dear life 
 to the buckskin's mane and constantly ducking to 
 dodge branches, jolted almost out of his seven senses, 
 Phil had no time to question or protest. But the 
 old chief certainly was running away with him. 
 
 They left the cedars behind and proceeded at the 
 rapid excruciating trot across a flowery park. 
 
 Now more frantically beat the old chiefs mocca- 
 sined heels, and more wildly flopped his elbows. Phil 
 looked for the fresh occasion. From the timber at one 
 side two horsemen had again appeared, and at a 
 gallop were sweeping obliquely through the park, to 
 intercept them. The old chief's heels and elbows 
 worked in vain, for the intruders converged upon 
 him rapidly; and just at the edge of the park, with 
 jingle of spurs and of bridle and rasp of leather, cut 
 in ahead, to halt. 
 
 Venting a single grunt of disgust and resignation. 
 
26 BAR B BOYS 
 
 the fat chief reined his pony abruptly, and halted, 
 too. The cavalcade halted. 
 
 They were cowboys, these two. One, in shaggy 
 white leggings (or chaps) reaching to the hip and 
 checked blue jumper, was no older than Phil. The 
 other might have been the father. He wore chaps of 
 plain leather, and was in vest and shirt-sleeves. Their 
 horses were wet and heaving, and they themselves, 
 particularly the man, looked angry. 
 
 "Hello, Billy. What's your hurry?" addressed 
 the man. 
 
 " H'lo," grunted the chief. 
 
 He shook hands with the two. His pony fell to 
 cropping grass. 
 
 " Hello, Charley." 
 
 The two and PhiFs Indian shook hands. They 
 surveyed Phil — the boy roundly, the man keenly out 
 of lean brown face and steady blue eyes weathered 
 about with a mesh of wrinkles. His chin was square, 
 his cheek-bones high, his nose a bit aquiline, his 
 graying mustache heavy and long and balanced by 
 a small stiff goatee. Altogether he appeared to Phil 
 as a personage of experience and decision, who could 
 hold his own. 
 
 "Going far?" 
 
 " Uintah," responded the Charley Indian, stolidly. 
 
 The old chief spoke in Indian, impatiently, and 
 jerked up his pony's head as if to start. 
 
 " Good-by," said Charley. " You must excuse us. 
 We're in a hurry." 
 
 "Wait a minute. I see you are," protested the 
 
PHIL JOINS THE UTES 27 
 
 man, not budging from the path. "Who's the boy 
 you got there ? " 
 
 " No, no. G'by," interrupted the chief, testily. 
 He again spoke in Indian, and with a kick of the 
 heels urged his pony forward. 
 
 " My father says we have no time to talk," ex- 
 plained the Charley Indian. 
 
 "Oh, haven't yuh?" remarked the man, coolly. 
 "What are these Injuns doing with you, son?" he 
 asked, of Phil. 
 
 " I was lost and they found me, that's all," an- 
 swered Phil. 
 
 "You'd better come with us, then. They'll take 
 you clean into Utah." 
 
 " No, no! " objected the old chief, now thoroughly 
 mad. He spoke vehemently, and gestured. The man 
 replied, in Mexican, and they argued. 
 
 " Come along with us to the ranch," urged the boy, 
 to Phil, in friendly eagerness. " It's the Bar B, on 
 Owl Creek. Do your folks know where you are?" 
 
 "No. I wish they did," said Phil, dejected. "Can 
 I get word to them quick from your place?" 
 
 " Sure. The stage station is only twentyr-4ive 
 miles. I can ride that easy in two hours and a half. 
 It's most all level." 
 
 " Better not talk to him. My father won't like 
 it," interposed the Charley Indian. 
 
 " Talk as much as you please, Chet," directed the 
 man, breaking off his dispute with the chief. " No 
 Injun on earth shall say what you or I shall do. 
 Well, boy, are you coming with us? We're white." 
 
28 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " Fd like to/' faltered Phil. He hated to make 
 trouble, however. 
 
 " That's enough, then. Get off your hawss." 
 
 " No, no," snarled the old chief. He hammered 
 his pony and thrust it between, and glared menac- 
 ingly. His flabby face was full of venom, and darker 
 than ever. His son ranged beside him ; from the rear 
 hastened up the other bucks of the band, crowding 
 and jostling forward, foreseeing trouble and ready to 
 be into it. The majority had rifles; two even had 
 bows and arrows — the bows strung. 
 
 The boy and man sat without giving way an 
 inch — the former pale beneath his tan, the latter 
 stern, with eyes beginning to glint significantly. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 PHIL JOINS THE COWBOYS 
 
 There was a sudden jingle and scuff, and thud of 
 hoof, and from the cedars close at hand burst two 
 more cowboys. Their horses were blowing, hard 
 ridden. The riders, in chaps and blouses and broad 
 high black hats, peered intently. 
 
 "How," they said, laconically. "What's the mat- 
 ter, George?" 
 
 One was a young, smooth-faced chap, a mere 
 stripling; the other was somewhat older, bulky and 
 square, with gray eyes and crisp, sandy mustache. 
 
 **Why, these Injuns have picked up a white boy 
 and are set on carrying him on with 'em. We think 
 we'll take him back to the ranch, though." 
 
 "How'd they get him?" 
 
 " He was lost, I hear." 
 
 The new-comers eyed Phil, in the midst of the 
 Indians. 
 
 "Huh! Who objects? What ails your old man, 
 Charley?" 
 
 " We keep him with us, says my father," answered 
 the Indian, doggedly. 
 
 " You don't keep him," returned the man with the 
 goatee. " And the quicker you savvy that, all of you, 
 the better for yuh. Get off your hawss, boy, and 
 climb on behind Chet here." 
 
 29 
 
30 BAR B BOYS 
 
 But Phil was helpless. 
 
 " No talkee ; no talkee ! Vamose ! Puk-a-chee ! " 
 (Get out!) snarled the old chief. He whipped his 
 rifle from its scabbard — but so swiftly that Phil's eye 
 had been unable to follow the smooth-faced stripling 
 cowboy had plucked from some place an automatic 
 pistol, and with a jump of his horse was holding; 
 the gun against the chief's side. At the same instant, 
 almost, Chet, of the shaggy white chaps, spurred 
 boldly in and shouldering a passage to Phil seized the 
 buckskin's thong, at the jaw. 
 
 ** Don't you be scared. We can lick 'em," he said 
 to Phil, reassuringly. 
 
 The uproar of excitement which had swelled sub- 
 sided immediately, for the smooth-faced cowboy was 
 speaking. 
 
 " By thunder, you move that rifle an inch an' you're 
 a good Injun," he panted. "Don't you go fingerin' 
 yore gun, either, Charley. When this little Colt's 
 automatic starts to shootin' she don't stop." 
 
 " Steady, steady," cautioned the man with the 
 goatee. " Keep him covered, Dick, but don't jam it 
 through his ribs ! " And he talked earnestly to the 
 chief, who sat glowering but motionless. Then he 
 addressed the younger Indian. 
 
 " You hear what I say. Mebbe you can take the 
 boy, and mebbe you can't. But if it comes to a gun- 
 play and you do get off with him, what's left o' yuh, 
 there'll be whites enough to follow you and head you 
 off before you get very far; and when they get you 
 they won't waste much time pow-wowing. You 
 
PHIL JOINS THE COWBOYS 31 
 
 might just as well make up your minds to it. And 
 now if you want to start the trouble, move along 
 and try to take the boy." 
 
 "Don't yuh wiggle! Don't yuh bat an eye!" 
 warned the smooth-faced cowboy guarding the chief. 
 ** If yuh do I'll fill yuh so full of holes yuh won't 
 cast a shadow ! " 
 
 " Scalp him alive, Dick," applauded the other cow- 
 boy, Dick's companion. 
 
 The chief, betraying no fear, but very careful of 
 himself, spoke a guttural sentence. 
 
 " He says you can have the boy, if he wants to go," 
 interpreted the son. 
 
 " He does want to go — and he goes anyway," re- 
 torted the man with the goatee. " We'll take the 
 responsibility. You can swap hawsses, boy. I see 
 Chet's right on deck, waiting for you." 
 
 Much relieved, Phil tumbled from the buckskin 
 and stiffly established himself behind Chet's shaggy 
 chaps. 
 
 "Take your gun off him, Dick," laughed the cow- 
 boy of the bulky, square frame. 
 
 And Dick, with some reluctance, withdrew the auto- 
 matic — however, keeping it in sight. 
 
 The old chief broke into a torrent of expostulation. 
 
 " What's the matter now ? " wondered Phil. 
 
 "He says to give him some money for you. Got 
 to pay your board bill 'fore you leave," informed the 
 bulky cowboy. 
 
 "Money be hanged. Come on, boys," ejaculated 
 the man with the goatee, shortly. 
 
32 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " ril give him half a dollar," volunteered Phil ; add- 
 ing, wisely, " if I've got it." 
 
 " All right. Give it to him, just as you please." 
 
 Phil found a half-dollar in his pocket, and extended 
 it. 
 
 The old chief took it, and examined it contempt- 
 uously. 
 
 " No, no ! Un peso. One dollie," he vociferated. 
 
 " A dollar. He wants a dollar," translated Chet. 
 
 Phil found a quarter more. 
 
 "That's all I have," he said — for only some bills 
 remained, and he thought it best not to speak of them 
 at present. 
 
 ** It's plenty — and six bits more than he deserves," 
 declared the man with the goatee, impatiently. 
 *' Puk-a-chee, now ; all of you. Adios." 
 
 Adios; adios. Good boy," mumbled the old chief, 
 who suddenly appeared quite satisfied again. He in- 
 sisted upon shaking Phil's hand, and the hand of 
 everybody within reach — except that of Dick. At 
 Dick he fiercely scowled. The ceremony finished, 
 clapping his pony in the ribs he started with dignity 
 onward, and his band followed. 
 
 The cowboys, waiting, let the cavalcade, as it fell 
 into place, pass. Not an Indian glanced aside; each 
 rode with face straight before, set like granite. But in 
 the eyes fire smouldered. The last of them presently 
 was lost among the cedars. 
 
 However, not absolutely ; for at the moment one of 
 them came riding back. It was Charley, the chief's 
 son. 
 
PHIL JOINS THE COWBOYS 33 
 
 " Here," he said to Phil, placing something in his 
 hand ; and wheeling, with no word nor glance for any- 
 one else, he was away again. 
 
 Phil examined the article. It was a small bag of 
 buckskin, curiously beaded, and very greasy from 
 viscid contents. 
 
 " Well, boy, you nearly were sole survivor of a 
 fust-class Injun massacre," remarked the man of the 
 goatee. *'Now tell us about yourself." 
 
 Phil told. They all agreed that where he had left 
 the train, or the train had left him, was forty miles 
 away, south. The incident of the men whom he had 
 overheard talking, and who had chased him, interested 
 them greatly. 
 
 " Thejr spoke of Bar B and Lazy J cows, 'specially, 
 did they?" mused the man with the goatee. "That 
 comes near home — doesn't it, Henry ? " 
 
 " Explains a few things, I reckon," commented 
 the bulky man. 
 
 " My father owns the Bar B cattle, and those other 
 men are Dick Vorum and Henry Mallison, of the Lazy 
 J," explained Chet. '' My name's Chester Simms, 
 and my father is George Simms. We run the most 
 cattle of anybody." 
 
 He seemed a good-natured, impulsive chap, did 
 Chet. He was chunky, with light hair and wide blue 
 eyes, round freckled face darker with its tan than 
 his hair, and mouth that turned up at the corners 
 like a gnome's or brownie's. Phil liked him 
 
 By the conversation of the men among themselves, 
 'twas apparent that they believed the party encoun- 
 
34 BAR B BOYS 
 
 tered the night before by Phil to be thieves or "rus- 
 tlers " in merely a small way but nevertheless in a 
 
 way most annoying, probably collecting a few cattle 
 at a time, selling the meat direct to butchers and 
 doubtless disposing of the hides separately, with the 
 brands altered to block detection. They were a 
 menace; and Phil very readily understood that if 
 caught they would receive short shift. And as to the 
 girl, they must have stolen her, also ! 
 
 " Did you see any Bar B cows, or Lazy J's, over 
 that way?" queried Mr. Simms. 
 
 Phil recollected those cattle of the early morning, 
 with a capital B and straight mark above it ("That's 
 a Bar B!") and a J lying on its back ("That's a 
 Lazy J! ") ; and the man of the revolver riding near 
 them. 
 
 *' You say he was running 'round, when he looked 
 for you, carrying a revolver in his left hand?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "That'll spot him. He's a left-handed shooter," 
 exclaimed the cowboy Dick. 
 
 " He limps, too," reminded Phil. 
 
 " Well, we'll go on down to the Lazy J camp and 
 have dinner; then Chet and I'll take the boy on to 
 the Bar B," proposed Mr. Simms. 
 
 They rode leisurely, descending to the lower coun- 
 try. 
 
 **iWhere's your home, son?" inquired Mr. Simms. 
 
 Phil told him. 
 
 "Is your father K. P. Macowan?" 
 
 **No, sir. He's my uncle." 
 
PHIL JOINS THE COWBOYS 33 
 
 " Jus' so. Well, instead of going on to California 
 you stay at the Bar B and let Chet show you the 
 country and a good time. You write your father and 
 tell him I'm the man your uncle camped with two 
 years ago, when he was out here hunting and we were 
 on the beef roundup. Your uncle will remember. 
 Say you're at the Simms ranch — George Simms' ; and 
 that if you stay long enough we'll make a cowman 
 of you. It'll do you more good than all California 
 put together. What do you think, Chet ? " 
 
 " Will you ? " urged Chet, turning eagerly in the 
 saddle. 
 
 " I'll write and see." Phil's tired eyes brightened. 
 
 " Do it," continued Mr. Simms. " And I'll add a 
 line, and send the letter in to-morrow, to catch the 
 stage. You'll have a week, anyway, before the answer 
 comes. Do you want to be a cowboy for a while ? " 
 
 Phil nodded. 
 
 " Sure. Stay and we'll all show you the country. 
 By the time you get out you can throw a rope and 
 wrestle a calf with anybody," encouraged the cow- 
 boy Henry. 
 
 " First I'll outfit him with some of Chet's clothes," 
 remarked Mr. Simms, quizzically. " He's worse than 
 a sheep-herder. Looks as though he hadn't drawn 
 pay for a year." 
 
 **Must have left a trail of himself on the trees an' 
 bushes all those forty mile," alleged Dick. 
 
 And Phil blushed. It occurred to him that he must 
 indeed be a "sight," for he had travelled a hard 
 road. If only they realized how hard! 
 
36 BAR B BOYS 
 
 "What were those Indians going to do with me, 
 do you think ? '' he asked Chet. 
 
 " Aw, nothing much. They're just some of the 
 Southern Utes going up to visit the other Utes on 
 the Uintah reservation over in Utah. That was Cap- 
 tain Billy the chief. I guess he thought he'd hold 
 you and get a lot of money. He's all right when he 
 isn't feeling mean. I bet, though, they wouldn't have 
 given in so easy if they'd been a war party. But 
 they had their squaws along." 
 
 " That Indian you called Charley talks English ! " 
 
 " He's Captain Billy's son — Charley Pow-wow. 
 He can talk as well as you or I. He's been away to 
 school, out East. But sometimes you wouldn't think 
 it." 
 
 **Look what he gave me." And Phil showed the 
 little beaded buckskin sack. 
 
 "What's in it?" 
 
 " Bear-grease to rub on my scratches." 
 
 " Good. Bear fat's fine, they say. The Indians 
 all use it. You can rub it on yourself to-night. And 
 that's a dandy little sack." 
 
 "Lose yore watch?" queried the cowboy Dick, 
 noting the fragment of chain. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 ** Oh, well," spoke Mr. Simms, " you won't need 
 a watch out here. We get up when it's light and go 
 to bed when it's dark, and eat when we can. Day 
 isn't divided into hours, for us. It's all one. Have 
 a clock at the ranch, and set it by the almanac. But 
 mostly we forget to wind it." 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 AT THE BAR B RANCH 
 
 Beneath his covering of blankets and quilts Phil 
 awoke with a start, and blinked about him. Over- 
 head was a ceiling of whitey muslin stained with 
 brown blotches where the mud from the sod roof had 
 soaked through during rains. Around were walls of 
 rough logs, their adobe chinking protruding, hard as 
 brick, within. From pegs here and there hung old 
 blouses, an old coat of black dog-skin, a pair of worn 
 leather chaps, a cartridge-belt empty, a battered black 
 slouch hat, a frayed, stubby quirt ; while a shelf at the 
 foot of the cot held a half score of ragged magazines 
 and paper novels, a box of rifle cartridges, a bottle of 
 pain-killer, a spur with rowel missing. Through the 
 glassless window, whose wooden shutter was swung 
 wide back, streamed daylight and fresh cool air. From 
 the other room, beyond the half-closed plank door, 
 emanated voices, stamping, and yawns. 
 
 Oh, yes; Phil recollected. This was the bunk- 
 house of the Bar B cattle ranch, where he had been 
 put to sleep with the " other " cowboys. For if he 
 was to be a cowboy he must sleep in the bunk-house, 
 had said Mr. Simms. And, anyway, this was the 
 only place for him to sleep, considering that Mr. 
 Simms and Chet occupied the one real bed of the 
 ranch, and Old Jess, who was temporary cook and 
 
 37 
 
38 BAR B BOYS 
 
 was more or less cranky, occupied the shake-down 
 in the kitchen. 
 
 The voices in the other room, amidst stamping of 
 boots and repeated yawns, were discussing dreams. 
 Phil could easily recognize the smooth drawl of 
 Haney, the tall red-headed cowboy from Texas, the 
 more precise accents of Mr. Dexter (whom all called 
 Ford), the good-looking cowboy said to be from Bos- 
 ton and Harvard, and the curter speech of Buster, na- 
 tive Coloradoan. 
 
 Next somebody trudged forth, to stick a genial, 
 freckled countenance, beneath thatch of brick-colored 
 hair topped by broad-brimmed, high-crowned, black 
 hat, in through the window beside Phil's cot. 
 
 ** Howdy. Goin' to get up this mohnin' ? " he re- 
 marked, surveying Phil quizzically. It was Haney, 
 the red-headed cowboy from Texas. 
 
 " Getting up now," responded Phil, throwing back 
 the coverings and springing out. 
 
 " Didn't know but what you'd laik to have youah 
 breakfas' fetched in to yuh," he asserted, and disap- 
 peared. 
 
 The boot stamping in the other room was renewed, 
 and Phil, already wearing a shirt of Chet's, hastened 
 his donning of Chet's stockings and Mr. Dexter's 
 trousers and Mr. Simms' shoes and somebody's old 
 blouse. He yawned tremendously; the lacing of his 
 left shoe jammed under his watery eyes. Yah-hum. 
 — how he had slept! And how much better he felt. 
 The night's rest and the bear's grease had worked 
 wonders. 
 
 But he was spurred to action again by another 
 
AT THE BAR B RANCH 39 
 
 visitor. The round, brown face of Chet looked in 
 upon him unceremoniously through the convenient 
 window. Apprised by the darkening of his light, 
 Phil glanced behind him. 
 
 " Hello," he said. 
 
 " Getting up ? " asked Chet, grinning. 
 
 "Be out in a jiffy. Is breakfast ready?" inquired 
 Phil anxiously. 
 
 "Pretty near." 
 
 " Don't wait for me. I'll be right there," informed 
 Phil. 
 
 "Aw, they won't wait," assured Chet, grinning 
 again. " Haney's gone to get the horses, tho', and 
 he'll be back quick if he finds them easy." 
 
 Phil wrestled into his coat, seized his hat and hur- 
 ried forth from the little store-room where he had 
 passed the night. In the other, the main room of the 
 bunk-house, Mr. Dexter, now clad with high-heeled 
 boots, faded blue overalls and big hat similar to 
 Haney's, only drab, sitting alone upon the edge of 
 a tumbled bunk, was laboriously sewing a button to 
 his checkered blouse. 
 
 '' Well, up for all day? " he greeted. " Ouch ! " he 
 added. He examined his thumb, ruefully, and 
 sucked it. 
 
 " Yes, sir," declared Phil, emphatically. 
 
 He liked Mr. Dexter (or Ford), who was the best- 
 looking of the cowboys yet seen, with regular, clean- 
 cut features, dark eyes and hair, crisp mustache and 
 white teeth and firm chin. Chet had said that he had 
 been to college and was from Boston. 
 
 Outside was Chet, already arrayed in his shaggy 
 
40 BAR B BOYS 
 
 white chaps and his gauntlet gloves. He appeared 
 chubbier than ever. He ought to make an awful 
 good center, or fullback, if he were quick enough, 
 thought Phil, sizing him up. 
 
 ''There come the horses, a-kiting," announced 
 Chet. " After they're in the corral we'll have break- 
 fast. Can you rope a hawss ? " 
 
 " I don't know. I never tried." 
 
 "You'll have to. That's the only way to catch 
 'em. I can. Want to wash ? " 
 
 ''Yes. Where?" 
 
 " In the kitchen, where you did yesterday. But 
 let's see Haney bring in the herd. Maybe we can 
 help." 
 
 The sun was just rising over the great sagy, red- 
 cragged hill close on the east and sending his first 
 beams down across the ranch buildings here clustered 
 upon the only flat spot, apparently, in this whole wild 
 country. For all about were the hills, rocky and 
 covered with sage and cedars and pines, while be- 
 yond them, northward and southward, were snow 
 ridges above timber-line. 
 
 Although 'twas the middle of May the frost glis- 
 tened upon the turfy roofs, upon the squared ends of 
 the logs, and upon the ground. The air was sweet 
 and filled with the pungent aroma of sage and pine; 
 but it also was sharp, and Phil thrust his hands into 
 his trouser-pockets ( or Mr. Dexter's, rather) for 
 warmth. 
 
 "See them?" queried Chet. 
 
 Following Chet's eyes Phil noted, south against 
 
AT THE BAR B RANCH 41 
 
 the base of the encompassing hills, golden dust; and 
 suddenly amidst the dust, uptossing heads, white and 
 dark, and galloping, trotting forms weaving back and 
 forth. Soon, jostling down the lane with Haney 
 ambling complacently behind, came some twenty 
 horses. They slowed and bunched, for a moment, at 
 sight of the boys; then, at a yelp from Haney, led 
 by a sedate iron-speckled horse christened, as Phil 
 eventually knew. Gray Jack, they poured, playing and 
 biting and kicking, in through the open gate of the 
 corral. 
 
 With chaps scuffing delightfully, Giet ran and 
 closed the gate. Haney swung to earth, unsaddled 
 and unbridled like lightning, and at a slap upon the 
 flank his own horse trotted gleesomely up the lane 
 again and back into the sage, where it stood and 
 whinneyed for company. 
 
 " Grub pi-ile," sighed Haney, sauntering toward 
 the ranch-house. He halted and removed his spurs. 
 "My goodness me, boy!" he accosted, with a side 
 glance at Chet. " Did youah daddy sleep with his 
 leather pants on, too ? That bed must be gettin' right 
 lively." 
 
 Chet blushed, awkwardly. 
 
 " Come on," he bade, to Phil. " Better wash be- 
 fore Haney does. He'll set the water to boiling." 
 
 " Done washed, myself," drawled Haney, undis- 
 turbed. "Always was taught to wash an' comb my 
 haih soon as I got up ! ' 
 
 Phil was conscious that the shaft hit him. 
 
 The ranch-house was a low one-story log structure, 
 
42 BAR B BOYS 
 
 divided into " office " and kitchen. The office was 
 really the private room of Mr. Simms^ where he not 
 only might attend to his correspondence, but where 
 he sat when not busied outside, and where he and Chet 
 slept. The kitchen was the meal-time gathering 
 place. Now it was sizzling with frying meat and 
 potatoes, and was rife with the alluring odor of 
 coffee. The atmosphere of warmth and promise ap- 
 pealed to Phil mightily, and seemed to be exciting 
 pleasurable emotions also in Tom, the ranch's big 
 brindled cat, who with stub tail stiffly erect was 
 stalking around Old Jess the cook, and the beaming 
 hot stove. 
 
 The cowboy Buster (a wiry, small-boned youth; 
 lithe, tow-headed and saying little) emptied the tin 
 basin out of the door as Chet and Phil entered ; then 
 he proceeded to polish his face on the crash towel be- 
 hind the door. 
 
 " Go ahead," instructed Mr. Dexter, whose but- 
 ton was on and who evidently was waiting for a turn 
 at the basin. 
 
 " Yes, he's in no hurry. He washed in Boston 
 befoh he came out," explained the irrepressible Haney. 
 
 '* That's more than you did before you left Texas," 
 retorted Mr. Dexter. 
 
 "He didn't have time to stop an' wash. Was 
 travelin' too fast," averred Old Jess, from the stove. 
 
 Haney only grinned in response; and hanging his 
 broad, high hat on a nail, seated himself in a chair, 
 to tilt back against a post-pillar, and swing booted 
 feet and bide another opening. 
 
HANEY'S NOOSE WAS UPON HIS HORSE. AT LAST 
 
AT THE BAR B RANCH 43 
 
 Taking Mr. Dexter at his word, Phil proceeded 
 to fill the basin and to scrub his face and hands with 
 lather. Tom, the enormous cat aforesaid, at a digni- 
 fied pace crossed the room and unhesitatingly jumped 
 upon Haney^s lap, where he squatted content. 
 
 " Howdy to you, then," said Haney, tickling Tom's 
 pads — whereat Tom simultaneously growled protest 
 and purred luxury. " Mus' think I'm a pack hawss. 
 Ought not to fool with a man 'foh breakfas'." 
 
 "Where's the boss?" asked Old Jess, of Chet. 
 "Better call him, hadn't yuh? Breakfas' is ready." 
 
 " Here he is " and Mr. Simms, tall, spare, thin 
 
 of flank, long of leg, straight of back, a typical West- 
 ern cowman, built to ride, entered. 
 
 " Hello, boy," he remarked, nodding all around and 
 following Mr. Dexter at the basin. "'Sleep well? 
 Those fellows didn't keep you awake with their snor- 
 ing?" 
 
 " No, suh. He was too busy bustin' broncos all 
 night to mind anybody snorin'," put in Haney, 
 promptly. " I declare, he romped 'round in there 
 somethin' frightful." 
 
 At such a whopper Phil could but gasp. He never 
 knew what this red-headed Haney was going to say 
 next — nor did anybody else, he soon learned. 
 
 " I see Chet is all ready," continued Mr. Simms, 
 from the folds of the crash towel. 
 
 " Yes, suh. We-all reckoned he wore his chaps 
 the plumb night through," volunteered Haney. 
 " Wanted to get after those rustlers bright an' 
 early." 
 
44 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " I wish somebody would get after them, and get 
 after them proper," said Mr. Simms, emphatically. 
 " Chet can sleep with his spurs on, too, and I'll never 
 complain, if it will help us run those thieves to their 
 holes." 
 
 ** Well, we got this new man on the range, now," 
 proffered Haney, solemnly, still tickling Tom's feet. 
 " Way he was ra'in an' teahin' 'round in his end o' 
 the bunk-house las' night there won't be room foh 
 him an' any rustlers togethuh in this country, I lell 
 yuh!" 
 
 "No; there isn't room for anybody who can make 
 a TB out of a Bar B, sure," decreed Mr. Simms. 
 
 Phil listened with a little thrill. But Old Jess in- 
 terrupted. 
 
 " Fall to it, boys," he bade. 
 
 " Come on," warned Chet, to Phil. 
 
 Haney unceremoniously dumped Tom to the floor; 
 and with clump of boot and sundry scraping, the four 
 men and the two boys seated themselves upon the 
 bench which ran along either side of the oil-cloth 
 covered board table. Phil's place, as on the preceding 
 evening, was between Chet and Mr. Dexter. 
 
 Presently the cowboy Buster, who had been finish- 
 ing with bread and sorghum, and had polished his 
 plate, heaved a sigh, and twisting sideways extricated 
 himself from the table. Mr. Simms likewise arose. 
 So did Haney. 
 
 " 'Fraid Smith-Jones ain*t feelin' very puht this 
 mohnin'," he alleged, gravely — referring to Phil. 
 ** Don't appeah to eat." 
 
AT THE BAR B RANCH 45 
 
 And thereafter he unvaryingly designated Phil as 
 " Smith-Jones," claiming that he never could remem- 
 ber names. 
 
 With Chet Phil emerged, feeling well fortified 
 against the day, into the out-of-doors. The sun was 
 hot, spreading his golden largesse over the sage far 
 and wide, and over slope and crest. Flies were buzz- 
 ing; but in the shade of the buildings the frost was 
 still heavy, and the boards of the fences were marked 
 in white upon the ground. 
 
 The men (except Old Jess, who in his capacity of 
 cook remained to wash the dishes) strolled noncha- 
 lantly to the blacksmith shop and tool shed, toward 
 the corral. Along the log front, upon which were 
 nailed several coyote and wolf pelts and a double row 
 of mountain lion tails, peeled (trophies which fas- 
 cinated Phil's eyes and thoughts), under the broad 
 eaves, were lying upon their sides a number of sad- 
 dles, with the saddle-blankets thrown carelessly 
 across them. Each man untied from his saddle a 
 coil of rope. 
 
 "What can Phil ride, daddie?" queried Chet — 
 now, like the rest of them, with rope in hand. 
 
 Phil, who had helplessly been watching proceed- 
 ings, wondering where he came in, listened, silent but 
 expectant. 
 
 " Let me see," mused Mr. Simms. He eyed the 
 corral. " I think we'll give him Pepper this morn- 
 ing. Pepper's gentle." 
 
 " I dunno," murmured Haney, who was pulling on 
 a pair of leather chaps with flapping wings brass- 
 
46 BAR B BOYS 
 
 studded along the edges. ** Awful frisky hawss, that. 
 Wouldn't ketch me ridin' him. Uh-um-m-m ! " 
 
 Phil could not repress a slight natural sensation of 
 alarm; but 
 
 " Don't you mind what he says," reassured Chet. 
 '' He's only trying to shoot it into you. Pepper won't 
 do anything. Come on and I'll rope him for you. 
 You bring that old piece of rope so you can lead him 
 out." 
 
 The corral was a space some twenty yards across, 
 fenced about, rudely circular, by aspen poles, with their 
 ends held between pairs of cedar posts. At the en- 
 trance, through the gate, of the men with their coils 
 of rope, the twenty horses immediately crowded in a 
 group at the far side, and every animal, ostrich fash- 
 ion, tried to hide his head amidst his fellows. The 
 horses upon the outskirts shoved frantically and 
 nipped right and left, to work into the center. To 
 Phil, hanging upon the rails near the gate, and ob- 
 serving, this seemed pretty smart of the horses. 
 
 Mr. Dexter walked straight across, shaking out 
 the loop in his right hand, holding the coil in his left. 
 The group of crowding horses broke — and instantly 
 with a quick flirt he cast. " Good ! " almost applauded 
 Phil, for a chestnut horse apparently ran his head 
 right into the wide noose as it hovered over him. 
 
 Mr. Dexter gave a little jerk, the horse stopped in 
 his tracks and obediently came along at the end of 
 the rope. Mr. Dexter led him through the gate, 
 which Phil opened and closed. 
 
 Buster, too, had readily noosed his horse — a big 
 
AT THE BAR B RANCH 47 
 
 roan. Mr. Simms did not throw his rope, but with 
 "Look out!" "Steady, there!" '*Whoa, now!" 
 advanced, wary but firm, straight up to his horse, and 
 sHpped the noose right over its head, unresisted. Mr. 
 Simms' influence upon horses was of this rare nature: 
 he could approach them, talking to them, and they 
 would let him. In corral and pasture he seldom threw 
 his rope. His method was less spectacular, but suf- 
 ficient. 
 
 The horses were racing tumultuously around and 
 around the corral, as in a circus ring, while at the 
 center, like ring-masters, stood Haney and Chet. 
 Haney had not thrown, yet; with his loop swinging 
 about his head he had vainly been waiting a chance. 
 
 " That blame pinto hawss — he's too cute to live 
 much longer," scolded Haney, wrathfully. " Look 
 at him, will yuh? Keeps behind that Rover laik he 
 was stuck to him ! " 
 
 Chet had been throwing again and again, but had 
 caught only a post — twice. Suddenly Haney's loop 
 shot out and neatly settled upon the horse that Chet 
 was after. 
 
 " Here's youah hawss," presented Haney. " Take 
 him out. You bothuh me. Fust thing you know 
 you'll ketch somethin' by the foot, an' then there'll be 
 nothin' but trouble." 
 
 Chet had not been remarkably successful, and very 
 red with exertion and chagrin he traded ropes upon 
 the horse's neck and made exit with his mount. Phil 
 politely pretended not to notice him ; but roping looked 
 easy. 
 
48 BAR B BOYS 
 
 Hurrah! Haney's noose was upon his horse, at 
 last. And now, amidst laughter, his high heels 
 pegging into the ground as he set back, half doubled, 
 upon the rope, he was being tugged about the corral, 
 through dust and mud, by the plunging pinto. 
 
 But under the savage jerks and the dead weight 
 of 1 80 pounds the pinto's wind was failing rapidly, 
 and in a moment he stood, docile, flanks trembling, 
 sides heaving. 
 
 " Yuh, come along, yuh, if yuh got enough," panted 
 Haney. And the pinto — who was curiously blotched 
 with white and brown — came. 
 
 " Well, son, whereas your horse ? " Phil heard at 
 his elbow as he closed the gate. Twas Mr. Dexter, 
 who had bridled and saddled and returned. 
 
 Sure enough. It seemed as though Phil was being 
 forgotten. Thus he was early having it impressed 
 upon him that in the open West man and even boy 
 must look out for himself. 
 
 " He*s Pepper. He's in there, but I don't know 
 which one," answered Phil. 
 
 " I guess I'd better catch him for you," volun- 
 teered Mr. Dexter. " You can do your own roping 
 next time. Pepper's that little speckled blue — iron- 
 gray you'd call him — with a diamond on the right 
 hip. Hold the gate " 
 
 By a quick toss of his head Pepper adroitly dodged 
 the loop; but Mr. Dexter, laughing gleefully, threw 
 again, from behind, and brought him up short. 
 
 " Put your piece of rope around his neck ; now you 
 have him." And Phil, iTluch relieved, conducted Pep- 
 
AT THE BAR B RANCH 49 
 
 per out to the saddling place before the blacksmith 
 shop. 
 
 " Leave the gate open," had directed Mr. Dexter. 
 Following Pepper's exit, forth sidled all the free 
 horses, to scuttle up the lane and to pasture. This 
 was not their day. 
 
 " We'll give you Jess' old tree, to-day, boy," an- 
 nounced Mr. Simms. " It'll hold together, I reckon, 
 and there'll be an extra saddle come down from the 
 hawss camp with Hombre that you can have. Here's 
 a bridle. You can use that sacking for saddle blanket 
 until we find something better. You and Chet can 
 ride with Haney this morning. I'll take your letters 
 into town. Did you write to have your baggage ^at- 
 tended to at the other end ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Somebody saddle up for Smith-Jones, then. 
 Cain't wait long," admonished Haney, who was buck- 
 ling on his spurs. " Fifty miles to go and back 'foh 
 dinner! " 
 
 "Here — I'll show you," said Mr. Dexter; and 
 twitching the sacking into better position he took the 
 old saddle (worn though it was almost to the original 
 frame or tree it weighed more than Phil had figured) 
 from Phil's hands and chucked it easily into place 
 upon Pepper's back. While he straightened the single 
 girth and fastened it, Mr. Simms supplemented the 
 operations by stepping forward and fitting the bridle 
 into place. 
 
 " There you are," he said. " How are you? Pretty 
 good on the ride?" 
 
50 BAR B BOYS 
 
 "Yes, sir. I ride our horse at home, some," in- 
 formed Phil. 
 
 " Get aboard, then. Other side, or he'll throw you, 
 sure! Never mount a hawss in this country from the 
 right side — unless he's an Injun hawss, and you can't 
 always tell, even in that case." 
 
 Chet giggled; but Phil, abashed at his mistake and 
 at apparently keeping everybody waiting, was con- 
 scious, as he now essayed Pepper's left side, that no 
 one else was laughing. Even Haney sat his horse, 
 gravely if critically observing. As for Chet — well, 
 Chet had caught only a post in the corral, for all his 
 exhibit of big shaggy white chaps. 
 
 "Is Smith-Jones on?" questioned Haney, quite 
 superfluously. 
 
 " Stirrups feel right ? " asked Mr. Dexter, quietly, 
 pulling at themw "Yes, he's on," he responded, at 
 Phil's nod. 
 
 ** Good," decreed Haney, wheeling his horse. " Now 
 the bears an' rustlers shuah better hide up, foh Smith- 
 Jones an' Chet an' me are headin' squah into their 
 country." 
 
 And Haney spoke more truly than he knew. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 PHIL RIDES THE RANGE 
 
 The ranch buildings were along the course of a 
 muddy, crooked creek whose bed was fifteen feet be- 
 low between steep shale-and-adobe banks. A path 
 descended to the creek ford; Haney plunged down; 
 so did Chet; and Phil, feeling curiously elevated and 
 tucked in on his cowboy saddle with its high pommel 
 and cantel, followed. The current, yellow and swift 
 from the snows yet melting upon these white ridges 
 far south, would bar the progress ; but Haney, with a 
 jab of his spurs, forced his horse right in. The heavy 
 water swirled about his stirrups; he disdained to 
 withdraw his feet, and let them hang. Chet held 
 his ludicrously extended before him. 
 
 " You want to head up, Smith-Jones," called 
 Haney, halting on the trail which climbed the farther 
 bank. "There's a big hole, jes' below. It shuah will 
 drown yuh, if you get in." 
 
 With a snort Pepper entered the stream. Phil raised 
 his feet, but the depth increased alarmingly, and the 
 current seemed to be carrying Pepper with it. 
 
 "Head him up! Head him up!" enjoined Haney, 
 earnestly. 
 
 "You're down too far. Kick him in the ribs," 
 cried Chet, from safety. 
 
 Phil incautiously lowered one foot, to kick, and 
 
 51 
 
52 BAR B BOYS 
 
 doused it to the ankle. But Pepper was struggling- 
 gallantly, and with the water against his breast was 
 obliquing up, inch by inch. The water shoaled, and 
 with one foot wet and a slight breathlessness Phil was 
 borne out to fall in behind the others. 
 
 " Mos' lost Smith-Jones that time," decreed Haney, 
 over his shoulder, as if communing with the land- 
 scape. 
 
 *'Your foot will dry in a little bit," comforted 
 Chet. 
 
 " Oh, I don't care," declared Phil, bluffly. 
 
 They followed the gravelly trail winding over the 
 sagy hill; Haney was before, and from the rear Phil 
 could note his long easy seat in the saddle, where he 
 was one with every movement of his pinto ; Chet, too, 
 seemed to " fit " exactly. His chaps and Haney's were 
 as if measured to the horses' sides. Holding his bridle 
 hand high, and sitting straight, Phil unconsciously 
 imitated. He was a cowboy. 
 
 On the other side the hill sloped gently away into 
 a long, wide flat, extending north and south, and gray 
 with the everlasting sage. Haney broke his pinto into 
 a gallop; on they sped, for a few minutes, Chet and 
 Haney abreast, Phil on Pepper close behind. Having 
 given the horses a breather, they slackened to a walk. 
 
 Ah, this was glorious. Phil was keenly alive, drink- 
 ing in the experience. The sky was very blue, the 
 sun shone full, the air was pungently sweet, around 
 stretched the vast expanse of sage and greasewood, 
 bordered by rock and pine and cedar. Overhead, in 
 the blue, floated a black turkey buzzard; the only 
 
PHIL RIDES THE RANGE 53 
 
 mark. No sound was to be heard except the thud 
 of the horses' hoofs, clank of bridle and spur, and scuff 
 of chap. Phil urged Pepper into the front rank, and 
 now the three of them rode in a line, like knights er- 
 rant. 
 
 Haney pointed with gloved hand down beside his 
 horse, at the trail. " Big ol* wolf," he volunteered. 
 ** Wonder where he was goin'. Followin' the trail 
 laik he was a dog." 
 
 Phil veered over to examine; and in the dust he 
 saw plainly the prints of a padded foot — large and 
 round ; but for all that he could tell it might have been 
 a dog's. 
 
 " Lookin' for some daown animal, or weak calf, I 
 reckon," said Haney. 
 
 'Td like to get him, wouldn't you?" exclaimed 
 Chet. 
 
 " Mistuh Wolf's pretty smart. He ain't 'round 
 hankerin' to be skinned. Laik as not he's layin' up 
 among those rocks right now, lookin' at us," averred 
 Haney. 
 
 Phil gazed apprehensively at the mass of rocks up- 
 standing beside the trail. But he descried no prick- 
 ears and sharp snout of a wolf. 
 
 "Under places like those is where the caows get 
 in out o' the wind an' weather, Smith-Jones," said 
 Haney, with a side nod of his head indicating the 
 trampled space of ground beneath a lime-stone shelf. 
 
 " They get in there and they get in under the cedars, 
 too," said Chet. "The Bar B has the best winter 
 range anywhere around." 
 
54 BAR B BOYS 
 
 They changed from a walk to a trot, and Phil fell 
 in behind again, as Pepper seemed to prefer the trail 
 to dodging the sage. Trot, trot, trot, with Haney 
 standing in his stirrups, a hand upon the horn, Chet 
 doing the same, and Phil trying to imitate them both. 
 Pepper's trot was not the easiest motion in the world, 
 and kept Phil busy experimenting with it. A deep 
 arroyo, or dried water course, cut their way; with 
 the horses sliding down its loose bank they entered it, 
 and after following it for one hundred yards climbed 
 out again, with the trail. 
 
 Twice they crossed the arroyos, Haney and Chet 
 seeming to know intuitively the route through. But 
 the bottoms were so traveled by cattle tracks that 
 Phil could not have told which way to turn. 
 
 " Those look laik some o' them, yonder," announced 
 Haney; he abruptly pulled his pinto from the trail 
 and went at a gallop through the sage, to the left. 
 Chet instantly followed; without any impetus from 
 Phil, Pepper did the same. As Pepper weaved 
 through the tall brush Phil had all that he could do 
 to stick on, and he ignominiously held to the horn. 
 Suddenly Haney pulled up sharply, and turned for 
 the trail again. So did Chet. He grinned as he 
 noted Phil's clutch. 
 
 " You won't fall off," he said. " This ain't any- 
 thing — galloping easy through the sage. ^Wait till 
 you're following a steer and trying to catch him!" 
 
 "What's the matter? What made Haney turn 
 back?" asked Phil. 
 
 " I guess those aren't Bar B cattle, after all," an- 
 swered Chet. " He thought they might be." 
 
PHIL RIDES THE RANGE 55 
 
 " Those are Lazy J stock," announced Haney. 
 *' Except that big yearlin'. He's Bar B, all right." 
 
 "How do you know, so far?" ventured Phil. 
 
 " Can see," responded Haney, laconically. " Bar 
 B ear mark's a square crop on the left ; all those cat- 
 tle except the big yearlin' have a swallow-fohk." 
 
 Phil pondered. He could scarcely distinguish the 
 animals themselves; Haney had made out the ears. 
 Huh! He had more respect for Haney. 
 
 "Could you see the ear-marks, Chet?" he asked. 
 
 " Not all," admitted Chet. " But Haney can see 
 an ear-mark a mile." 
 
 " Sometimes five mile, when I got my glasses on ! " 
 supplemented Haney, composedly. " When an animal 
 raises his haid that way you can see the ear-mark 
 fust!" 
 
 Presently he turned off again, but rode only at a 
 trot, making toward more cattle grazing in the sage. 
 
 " You an' Smith-Jones hold 'em, while I ride 
 'round," he directed to Chet. " Lot o' calves in there." 
 
 " We'll spread out, so as to stop 'em if they try 
 to run," explained Chet. " He wants to see if they're 
 all branded." 
 
 So with Chet swinging toward the fore of the 
 bunch of animals, and Haney cutting in at the rear, 
 Phil, on the middle course, watched. The cattle held 
 high their heads, and several arose hastily to their 
 feet. Little calves scampered with tails up to join 
 their mammies, who protested with lowered heads 
 against the horsemen's approach. Phil halted. He 
 had gone far enough. 
 
 Haney rode at a walk here and there, now standing 
 
56 BAR B BOYS 
 
 in his stirrups to peer, now settling down again. 
 Suddenly he shook out his rope, and the lengthening 
 loop began to circle about his head. His horse quick- 
 ened to a gallop and out from the edge of the little 
 herd they burst, pursuing a half-grown heifer. The 
 heifer ran like a deer. With a whoop of delight Chet 
 wheeled to the chase, preparing his own rope. And 
 now crashing through the sage they came, the heifer 
 bawling and jumping, the two riders hard behind 
 swinging their loops with one hand, holding the coil 
 in the other, and sitting as securely as though glued 
 to the saddle. The herd went galloping off, except 
 one old cow, the heifer's fond mother, who lingered 
 and stared anxiously. 
 
 The heifer turned for her, and scurried across 
 Chet's path. He threw like an expert, and the noose 
 fell true, to tighten on the heifer's horns. 
 
 "Broken naik! Let go," warned Haney; and away 
 went the heifer with the rope trailing. 
 
 Chet, now ropeless, pulled up disappointed. 
 
 " I got her, tho', didn't I ? " he appealed to Phil. 
 
 "You bet you did," corroborated Phil, vastly ex- 
 cited. 
 
 Spurring his pinto Haney rode like a demon, and 
 rapidly closed the gap opened out by the heifer's 
 fresh endeavors. His noose sailed forth, and landed 
 easily about her outstretched neck. 
 
 '' He's got her! " yelped Chet. " Come on! " 
 
 They tore through the sage. Phil clung for dear 
 life to the saddle-horn. As the noose tightened 
 Haney had spurred forward to give more slack ; then 
 
PHIL RIDES THE RANGE 57 
 
 his knowing pinto had turned at right angles. The 
 rope tightened with a jerk, and the heifer, describing 
 a somersault, landed with a thud and lay on her side, 
 too winded even to bawl. The mother cow, at a little 
 distance, waited and gazed, lowing inquiringly. 
 
 " All over," decreed Haney, cheerfully, dismount- 
 ing. His pinto stood, with head turned and ears 
 pricked, keeping the rope tight. The heifer was 
 wheezing loudly, for the noose was shutting off her 
 breath. Haney ran, clumsy in his chaps, through the 
 sage, and drawing a piece of small rope from his 
 pocket, bending over the prostrate victim proceeded 
 to tie her feet together. Chet, who also had dis- 
 mounted, ran and sat on her head. 
 
 " Ease up on the rope a little, will yuh ? " called 
 Haney, to Phil. " She's a-chokin' to death, I reckon. 
 That pinto is holdin' too hahd." 
 
 Glad to occupy himself someway Phil dismounted, 
 dropped the lines as he had seen the others do, and 
 hastening to the pinto moved him a few steps, slack- 
 ening the taut rope. 
 
 By this time Haney had half-hitched the heifer's 
 four feet together in a bunch; bracing a boot on her 
 side he pulled the tie-string into a tight knot. Chet 
 removed the noose from her neck, and there she lay, 
 helpless, now bawling sonorously, her swelling sides 
 heaving, her eyes rolling. 
 
 " Thought Smith-Jones would have a fiah all goin', 
 by this time," complained Haney. He broke off a few 
 dried stalks of the sage, heaped them together, and 
 crouching over them applied a match. Chet brought 
 
58 BAR B BOYS 
 
 him more stalks, and Phil, admonished by word and 
 action, did the same. 
 
 **Just the dry pieces,'^ instructed Chet, businesslike 
 in his bearing and chap-clad legs. 
 
 The sage burned briskly ; the prone heifer continued 
 to bawl. Haney, having fed the blaze to his satisfac- 
 tion, straightened and trudged through the brush to 
 his pinto, who stood dozing. He fumbled at the sad- 
 dle, untying something, and returned with a pair of 
 flat-rimmed rings, composed of horse-shoes with their 
 points welded together. These he tucked among the 
 embers. He gravely squatted again. Chet squatted. 
 Phil squatted. The heifer bawled, unceasingly, the 
 old cow, her mother, at a little distance watching, 
 lowed plaintive response, the three horses stood with 
 drooping heads, snatching their forty winks. 
 
 " You hush up, now," ordered Haney, rising and 
 stepping to the heifer. " Goin' to tuhn you over an* 
 give you somethin' to bawl about/' Whereupon by 
 the tail and feet he flopped the victim over. " Now 
 you goin' to get youah medicine," he informed; and 
 he extracted one of the welded horse-shoes from the 
 coals. Inserting a pair of sticks, crossed, through it, 
 he cleverly held it, as by a handle. Kneeling upon the 
 heifer he began to burn her flank — ^pressing hard and 
 inscribing painstakingly a large B. The hair smoked, 
 the flesh sizzled, the heifer bawled angrily, the old 
 cow lowed, and a little thrill of pity and horror ran 
 through Phil.. 
 
 " That must hurt," he exclaimed. 
 
 *' Cain't help it," grunted Haney. " Everybody's 
 
PHIL RIDES THE RANGE 59 
 
 got to get hurt some in this world. Never knew a 
 caow to die o' branding yet." 
 
 " It's no worse than tattooing," declared Chet. 
 
 " Only, the cattle don't want to be tattooed." 
 
 " Don't reckon this hurt lasts long," grunted Haney. 
 "Let 'em up and laik as not they go right to eatin'. 
 Hush, yuh," he ordered. ** You'll make youah mammy 
 ashamed o' yuh. I got to burn the bar yet. Hush 
 up ! Almost a yearlin', an' bellerin' laik that ! " 
 
 He threw his horse-shoe down, and took the other 
 one. Above the B he limned a bar. Standing he 
 surveyed his work critically. 
 
 "Sho', now," he said, suddenly. "Mos' fohgot 
 the dew-lap." Dropping his branding-iron he kneeled 
 at the heifer's head, and drawing his pocket knife, 
 opened it; stretching the skin of the throat he cut a 
 slash, so that a strip of the skin hung free. Phil, with 
 alarm, thought for a moment that Haney was killing 
 the poor animal. But the cut was only skin-deep. 
 The heifer, whose bawls had died to an exhausted 
 moan, clamored afresh. 
 
 " Let yuh up now," quoth Haney. " Think you'll 
 be kind o' rambunctious, hey?" 
 
 Chet scrambled to his feet, and so did Phil, and 
 they ran back toward their horses. Haney bent over 
 the animal, untied her feet, and twitched off the rope. 
 
 *'Get up. Youah mammy's waitin' foh yuh," he 
 urged, applying his toe fearlessly. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 PHIL HOLDS THE LITTLE RED BULL 
 
 With sudden realization that she was free the 
 heifer lurched to her feet, for an instant unsteady, 
 glowering and puffing. Haney sprang back, laugh- 
 ing gleefully, ready to dodge or to stand ; but bawling, 
 she went trotting away. Her mother met her, nosed 
 her wounds, licked her, and presently gave her liquid 
 refreshment. 
 
 "Look at that, will yuh!" directed Haney, dis- 
 gusted. " Big as her mammy an' still a-drinkin' milk. 
 Where's my other saddle-iron? You got it, Smith- 
 Jones?" 
 
 " What is it? That ring you used? " 
 
 " Yes, suh. Threw both daown. Cain't only find 
 one." 
 
 Phil, advancing, at that moment stepped on it, 
 where it had rolled. 
 
 '* Here it is," he said. " Ouch," for it was still hot. 
 
 Haney picked it up with a stick, and carried it, with 
 its mate, to his saddle. 
 
 " These are saddle-irons," he informed. " Ain't 
 allowed to carry 'em on mos' ranges; liable to get 
 held up foh a rustler, if yuh do. Carry 'em in this 
 rough country 'cause we have to brand critters where 
 we find 'em. Round-up misses a lot. Use regular 
 stamp-iron at the round-up." 
 
 60 
 
PHIL HOLDS THE RED BULL 6i 
 
 "When is a round-up?'* asked Phil. 
 
 " Calf round-up foh this district comes next month, 
 I reckon," said Haney, who, having tied his saddle- 
 irons to the saddle, was engaged in coiling his rope. 
 " Yes, suh," he affirmed, swinging into the saddle. 
 " If I was caught with these closed hawss-shoes on 
 my saddle, daown south or up nawth, I'd get all shot 
 to pieces, laik as not." 
 
 They passed through several other bunches of 
 cattle, but no branding was necessary. A sagy draw 
 came in at right angles, to join the flat, and into this 
 they turned, following a well-worn cattle trail. 
 
 " Corduroy's goin' up, I see," remarked Haney, 
 gravely. 
 
 Phil could only flush, and try to kick his trousers 
 to met his shoe-tops again. Under the walking, trot- 
 ting and galloping they were always creeping higher 
 along his calf ; when Haney spoke they were half way 
 to his knee. He was aware also that the stirrups were 
 wearing a hole into his shin, and that the saddle 
 seams were rubbing raw his thighs. There was more 
 motion about Pepper than he had expected. But he 
 said not a word. 
 
 The draw proved to have fully two hundred cattle 
 in it, some collected about a small pond or water-hole 
 near its mouth. 
 
 " Cattle are comin' daown pretty well, seems laik," 
 vouchsafed Haney. " But there's a whole lot in the 
 hills, yet. Long's they can get plenty to drink up 
 there, they stay." 
 
 He had been glancing alertly about, as he rode on ; 
 
62 BAR B BOYS 
 
 and now he pulled his horse short, and scrutinized 
 a stout red bull, who half-sullenly, half-stupidly, faced 
 them. 
 
 ** Sakes alive, boy, where'd you come from ? " in- 
 quired Haney, of the bull. "Ain't yuh kind o' lost? 
 Where you been keepin' youahself?" 
 
 He slowly rode around the little bull, which steadily 
 fronted him, with lowered head and round bulging 
 eyes and stubby but sharp horns. 
 
 " A shuah 'nough maverick," declared Haney. 
 " Pretty tough ol' chap to manage, but we'll have to 
 get after him, Chet — Smith-Jones helpin'. Bar B 
 might as well have him as anybody. He's on our 
 range. Ain't got no mammy, far as I can see. Mus' 
 have left her last fall.'' 
 
 He took down his rope, and Chet took down his. 
 The little bull lowed menacingly, even plaintively, as 
 if he realized that an evil hour was upon him. 
 
 '* Tell me what to do, if there is anything, Haney," 
 prompted Phil, helpless as usual. " I'm no good at 
 this sort of thing." 
 
 " That's true, you ain't," agreed Haney, calmly. 
 " But you'll learn, Smith-Jones. Chet, you get youah 
 rope 'round his naik (he was referring now to the 
 little bull), an' when he's prancin' I'll ketch him by 
 the laigs, an' we'll stretch him. Easy, now. Go right 
 up along him an' drop it over. What yuh 'fraid of. 
 That's the way. Now yuh got him." 
 
 Thus incited, Chet, urging his horse to the bull, 
 from rearward had tossed his noose over the bull's 
 head ; and now paying off drew it tight. Annoyed by 
 
PHIL HOLDS THE RED BULL 63 
 
 the sensation, the little red bull began to plunge and 
 lunge. 
 
 " Keep out of his way, Smith-Jones,'* warned 
 Haney, above the bawling. " You an' Chet watch his 
 front end ; I'll take care of his hind end ; " and follow- 
 ing close, he flipped the noose over the bull's back so 
 that it swung under and along the ground. In an 
 instant the bull had thrust a hind leg through. 
 
 "Got him by the laig, got him by the laig!" an- 
 nounced Haney, excited or pretending to be excited. 
 " 'Drather have him by both. Goin' to swing him 
 now, Smith-Jones. Get out o' my road." 
 
 By a rapid circle Haney swept the bull from his 
 feet, and he came to the ground with a thud. Phil, 
 anxious to show a helping spirit, slid from the saddle 
 and ran and sat on the little bull's head. The animal's 
 breath came hot and wheezy, and his eyes rolled up 
 red but appealing. 
 
 *' 'Ray for Smith- Jones," cheered Haney. " Cain't 
 get away now, Mr. Bull. Hold him, Smith-Jones, 
 till we tie his other laig up." 
 
 Leaving his horse, Haney ran over. 
 
 " Don't need you at his haid," he said. " Chet'll 
 take care of his haid. Ketch his upper hind laig, the 
 one with the rope on, in both youah hands, an' stick 
 youah foot against his other laig, at the joint, this 
 way. Savvy? Brace youahself an' hoi' tight an' he 
 cain't budge. Now you got him." 
 
 Sitting as instructed, Phil held on, at the kicking 
 end of the little bull, for dear life. 
 
 Haney busied himself building a fire. Then having 
 
64 BAR B BOYS 
 
 put his irons into the blaze, stooping over the bull's 
 head, with his pocket-knife he cut the left ear squarely 
 across. A tiny stream of blood squirted out and 
 struck Phil in the face, but he did not dare to relax 
 his attitude. He was like the man who around the 
 tree has hold of the bear's tail. 
 
 " You didn't do that to the other one we caught," 
 he said. 
 
 ** Dew-lap the she-stock on this range ; square crop 
 the bulls an' steers," informed Haney. " Hoi' tight," 
 he cautioned, busying himself farther. The prostrate 
 animal gave a succession of squirms most extraordi- 
 narily vigorous, and Phil was jerked now forward, 
 now back. 
 
 "Hold him, hold him, Smith-Jones," encouraged 
 Haney, leaping to one side. 
 
 For his life Phil clung to the spasmodic legs; but 
 he might as well, it seemed to him, have " held " an 
 earthquake. One last convulsive thrust sent him fly- 
 ing backwards, head over heels in the sage. He picked 
 himself up while still in motion, alert to flee; but 
 Haney was sitting on the bull's head, and all was 
 quiet except uproarious laughter. 
 
 On his horse, Chet was doubled over, shrieking, 
 and Haney was indulging in extravagant whoops of 
 glee. 
 
 "Hurt you?" called Chet. 
 
 " Not a bit." 
 
 He well might have been mad — and he realized 
 that he was mad; but he also realized that he need 
 not have run, because the bull, with a rope on his neck 
 
PHIL HOLDS THE RED BULL 65 
 
 and another on his hind leg, was helpless. So his in- 
 dignation resulted in his promptly returning to his 
 post, and re-pinioning the bull's hind quarters. 
 
 " Smith-Jones comes right back again. Cain't kill 
 him," remarked Haney. He proceeded with the 
 branding, while the bull groaned and bellowed. 
 
 "You want to look out when he gets up," warned 
 Chet. " He's got blood in his eye." 
 
 " So's Smith-Jones," chuckled Haney — and Phil 
 wondered if he spoke literally. 
 
 Haney had executed an enormous Bar B on the 
 bull's flank, and stepped back to enjoy it. 
 
 ** There's a brand you'll see 'foh you can see the 
 caow," he declared, satisfied. 
 
 " Only, this isn't a cow," corrected Phil, slyly. 
 
 "All animals on the range are caows," returned 
 Haney. " He's an' she's, ol' an' young, all caows. 
 Lemme get that rope off his laig." 
 
 He slipped the noose off ; taking it to the pinto he 
 leisurely recoiled it, and hung it in place, and tied the 
 saddle-iron. He returned to the scene and put out 
 the fire by a few stamps. 
 
 "Here's youah rope, Chet," he announced, sitting 
 on the late victim's head. " You go an' get on youah 
 hawss, Smith-Jones. There's laikly to be somethin' 
 doin', in a minute." 
 
 Without ceremony Phil released his hold upon the 
 animal's hind legs and ran for his horse. He climbed 
 aboard, and sitting alert for what might happen, 
 watched. 
 
 With a glance around to see that all was clear, 
 
6(^ BAR B BOYS 
 
 Haney slowly arose, pushing down the bull's head 
 with his hands until the last moment. With a spring 
 backward he turned and ran — not now laughing but 
 dead in earnest. 
 
 " Look out ! He's coming ! " shouted Chet. 
 
 For an instant the animal had lain as before; but 
 with a sudden movement he had gained his feet all at 
 once, so to speak, and bloody, enraged, had glared 
 about him. The first glimpse of Haney's retreating 
 form had been sufficient, and now he charged, across 
 the sage, tail up, head down, a compact bundle of out- 
 raged dignity. 
 
 '' Look out ! " yelped Chet. 
 
 " Look out ! " cried Phil. 
 
 Clumsy in his chaps Haney stumbled on the brush 
 and pitched headlong. On hands and knees he ludi- 
 crously scrambled, turning at right angles just as the 
 bull, half blind with rage and pain, swept past like a 
 small red hurricane, impaling, en route, the big black 
 hat. 
 
 Phil involuntarily impelled Pepper forward, to in- 
 tercept the animal when it returned. He did not 
 know what ought to be done, but he was plucky 
 enough to want to do it. 
 
 " All ^ight, Smith-Jones," proclaimed Haney, 
 breathlessly, from the saddle which he had miracu- 
 lously gained. " Want my hat, now." 
 
 He spurred his pinto toward the enemy, who, hav- 
 ing lost the hat, had wheeled, and was standing, low- 
 ering and sullenly bellowing. 
 
 " If you wa'n't wuth twenty-five dollars to the Bar 
 
PHIL HOLDS THE RED BULL 67 
 
 B, I'd suhtinly bust youah naik, laik yuh almost busted 
 mine," addressed Haney. " Gimme that hat." 
 
 Within a few feet of the bull he coolly leaned from 
 the saddle and picked his hat from amidst the brush. 
 At the same instant, the enemy, seeing the man sepa- 
 rate himself from the horse, charged again ; the pinto 
 jumped aside, and Haney, almost unseated, was borne 
 away clinging like a Comanche — or (but Phil would 
 not have dared say so) like a monkey. 
 
 "All right, Mistuh Red," called Haney. "Cain't 
 fool with yuh any moh. Jes' wanted my hat." 
 
 So they left the sturdy little fellow in possession. 
 As long as they could see him he was standing there 
 in an attitude of offense and defense. 
 
 " Expect he would have hurt some if he'd struck 
 you, wouldn't he ? " asked Phil. 
 
 " Made me black an' blue, I reckon," quoth Haney, 
 carelessly. 
 
 " Just a knock from a calf leaves a spot that lasts 
 six weeks," supplemented Chet. " Remember where 
 I got bunted, last fall, Haney?" 
 
 Haney nodded. He sang, in an easy tenor : 
 
 " Little black bull come daown the mountain, 
 Daown the mountain, daown the mountain; 
 Little black bull come daown the mountain, 
 Long time ago I " 
 
 " Ought to be a little red bull," corrected Chet. 
 
 " No, suh," said Haney, stubbornly. " That 's a 
 good ol' song o' the Texas trail, an' cain't be changed 
 for nobody." 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 PHIL IS LOST AGAIN 
 
 They rode on up the draw, which gradually nar- 
 rowed — on the right hand high rim-rock, on the left 
 heavily wooded slopes. Haney obliqued to the left, 
 and followed a trail which climbed into the timber. 
 He pointed down beside him. 
 
 "See that, Smith-Jones?" he directed. "Big ol' 
 bear travelin' same way we are. Went along here 
 this mohnin'." 
 
 " Not a very big one, Haney," criticised Chet ; 
 "we've seen lots bigger tracks than this." 
 
 The prints in the dust were half as long as Phil's 
 forearm, and seemed to him plenty big enough. It 
 looked as though a person with a very fiat foot, number 
 12, had walked bare-soled. 
 
 " One o' those kind o' bear that weighs two hun- 
 dred pounds 'foh you meet him, and ten hundred 
 when you do meet him. Want to ketch up with him, 
 Smith-Jones?" 
 
 "Not unless you do," retorted Phil, determined to 
 hold his own. 
 
 " Done had my fight, this mohnin'," said Haney. 
 
 The tracks continued some distance, then ceased, 
 much to Phil's relief. 
 
 " Bear are comin' out o* their holes an' travelin* 
 foh somethin' to eat," explained Haney. 
 
 68 
 
PHIL IS LOST AGAIN 69 
 
 They wound up, single file, to the top of the slope, 
 and Haney broke into a trot again. The trail twisted 
 and turned among the cedars; Phil found himself 
 continually dodging boughs and branches, and having 
 to keep a keen look-out that his legs were not scraped 
 against trunks. There was an excitement about such 
 a gait. 
 
 The atmosphere here was different from that down 
 in the sage. Sun and shade mingled, and the scent 
 of cedar was strong. The ground was covered with 
 their dried fronds, and with the needles of pines ; and 
 moist spots, from the melting snows above permeat- 
 ing through, were frequent. Several times little 
 springs were encountered ; but thirsty as he was, Phil 
 did not dare to dismount and drink, for it was all he 
 could do, on Pepper (who took advantage of the 
 absence of spurs), to keep Chet in sight. Both the 
 pinto and Chet's horse seemed to trot faster. 
 
 Trot, trot, trot, dodging branches, circumventing 
 quick turns, and peering anxiously ahead to see what 
 was coming next. Trot, trot, trot, with the stirrups 
 eating into the flesh and the saddle-seams rubbing 
 more and more. Trot, trot, trot, ever in danger of 
 being left behind. And where was that bear who had 
 followed the trail not many hours before? 
 
 The trail began to descend. Phil found the trotting 
 down-hill much more uncomfortable than the trotting 
 on the level ; for in dodging the branches he was con- 
 stantly being thrown against the saddle-horn, and 
 even upon Pepper's neck. After an interminable time, 
 during which Chet and Haney seemed to have van- 
 
70 BAR B BOYS 
 
 ished, he and Pepper emerged at the bottom of an- 
 other draw, where, much to his relief, Chet was wait- 
 ing. 
 
 Beyond, some cattle were grazing, and Haney was 
 riding toward them, to inspect. Having circled them, 
 he turned and rode up the slope, without coming back ; 
 and saying, " He's going on," Chet started to over- 
 take him. 
 
 Phil stuck close to Chet's heels. He had not the 
 slightest idea where he was — the twists and turns had 
 been so frequent — nor where lay the ranch. To lose 
 Chet now would certainly be a calamity, for this was 
 the heart of the wilderness. 
 
 They had left the trail, and were cutting across 
 through the thousand cedars; weaving in and out 
 among the crooked trunks and low branches. Evi- 
 dences of cattle were everywhere; under some of the 
 cedars cattle must have spent many hours, collected 
 there out of the storms. While Phil was wondering 
 where on earth Chet was going, close behind him he 
 came out into a natural park of grass and flowers; 
 ahead, Haney, small amidst the vastness of space, 
 was climbing the slope of a hill. 
 
 At the top he halted a moment; then in an instant 
 he dashed over and down. 
 
 " He sees some cattle ; hurry up," exclaimed Chet ; 
 and veering to circumvent the base of the hill he, too, 
 with a jump, was off at full speed. 
 
 Frantically as he would kick Pepper in the ribs, 
 Phil perceived himself being left. Chet disappeared 
 among the cedars, and Phil's course was still slower, 
 
I 
 
 PHIL IS LOST AGAIN 71 
 
 because the branches were threatening to sweep him, 
 every moment, from the saddle. Pepper persisted in 
 trotting instead of galloping; now and then he would 
 sulkily settle to a walk. He was soldiering, was 
 Pepper. 
 
 Wellnigh crying with vexation, Phil pressed on in 
 the direction where Chet had apparently been making. 
 There was a tremendous crashing and crackling. His 
 heart leaped into his mouth. Running like a deer a 
 black calf crossed close in front of them — and here, 
 relentless on its heels, riding like a demon, reins loose 
 on his pinto's neck, leaning forward and swinging his 
 rope, followed Haney, careening through the trees as 
 if he bore a charmed life. Leaving a wake of broken 
 branches and crackling twigs and brush, he plunged 
 from sight again. 
 
 Phil hauled on the bit and kicked Pepper in the 
 ribs, turning him on Haney's trail. All was silence — 
 until abruptly another crackling and crashing sounded. 
 This time it was Chet, seemingly as mad as Haney, 
 pursuing a bounding, blatting, panic-stricken red calf. 
 Phil quickly changed his course, to follow Chet. The 
 tracks of calf and of horse were plain for a hundred 
 yards ; then both were obliterated on a flat bed of rock ; 
 nor did they appear again, no matter how closely he 
 searched. 
 
 Phil halted Pepper, (who was perfectly willing to 
 halt), and listened anxiously. Not a sound. He was 
 alone. Now, what should he do? 
 
 The air was warm and heavy with the scent of the 
 cedars. While he listened, straining his ears, motion- 
 
72 BAR B BOYS 
 
 less, the hum of insects arose again, jays began to 
 scream derisively, and the claws of a squirrel rasped 
 upon the bark as he scrambled down a pine. All this 
 added to the lonesomeness of the situation. Phil won- 
 dered what he ought to do. Had he better wait right 
 here, and let Chet and Haney look for him? Or had 
 he better look for Chet and Haney? He had read 
 that, when lost, one should stay upon the spot, and 
 one would be found easier. But he had wandered 
 from the spot, and now had not the slightest idea 
 where it was! 
 
 All of a sudden his ear caught another noise — this 
 time not so much a rattling as a rustling; but never- 
 theless it indicated the approach of some moving 
 body. Hopefully he gazed ; it would be either Haney 
 or Chet; and he was about to utter a guiding 
 "Whoo-ee," when he SAW! Ambling briskly 
 through the cedars, and now almost upon him where 
 he had been sitting so motionless, came a big dark- 
 brown bear between two cubs. She stopped and 
 glanced behind her, as if apprehensive; then she 
 started, trotting on again, toeing in, head low, shaggy 
 and cumbersome. 
 
 Phil stared, his eyes popping, his heart in his throat. 
 He could scarcely believe. He had a vague notion 
 that he would let her pass; maybe she would not mo- 
 lest him. 
 
 She stopped short. 
 
 " Whoof," she snorted, wrinkling her nose, peer- 
 ing before her at Phil and Pepper. 
 
 "Whoof!" snorted Pepper, turning head. His 
 
PHIL IS LOST AGAIN 73 
 
 nostrils flared wide. "Whoof!" he repeated, out of 
 sides distended as if they would burst the girth. 
 
 " Whoof ! '* reiterated the bear, rearing to her 
 haunches, and towering, it seemed to Phil, as high as 
 the cedars. "Whoof!'' Her teeth snapped angrily, 
 her fur stiffened. Beside her the cubs each reared in 
 imitation. 
 
 "Whoof!" retorted Pepper. He was trembling 
 violently, and half crouching as though his legs were 
 giving away beneath him, he backed, step by step. 
 With a whirl which nearly snapped Phil's head off, 
 and made him grab desperately at the horn, Pepper 
 bolted. 
 
 Jump after jump, each apparently longer and 
 harder than the last, away he tore through brush and 
 branch, blind with fear; and Phil, ducking low upon 
 his back, clung with both arms around his neck — a 
 humble posture, but the most secure. It would take a 
 fast bear to catch them — but everything that he ever 
 had read about the fleetness of bears swarmed into his 
 mind. On the level they could beat a horse — could 
 they not? And this was an old she-bear with cubs! 
 Haney and Chet must have disturbed her. 
 
 Phil's back crawled as he imagined claws ripping 
 into it ; he did not venture to look behind ; he had too 
 much to do to avoid the cedar boughs. Emerging 
 from the timber into an open grassy space Pepper 
 rushed, with increased speed, straight across, and on 
 up a hill. His jumps became more laborious; and on 
 the crest of a hill he halted, to gaze rearward, snort- 
 ing, staring wildly, seeking for a pursuer. 
 
74 BAR B BOYS 
 
 Nothing moved. The open space was devoid o* 
 bear. 
 
 " Whoof ! " challenged Pepper, panting and wheez- 
 ing. 
 
 Phil patted him proudly upon the neck. 
 
 Now Phil felt that he was more emphatically lost 
 than ever. Pepper, with the sang-froid of the dumb 
 animal, wild or domestic, occasionally pausing to 
 snort and look, proceeded to graze, while from the 
 saddle his rider surveyed the land. The hillcrest was 
 an excellent vantage point. 
 
 A panorama wellnigh bewildering in its vastness 
 lay outspread. The hill, with grassy sides whereon 
 flowers nodded and occasional rocks upstuck, sloped 
 on the one side into the cedars, separated from its 
 base by a grassy, flowery level stretch, and on the 
 other side fell away into a valley heavily timbered 
 with pines, beyond which a ridge of the dark green, 
 topped with snow, shut off further view. Beyond the 
 cedars, across the grassy space below, was a cafion 
 or draw ; and beyond that Phil saw mile after mile of 
 flat -top mesas or table-lands, divided by little canons 
 so numerous and so irregular that they might have 
 been cracks in mud after the sun has shone. 
 
 Somewhere in this direction, which by the sun was 
 north, lay the Bar B ranch. Scrutinizing the cedars, 
 the valley of pines, the grassy space, Phil could make 
 out not a moving living thing. He " Whoo-eed " ; 
 and waited, and " whoo-eed " again. And for luck, 
 a third time. 
 
 He dismounted, and with lines in hand sat down, 
 
PHIL IS LOST AGAIN 75 
 
 allowing Pepper to graze meantime where the grasses, 
 self-cured and long, were mingled with the fresh and 
 shorter. The sunshine was warm, the air was sweet, 
 and from his hill-top Phil, lolling, gazed about, mon- 
 arch of all he surveyed. He rather enjoyed the ex- 
 perience. 
 
 However, the sun was high; by its position he 
 judged that the time must be about noon. He began 
 to grow uneasy; if he was not going to be found 
 (how deserted of life this great region was, anyway!) 
 he had better be doing something definite; and that 
 was, be getting back to the ranch, if definiteness 
 could be attached to such an indefinite undertaking. 
 
 Yes, somewhere in that direction lay the Bar B 
 ranch. He had no idea how far they had come — 
 twenty miles, maybe, at least, by the sore places he 
 had. He strained his eyes, peering; but no Bar B 
 ranch could he make out, no, nor sign of anything 
 human. Mesa after mesa, separated by those crack- 
 like draws and canons, under the blue sky, met his 
 vision, until they merged with the azure mountain 
 range, far north. 
 
 He tried to figure out what a boy in a book would 
 do under such circumstances. A boy in a book usu- 
 ally did the right thing. One thing that he had read 
 and remembered was, when lost to follow the nearest 
 stream down; it would eventually lead to a larger 
 stream, and onward to habitations. There was no 
 stream up here; this was a dry country, despite the 
 melting snows. By obliquing toward the east he 
 ought to cut Owl Creek, and he could follow that 
 
ye BAR B BOYS 
 
 down to the ranch; could he not? He knew that 
 Haney and Chet and he had crossed the creek; and 
 they had taken a general course west and south, be- 
 cause their backs had been against the sun. But in 
 the cedars they had gone every which way. 
 
 Supposing that he didn't find the ranch, and should 
 have to spend the night, still lost? Br-r-r! He had 
 matches and a knife, and he could tie Pepper — ^but if 
 a bear should come, and Pepper should run away, and 
 he himself should chmb a tree, and the bear should 
 climb after him — that was not a pleasant prospect. 
 It would be mighty lonesome — out in the open wil- 
 derness — after dark — with bears and wolves and what- 
 not prowling around. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE CAMP IN THE ARROYO 
 
 All such thoughts were passing through his mind, 
 when a mile or more away, below, on the edge of that 
 first draw, he distinguished a speck moving. His heart 
 leaped. That must be either Chet or Haney, or both, 
 looking for him or homeward bound and deserting 
 him. With a shrill prolonged yell he sprang to his 
 feet, and waved both arms. Pepper gazed inquir- 
 ingly. But the yell fell flat in the great void of earth 
 and sky, and the specks moved on without a waver. 
 Phil yelled repeatedly; and climbing hastily into the 
 saddle he still yelled, and riding down at an ex- 
 cruciating trot, urging the reluctant Pepper, he 
 yelled at intervals. Probably his voice did not pene- 
 trate a third the space, in the clear air distances being 
 so deceiving. 
 
 He rode as fast as he could, hope springing in his 
 breast, down from the hill and across the grass and 
 through the fringing cedars; and soon he began to 
 look sharp for tracks. This, he felt under the cir- 
 cumstances, was the proper thing to do. Luckily, he 
 found them, crossing his own route; the prints of 
 hoofs in the soft soil and the fresh scratch of a horse's 
 shoe where the animal had scraped a log. 
 
 " Whoo-ee-ee ! " yelled Phil, turning Pepper in 
 pursuit. He had to proceed very slowly, because now 
 
 77 
 
78 BAR B BOYS 
 
 and then he over-rode the trail, as it veered ; occasion- 
 ally he lost it entirely, and must stop and cast about 
 on foot. It struck him as strange that Chet and 
 Haney did not hear him or keep on the outlook for 
 him, or — or something-. Confound them, anyway! 
 It was pretty mean of them, to go straight along this 
 way ; never, so far as he could make out, even pausing 
 to listen. Presently he lost the tracks entirely. 
 
 The trail had been skirting the rim of a deep draw 
 with sagy bottom and sheer gravelly sides. Phil de- 
 cided that as soon as he could he would descend 
 into the draw, and follow that to its lower end, and 
 see where he came out. He continued for some time, 
 hoping every moment to arrive at a place where he 
 and Pepper might slide down in. Once or twice he 
 turned Pepper's head, but Pepper hesitated and pro- 
 tested as if the spot was too steep, so Phil resumed the 
 onward march. 
 
 But now Pepper turned of his own accord where a 
 cattle trail, narrow but packed, cut diagonally down 
 the slope, and willingly followed it. Far ahead were 
 the two specks, again. 
 
 " Whoo-ee-ee," yelled Phil, and urged Pepper into 
 a bucking trot down the trail. 
 
 When next he lifted his eyes the specks had disap- 
 peared. 
 
 The cattle path slanted on to the bottom, where it 
 dipped into a deep arroyo, emerged again, and pro- 
 ceeded, in what Phil intuitively felt was the wrong 
 direction, through the draw, to the farther side. Here 
 it terminated at a dried water hole. 
 
THE CAMP IN THE ARROYO 79 
 
 And here Pepper halted. Before was a wall of 
 rock dotted with cactus, now budded, and with bunch- 
 grass and sage. Lizards scampered from crack to 
 crack. From the water hole cattle-prints diverged in 
 all directions, but there was no trail. 
 
 By the sun, which cast his shadow and Pepper's 
 shadow slightly to the left, Phil knew that if he rode 
 down the draw he would be riding east, which was 
 toward Owl Creek. The draw was still and very hot. 
 On the top of the cliff sat a great hawk, motionless, 
 and above sailed around and around a pair of buz- 
 zards. After he had ridden through sage and weeds 
 and scattered blades of grass for a quarter of a mile 
 the draw broadened; and as he was rejoicing at this 
 sign he found his way abruptly cut by another ar- 
 royo, entering with a side draw. 
 
 This arroyo was perpendicular. He tried the angle 
 of the two, and found no descent ; he rode up the new 
 arroyo, still trying, until the draw narrowed to a 
 cafion, and pinched out, with a steep, slippery pitch. 
 
 Baffled and feeling that he would gain nothing by 
 continuing in this direction, Phil turned Pepper, and 
 galloped back, retracing his way along the main ar- 
 royo. He could at least get into this by the trail 
 which had crossed it, and following it down he would 
 emerge somehow, somewhere. 
 
 Not until he had gone back clear to the trail was he 
 abk to enter. The bottom was soft sand, tracked by 
 innumerable hoof-prints of cattle. The banks were 
 almost straight, and so soft that even on foot he 
 would not be able to scale them. He was shut in. 
 
So BAR B BOYS 
 
 Pepper, with nose and ears expectant, paced amiably 
 along, rounding turn after turn. And then, suddenly, 
 they were right upon three men, loafing while they ate 
 a lunch in the shade cast by over-jutting brush. 
 
 A few steps below, across from the men, a girl in 
 dingy frock and battered slouch hat sat flat in an 
 angle of the bank, amidst the dirt. Further on, four 
 horses and two burros stood, dozing, unsaddled, the 
 horses with backs wet. 
 
 All gazed inquiringly: the men with a certain fur- 
 tive alertness, as though apprehending, looked beyond 
 Phil. No one following him, they exchanged swift 
 glances. 
 
 " How are you ? " accosted Phil. 
 
 "How," said one of the men; the two, his com- 
 rades, grunted, and turning, continued to munch. 
 
 The man who had spoken had but one eye ; the other 
 eye-ball was gone. The man at his elbow appeared 
 to be smiling ; but as the smile never waned, Phil con- 
 cluded, finally, that it was a set expression, as if a 
 smile was frozen on his face. 
 
 The girl might have been pretty had she not been 
 so grimy. But the arroyo was a dirty place, and 
 moreover was laden with an effluvium as of decaying 
 animal matter. Phil recalled that he had encountered 
 a similar stench at a tanning shop, back home. 
 
 " Can you tell me where the Bar B ranch is ? " 
 asked Phil. 
 
 The man with the frozen smile deliberately dipped, 
 from a hole about which they were clustered, a tin 
 cup of water, and drank. Phil watched him thirstily. 
 
THE CAMP IN THE ARROYO 8i 
 
 "No/' he said. "You from there?'* 
 
 "Yes, and I want to get back," explained Phil. 
 
 The three men glanced again; and the third man 
 arose, and withdrew down the miniature canon. He 
 limped, one leg being shorter than the other! 
 
 Phil's heart jumped and he involuntarily gasped. 
 'Twas the man with the limp — the left-handed man 
 with the limp, whom he had witnessed hunting him 
 with a revolver, in the forest, that dreadful evening! 
 And so here they were — the three rustlers and the 
 girl ! He was right in their hands. Would they rec- 
 ognize him? Whew! 
 
 " Never heard of it,'' said the man with the one 
 eye. " Did you? " he asked of his companion. 
 
 " No," said the man with the frozen smile. 
 
 "These are Bar B cattle, around here," stammered 
 Phil. " A Bar B on the left hip." 
 
 " We don't care anything about cattle. Travelin' 
 through, is all," declared the man with the frozen 
 smile, grimly. 
 
 " Killed a wild maverick, with a busted leg, for 
 meat, is all," quoth the one-eyed man. " What's your 
 brand, you say — Bar B?" 
 
 "Yes; a B with a bar over it." 
 
 "Hain't noticed it," he grunted. 
 
 There was nothing cordial about the party. The 
 girl stared, the two men surlily continued to eat and 
 drink, the other man had mysteriously disappeared. 
 Nobody asked him to dismount, or eat or drink, and 
 he was glad of it. 
 
 " I suppose if I keep on down this (he could not 
 
82 BAR B BOYS 
 
 think of the right word) ravine I'll come out some- 
 where?" he hazarded. 
 
 " Suppose jou will, if you ride fur enough." 
 
 "How far, do you think?" 
 
 " Dunno." 
 
 " I know. You'll " spoke up the girl, brighten- 
 ing, eagerly. 
 
 " Shut up. You don't know nothin'," intercepted 
 the man with the one eye. 
 
 " Well," said Phil, " I'll try it and see. I tried to 
 ride on the ground, up above, but another one of these 
 things cut me off." 
 
 Nobody answered. Decidedly, he was unwelcome, 
 and he hoped that there would be no objection to his 
 leaving. 
 
 " So long," he said, starting Pepper, and passing 
 on. 
 
 "So long," said the man with the one eye, gruffly. 
 
 Before he had rounded the next turn of the arroyo 
 he looked behind him. The girl, who evidently had 
 been watching him, gave a quick little flirt of her 
 hand, by her side. Phil gallantly waved back, and as 
 he did so he glimpsed the one-eyed man spring up and 
 stride at her. Then the turn hid the group from 
 view. 
 
 The stench, which had been noticeable before, grew 
 stronger to Phil as he again rode down the arroyo; 
 when he came to the intersection of the two arroyos 
 it assailed him stronger than ever; a number of cat- 
 tle tracks turned into the passage which opened on 
 his left, and Pepper showed an inclination to turn, 
 
THE CAMP IN THE ARROYO 83 
 
 also. Possibly this was a way out, to Owl Creek ; but 
 as he hesitated the man with the limp arose from 
 where he had been sitting, unobserved, under the 
 bank at the second arroyo's mouth. He had a rifle 
 in the crook of his right arm. 
 
 " Coin' ? " he said, with a slight emphasis which was 
 unmistakable. 
 
 " Yes, sir. Is this the way out ? " replied Phil, 
 much startled. 
 
 " That's one way," said the man. 
 
 " I didn't know but maybe if I turned off here " 
 
 "Turn off nothin'," rebuked the man, roughly. 
 " This here arroyer don't lead nowhere. You'd bet- 
 ter keep straight on, an' if I were you I'd move along 
 right lively, or the coyotes '11 get you. Lots o' coyotes 
 in the arroyer." 
 
 "Yes, sir. I will," said Phil. He attempted to 
 be jocular. " Whew," he sniffed, with a grimace. 
 " Rather strong around here, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Dead critter, is all," answered the man, carelessly. 
 Then he frowned. " Git," he ordered. " An' don't 
 come back again, either." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Phil. 'Twas best to be polite. The 
 rifle and the man both had an ugly look; the arroyo 
 was very deep. He promptly kicked Pepper with his 
 heels, and proceeded, looking not back, but conscious 
 that the man was standing watching them. 
 
 Within a few yards another arroyo entered the 
 main one — this time from the right; but Pepper 
 passed it willingly and trotted more briskly, with ear 
 pointed ahead. Phil decided that they were upon thQ 
 
84 BAR B BOYS 
 
 right road, because the water in the arroyo, when 
 there had been water, had flowed in the direction 
 for which they were heading, as evidenced by a leaning 
 bush, now and then, and lodged masses of debris. 
 But the arroyo to-day was as dry as a bone. 
 
 The stench was left behind. It had centered at the 
 arroyo mouth where the man with the limp had been 
 on guard. Turn after turn did Pepper round, but the 
 steep, soft, unscalable banks still continued. Cattle 
 tracks and the tracks of coyotes were quite thick ; and 
 once, at a turn, Phil caught a glimpse of a yellowish 
 bushy-tailed form, about the size of a water-spaniel, 
 just disappearing around the next turn. He urged 
 Pepper, but that next turn, when circumvented, re- 
 vealed nothing ahead except the usual monotony of 
 the sand and the 'dobe and the struggling bushes of 
 the miniature caiion. 
 
 It seemed to Phil that he must have ridden, thus en- 
 closed by two unending walls, for a mile, and he was 
 beginning to worry over his helplessness, and peer 
 more anxiously at the banks, looking for any kind 
 of a spot that promised possible ascent, when release 
 came. A cattle trail crossed the arroyo; entering 
 obliquely on the one hand, and slanting out again on 
 the other. 
 
 It was a nice question to decide whether to take 
 the right-hand ascent, or the left-hand; but despite 
 the windings of the crooked arroyo Phil had the in- 
 tuitive fancy that the ranch lay on the left, and ahead. 
 So he allowed Pepper to climb the trail which slanted 
 away from them, up the left-hand bank. 
 
THE CAMP IN THE ARROYO 85 
 
 Pepper, snorting and willing, climbed, and on the 
 summit halted to look about. 
 
 Phil found that they were still in a draw; but 
 whether it was the same draw he could not tell. Even 
 out of his short experience he was finding that there 
 is a sameness in the mesa country. This present draw 
 was bounded on the left (according to the sun, the 
 northeast) and on the right (or southeast) by ledges 
 and cedars. The cattle trail continued through it, 
 coming in from both sides. Before, the draw ap- 
 peared to close. Starting Pepper again, Phil followed 
 the trail. 
 
 Pepper sometimes ambled, sometimes trotted; and 
 Phil was so hot and dry and tired that he did not care 
 what was the gait as long as they got somewhere. The 
 draw slightly narrowed, then opened into another 
 draw; the trail veered, and headed into a bunch of 
 cattle — cows and steers and calves, standing stupidly, 
 grazing in a desultory manner, lying peacefully, or 
 walking sedately along. There were many with the 
 Bar B brand; and Phil welcomed this sign as some- 
 thing friendly, at least. Others bore different brands 
 —a J on its back, an R looked at from the wrong 
 side, as it were, etc. Alone in the midst of these 
 staring animals, who seemed to be preparing to take 
 the offensive as he drew near, Phil felt uneasy; and 
 particularly did he feel so when an enormous shaggy 
 bull, with white face and bloodshot eyes, lowered his 
 head, rumbled, and pawed the ground. An answering 
 rumble sounded from the cedar ledges on the right, 
 and another bull advanced across slowly, likewise 
 
86 BAR B BOYS 
 
 rumbling and pawing. Phil did not wait to see the 
 combat; but on Pepper, who was not a whit abashed 
 and rather seemed to anticipate chasing every animal 
 in his path, pushed on. The trail veered, crossed the 
 draw, and brought up in an angle between rim-rock, 
 where another bunch of cattle, old and young, were 
 gathered about a water-hole. 
 
 Phil found his progress barred. Then the trail 
 had led to only the usual watering-place and he had 
 been traveling only a box canon ! He could have cried 
 with vexation ; for where he was, now, he had not the 
 slightest idea. The cattle in the hole waded reluc- 
 tantly out as he and Pepper drew up on the edge. 
 Pepper took a long luxurious drink ; Phil wished that 
 he might do the same, but the green scum on the 
 water and the white stains of alkali along the borders 
 deterred him. 
 
 In the direction whither he had been riding the rim- 
 rock and the cedar ledges came together, it seemed, 
 barring exit. But as he surveyed, with sinking heart, 
 he perceived that having spread out thin, as it were, 
 about the water hole, the trail, or another trail, 
 reached out, skirting the rim-rock. He directed Pep- 
 per toward it, and they followed, to find that where 
 rim-rock and opposite ledges appeared to meet was 
 a narrow pass, with the trail precariously cutting 
 along it. There was scarcely room for Phil's left leg, 
 while the other hung down over a bouldered stream 
 bed which was but a continuation of a shallow ar- 
 royo. 
 
 Having traversed this draw the travelers entered 
 
THE CAMP IN THE ARROYO 87 
 
 another. Draw after draw succeeded, like a succes- 
 sion of loops ; with Phil ever hopefully looking ahead, 
 expecting that at last he was to emerge somewhere. 
 Pepper trotted ever more and more confidently; and 
 coming out into a wide, sagy bottom, speckled with 
 cattle, he turned of his own accord into a trail which 
 cut northward, and followed that. Nothing looked 
 familiar to Phil; not even the* snowy ridges to the 
 south, and to the north; and while he was pondering 
 and hoping, and wondering where he was coming out, 
 from the top of a little rise which Pepper topped he 
 suddenly looked down upon a creek, with ranch build- 
 ings upon the other side. 
 
 It was the Bar B. This last flat had been the one 
 up which he and Chet and Haney had ridden, after 
 leaving the ranch that morning. And he felt rather 
 silly that he had not recognized it. 
 
 Only the ford remained to be achieved. Pepper 
 surged through and hastening up the creek bank trot^ 
 ted into the ranch yard. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 OLD JESS INSTRUCTS 
 
 The ranch appeared deserted, save for Tom, the 
 big cat, who lay outstretched under the bench beside 
 the door. Halting before the hitching rail, smooth 
 from many reins and gnawed in spots by restless 
 teeth, Phil, stiffly dismounting, tied Pepper. Then as 
 stiffly he hobbled in through the open door, and made 
 for the bucket of water. It seemed to him that he 
 would perish unless he now had a drink instantly. 
 
 Old Jess was standing by the stove, his sleeves 
 rolled up, mixing a batch of bread on the table. 
 
 " Got back ? " he remarked, casually. " Where are 
 the other boys ? " 
 
 Phil, having sucked the dipper dry, with a sigh of 
 relief placed it in the bucket. 
 
 " I don't know," he answered. " I lost them and 
 so I came back alone." 
 
 The feat did not seem to astonish Old Jess, particu- 
 larly. 
 
 " Thought you were comin' back pretty early, when 
 I heard the hawss an* looked out," he said. " Where'd 
 you lose 'em ? " 
 
 Phil looked at the clock. 'Twas only one-thirty! 
 He had presumed that it must be four, at the earliest. 
 
 " 'Way out somewhere," he answered. " They were 
 chasing calves, and a bear chased me." 
 
 88 
 
OLD JESS INSTRUCTS 89 
 
 " If you're hungry," directed Old Jess, " there's 
 some cold beans an* pie in the closet. Help your- 
 self; my hands are all over dough. Get a plate; tools 
 are in one o' them drawers." 
 
 **ril wash, first," said Phil 
 
 "Better unsaddle an' turn your hawss out," sug- 
 gested Old Jess. " That's the fust thing a cowman 
 does: 'tends to his hawss." 
 
 " Oh," said Phil. 
 
 He went straight out to where Pepper was stand- 
 ing with drooping head, in the hot sun ; and unfasten- 
 ing the cinch hauled off the saddle and lugged it be- 
 side the blacksmith-shop, where he threw it down. 
 Then he unbuckled the throat-latch and stripped the 
 bridle. With a toss of his nose Pepper irritably 
 ejected the bit, and shaking himself, walked a few 
 steps and rolled. After that ceremony he went trot- 
 ting and whinneying up the lane, for the other horses 
 and pasture. 
 
 " Here, I'll show you something," remarked Old 
 Jess from the door, where he had been washing his 
 hands, and wiping them. " Come along." 
 
 He preceded Phil to where the saddle was lying 
 as it had happened to drop. 
 
 " When you take off a saddle," he continued, " the 
 proper way is to lay it on its side — see? — so the flaps 
 won't be curled under an' ketch when you go to saddle 
 up again. Then you open up your blankets an' lay 
 them across so they'll dry. A wet blanket makes a 
 hawss's back sore; an' a good cowman is known by 
 the condition of his hawss's back. You put your bridle 
 
90 BAR B BOYS 
 
 beside the saddle, or inside it, so's to be able to pick 
 it up easy. Savvy ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir. I'll remember," said Phil, abashed. 
 
 " Bueno," said Old Jess, succinctly. " You'll larn. 
 We don't all know the same things. Depends where 
 we're raised. Now havin' tended to your hawss an' 
 fixin's, you can eat. Found that saddle easy to ride, 
 didn't yuh? I've forked it thirty years." 
 
 "Yes, sir," alleged Phil. 
 
 " Not all the saddles up here are double-rigs," com- 
 mented Old Jess. " Folks seem to think they're safer 
 in the mountains. But I dunno. Down in the South- 
 west the center fire's the only thing. Never did try to 
 ride a double-rig myself that I didn't get all stiffened 
 up — an' that ol' tree o' mine has held any critter that 
 a rope'U hold. They say you need the back cinch in 
 ropin'! Bah! Not if yuh rope right, yuh don't. 
 Wouldn't swap that ol' single-rig o' mine for a dozen 
 double-rigs or the new fangled what they call three- 
 quarter rigs, either." 
 
 Phil gladly laved his burned face (wincing as he 
 explored the parched skin) and scrubbed his hands, 
 and cautiously used the rough towel. He took an- 
 other long drink. Goodness, but he was dry! 
 
 Then he sank into a chair beside the table, which 
 Old Jess had set for him after all. He was tired. 
 
 Old Jess lighted a pipe, and tilted back comfort- 
 ably beside the doorway. 
 
 "Bear chased you, you say?" he invited. 
 
 " Yes, sir. An old mother bear and two cubs. I 
 don't know as they chased, but Pepper ran." 
 
OLD JESS INSTRUCTS 91 
 
 " Where was that. Up in the cedars, too ? " asked 
 Old Jess. 
 
 Phil told, as best he could, and described the meet- 
 ing. 
 
 " Mus' have been over 'round Little Squaw,'' mused 
 Old Jess, puffing reflectively at his stubby pipe. 
 " Well, you oughter have roped her an' fetched her 
 back. Cubs would have followed, an' we'd had the 
 whole family to play with." 
 
 " Didn't have a rope," claimed Phil. 
 
 " No ; an' you didn't want the bear, either," claimed 
 Old Jess, with a twinkle in his eyes. " If Haney'd 
 been there he'd have put a rope on her if his hawss 
 had stood, I'll bet a hat." 
 
 Phil proceeded to demolish pie, and to reflect upon 
 the recklessness of Haney. 
 
 " Then how'd you come out ? " inquired Old Jess. 
 
 Phil told his story. 
 
 *' In an arroyo, you say? " examined Old Jess, sud- 
 denly showing more interest. 
 
 " Yes, sir. Three men and a girl, and four horses 
 and two burros. The men and the girl were eating, 
 and had dug a hole for water." 
 
 " Can quite often find water by diggin' in them ar- 
 royos, up near the head 'specially. What brands did 
 the hawsses carry?" 
 
 Phil, crestfallen, had to confess that he did not 
 notice. 
 
 " Didn't notice the ear-marks, either, I s'pose," pur- 
 sued Old Jess. 
 
 '' No, sir." 
 
92 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " Huh ! " Old Jess's tone expressed quiet disgust. 
 "What kind o' lookin' men were they?'* 
 
 Phil hastened to describe. 
 
 "Well, we got 'em branded, all right," said Old 
 Jess, more relieved. " Man with one eye, man with 
 a limp, an' man with a frozen smile." 
 
 " And a dirty-faced girl who might be pretty," sup- 
 plemented Phil, eagerly. 
 
 " Jes' so." Old Jess puffed. " How far back in was 
 that draw with the arroyo?" 
 
 " Ten miles, about," said Phil, offhand. 
 
 Old Jess shook his head, and took his pipe out to 
 tap it. " Oh, no, boy," he declared positively. " I 
 reckon you aren't a very good jedge o' distances yet. 
 Might have seemed ten mile, because you were in a 
 strange country, an' lookin' a way out. Ten mile 
 would have taken you 'tother side the divide. Be- 
 sides, you got home at one-thirty. How many draws 
 did you pass through, comin' out, before you struck 
 the flat?" 
 
 Phil hadn't counted. Six or seven, he thought. 
 
 " Was there the wheel of a wagon stickin' out of a 
 dried boghole, at the mouth o' the draw that opened 
 into the flat ? " asked Old Jess. 
 
 Phil pondered. He didn't think so. He hadn't no- 
 ticed it. 
 
 "Well, you want to larn to notice things, boy," 
 reproved Old Jess. " Use your eyes. Seems as 
 though you must have been up Brush Draw — but 
 that has the wagon wheel at its mouth. If you weren't 
 up Brush Draw, I'm dumed if I know where you 
 
OLD JESS INSTRUCTS 93 
 
 were. How far was the draw you come out of, from 
 the ranch ? " 
 
 " Five miles, about," asserted Phil, trying to be 
 conservative. 
 
 " Brush Draw's *bout a mile an' a half. Five miles'd 
 bring you to Elk Draw — but Elk Draw's more like 
 a cafion, an' ends against the rim-rock. 'Twasn't Elk 
 Draw," argued Old Jess. He changed the subject: 
 " There was a stink like something dead, where those 
 men were, you say?" 
 
 ** Worse than a hide factory," volunteered Phil. 
 
 " An' one o' the men — the fellow with the limp — 
 he stood guard at the mouth o' that cross arroyo, an' 
 advised you to go on; and none of 'em 'peared to 
 want you to stay," examined Old Jess. " Rustlers, 
 sure as shootin'," he vowed, satisfied. " Not the 
 slightest doubt of it. I know the country as well as 
 anybody, an' there ain't any such parties belong here. 
 That was hides, an' dead critters, you smelled. Must 
 be common meat thieves — kind that butchers cows 
 an' sells their meat an' hides. Bah ! " More dis- 
 gusted than ever Old Jess spat out of the open door. 
 " They won't last long on the Bar B range, if we ever 
 ketch 'em. There's a law on Owl Creek that covers 
 this varmin. But what they doin' with the girl, I 
 wonder. Didn't know ye, did they ? " 
 
 Phil thought not. And the presence of the girl 
 was a phase that neither of them could declare upon. 
 
 With a slight grimace as his knees cracked and his 
 tendons rebelliously stretched, Phil arose from the 
 table. 
 
94 BAR B BOYS 
 
 "Needn't clear them things away," said Old Jess, 
 who had watched him out of a corner of his eye. " I'll 
 stack 'em up in a minute. Pretty stiff? " 
 
 " Oh, no ; not especially," denied Phil, bravely. 
 
 " Um-m-m," murmured Old Jess, unconvinced, 
 but discreetly not pressing the inquiry. " For a boy 
 who's had the pneumony you're right husky, ain't 
 yuh?" 
 
 Phil gamely resolved to demonstrate further. 
 
 " Is there an old rope around somewhere, I won- 
 der, I can practice with ? " he queried. 
 
 "Might be. You look in the blacksmith shop an' 
 I think you'll find one hangin' up. Belongs to Buster, 
 but he ain't usin' it. Too kinky for him. Why? 
 Want to ketch something, sometime ? " 
 
 " I suppose I'll have to catch my own horse, won't 
 I?" 
 
 " You suhtinly will, at times, when there ain't no- 
 body to ketch him for you." And Old Jess rose and 
 commenced to clean up the table. 
 
 Phil proceeded, with a limp which he tried to con- 
 ceal, to the blacksmith shop, and found the rope. It 
 had been painted with red paint, which still clung 
 amidst the twist. 
 
 He emerged with it into the yard, and with some 
 misgivings which he had not anticipated, coiled it, 
 shook out the loop, and tried to throw as he had seen 
 Haney and Chet and the others throw. But instead 
 of opening nicely the noose persisted in flying through 
 the air all twisted or else in a double line with its 
 $ides stuck together — which of course renders a 
 
OLD JESS INSTRUCTS 95 
 
 noose quite valueless except as a club. There was a 
 knack in throwing the rope, after all. 
 
 " Here, lemme show you a point or two," said Old 
 Jess, who had been watching, with a grim smile, from 
 the door of the house, and now advanced into the yard 
 and to the scene of Phil's labors. " Fust place, you're 
 holdin' it all wrong. You don't want to hold it at the 
 hondo — that's the hondo, this slip-knot. You want to 
 take it about a third the way along the noose, from 
 the hondo, an' include the rope with it, too, that far. 
 Then when you throw it the hondo swings out an' 
 by its weight, I reckon, keeps the loop open. Mebbe 
 you throw your mammy's clothes-line, holdin' by the 
 knot, but out here we throw the way I'm tellin' yuh, 
 if we want to ketch anything — and usually when we 
 throw we do. See ? " 
 
 He had gathered the rope, and separating loop from 
 coil, with a careless swing about his head and a little 
 flirt, had cast; the noose, flying straight and round, 
 fell exactly upon the post at which it was aimed. 
 Hastily flipping the rope Old Jess flipped the loop 
 off the post ; by the recoil it fell at his feet. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Phil. " Did you ever punch cows, 
 then, Mr. Jess ? " 
 
 "Me? Did I ! Some forty years!" snorted 
 
 Old Jess. " What'd yuh think I am— a cook?" 
 
 " Well, I've seen you cooking," defended Phil. 
 
 " Sure you have — an' you'll see yourself cookin', if 
 you stay out in this country long," agreed Old Jess. 
 " Everybody cooks, at the Bar B, an' I'm jes' takin' 
 a turn at it — a little longer than common because I 
 
96 BAR" H BOYS 
 
 want to git rid o' my rheumatism 'fore the roundup. 
 But Fm no cook, boy. I'm plain cow-puncher, Hke 
 the rest of 'em. I ain't got down to cookin' for a 
 livin' yet." 
 
 "Where have you punched — 'round here, for the 
 Bar B, always?" 
 
 " No, sir. I was on the old Texas trail 'fore ever 
 the Bar B was born. This ain't cow-punchin', these 
 days. It's half ranchin'." 
 
 "Were you in Texas?* 
 
 " Now, boy, lemme give you another pointer, since 
 you*re larnin', an' it may save you trouble. Don't go 
 into a man's pussonal history too far. Where a man 
 come from ain't your business, nor mine. I haven't 
 asked you where you come from, have I? There's a 
 heap o' people in these hills whose past history no- 
 body knows; an' a good deal of it may not bear in- 
 vestigatin'." 
 
 " Like those men in the arroyo," suggested Phil, 
 trying to cover his confusion. 
 
 "Yep; like those men in the arroyo; an' like other 
 men you'll meet 'fore you go out. A good plan in 
 the West is to keep eyes and ears open, an' mouth 
 shut. Nothin* brands a tenderfoot like fool ques- 
 tions." 
 
 " I'll remember," said Phil, soberly. 
 
 Old Jess laid a hand on his shoulder. 
 
 " Mark my words an' do so," he said. " Now, go 
 on an' throw your rope, so that to-morrow mornin' 
 you can brace right in an' ketch your own hawss. 
 See if you can't git onto throwin' it over your shoul- 
 
OLD JESS INSTRUCTS 97 
 
 der. That's the only way, from the saddle; an' on 
 foot, too, for then you don't ketch every critter in the 
 bunch when you only want one. I use a rawhide rope, 
 myself." 
 
 "Is it better?" 
 
 " Throws slicker, slides quicker, handles neater. 
 Couldn't give me nothin' else. But like the center-fire 
 an' the double-rigs it's a matter of opinion — up 
 here. Down in my ol' country it ain't. But common 
 four-ply hard-twist manilla is good 'nough for you, 
 you'll find." 
 
 Coached for a minute, and left to himself as old 
 Jess waddled back to the house, Phil found himself 
 making slow progress. There were two ways of 
 throwing the rope. One was to let the rope trail on 
 the ground behind, and to cast it forward through the 
 air; the other was to swing it about the head, and 
 abruptly to cast it in that manner. This was the 
 hardest for him to solve. The other way, he occasion- 
 ally noosed the post (although the loop had a tricky 
 way of missing it) ; but when he came to swing, and 
 to cast with that peculiar wrist-motion, he usually 
 missed the object about ten yards Of course, with a 
 side-arm motion, he could throw it like a girl throws 
 a stone or as at home he had thrown the clothes- 
 line spoken of by Old Jess ; but from the hand of Jess 
 and Haney and Buster and all, the noose shot as 
 straight as a bullet, out from the shoulder. Whereas 
 the side-arm motion, as Old Jess had criticized, in- 
 cluded " all out-doors." 
 
 While he was zealously practicing, Haney and 
 
98 BAR B BOYS 
 
 Chet appeared, suddenly topping the hither bank of 
 the creek. 
 
 " There's Smith-Jones ropin' the whole ranch," 
 commented Haney, as they cantered into the yard. 
 
 " Where did you go ? " asked Chet. " We looked 
 all 'round for you." 
 
 They dismounted simultaneously, and unsaddled, 
 Haney turning his pinto loose first by a full thirty 
 seconds. 
 
 Phil explained. 
 
 *' We saw that old bear, too," said Chet. " She ran 
 off and her cubs climbed a tree and Haney tried to 
 rope them out ! " 
 
 " If the branches hadn't kep' gettin' in the way 
 I'd a roped 'em shuah, an' fetched 'em back to yuh, 
 Smith-Jones," informed Haney. 
 
 " Why didn't you climb the tree, and get them 
 yourself?" demanded Phil stoutly. 
 
 " Uh, uh. Not me," declared Haney, shaking his 
 red head, while with a redder handkerchief he wiped 
 his face. '' But I tell yuh, Smith-Jones : I'll eat 
 raw anything you rope ! " With this challenge he 
 kicked off his chaps and stalked into the ranch-house. 
 Chet imitated. Phil, following, noted with satisfac- 
 tion that they, also, were stiff. 
 
 Having washed, the two proceeded to eat what Old 
 Jess set out for them, and all discussed Phil's second 
 encounter with the rustlers; this appearing to be of 
 much more moment than his encounter with the bear. 
 
 After the lunch, Haney strolled out. and with a 
 grunt of satisfaction seated himself upon the ground 
 
OLD JESS INSTRUCTS 99 
 
 with his back against the logs of the blacksmith shop, 
 lazily watching while Phil, coached by Chet, sheep- 
 ishly but doggedly renewed his roping practice. 
 
 ** See — it's this way," demonstrated Chet, neatly 
 noosing a post. But Phil only waxed more and more 
 awkward, as seemed to him. And Haney was moved 
 again to proffer, sarcastically: 
 
 " Yes, suh, Smith-Jones. I'll engage to eat alive 
 an' raw anything you ketch runnin' loose ! " 
 
 He reached, with negligent fingering took his own 
 rope off his saddle, and coiled it from a small noose. 
 Tom, the cat, at the moment, disturbed by the per- 
 formance of Chet and Phil, was starting upon a digni- 
 fied retreat across the yard to another and more quiet 
 corner. From his sitting posture Haney lightly 
 flicked his rope. It fell true, but only upon the spot 
 where Tom had been while it was in air. As the 
 loop opened above him, he sprang from under, and 
 in far from dignified jumps was fleeing with stub 
 erect and ears laid back for a clump of grease-wood. 
 
 ^' Will you eat cat?" queried Phil mischievously. 
 
 " I'll never eat that cat, if I have to wait till you 
 ketch him," vouchsafed Haney, imperturbed. " See 
 how he dodged? He's smart. Smartest puhson on 
 the place. Knows a heap, that cat does." 
 
 " We're always trying to rope him, but he's too 
 slick," added Chet. " I expect he's had a thousand 
 nooses thrown at him, and never a one has touched 
 him, hardly." 
 
 " He's got so he laiks it," asserted Haney, dream- 
 ily — now, having tossed his rope against his saddle. 
 
loo BAR B BOYS 
 
 leaning back with his great dusty black hat over his 
 eyes and his worn boots straight before. 
 
 There was a sound of hoofs and Mr. Simms came 
 riding down the lane. 
 
 " Hello," he said, swinging to the ground. " Back? 
 I mailed your letters, son. Well, what did they do 
 to you, to-day ? Give you riding enough to hold you 
 till morning? " 
 
 " He got lost again,'* chuckled Chet. 
 
 When Phil's adventures had been recited, Mr. 
 Simms looked grave. The incident of the bear made 
 him smile grimly, but the incident of the camp in 
 the arroyo sobered him. Ford Dexter and Buster, 
 the other cowboys, arrived, dusty and tired, while the 
 tale was in course of narration, and listened atten- 
 tively. 
 
 " Boys, we'll try to cover that country, to-morrow," 
 said Mr. Simms, after supper. " But we'll be lucky 
 if we find them. And I've some other news. Met 
 Rankin of the Boot outfit in town, and a Reverse R 
 man. The cattle all are coming down fine, so I 
 reckon we'll start the roundup the first of next week. 
 Meet at the mouth of Willow." 
 
 "Little black bull come daown the mountain, 
 Daown the mountain, daown the mountain " 
 
 sang Haney, gleefully. 
 
 " We've all heard that. Give us something new," 
 they rebuked. 
 
 " All right. Jes' as you say," responded the affable 
 Haney. 
 
OLD JESS INSTRUCTS 101 
 
 Out on the roundup, boys, tell yuh what yuh get — 
 
 Little chunk o' bread an' a little chunk o* meat; 
 
 Little black coffee, boys, plumb full o' alkali; 
 
 Dust in your throat, boys, an' gravel in your eye ! 
 
 So it's doctor up your cinches, oil your slickers an' your 
 
 guns. 
 For it's out upon the roundup when the green grass 
 
 comes." 
 
 This chorus ran through Phil's brain all night. 
 
 t 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 PHIL ROPES THE BANDED STEER 
 
 " Gray Jack is to be your hawss to-day, boy," 
 said Mr. Simms, after breakfast, in the morning, as 
 according to custom everybody except the temporary 
 cook directed steps, rope in hand, to the corral. " Go- 
 ing to rope him for yourself, are you ? " 
 
 For Phil, with Buster's discarded rope, was join- 
 ing the procession. It seemed to him that he might 
 as well begin now as later — and naturally he felt a 
 certain pride in doing as the others. 
 
 " Haney says he'll eat raw anything Phil catches,'* 
 sniggered Chet. 
 
 " Raw an' alive," promptly supplemented Haney, 
 who overheard. 
 
 "Can't afford that," answered Mr. Simms. 
 " Hawsses are worth sixty dollars. They're worth 
 more than Haney is! You show him Gray Jack, 
 Chet." 
 
 With no little nervousness, Phil stood in the corral 
 and watched the horses jostle around and around. 
 He was aware that Chet was waiting to see what 
 he would do, and that the men, while busy attend- 
 ing to their own roping, were covertly observing him. 
 But he shook his loop free of entanglements, along 
 the ground beside him, and holding it at a little dis- 
 
 I03 
 
PHIL ROPES THE STEER 103 
 
 tance inside the Hondo, as instructed, followed the 
 gyrations of Gray Jack. 
 
 "Now's your chance," directed a quiet voice be- 
 hind him. It was Ford Dexter who spoke. " Give 
 it to him; don't be afraid. We all had to learn." 
 
 Gray Jack was running on the inner circle of the 
 bunch ; and just when he wheeled, with head high, as 
 all jammed in turning short, Phil energetically hurled 
 his noose. To his own astonishment it landed pre- 
 cisely; but it not only fell on Gray Jack's head, it 
 slipped back upon the shoulders 
 
 " Flip it up ! Flip it up, or you'll never hold him ! '* 
 cried Ford, reaching to help. 
 
 Before Phil could appreciate what he was expected 
 to do. Gray Jack, plunging with one fore-leg through 
 the loop, had jerked him upon his face in the mud, 
 and ripping the rope through his hands was gal- 
 loping triumphantly about the corral again, in the 
 midst of the other horses. 
 
 Scrambling to his feet, Phil grabbed at the rope, 
 to try to set back upon it. He might as well have 
 essayed to hold a locomotive. Head first he plunged, 
 and released the rope as quickly as he might a snake. 
 
 " Get up ! Get up ! " bade Ford, while a shout 
 of applause came from the spectators. " You never 
 can hold a horse by a rope around his shoulders. 
 Neck's the proper place. Wait; I'll catch him for 
 you." 
 
 At the touch of Ford's rope upon his neck. Gray 
 Jack stopped instantly in his tracks. Docile, he let 
 Ford slip Phil's rope up to the proper place. 
 
I04 BAR B BOYS 
 
 "Take him out/' said Ford, turning him over to 
 Phil; and noting Phil ruefully inspecting his hands, 
 the inside of which was raw where the friction of 
 the hard twist had told even through the gloves, he 
 commented, slightly smiling, " Rope-burned good 
 and plenty, aren't you?" 
 
 " Gee ! " exclaimed Chet. " Doesn't it hurt ? " 
 
 " Not much," asserted Phil, gingerly drawing on 
 his gloves again. 
 
 He led out Gray Jack. 
 
 "Smith-Jones caught somethin' he couldn't let go 
 of quick enough, shuah," murmured Haney, pulling 
 at a cinch. 
 
 "He pretty near made you eat a gray horse, just 
 the same," remarked Ford, slyly. "If his noose 
 hadn't slipped down." 
 
 " If the 'possum hadn't got away, Rastus'd 
 fetched him home foh roastin'," quoth Haney. 
 
 " Yu see it's this way," quietly volunteered Buster, 
 who, having completed his own saddling-up, stood 
 by Phil. He untwisted the cinch, and passed it under, 
 for Phil to grasp. " A hawss won't run on the rope 
 when yu get him 'round the neck; but he's shore bad 
 when yore rope gits down too fur. If the loop is 
 big she's liable to slip, an' when yu see her doin' it, 
 yu want to give her a flip 'fore she draws tight — or 
 else yu want tuh leave go. Nobody can't hold a 
 hawss by the shoulders or 'round the belly. Some- 
 times a hawss'll run clean through a loop." 
 
 It was quite a speech for Buster, and kindly meant ; 
 so that Phil felt that he somehow must have earned 
 
PHIL ROPES THE STEER 105 
 
 consideration by his affair with Gray Jack. He was 
 winning his way. 
 
 "Chet and Phil and I '11 ride up that draw Phil 
 came out of, if we can find it, and look for that 
 arroyo," announced Mr. Simms. " Ford, you and 
 Buster might make a little pasear up Red Draw and 
 around over the hill, to meet us at the Lazy J camp 
 about noon." 
 
 " Where does Haney go ? " queried Chet, as that 
 individual waited, statuesque upon his horse. 
 
 " Up to the hawss camp to help Hombre bring the 
 animals down." 
 
 " I'm too wild to be sent against those rustlers, any- 
 way," observed Haney, turning his horse. "Might 
 huht 'em!" 
 
 He rode up the lane; the rest of them crossed the 
 creek and took the trail over the little rise and down 
 into the wide sagy flat, cut by its arroyos. 
 
 Phil saw with a thrill that Mr. Simms and Chet 
 each had a rifle in a scabbard slung beside their sad- 
 dles. Ford and Buster appeared to be unarmed. 
 
 " Don't they have guns, too ? " he asked of Chet, 
 in a low tone. 
 
 " Oh, they got 'em, all right," assured Chet. 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "In a Texas holster, under their blolises, hanging 
 from the left shoulder." 
 
 " Is yours loaded ? " 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 Phil sighed. 
 
 " I wish I had one," he said, enviously. 
 
io6 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " I know where we can borrow one for you. John 
 Abel of the Flying U has it," proffered Chet. " We'll 
 see him on the roundup." 
 
 "All right." 
 
 " Dad took his to-day because of those rustlers, so 
 I took mine," continued Chet. " But usually we 
 don't carry 'em. They catch in the brush. And six- 
 shooters aren't fashionable any more, on the cow- 
 range, dad says. Everybody used to carry 'em. I 
 want an automatic like Dick Vorum's. Ford has one, 
 too." 
 
 " Let us know when we come to your draw, Phil," 
 directed Mr. Simms, breaking into a gallop and in- 
 terrupting Chet's gun talk. 
 
 Down the trail they all sped, behind them a wake 
 of dust floating golden in the sun; bridles and rowels 
 jingled, chaps scuffed, saddles squeaked, and broad 
 brims flared in the breeze. 
 
 " How are you making it, boy?" asked Mr. Simms, 
 as they slackened to a walk after the breather. 
 "Pretty sore?" 
 
 " I was kind of sore when we started," admitted 
 Phil. " But Fm not so any more — except my hands." 
 
 " Rope burns sure last a long while," and Mr. 
 Simms smiled his grim characteristic but not unpleas- 
 ant smile. "You'll remember them, I reckon. The 
 best way to get rid of soreness from riding is to climb 
 right on and ride it off — like you're doing. We'll 
 send yuh home yet with bow-knees and saddle-corns 
 on yuh as big as dinner plates." 
 
 "His mammy won't know him," declared Buster. 
 
PHIL ROPES THE STEER 107 
 
 Suddenly a little wave of homesickness welled into 
 Phil's throat. How far away his mother and father 
 were — and how remote was home. Certainly much 
 had happened to him in less than forty-eight hours ! 
 
 Ford and Buster branched off into a narrow, rocky 
 draw like a small canon. Mr. Simms and the two 
 boys kept on. Phil maintained an anxious eye for 
 " his " draw, but to his companion's queries he could 
 only answer with a dubious shake of the head. 
 Finally Mr. Simms turned in, and saying flatly: 
 " We've gone far enough. Either this is the one, or 
 we've passed it," proceeded on up the sagy defile 
 that opened like a side entrance into the broad flat. 
 
 "This look familiar, boy?'* 
 
 But Phil could not assert that it did. 
 
 " It ought to. It's the draw Chet and Haney took 
 you up yesterday ! " continued Mr. Simms, with a 
 trace of sarcasm. 
 
 Cattle had been sighted, through the flat, and once 
 or twice Mr. Simms had abruptly veered from the 
 trail and swept at a gallop, sitting the saddle as if 
 it were a rocking-chair, across the brush to inspect. 
 But there were no cattle in the draw and at last Mr. 
 Simms waxed restive. 
 
 "Ho-hum," he said, reining to the left. "We 
 can't depend on Phil, and no cattle in sight; let's 
 climb the hill and see what's in the cedars on top." 
 
 So they climbed the slope and were among the fra- 
 grant cedars. 
 
 "Were you and Haney here yesterday?" asked 
 Mr. Simms of Chet. 
 
io8 BAR B BOYS 
 
 "No, sir. We took in by that little draw farther 
 on and crossed the ridge, didn't we, Phil? On the 
 ridge is where we saw the bear tracks." 
 
 " Yes," agreed Phil, vouching readily for that. He 
 remembered " bear." 
 
 ** Somebody has been riding through here," mused 
 Mr. Simms. " Somebody with a hawss that isn't 
 shod. All the cow-hawsses are shod, at least on two 
 feet." 
 
 " Maybe it's a loose horse," proposed Chet. 
 
 " Nope," denied his father shortly. " This hawss 
 is being ridden. He sinks too deep. Somebody's been 
 driving burros, too. Those rustlers had burros, did 
 they, boy?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. I saw them in the arroyo." 
 
 "Um-m-m." 
 
 They rode on, Phil at the rear with his heart 
 thumping. 
 
 " Not much use following these tracks," declared 
 Mr. Simms, suddenly. " They're from last night, at 
 the latest. Chet, you take Phil and circle the moun- 
 tain, and ril meet you on the other side. There may 
 be a lot o' cattle between us; you can ride through 
 'em, but I wouldn't stop to brand. Just see what they 
 are?" 
 
 "All right. Come on, Phil. That's where the 
 wild cattle stay. I'll show you some," quoth Chet, 
 'gleefully. 
 
 Leaving Mr. Simms to pursue his course they di- 
 verged at a right angle on theirs. As if imbued now 
 with responsibility Chet trotted his horse briskly 
 
PHIL ROPES THE STEER 109 
 
 through the cedars, and Phil on Gray Jack had the 
 same difficuhy of the day before in keeping up. 
 
 " You ought to wear spurs," called Chet, halting 
 to wait for him. " These horses all soldier as soon as 
 they know you can't spur *em. Here, take one of 
 mine," and he detached it and handed it over. ** When 
 Hombre comes down, Fll get him to make you a 
 pair." 
 
 "Who's Hombre?" asked Phil. 
 
 "He's a Mexican. He's camping with the horse 
 herd. Best Mexican you ever saw. Come on. On 
 top here we can see some wild cattle, maybe." 
 
 They mounted a bare round rise which in any re- 
 gion but the mountain West would have been a very 
 respectable hill ; and at the crest they paused to survey. 
 Below and beyond lay a stretch of country almost 
 level, gentle in aspect, with many grassy flats and a 
 sprinkling of trees, some of which might have been 
 Eastern elms. 
 
 " See — there they are ! That's a bunch ! " ex- 
 claimed Chet, excited. " That one with his side to 
 us, on the edge, is the banded steer, I bet. Gee! 
 Shall we try to catch him?" 
 
 In the shade of a spreading tree at the middle of 
 an open flat a mile distant was a group of dots. Phil 
 could realize that they were animals — but so far as 
 distinguishing their colors, not he. His city bred eyes 
 failed beside of Chet's trained vision. He peered. 
 
 "They see us, too!" cried Chet. "Look at their 
 old heads up? They're wilder than deer and twice as 
 sharp. That old banded steer, he's the leader. He's 
 
no BAR B BOYS 
 
 a Bar B steer " and Chet spoke with the pride 
 
 of proprietorship. "Come on (his favorite appeal)! 
 Take down your rope. Perhaps we can get him be- 
 tween ns and rope him just for fun." 
 
 Away sped Chet, lurching down recklessly, at the 
 same time unbuckling his rope where it hung in a 
 coil at his saddle. And away after him sped Phil, 
 bounced mightily by his plunging gray, and hanging 
 to the saddle horn. 
 
 On the level he straightened up, more comfortable, 
 and with nervous fingers began to take down his 
 rope — the rope of Buster's which he had adopted. 
 
 "There they go!" shouted Chet. "But they'll 
 have to turn at the rim-rock. To the right! Hurry 
 up!" 
 
 Shaking out his rope he spurred his horse more 
 madly; and endeavoring to shake out his rope, Phil, 
 now thoroughly excited, spurred Gray Jack. Awak- 
 ening to the spirit of the occasion. Gray Jack, with 
 a grunt and leap, quickened from a gallop to a run 
 and fairly flew — crashing through bushes, jumping 
 unexpected little ditches and holes, swerving 'midst 
 trees, his bit apparently in his teeth. Phil jammed his 
 hat tighter — and was almost unseated doing it. 
 
 " Come on ! " encouraged Chet, far in advance. " I 
 see 'em! Look out when they break back!" 
 
 Into a grassy oval raced Gray Jack. The wind 
 whistled past Phil's ears. Oh, but this was sport! 
 He had not tumbled off yet, and with confidence grow- 
 ing in him, he could enjoy himself. Chet had disap- 
 peared — but a yell drifted back from him. 
 
PHIL ROPES THE STEER iii 
 
 "There they come, Phil!'' 
 
 Out from the trees edging the park galloped three 
 cattle, cutting in athwart Gray Jack's course. Lean 
 they were, long-legged, rough-coated and wild-eyed. 
 Two dodged back, but the other, a raw-boned fellow 
 with wide-spreading horns and red body cleanly cir- 
 cled by a band of white, dashed straight across. Gray 
 Jack instantly took matters to himself. Old cow- 
 horse that he was he changed direction so violently 
 that Phil, pitched sideways, almost was shot to the 
 ground, and obliqued for the banded steer. 
 
 " Get him, Phil ! Get him ! " yelped Chet, now be- 
 hind, in the timber, and witnessing. 
 
 The banded steer ran with tail up, head down — and 
 ran with unexpected fleetness, making for the trees 
 beyond. But Gray Jack, the quarry in sight, clap- 
 ping on more steam yet, lengthened himself with 
 jump after jump, at a pace that struck Phil as prodi- 
 gious. The gap closed rapidly. 
 
 " You're heading him ! Look out when he turns ! " 
 yelled Chet. " Drive him this way." 
 
 Phil could see the white of the straining animal's 
 eye-balls. The steer changed direction; so did Gray 
 Jack, and drew closer. 
 
 " Throw, throw ! " besought Chet, whom the new 
 course had put again in the rear. " You're near 
 enough ! " 
 
 Phil scarcely knew how he did it ; but he swung his 
 loop as best he could, and erratically let it go. It 
 sailed out in a twist like a figure eight (not the 
 proper form at all for a loop), and fell across the 
 
112 BAR B BOYS 
 
 steer's neck. At the touch of it, he wheeled, slipped, 
 shook it off — no — yes — yes — see, a half of the eight 
 is entangled about his horns — he flipped it there him- 
 self — he's roped! 
 
 "YouVe got him! YouVe got him! Hurrah!" 
 cheered Chet, thudding from somewhere, to help. 
 "Take your dallies!" 
 
 The rope drew tight between them as now almost 
 side by side Gray Jack and the banded steer raced 
 along. Phil essayed desperately to wind his end — or 
 Gray Jack's end, as Gray Jack seemed to be engineer- 
 ing the affair — around the saddle horn. And what 
 next? He had hooked the fish. 
 
 " Give him slack and throw him. I'm coming," 
 exhorted Chet. 
 
 That was it: give him slack. The rope was like a 
 fiddle-string. Neither horse nor steer was yielding an 
 inch. He kicked Gray Jack in the ribs, to turn him 
 in. The rope slacked for an instant — but the steer 
 turned also — it whipped taut with a jerk and now 
 head-on the steer snapped it and continued into the 
 brush. For a moment Phil saw him, head and tail both 
 up now, trotting victoriously through the trees, his 
 share of the rope dangling from his horns. Then he 
 was gone. 
 
 Gray Jack stopped, and stood heaving, with ears 
 pricked, mildly surprised. 
 
 " Oh, pshaw ! " bemoaned Phil. 
 
 "Busted the rope! He's always doing that," com- 
 plained Chet, arriving, breathless. " Nobody wants 
 him, anyway. But it's fun to chase him. The boys 
 
PHIL ROPES THE STEER 113 
 
 let him go when they do catch him. Nobody's had 
 a rope on him for a year, I bet." 
 
 "Isn't he any good?" 
 
 " Naw ! All those wild cattle are tough as leather 
 and thin as coyotes. Sometimes we shoot 'em, when 
 they get too many, for their hides. But only the 
 Indians eat 'em. That steer skipped off three years 
 ago. He must be a four-year-old now." 
 
 " How " began Phil ; but clear, although dis- 
 tant, was wafted to them a shot, and as they listened, 
 another. 
 
 " Hunters," ventured Phil, in response to Chet's 
 startled gaze. 
 
 " No. There's nobody hunting up here now," re- 
 plied Chet; and added soberly: " Fm afraid it's dad. 
 He's met the rustlers." 
 
 .With sudden energy he made off again at a gallop, 
 in the direction whence they had come; and Phil, of 
 course, followed hard after. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 COWMAN SIMMS MEETS THE MAN WITH THE LIMP 
 
 Chet rode furiously, but Phil kept Gray Jack close 
 behind. For he was impressed with Chet's grave 
 intentness, and the quick action that followed; and 
 it came to him that this might be an occasion of life 
 or death. So he disregarded the buffeting branches 
 and the covert pitfalls, and spurred Gray Jack on. 
 
 They reached the base of the hill from whose bare 
 top they had discovered the wild cattle, and forcing 
 their horses, pushed at trot and lope on a diagonal 
 ascent. The thimble-berry bushes were as high as a 
 rider's knee. Above, beyond them, they saw another 
 horseman plunging at a gallop up the slope — leaning 
 forward in his saddle, driving in his spurs relent- 
 lessly. Phil's heart gave a jump; but Chet's was the 
 quicker eye, again. 
 
 " That's dad ! " he exclaimed. And he yelled 
 shrilly. 
 
 The figure in the saddle waved his hand once and 
 pointed to the crest before him, and rode the harder. 
 
 " Come on ! " urged Chet, as if incited by the ges- 
 ture. He jerked his rifle from the scabbard, and 
 he too rode harder, turning his horse and taking the 
 hill-side more direct. 
 
 Mr. Simms was at the top before them, was off his 
 horse and was crouching amidst the grass and rocks, 
 f 114 
 
THE MAN WITH THE LIMP 115 
 
 his rifle projecting ready for use. His left shoul- 
 der was stained red. A rent had been torn in his 
 shirt-sleeve there. 
 
 " Tumble down," he ordered crisply. 
 
 Chet was to earth in a twinkling, and beside him. 
 
 "Oh, dad!" he gasped. "Are you hurt much?" 
 
 "No. Watch for them. They'll cross yonder." 
 
 "The rustlers?" 
 
 "Yes — but don't ask questions now." 
 
 [Phil had a hundred of them on his tongue. But 
 he imitated Chet, who obediently crouched and waited, 
 saying not another word. 
 
 The hill-top was quiet, save for the panting of the 
 winded horses. The sun flooded it, the sky was a 
 wonderful blue above, below the long incline of grass 
 and bushes fell away until it flowed into ever-present 
 cedars. Directly before, the open pasturage extended 
 like a wedge, cleaving a broad lane through the tim- 
 ber; and it was upon this point that Mr. Simms and 
 Chet were fixing an expectant gaze. 
 
 " About eight hundred yards, Chet," said Mr. 
 Simms, quietly. " But we can reach 'em." 
 
 Chet looked at his rear sight and adjusted it. Then 
 he resumed his gaze. Phil's wide-open eyes wandered 
 from the lane to Mr. Simms's red, wet, torn shoulder, 
 and back again. It was the rancher himself who 
 chiefly fascinated him. As he crouched there, motion- 
 less, rifle at a ready, face sternly set, hat on his 
 eye-brows, his shoulder crimson and uncared for, Mr. 
 Simms was the very spirit of grim vengeance. And 
 it suddenly occurred to Phil that while Chet might 
 
ii6 BAR B BOYS 
 
 make a good center or fullback, and lacked that much 
 of an education, he fitted in perfectly right here at 
 his father's side. 
 
 " There they come," remarked Mr. Simms, evenly. 
 His rifle rose to his shoulder; Chet's rose to his. A 
 group of moving figures had emerged from the trees 
 fringing one edge of the lane and v^ere hurrying 
 across. They were in the shape of a comma, the 
 dot or head behind. Phil held his breath, for the 
 fusillade. But 
 
 "Wait! Wait, Chet! Wait, I tell you!" ejacu- 
 lated Mr. Simms. He struck dov^n Chet's rifle-bar- 
 rel and lowered his own. " Oh, the cowards ! " he 
 berated. " The dirty cowards ! They're hiding be- 
 hind the girl. They've put her on thi^ side. See her ? 
 They've spied our hawsses. We don't want to shoot 
 a girl, Chet. Not that, boy. Let 'em go. I've a 
 notion to pick off a burro — they're in the lead — but 
 no. Let 'em all go. We might hit the girl, by mis- 
 take. Pshaw ! " 
 
 " I could get a burro, dad. I know I could," 
 pleaded Chet. 
 
 " I said no," reminded his father, sternly. " We'll 
 take no chances. Well — hi, look at that! Their 
 jacks are acting up. Good! By Henry, I'll make that 
 fellow smell lead. No, not you, Chet. I'll attend 
 to him." 
 
 One of the burros, with the perversity of its kind, 
 had bolted aside and was galloping straight down the 
 lane, toward the base of the hill and the full open. 
 A rider left the group and madly pursued him. The 
 
 I 
 
THE MAN WITH THE LIMP 117 
 
 group hastened on and entered the timber again, at 
 the farther edge of the lane. Upon this distant rider 
 pursuing the recreant burro and its pack the attention 
 of Chet and Phil now focused. 
 
 Chet had nervously raised his gun, but at his 
 father's injunction had arrested its course half-way. 
 Mr. Simms's cheek was pressed against his rifle-stock, 
 the barrel wavered and steadied, poised for an in* 
 stant, and — crack! He had fired. 
 
 The burro and the rider were bunched in a flurry 
 as the animal was being headed and turned. Crack! 
 Crack ! Crack ! Three times more in rapid succes- 
 sion Mr. Simms had pulled the trigger, and the rifle 
 had spat its vicious messages. 
 
 " Give it to him, Chet, if you want to," bade the 
 cattleman, lowering his gun with a short laugh and 
 a grimace of pain. " Blamed if I didn't get the burro 
 after all!" 
 
 For the rider, ducking in the saddle and whipping 
 with his hat, was scurrying for shelter. The burro 
 was a dot upon the ground behind. 
 
 " Crack ! Crack ! " spoke Chet's ready rifle. The 
 rider disappeared among the trees. 
 
 " Well, we've got the jack, anyway," said Mr. 
 Simms. " Don't think we touched the man, Chet. 
 Innocent bystander was the one to be hurt, as usual. 
 But they were so mixed up I couldn't tell." 
 
 He laid his rifle down against a rock and twisted 
 stiflly. 
 
 "Look at my shoulder, will you, boys?" he asked. 
 "I reckon it needs a handkerchief or something 
 
ii8 BAR B BOYS 
 
 around it, to keep the dirt out. Just rip the sleeve 
 open." 
 
 The reaction from the excitement had left Phil all 
 a-tremble. Chet, after staring regretfully at the tim- 
 ber where the man had vanished, laid his smoking 
 rifle down, and turned to his father. The two boys 
 bared the shoulder and inspected the wound. A raw, 
 red furrow was cut through the fleshy part of the arm, 
 high up. 
 
 " Gee ! " said Chet ; and Phil's fingers shrank. 
 
 But the old-time plainsman and rugged Westerner 
 only smiled. "That's a good clean wound," he said. 
 " Better than a hole. It's spoiled a shirt for me, 
 though. Tie it up and let's be moving." 
 
 "How did it happen, dad? Tell us," prompted 
 Chet, to the great relief of Phil who was being con- 
 sumed with curiosity. 
 
 " Oh," said the veteran, stoically enduring the manip- 
 ulations while they tied Phil's white handkerchief 
 around the arm, as best they could. " I was follow- 
 ing up the smell of hides on a fresh trail, and ran 
 right into Phil's lame friend, the left-hander, waiting 
 in the timber. I said * Hello.' He said : * This is a 
 bad trail, my friend.' I said * It smells bad, sure.' 
 He said : * Then I'd advise you to turn back. It's 
 a mighty unhealthy smell.' I said : * You aren't look- 
 ing very well, yourself.' He said: * You're looking 
 worse,' and first thing I knew up came a six-shooter 
 from the waist-band of his trousers and bored me in 
 the arm, and he was making off as fast as he could 
 run his horse. One of the quickest little acts I was 
 
THE MAN WITH THE LIMP 119 
 
 ever against, too. He's lightning on the draw, that 
 fellow ! " 
 
 " You had a gun, too," hinted Phil. 
 
 " Um-m-m, yes," mused the rancher. " We'll all 
 have to carry guns, if such gentry roam the country. 
 Even Phil, here; though I don't believe in 'em. But 
 when you need 'em, yuh need 'em bad." 
 
 "You shot. We heard you," claimed Chet. 
 
 "Yes, I shot. But I was so surprised by the way 
 he worked that left-hand draw on me, when I hadn't 
 raised a finger, that I was about an hour late," ex- 
 plained his father. His face set for an instant, and 
 his eyes glinted steel-blue, steel-hard. " But if ever 
 he appears over my sights, and doesn't come down out 
 of his tree, God have mercy on his soul. No man shall 
 try to pot me this way, and expect me to stand for 
 it. I've had too much powder burned under my nose 
 for that; I'm not one o' the scary kind." 
 
 He shoved his rifle into the scabbard and painfully 
 mounted his horse. The two boys mounted and they 
 all rode down the hill. 
 
 The poor burro was lying upon its side, its four legs 
 stiffly stretched out, its head extended, the pack bulg- 
 ing from its back. A ragged hole was in its neck, 
 where a soft-nosed bullet had smashed through. 
 
 " Pshaw ! " complained Mr. Simms regretfully. " I 
 didn't mean to kill him. You boys open up that pack. 
 I'd better stay where I am." 
 
 The burro was small, so that the boys could turn it 
 over by the legs — a job Phil liked little, but which 
 Chet, accustomed to life and death on the range. 
 
I20 BAR B BOYS 
 
 minded not at all — and speedily they had loosed the 
 pack and opened the tarpaulin cover. Within, as had 
 been expected, although the odor was not pronounced, 
 were a number of cowhides, dried. 
 
 " What's the brand, Chet ? " asked the father from 
 his horse. 
 
 " All Lazy 8 but one, and that's a TB," reported 
 Chet, examining. 
 
 "Caught with the goods on," said Mr. Simms. 
 " And botchy work, too," he added, inspecting a hide 
 that Phil held up for him. "Anybody with half an 
 eye could read that brand for a re-made — but I sup- 
 pose it'd pass muster where such hides go. Humph! 
 Well, the Lazy J people got it worse than we, this 
 haul, but like as not another pack '11 be Bar B. These 
 fellows must have had a cache around here some- 
 wheres, and were moving out in a hurry. All right; 
 tie the hides on behind us and we'll move, too. We've 
 lost the cows, but we're ahead the hides and a pack- 
 saddle." 
 
 They left the stripped burro, stiff and still upon 
 the ground amidst the grass and flowers, to the 
 buzzards and coyotes, and rode away through the 
 cedars. 
 
 " How do you like the * Wild West ' by this time, 
 boy?" inquired Mr. Simms, over his shoulder to 
 Phil. 
 
 " Pretty well." Phil was yet prickling with the 
 gallop, the rifle-shots, the escape and the dead burro; 
 and the sensation of what these very cedars might be 
 concealing. Would the rustlers be in ambush, for 
 
THE MAN WITH THE LIMP 121 
 
 revenge? But the veteran cattleman was apparently 
 as callous to this last contingency as he was to his 
 wounded shoulder and rode straight on. 
 
 "There are two varmints I hate, above ground," 
 he declared. " A hide thief and a child thief — and 
 it looks as if we had the two in one, in that gang. 
 I hope before they quit the country for keeps we get 
 *em corraled." 
 
 " When you catch them, what will you do ? " 
 
 "I trust you won't be there to see,'' replied Mr. 
 Simms. 
 
 And even Chet volunteered no further information. 
 
 They came out of the cedars upon the rim of a 
 draw> and descended. At the bottom the trail dipped 
 into an arroyo; into this Mr. Simms abruptly turned 
 and followed it down, between the high adobe banks. 
 
 " Here's your camp, Phil," he announced, halting. 
 
 Phil's eyes suddenly widened. Sure enough! The 
 hole for water, the charred sticks, burro tracks, boot 
 tracks ; there the three men had been lounging ; across, 
 against the opposite bank, the dirty-faced girl had 
 been sitting. Sure enough! And he had not recog- 
 nized until Mr. Simms had spoken! Plainly he had 
 much to learn in the way of using those eyes and that 
 brain of his. 
 
 "Aw, Phil!" derided Chet. "I bet you'd have 
 ridden right past it." 
 
 And so, very likely, he would. But the mesa coun- 
 try can confuse very easily ; and for many weeks Phil 
 was constantly being astonished at finding himself in 
 a spot unexpectedly revisited. 
 
122 BAR B BOYS 
 
 ** The birds have flown," remarked Mr. Simms, 
 proceedmg. "So this is your arroyo, is it? Well, 
 it's the head of Ute Draw; and that hill we were on 
 is little Squaw Mountain. Now you know where we 
 are. But I hadn't supposed you were in this far yes- 
 terday." 
 
 He spurred his horse up a shelving place of the 
 bank, where Phil had not thought to go; Chet 
 promptly did likewise; and Gray Jack followed, with 
 a heave and a grunt, of his own accord. 
 
 Instead of pursuing on down the succession of 
 draws, the rancher cut across, climbed the right-hand 
 slope again, and at trot and fast walk laid a course 
 as if he knew perfectly where he was going. 
 
 They crossed a wide reach of cedars, went sliding 
 and plowing down a long incline of trees and soft, 
 loose earth, and striking a single trail which gradu- 
 ally waxed more traveled they came in sight of the 
 Lazy J camp — corral and log shack set at the upper 
 end of the same sagy flat which extended clear to the 
 Bar B, eighteen miles north. 
 
 Dick, the boyish Lazy J rider of the automatic pis- 
 tol and Chief Billy episode, was alone at the camp, 
 and was just starting dinner. The reddened handker- 
 chief about Mr. Simms's shoulder told him that some- 
 thing had happened, and while the wound was being 
 washed afresh the cattleman told him more. 
 
 " Thunder ! " sympathized Dick. " When I saw 
 you fellows ridin' in I thought you had deer or bear 
 packed on your saddles. We'll have to get those 
 rustlers, shore." 
 
THE MAN WITH THE LIMP 123 
 
 And this was the opinion of the other men who 
 soon arrived: Ford and Buster, Henry of the Lazy 
 J (Dick's partner), and a stray Flying U rider bound 
 on down to " town." 
 
 " So you missed him, too, did you, Chet ? " ban- 
 tered Henry. " And what was this other boy doin' ? 
 Lookin' on, scared stiff ? " 
 
 " He hasn't any gun," defended Chet, hastily. 
 " But he roped the banded steer. We saw those 
 Squaw Mountain wild cattle, and cut the old steer 
 out and Phil roped him ! " 
 
 The incident had been lost sight of, to date — over- 
 shadowed by the sterner excitement ; but now it could 
 be made the most of. 
 
 "Roped him, did he? Well, where's the steer?" 
 
 " The rope broke and he went off," explained Phil, 
 modestly. 
 
 " Plumb busted," affirmed Chet, staunchly. " It 
 was a rotten old rope of Buster's. And then we heard 
 the shooting and made for it. But we can show you 
 the rope, what's left of it, on Phil's saddle — can't we 
 Phil?" 
 
 The men gravely accorded Phil his due. 
 
 " That banded steer has busted many a rope," said 
 the Flying U rider. 
 
 " I threw on him just by accident, anyway," con- 
 fessed Phil. "The loop was all twisted." Which 
 was the truth. But it seemed to him that the men 
 viewed him with a certain increased respect. To rope 
 the banded steer evidently was quite a feat — even 
 if he got away! 
 
124 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " How was he lookin', Chet ? " asked Buster. 
 
 " Fine as silk and as thin as ever." 
 
 ** Must have come through the winter in good 
 shape. I haven't had a sight of him this spring yet. 
 Guess I'll ride over there some day jus' on purpose," 
 vouchsafed Buster. 
 
 " Don't reckon he's missin' yuh much," observed 
 the Flying U man. 
 
 " I dunno. He might," returned Buster soberly. 
 " I was the one who lost him, wasn't I ? An' I'm 
 responsible for him. He likes to play with me, that 
 steer does — an' when yu fellers are chasin' him an' 
 puttin' ropes on him, yu needn't go to be rough with 
 him. I'm trainin' him to lick a b'ar." 
 
 " He could do it, all right," averred Mr. Simms. 
 " And I shouldn't wonder if he had. He's boss of that 
 range." 
 
 After dinner the Bar B party saddled up; and leav- 
 ing the "Lazy 8" hides (which, of course, were 
 originally Lazy J) and taking the solitary "TB" 
 (which, of course, originally was Bar B), accom- 
 panied by the Flying U man rode away down the 
 sagy flat for the Bar B ranch. Ford and Buster 
 had encountered nothing of special significance on 
 their circle, but had done a day's work, just the 
 same. 
 
 They rode slowly — Mr. Simms's wound was sore 
 and sensitive; occasionally Ford and Buster dashed 
 aside in a detour to inspect cattle. All agreed that the 
 " cows " were coming down excellently and that the 
 roundup might be started soon. 
 
 I 
 
THE MAN WITH THE LIMP 125 
 
 Turning, at the end of the flat, they crossed the 
 little rise, beyond which, over the creek, nestled the 
 log ranch-buildings, forded the creek, and were back 
 again at what Phil was beginning to regard as his 
 wilderness home. 
 
 "There's Hombre!" exclaimed Chet. "Hello, 
 Hombre." 
 
 "Com' lava, Hombre?" 
 
 " Bueno, amigo." 
 
 To these salutations and others, delivered during 
 the brisk unsaddling, Hombre responded gayly. He 
 was a short, bow-legged little man, with very swarthy 
 face, and black eyes, and white teeth constantly flash- 
 ing in a grin. Plainly enough he was a favorite, and 
 also a Mexican — and furthermore, good-natured. He 
 had not removed his leather chaps, nor his huge spurs, 
 and his horse was standing tied loosely to the rail. 
 So Hombre was not to stay long. 
 
 " What's the matter ? Somebody shoot you ? " he 
 queried, alertly, helping Mr. Simms unbuckle the 
 cinches and remove saddle and bridle. 
 
 " Yes, Hombre. They got the old man this time." 
 The rancher walked wearily and stiffly away, but 
 paused en route to pass a hand, critically, along Gray 
 Jack's back. Apparently satisfied that no injury was 
 being caused by Phil's riding he continued on to his 
 office and living-room. 
 
 " Wouldn't he use any bear's grease ? " asked Phil, 
 eagerly, of Chet. " I've some left. I'll get it. It's 
 dandy stuff." 
 
 Chet stopped him. 
 
126 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " Uh, uh. He's got something else. The strongest 
 regular old horse liniment you ever smelt. Gee, but 
 it hurts. Wait and you'll hear him yell. But it's 
 sure good." 
 
 *' It shore is," concurred Buster, solemnly. " Best 
 thing / ever tried. There ain't nothin' she won't 
 touch. Goes right through, a-lookin', that linnyment 
 does." 
 
 " Besides being an excellent piano polish, hair oil 
 and tabasco sauce," supplemented Ford, with sly sar- 
 casm. 
 
 Buster eyed him, surprised and hurt, but could mus- 
 ter no retort other than a dogged : " She's an all 
 right linnyment. She's made out East at Kansas 
 City." 
 
 " Meester Simms — ^how'd he get hurt ? " appealed 
 Hombre; but explanation was postponed by a sudden 
 outburst of gasps and grunts and groans, issuing 
 from the ranch office and swelling into a series of 
 staccato whoops. 
 
 " He's putting some on," giggled Chet. " Glad it 
 ain't me, aren't you?" 
 
 " She's a-workin'," said Buster, with faith. 
 
 And while Phil hearkened, awe-stricken, to the 
 medley of ejaculations issuing from the office, Mr. 
 Simms issued too — bolting hatless and wild out of 
 the doorway and gyrating spasmodically at walk and 
 leap about the yard. The men looked gravely on. 
 Only Chet ventured applause or levity. 
 
 " By Henry ! " panted the rancher, halting at last, 
 his pangs eased, and mopping his wet, flushed face. 
 
THE MAN WITH THE LIMP 127 
 
 " I guess that dose '11 hold me for a while. But I 
 thought my shoulder was eaten plumb off." 
 
 " She's powerful, that linnyment," murmured Bus- 
 ter, approvingly. 
 
 Nevertheless, it seemed to Phil that he would prefer 
 for himself the bear's grease — a panacea not so ener- 
 getic. 
 
 Mr. Simms returned, with satisfied pace, to his 
 office. 
 
 " Ought to tie the ol' man out for wolf bait,'* com- 
 mented the Flying U rider, sniffing. " They'd shorely 
 smell him a mile." 
 
 " But when they got close to heem, they run, I 
 bet," said Hombre. " Now, somebody tell me who 
 hurt Meester Simms." 
 
 " I reckon those fellows '11 make themselves scarce 
 around here for a while," vouchsafed Mr. Simms, 
 pushing back from the head of the supper table, at 
 which the topic of rustlers had been coolly but de- 
 terminedly discussed. " But they'll come back. It's 
 too easy a country to work. Maybe we'll get 'em in 
 the roundup." 
 
 His arm appeared to be much better. The lini- 
 ment possessed virtues, if rough ones. The com- 
 pany stamped out into the yard. Old Jess staying in 
 to do the dishes. In the yard Hombre smiled upon 
 Phil and accosted him pleasantly : " You rope the 
 banded steer, eh ? Bueno ! I try to rope heem, three 
 time, an' ever' time he get away." 
 
 " He got away from us, too. My rope broke," 
 
128 BAR B BOYS 
 
 responded Phil. " Then we heard the shooting, and 
 we thought of the rustlers and went in a hurry to 
 help." 
 
 " You come up to my hoss camp. No rustlers at 
 my hoss camp," invited Hombre. 
 
 "All right. I'd like to, Hombre. How far is it?" 
 
 " Fourteen mile. But I bring the bosses down to- 
 morrow, mebbe. We all go on rodeo — what you call 
 roundup. Where's your rope? You got busted part? 
 Eet rotten, mebbe." 
 
 "See?" proffered Phil. "But it was just an old 
 rope of Buster's." 
 
 " Heem no good, I guess," adjudged Hombre, ex- 
 amining. " You tie a hondo knot ? This way. Now 
 you got short rope." 
 
 Phil idly swung the noose, in orthodox fashion, 
 just to show that he knew how (had he not roped the 
 banded steer?) and cast it at Tom the cat (this, he 
 felt, was the approved ranch custom) who was sit- 
 ting, back turned, washing his face after supping with 
 Old Jess. 
 
 The circle actually fell true. Tom, startled, jumped 
 grotesquely; and at Phil's malicious jerk the noose 
 tightened forward of Tom's hind quarters. 
 
 A shout of applause from the spectators instantly 
 merged into a roar of laughter. With a yowl and a 
 squirm, finding himself held, Tom launched himself at 
 his tormentor — and, as Ford put it, for a minute 
 Phil's face was " full of cats." 
 
 Passing on, over Phil, Tom bounded away, stub 
 
THE MAN WITH THE LIMP 129 
 
 and body swollen with rage, for a short distance drag- 
 ging the rope, but soon leaving it. 
 
 " Roped more 'n you knew what to do with, that 
 time," asserted Old Jess, whom the noise had drawn 
 to the door. " He won't stand for much foolin', 
 that cat, since the coyote trap took his tail off." 
 
 This was the general opinion; and while the spec- 
 tators were still rolling and whooping, in their mirth, 
 Phil ruefully retired to count his new scratches. 
 Maybe this had been a game put up on him — but any- 
 way, he would in future respect Tom. 
 
 It had been another eventful day. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 " How do you like that Gray Jack hawss, boy ? " 
 inquired Mr. Simms, casually. 
 
 " First rate — except he made my back ache a little. 
 I guess he has a hard trot/' ventured Phil. 
 
 " I reckon it's the boy more than the hawss/' 
 drawled the cattleman. " Trouble is, you ride leaning 
 a little too far back. You want to sit straight, with 
 your spine held stiff so it doesn't wobble. That's the 
 way we ride. That's the way all cowmen ride, you'll 
 notice. Long stirrup, and straight up and down from 
 heel to head. It's the only way to sit a saddle day in 
 and day out. Then your back won't ache. Take the 
 saddle full and square, and don't dodge it." 
 
 "All right. I mean to," said Phil meekly. He 
 had thought himself quite a rider. 
 
 "Reckoned I'd tell yuh, because we haven't done 
 any riding yet. But if you stay through the roundup 
 you'll see some." 
 
 Phil mentioned his back, it being the least of his 
 troubles. He did not mention the gouges in his 
 two shins, where the stirrup-irons were remorse- 
 lessly eating, nor the twin welts on his inner thighs 
 and now as large as his finger, where the saddle seams 
 were rubbing, rubbing; nor the crick in his knees, 
 
 130 
 
PHIL RECEIVES HIS "STRING" 131 
 
 which made him walk uncertainly when he had dis- 
 mounted, and rise and sit with snap of joints and an 
 effort ! 
 
 No. Uh, uh. None should ever know. He ob- 
 served that his companions endured all discomforts 
 with stoicism (the horse liniment must have indeed 
 been fierce to wring from Mr. Simms such a momen- 
 tary exhibition) and he rather fancied that by com- 
 plaining he would gain little. Nobody could alter con- 
 ditions. Mr. Simms had done his all in telling him 
 how to ride — and that the soreness would be worn off 
 in the riding. But Jiminy! Those shin-gouges and 
 those thigh-welts made him wince — ^particularly in 
 the morning. 
 
 Mr. Simms's wound was healing rapidly. The 
 topic of the rustlers was being sidetracked for the 
 topic of the approaching roundup. 
 
 Hombre and Haney brought down the rest of the 
 horses from the winter range, and turned them into 
 the pasture. There were now about fifty horses to- 
 gether — quite an array as they bunched in the corral. 
 Three were branded there — Haney and Buster 
 " scotching " them up (hobbling them, with a rope, 
 on three legs), and with a hot iron stamping on their 
 right shoulders a Circle Dot,0 the sign of the Bar 
 B horse-herd. 
 
 While the usual riding was continued, the prepara- 
 tions for the near event progressed steadily. On a 
 rainy day, of the four which intervened, all hands 
 turned to and patched a set of panniers, and sewed 
 them with rope — for the Bar B was to take a pack 
 
132 BAR B BOYS 
 
 train to the rendezvous and the Lazy J was to "run 
 the wagon " this year. Several of the horses must be 
 cold shod — a feat neatly accomplished by whoever 
 was at liberty. Ford re-shod Gray Jack and Pepper, 
 for Phil — the two having been allotted, evidently, to 
 the guest. Moreover, individual personal equipment 
 was overhauled. Cinches were strengthened, saddle 
 thongs replaced, bridles repaired, stitches taken in 
 clothing, Haney even cobbling his boots, and Buster 
 and Chet cutting each other's hair ! 
 
 Ford worried openly lest a new pair of chaps that 
 he had ordered should not arrive in time for him to 
 get them. 
 
 " Didn't order them from Bawston, did yuh, 
 Ford ? " commented Old Jess, as a sly thrust. 
 
 Ford blushed and let all laugh. 
 
 " Ford's havin' 'em made to o'duh — done cut 
 'cordin' to latest fashion at that college he went tuh," 
 drawled Haney. " They'll come with ruffles 'round 
 the aidges." 
 
 But Phil had noted that despite his Boston and 
 Harvard antecedents Ford was as good with rope and 
 horse as anybody at the ranch, and was vastly popu- 
 lar. 
 
 The extra saddle, which came down along with the 
 horses, Phil found to be double rigged, and not so 
 worn as Old Jess's, which he had been riding. Only 
 it galled him in nezv places, and doubled his sores. 
 Ford fitted a cap of green cow-hide, hair side out, 
 over the horn, where it dried and tightened. 
 
 " Some men like that. They think it gives a bet- 
 
PHIL RECEIVES HIS "STRING" 133 
 
 ter grip in taking their dallies," vouchsafed Ford, 
 admiring his job. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Phil. He ventured a question. " What 
 are dallies?" 
 
 " Some men ride with the rope-end fast tied to the 
 horn," explained Ford. " Most of us in here don't, 
 but we carry it in the coil, and when we want to 
 hold an animal we take a quick twist with it around 
 the horn." 
 
 " Take yore dallies ; that's right," approved Buster. 
 " Never ketch me ropin' with my lash-end fast 'fore 
 I throw. Not on yore life! I want to be able tuh 
 let loose when I have to." 
 
 " It's shuah dangerous, in the mountain country ; 
 never did it, myself, daown on the plains," averred 
 Haney. 
 
 " What does dallies mean ? " asked Phil. 
 
 " Blamed if I know," confessed Ford. " What is it, 
 Buster — Mexican ? " 
 
 " I dunno," said Buster. 
 
 " Powerful word, that," bantered Haney. " Man 
 from college, he don't know ; an' man who's never been 
 out o' the mountains, he don't know.'* 
 
 " Do you know ? " demanded Ford. 
 
 **An' red-headed puncher from Texas, he don't 
 know," concluded Haney. 
 
 Anyway, the maroon hide cap looked very tasty, and 
 lent to the saddle an air of distinction. 
 
 About the ranch itself was an atmosphere of subdued 
 gayety, as if a holiday was near. Even Old Jess sang, 
 while he greased his rawhide rope : 
 
134 BAR B BOYS 
 
 "There was Hep an* Texas an' Broncho Jack, 
 
 Jiggers an' me an' Bean, 
 An' we loved a gal by the name o' Sal, 
 
 A regular rancho queen. 
 
 "Oh, it's treat the cook with a pleasant look. 
 
 It's sleep in the prickly pear; 
 It's all day, oh, on the ro-day-o; 
 
 An' you bet you we'll be there. 
 
 Prime mover in the bantering and good nature was 
 Hombre, the Mexican. Wherever he went he made a 
 smile ; the flash of his teeth was a veritable inspiration. 
 Phil liked him. 
 
 " You never been on roundup, eh ? " he asked of 
 Phil. 
 
 " Never in my life," assured Phil. 
 
 "Ah, you mees it. Now you have great fun. 
 Roundup are peeknic. All the boys get out, an' meet, 
 an' work, an' play an' have beeg grand time. Ever'- 
 body from Bar B go. Ol' Jess go, I go, ever'body but 
 Tom. He stay an' keep house." 
 
 " Chet said you would make me some spurs. Will 
 you, Hombre?" suggested Phil. 
 
 " You call me Hombre, too ? All right. My name 
 Manuel. But I never hear it. * Hombre ' he mean 
 * man ' in Mexicano. No cara. Good 'nough for me. 
 What kind spurs, hey. Nice, fine pair ? " 
 
 " Sure." 
 
 " All right. You bet. Set 'em dimes all 'round, 
 hey? Mebbe set 'em silver in wheel, too. You see, 
 after roundup." 
 
PHIL RECEIVES HIS "STRING" 135 
 
 "Yes; after the roundup, Hombre, if I stay. I've 
 got to hear from my father and mother first." 
 
 A cunning spur-maker was Hombre, and all the 
 Bar B men wore his handicraft. His specialty was in- 
 laying the steel with silver coins. Possessing such 
 a pair of spurs Phil felt that he might be perfectly 
 happy. 
 
 "What bosses in your string, hey?" queried Hom- 
 bre. " You know yet ? " 
 
 Phil shook his head. This point had bothered him. 
 The subject of strings was a favorite, just now, at 
 the ranch, and the bunk-house discussions had been 
 long and animated. A " string," Phil had ascer- 
 tained, was the allotment of " hawsses " to each man. 
 On the roundup each Bar B delegate was to have six, 
 and already the six apiece had been picked out. 
 Hombre's question set him to thinking. 
 
 " What horses will you ride, Chet? " he asked. 
 
 " I was going to have Teddy and Flannel Mouth, 
 but dad's given 'em to Jess," complained Chet. " So 
 now I suppose I'll have the same I had last year — 
 Ute and Nigger and Camel Face and Monte and 
 Rover and old Thunder. Three of 'em are good and 
 three ain't. Has dad given you your string?" 
 
 That was exactly what Phil wanted to be asked, and 
 he answered promptly. 
 
 " No," he said. " Maybe he's waiting to see if I 
 can stay." 
 
 " Aw, you want to get 'em anyway," asserted Chet. 
 " Gee ! If you don't all the horses but the old plugs'U 
 be taken out. Come on. We'll go and see him." 
 
136 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 Mr. Simms listened to Chet's appeal, and fingered 
 his goatee. 
 
 " Um-m, well," he said. " Let^s see. What three 
 you been riding, Phil?" 
 
 " Pepper and Gray Jack and Red Bird." 
 
 " You might as well keep those, then ; and take 
 Medicine Eye and Bowlegs. Five will be about all we 
 can spare. That's enough for you, anyway, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Are those others any good ? " besought Phil, 
 anxiously, when he and Chet were outside again. 
 
 " Medicine Eye I used to ride. He's pretty good," 
 stated Chet, judicially. " But Bowlegs tumbles down 
 all the time. And you want to watch out you don't 
 cinch Medicine Eye too tight with the hind cinch, or 
 he'll buck, sure. He bucked me off once, and he's 
 bucked off Buster. But he hasn't bucked for a year 
 now." 
 
 "I got my string, Hombre," Phil was enabled to 
 announce, proudly. 
 
 "What'd you draw, Smith-Jones?" put in Haney, 
 lolling, whittling and waiting for supper. 
 
 " Pepper and Gray Jack and Red Bird and Bowlegs 
 and Medicine Eye. Five is all I can have." 
 
 " Want to know ! " exclaimed Haney. " When you 
 uncohk that Medicine Eye I hope I'm there to see. 
 Bad hawss, that ol' Medicine Eye. Glad he ain't 
 in my string." 
 
 "jWhy? What does he do?" 
 
 ** Bucks, an' pitches, an' pin-wheels, an' sun-fishes, 
 an' bawls, an' rares, an' runs, an' bites, an' kicks, an' 
 
PHIL RECEIVES HIS "STRING" 137 
 
 changes end, an' a few other little things, when he 
 ain't feelin' jes' right. 'D rather ride any hawss in 
 the herd than him, myself." 
 
 " Chet says if I don't cinch him too tight behind 
 he's all right." 
 
 Haney shook his head dubiously. " You got him. 
 I don't want him. No, suh. I been ridin' fifteen 
 years, but that Medicine Eye has me plumb scaired." 
 
 '* Anything the matter with Bowlegs ? " inquired 
 Phil, now alarmed. 
 
 " Bowlegs ? You got him too ? " Haney again 
 shook dubious, pitying head. " Only trouble with him 
 is when you pull on the bit he stands up an' tumbles 
 over backward." 
 
 It seemed to Phil rather inhospitable that Mr. 
 Simms should foist some of the worst horses off upon 
 him, a stranger and a boy. The peculiarities of Medi- 
 cine Eye and Bowlegs rankled in his mind, and he 
 finally tentatively carried the matter up to Old Jess. 
 
 " Who's been tellin' yuh ? " asked Old Jess, with a 
 trace of a smile on his wrinkled leathery countenance. 
 
 "Haney and everybody at the bunk-house." 
 
 " They like to shoot it into yuh, an' scare you a 
 bit. But I reckon Medicine Eye used to pitch a little, 
 when he tuk a notion. Mebbe he does yet, sometimes. 
 Never heard o' Bowlegs fallin' back. If he does, you 
 want to swing clear an' let him tumble. An' if a 
 hawss pitches under yuh, 'tain't goin' to hurt yuh. 
 Stay with him, an' when you can't stay no longer, 
 pick a soft spot to light on ! We all get a bad hawss 
 
13' 
 
 soon or late, an' the cowman takes what 's given him, 
 an' says nothin'. So if I was you I wouldn't go talkin' 
 'bout my string as if I didn't like it, but I'd ride it turn 
 about, same as the other punchers, an' do my work. 
 Can't have all top hawsses — an' you're the green man 
 o' this outfit, remember." 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE MAN WITH THE FROZEN SMILE, AGAIN 
 
 So they rode away to the spring, or calf, roundup 
 —this Bar B company: Mr. Simms, the veteran and 
 ideal type of the Western cowman; Old Jess, a 
 puncher of the Southwest when the Southwest was in 
 its heyday; Ford, cowboy of Boston and Harvard; 
 Haney, cowboy of Texas ; Buster, cowboy of the Colo- 
 rado hills; Hombre, sunny Mexican and horse wran- 
 gler; Chet, in his shaggy chaps, and Phil. And quite 
 a company they were, too, as they drove before them 
 their fifty horses. 
 
 Old Tom, the great brindled bob-tail cat, was left at 
 the ranch. 
 
 "You needn't worry about Tom," declared Mr. 
 Simms. " He knows how to forage for himself. 
 Nothing's going to get him if he sees it first, and he 
 usually does. He has a nest where he sleeps, up un- 
 der the roof of the blacksmith shop." 
 
 " He'll have a good time, that cat will," commented 
 Buster. " Nobody ropin' him or botherin'." 
 
 Phil had fallen heir to the old chaps which were 
 hanging in the bunk-house, and to a single spur 
 which he had manufactured out of certain remains. 
 Blankets, quilts and a wagon sheet had been found him 
 for his bed, and with Chet's bed, also, were tied upon 
 Red Bird's back, that horse now ambling along with 
 
 139 
 
I40 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 the other animals. Phil elected to ride Pepper. Chet 
 was upon Camel Face — a large raw-boned sorrel with 
 a humped nose and a pendant lower lip that flopped 
 idiotically at every step. 
 
 "Is Pepper your top hawss?" with professional 
 broadness queried Chet, as they rode. 
 
 " I guess so. Is Camel Face yours ? " 
 
 " I should say not ! I've got two, Monte and Thun- 
 der. But Vm saving my top hawsses for some big 
 circles." 
 
 ** I've got two, too/' decided Phil. " Pepper and 
 Gray Jack. It's Pepper's turn to-day, though, so I'm 
 riding him." 
 
 The way to the roundup rendezvous, where all the 
 cow outfits of the district were to meet, for the Bar 
 B led down Owl Creek, following a rude wagon trail 
 that with occasional detours took the general course 
 of the stream. Through sage and greasewood and 
 over gravelly swells the Bar B company pushed stead- 
 ily on, the horses spreading out and snatching hasty 
 mouthfuls of herbage as they passed. 
 
 Chet and Buster and Phil rode behind the herd, driv- 
 ing; the rest of the party rode before, leading. 
 
 " That ol' white mare, she's the or'nery one o' the 
 bunch," quoth Buster. ** She an' that colt o' her's — 
 A-a-a-a — what's the matter with yu ! " 
 
 For the white mare aforesaid, with her colt trot- 
 ting beside her, had again turned into a draw open- 
 ing into the flat, and with a dozen other horses follow- 
 ing her guidance was perversely trotting off up a trail. 
 The defection being on Phil's flank he was away in- 
 
MAN WITH THE FROZEN SMILE 141 
 
 stantly, to head the truants, and glad of the oppor- 
 tunity. Chet came pounding after. 
 
 Up the draw galloped the errant band, led by the 
 old white mare, and with no spur required Pepper 
 pursued keenly — for there is nothing a ridden horse 
 enjoys more maliciously than chasing a free horse! 
 Phil swung Pepper against the slope, to cut in ahead ; 
 Chet, behind, took the other slope. All raced furi- 
 ously through the brush. 
 
 " Hi — turn 'em ! Stop 'em ! " yelled Phil, seeing a 
 man sitting upon a horse, on the trail before and be- 
 low. But the man made no movement, save to edge 
 aside as if to give passage. However, the sight of 
 him made the fugitives slacken and hesitate for a 
 moment, guiltily; and Phil, dashing by them, waved 
 his arms and turned them. The old white mare went 
 trotting back down the draw, and the other horses 
 tamely trotted in her wake. 
 
 Following them, Phil heard an angry voice and 
 found Chet in sturdy hot dispute with the stranger 
 horseman. 
 
 " You did ! You did it on purpose ! " was accusing 
 Chet. " We might have been chasing those hawsses 
 yet." 
 
 " Now, sonny, hold your temper,"' retorted the 
 man, coolly. There was a cynical, amused smile on 
 his face. " How'd I know you wasn't jest runnin' 
 bosses for exercise. I make it a p'int never to inter- 
 fere with no man's actions. You've got your bosses. 
 So shut up and foller 'em or you're liable to have 
 more trouble." 
 
142 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 He continued to smile. 
 
 " But you heard me yell at you," now accused Phil, 
 arriving. " And instead of helping any you drew one 
 side!" 
 
 " If I did then I must have thought you wanted me 
 out o' the way," drawled the stranger, still smiling. 
 "I'm deaf in one ear, sometimes." 
 
 He glanced at Phil shiftily, aslant, and spat tobacco 
 juice, smiling with a sneer and an amused contempt. 
 He wore ordinary store clothing and looked like any 
 transient — perhaps a horse-buyer. 
 
 " I believe you'd have been glad if those horses had 
 got away," declared Chet, who when his blood was 
 up feared to say or do nothing. " Where'd you find 
 that horse you're on?" 
 
 " Don't get pussonal, sonny," advised the man, his 
 smile more sneering. " I found him easier than you'll 
 find yours you were chasing if you don't take up their 
 trail purty sudden." 
 
 " Oh, I know you ! " suddenly exclaimed Phil, who 
 had been studying the man's profile. " I met you in 
 that arroyo " 
 
 " Here comes Buster," said Chet. " He'll " 
 
 " You know nothin' ! " snapped the man ; and he 
 had wheeled, had plunged spurs into his mount, and 
 was galloping up the draw. 
 
 " Halt ! " screamed Chet. 
 
 "Halt!" exclaimed Phil, excitedly. 
 
 But their combined cries were disregarded, and the 
 man, at his headlong pace, disappeared. 
 
 "What's the matter? Who's yore friend?" de- 
 
MAN WITH THE FROZEN SMILE 143 
 
 manded Buster. " An' why didn't yu trail close after 
 them hawsses? They'd have cut over an' gone plumb 
 back to the Bar B if I hadn't come in on 'em ! " 
 
 "That's one of the rustlers! He's the man with 
 the frozen smile I saw in the arroyo," informed Phil. 
 
 " He is ! " And Buster impulsively started his horse 
 with a jump; bending forward, at a tearing run he, 
 too, sped away up the draw and in a cloud of dust 
 turned a curve just beyond. Presently he came lop- 
 ing back. 
 
 " Out o' sight," he said. " Must have taken to the 
 hills, an' we can't corral him, now. What'd he do to 
 yu?" 
 
 The boys explained, as Buster set a rapid gait out 
 of the draw to rejoin the line of march. 
 
 " Shore he was lettin' those hawsses by," agreed 
 Buster. " More hawsses runnin' wild in the brush, 
 better for him. What was he ridin' himself?" 
 
 " A blue hawss, with a diamond on the left shoulder 
 and a bar of vent under it." 
 
 "No ear marks?" 
 
 "Uh, uh. Was there, Phil?" 
 
 " Nope," supported Phil. 
 
 " Sounds like one o' Jordan's hawsses," mused 
 Buster. " He's got a blue and that's his brand ; dia- 
 mond on the left shoulder." 
 
 " When I asked him where he found that hawss 
 and Phil recognized him, he made off like lightning," 
 asserted Chet. " Didn't he, Phil? " 
 
 " He sure did," supported Phil, in approved West- 
 ern parlance. 
 
144 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " Mebbe he bought that hawss, then ; and mebbe he 
 didn't,'* reasoned Buster. "That bar o' vent don't 
 count, if he's a rustler." 
 
 The word that Chet and Phil had encountered the 
 man with the frozen smile passed from rear to van 
 of the Bar B cavalcade, and excited no little quiet 
 comment. On the whole the wish was that the rus- 
 tlers would stay in the district long enough to be 
 caught and disposed of. As for the man with the 
 frozen smile — what was he doing up in that draw, 
 anyway, unless trying to keep out of sight of travel? 
 The riders discussed it. 
 
 The march continued, Buster and Chet and Phil 
 resuming the rear — the two boys with the air of hav- 
 ing earned their posts. Noon passed, and there were 
 no symptoms of a halt. In the midst of the hot brush 
 and gravelly mesas the wagon trail branched; the 
 party took the left-hand fork. 
 
 '*That other road goes in to Carbine," informed 
 Chet. " Where we get our mail." 
 
 "Oh, thunder!" exclaimed Phil, disappointed. 
 " Maybe there's a letter or something for me. How 
 far?" 
 
 " Five miles. But we can cut over from the camp. 
 Ford'll go over to-night, I know, for his chaps. He'll 
 get all the mail, or we can." 
 
 " How big a town is Carbine ? " asked Phil, curi- 
 ously. 
 
 " A store and five or six houses and a bunk-house." 
 
 "How many people?" 
 
 " Forty-four." 
 
MAN WITH THE FROZEN SMILE 145 
 
 " Forty-five," corrected Buster. " School teacher*s 
 quit Jordan's ranch an* moved into town, now." 
 
 Phil's inclination was to laugh at Buster's applica- 
 tion of the word " town " — but he didn't laugh. 
 
 "Last time I was in I see one o* those auty-mo- 
 biles," continued Buster, gravely. " It had come clean 
 from Denver, an' was goin' on over into Utah. 
 Carryin' some men lookin' for oil. She was red. 
 Fust one I ever see. S'pose yu've seen lots of 'em." 
 he added, to Phil, deferentially. "An' 'lectric street 
 cars, too ! " 
 
 " Well, rather," said Phil. " I ride in them every 
 day." 
 
 "Yep. I understand all kinds o' things without 
 head or tail are running locoed so thick in cities that 
 people get killed right along," alleged Buster. " I 
 shore am scared o' them. Forkin' plain hawsses out 
 here where I got plenty room to mill 'round is good 
 enough for me." 
 
 " Buster has never seen a steam engine, yet ; have 
 you, Buster ? " declared Chet. 
 
 " Never have," admitted Buster calmly. 
 
 "Never seen a railroad train?" inquired Phil, 
 amazed. 
 
 "No, sir; heard an engine whistle onct; sounded 
 like a wolf howlin'. Some day after I get paid off 
 I'm goin' over to the Junction, though, where the 
 trains come in, an' mebbe get on one an' go down to 
 Denver. But I reckon I wouldn't like it. I ain't 
 never been out o' the hills an' I'm used to plenty o' 
 room. Carbine sort o' crowds me; an' last time I was 
 
146 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 up to Oro — there's three hundred people up there! — ■ 
 to a bustin' contest, I thought I'd sure smother 'fore 
 I got out." 
 
 " I've been to Denver with cattle ; that's a big city," 
 said Chet. "And I've been to the stock show there 
 and dad and I went to a theater. I never was in an 
 automobile, though." 
 
 "Ford Dexter, he's from Boston," pursued Bus- 
 ter. "He an' me ride together, an' I've found out 
 a lot about city life from him. He says there's 
 nothin' in it — an' he's tried it. But I'm sure goin' to 
 have a ride on a steam train 'fore I cash in. I'm 
 goin' to see one, anyhow." 
 
 "There's the roundup camp! I see the wagon!" 
 cried Chet. " And Pete's come. He's the best 
 roundup cook we ever had. But he's cross, so you 
 want to watch out. His bread's fine, though! He's 
 got his fire going, already." 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE ROUNDUP CAMP 
 
 Before and at one side could be seen amidst the 
 sage the tarpaulin top of a wagon, and near the 
 wagon curled into the air a bluish spiral of smoke. 
 A shrill whoop broke from the riders, and a figure 
 near the fire waved his broad hat. The horse-herd 
 was turned in, and went trotting across past the 
 wagon ; the riders stopped beside it. " Hello's " were 
 exchanged. Then Haney and Hombre galloped on; 
 the others dismountea. 
 
 " We'll hold the ropes," volunteered Chet. " Come 
 on, Phil. Make a corral." 
 
 Two ropes were fastened to a convenient bunch 
 of greasewood which stood fully six feet, and stretch- 
 ing the ropes at a wide angle the boys each held an 
 end. Back came the horse-herd; and on their flanks 
 Haney and Hombre, skillfully directing them be- 
 tween, and into the angle. 
 
 *' Shake the rope and they won't run against it," 
 called Chet, across. 
 
 Phil shook, the leading horses recoiled and turned 
 as if it were a snake. A very slight barrier was this 
 rope — but to the horses it was a thing which could 
 burn and throw and choke, and they zealously avoided 
 it. 
 
 From the outside the loops of Mr. Simms, Ford, 
 
 147 
 
148 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 Buster and all darted over the crowded heads, and one 
 by one the animals carrying the bedding, etc., were 
 pulled forth and led away to be unpacked. Red 
 Bird, with Chet's and Phil's bed upon him, was in- 
 cluded, much to Phil's relief, who saw himself and 
 Chet helplessly anchored. 
 
 The beds were dumped upon the sage, haphazard. 
 
 " All right," called Mr. Simms, unsaddling. " You 
 can drop the ropes, boys." 
 
 The horses, released, slowly straggled, and the 
 pack animals, with shake and snort, stalking a few 
 paces into the sage, each proceeded to roll. Hombre, 
 who had hastily changed mounts, came riding, and 
 starting the herd off, drove them at a trot. 
 
 " There goes your hawss, Smith-Jones," an- 
 nounced Haney. 
 
 To his chagrin and surprise Phil, suddenly recalled 
 to business, beheld Pepper with saddle on, and drag- 
 ging his lines (his nose pointed to one side that he 
 might not step upon them), calmly trotting away, with 
 two or three unsaddled brothers, after the herd! 
 
 "Aw, Phil!" derided Chet. "You ought to have 
 tied him." 
 
 Phil was aghast. 
 
 " Catch him, somebody," he implored. " Whoa ! 
 whoa!" 
 
 In his chaps he clumsily legged after. 
 
 " Run him daown, Smith-Jones," remarked Haney. 
 " Then next time you'll tie your hawss when the 
 herd's around. Nobody's got time to help yuh. 
 Everybody's tihud and hongry." 
 
THE ROUNDUP CAMP 149 
 
 But Hombre, hearing the laughter and Phil's 
 shouts, looking back, saw. He waited ; as Pepper 
 passed him, his rope shot out. Phil, shambling joy- 
 ously on, seized the bridle lines. 
 
 " Much obliged," he said, grateful. 
 
 Hombre flashed his white teeth in his sunny grin, 
 and continued after his charges. 
 
 Phil led Pepper back, and unsaddled. And thence- 
 forth he was always careful, when the herd was in 
 sight, to tie his saddle animal loosely to a clump of 
 brush, as did the others. 
 
 "Let's pick out our bedding-places, first thing," 
 proposed Chet. " Where it's smooth and flat ; but 
 you don't want to get in Pete's way, or where a night- 
 hawk'll step on you." 
 
 The boys trudged hither and thither in the brush, 
 and finally decided upon an open space, comparatively 
 open and level. Phil was for a snug hollow where 
 grass had matted, but Chet opposed. 
 
 " Naw," he said. " You can sleep there, if you 
 want to, but I sha'n't. You'll be as cold as the dick- 
 ens. I'm going where it's high and dry. That hol- 
 low draws frost and the grass gets damp under you, 
 too." 
 
 So they chose a bare, hard location on a little swell 
 or miniature mesa, fifty yards from the wagon; and 
 they lugged their beds to that, as token of their claim 
 upon it. 
 
 The others of the party had been quietly filing upon 
 their bedding-places, also; for a comfortable bed is a 
 valuable asset on the roundup. 
 
ISO 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 The roundup camp was upon the banks of Owl 
 Creek, here wide and sluggish. Opposite was the 
 mouth of Willow — a creek, now dry, issuing out of 
 a draw of the name. On the camp side the sage and 
 greasewood flat stretched away and away; but across 
 the creek was a rougher country of mesas, their 
 fronts, intersected by draws and canons, sweeping 
 east and west in an irregular semicircle. They were 
 sparsely wooded with cedars and pifions, and sage 
 dotted their gravelly, whitish slopes like currants 
 thick upon the surface of a pudding. 
 
 Cook Pete was an extraordinarily long, lank in- 
 dividual, with a shrewd Irish face, likewise long and 
 lank, shaded by a hat whose wide flapping brim was 
 the most pretentious that Phil had yet encountered. 
 The hat Pete never voluntarily removed, so far as 
 Phil co'uld make out, during the roundup. Pete also 
 sported an apron of white oil-cloth, which at the pres- 
 ent moment was clean and whole, but which day by 
 day waxed worse and worse, labor worn, until at 
 the close it was only a rag. 
 
 Pete had dug a trench eighteen inches deep, and 
 four feet long by three wide, and in this had made a 
 fire. A huge coffee pot was already steaming in a 
 hot niche, and here and there were other vessels sit- 
 ting — several of them being iron kettles with heavy 
 iron covers, flat and rimmed. 
 
 The Bar B party, first to arrive on the grounds, 
 loafed about, lying and sitting, and watched the busy 
 Pete, who was mixing dough on a board at the back 
 of the mess wagon. 
 
THE ROUNDUP CAMP 151 
 
 " Guess you fellows are pretty hungry," volun- 
 teered Pete. " Didn't have no dinner, did you ? " 
 
 The men hesitated. 
 
 " Swallowed a fly that got bogged down in my 
 throat/' remarked Haney. " But reckon I could eat 
 somethin' moh." 
 
 " I'll hustle up an' give you supper early, then," 
 said Pete. " I'll put this batch o' bread to bakin' an' 
 have two or three messes so if any of the other out- 
 fits arrive late, there'll be plenty left." 
 
 "No hurry, Pete." 
 
 " Take your time, Pete." 
 
 ** Sure ; we can wait." 
 
 " Got plenty wood ? " 
 
 " Here — I'll fetch some water. You've enough to 
 do." 
 
 There were polite expostulations from all. Bus- 
 ter plucked the ax from the log where it was sticking 
 and chopped lustily. Haney seized a couple of pails 
 and tramped down to the creek. As King of the Kow 
 Kamp Mr. Pete accepted all attentions, and continued 
 his dough mixing. 
 
 Having finished, he moulded the dough into bis- 
 cuits, and with the biscuits lined the bottom of one of 
 the iron kettles. He took a shovelful of coals from 
 his trench, deposited them at one side, set the kettle 
 thereon, picked up the cover with a hook and care- 
 fully lowered it into place, and upon the cover poured 
 another shovelful of coals, which were retained by 
 the rim. 
 
 Then he left the bread to its baking ; and Phil, who 
 
BAR B BOYS 
 
 had been observing the proceedings with much inter- 
 est 
 
 " Know what that is, boy?" asked Mr. Simms, in- 
 terrupting his thoughts. 
 
 Phil shook his head. 
 
 "That's a Dutch oven.'* 
 
 Pete glanced, astonished. 
 
 " I've heard tell there was to be a tenderfoot at 
 the roundup," he said. " Reckon this is him, then, 
 if he don't know a Dutch oven ! " 
 
 "When he's eaten a few batches out of them he'll 
 be trying to buy one of you, Pete, to take back home 
 with him," asserted Ford, flatteringly. 
 
 Pete grunted acknowledgment, and lifting the 
 the cover of the Dutch oven at work upon the bread, 
 peeped within. 
 
 " Let's bed down before it's dark," proposed Chet, 
 abruptly. And followed by Phil, he returned to their 
 bundles of bedding. 
 
 The tarpaulins were spread out. The blankets and 
 quilts were placed upon, full length, and then doubled 
 back to the head so that they formed a pocket, bed 
 size, folded at the foot ("Make up with your feet to 
 the wind," instructed Chet) ; the free half of the can- 
 vas was brought back over the whole, and the edges 
 tucked in. 
 
 " There ! " appraised Chet, with professional satis- 
 faction. " Bet we sleep warm. Want to have just 
 as much under you as over you. Can't make a bed 
 up good in the dark." 
 
 When they approached the wagon again Haney 
 
THE ROUNDUP CAMP 153 
 
 was drawing out a piece of new rope from a bale 
 therein. Spanning off what he wanted, he cut it. 
 Seated, one of the other men was tying a knot in a 
 similar piece. 
 
 " There's your chance to get a rope," prompted 
 Chet. "Your old thing's no good." 
 
 " Yes, Smith-Jones. Never can make me eat raw 
 meat, 'less you have a new rope," alleged Haney, with 
 his customary readiness. 
 
 " Except cat," put in Ford, quietly. 
 
 " Draw the line on cat," answered Haney. " How 
 long you want it, Smith-Jones? My size is thirty- 
 five feet. Reckon mebbe you throw forty-five or 
 ftfty." 
 
 ^* Thirty-five's enough — isn't it?" appealed Phil, 
 uncertain. 
 
 " Regulation foh boy an' man," assured Haney. 
 " Here you are. Tie youah hondo an' frazzle youah 
 end an' go out an' ketch me a steer. I'm hongry." 
 
 Supervised by Ford and Chet, Phil tied his hondo 
 knot for the noose to run through, and tasseled the 
 other end — stopping it with twine to hold it from 
 further unraveling. 
 
 " Somebody give him a hawggin' string, now, an* 
 he'll be fixed," remarked Haney, seating himself to 
 complete his own rope. 
 
 " You can untwist your old rope for your hogging 
 string," suggested Chet. 
 
 "What's a hogging string?" 
 
 "It's to tie a cow's feet together when you've 
 thrown her. You know," informed Chet, with a su- 
 
154 
 
 BAR B 
 
 perior air. "Reg'lar cotton clothesline 's the best, 
 though." 
 
 " Now stretch it from the wagon to take the kinks 
 out/' instructed Ford. 
 
 Which Phil proceeded to do. 
 
 Into the grounds entered a second outfit — The 
 Lazy J (^-h), three men (Henry, Dick and a com- 
 panion), and twenty horses. And by the time the sun 
 was within a half hour of the western mesa, the other 
 outfits expected had arrived: the Open A (A)^ the 
 Reverse R (9\), the Flying U (V"), the Triangle 
 Cross ( A +), one man from each, with his string. 
 The Three I (JQ^) and The Boot ([^) outfits 
 would be added later, when the roundup had ascended 
 into their country. 
 
 The men lounged about, in the shade of the wagon 
 or amidst the brush, whittling, chaffing, exchanging 
 news and views — and at the same time observant of 
 Pete, so busy with fire and cofifee-can and Dutch oven. 
 " Come an* get it ! " on a sudden bade Pete, stri- 
 dently, above the enticing sizzling. 
 
 " Come on," prompted Chet ; and needing not to 
 be urged further, if at all, Phil, following the exam- 
 ple of the others, from a box took his "reloading 
 tools " of steel knife and fork and tin spoon, cup and 
 plate, and making the rounds of ovens and coffee-can 
 helped himself to everything. In the slanting beams 
 of the low sun they sat or squatted, all, and supped, 
 too occupied to talk. 
 
 Steak, canned corn, canned tomatoes, fried pota- 
 toes, bread, coflFee, condensed milk, sorghum — ah! 
 
THE ROUNDUP CAMP 155 
 
 " Fall to it, boys," encouraged Pete, affable host. 
 " Plenty more while the chuck lasts. Any you fel- 
 lers want some peaches? I'll open a couple o' cans 
 if you do." 
 
 This, the first meal of the roundup camp, he in- 
 tended should be a good one. 
 
 " When we get started an' I know where I'm at, 
 I'll try pie" he volunteered, perspiring but satisfied. 
 " See there's a lot o' dried apples come with the 
 stuff." 
 
 " You'll give us all the gout, Pete," said Ford, 
 appreciatively. And Pete grinned with pleasure. 
 
 "I suppose we'd better choose foreman. Those 
 hawsses'U have to be night-hawked, or half of 'em 
 will go trailing back," remarked Mr. Simms, the meal 
 being finished. 
 
 " Who's out with 'em now ? " 
 
 " Hombre." 
 
 " Where's that day wrangler ! Thought we had a 
 hawss jingler." 
 
 "Hasn't turned up yet.*' 
 
 "Who is he?" 
 
 " Some kid Henry here found." 
 
 "Said he'd come. That's all I know," defended 
 Henry, unruffled. "Folks live at Oro. Wants to be 
 a cowboy." 
 
 " Have to put Chet back at wranglin*." 
 
 " No, Chet thinks he's graduated," smiled Mr. 
 Simms, grimly. 
 
 " Might keep Hombre at it." 
 
 " He might do it if we paid him enough. But he's 
 
156 BAR B BOYS 
 
 no thirty dollar jingler. He's too good a roper to 
 be put herding cavvy on the roundup/' 
 
 " Well, wait a day. That kid'll likely turn up." 
 
 "Of course the fust spell at night-hawkin' falls to 
 the tenderfoot." The speaker uttered this casually, 
 but everybody glanced slyly at Phil. 
 
 " You bet," said Pete. 
 
 "jWell, boys; who's to be boss?" reminded Mr. 
 Simms. 
 
 " You and I'll go into town with Ford," proposed 
 Chet to Phil, beside him. 
 
 "We haven't any horses. Shall we walk?" 
 
 " Walk ? Oh, gee ! All that ways — four miles ? 
 Nobody walks in this country. We'll catch some 
 horses when Hombre brings in the herd. The night- 
 hawks have to get theirs." 
 
 "What's night-hawk, anyway?" 
 
 " He's the man who stays out at night, herding. 
 We always have to herd the horses at night, for a 
 while, until they're used to keeping together. Some 
 always try to sneak back to the home range, at first. 
 And we have to night-herd the cattle, too, when there 
 isn't rim-rock to hold 'em, or they're wild." 
 
 "Will I have to?" asked Phil. 
 
 " Sure. We all take turns. The foreman says 
 who. Maybe he'll put you and me out together." 
 
 "Who is foreman?" 
 
 " I don't know. I'm going to vote for Old Jess." 
 
 " Your turn, Chet," prompted one of the men, 
 good-naturedly. " Who's yore boss ? " 
 
 "Jess!" 
 
THE ROUNDUP CAMP 157 
 
 " That settles it. Jess is elected. He can't put any 
 of us night-herdin*, because we all voted for him ! " 
 
 "Except Phil. He didn't have a chance," an- 
 nounced Chet. 
 
 " Yes ; 'cept yore friend, there. He'll have to do 
 all the night-hawkin' for the camp." 
 
 But Old Jess (whose appointment as boss seemed 
 to be satisfactory) disposed otherwise. 
 
 "I'll take the job, to-night, boys, till one; and 
 Dick can spell me then. We'll let the tenderfoot have 
 a good sleep, to start on." 
 
 " Hombre's bringin' the hawsses. Guess he wants 
 supper," informed Pete. 
 
 The rope corral was stretched again. From the 
 herd Old Jess and Dick and Ford picked out horses; 
 Chet roped Ute, and as Phil was holding an end of 
 the corral, Dick roped out Gray Jack for him. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 PHIL UPHOLDS THE HONOR OF THE BAR B 
 
 Nobody else was disposed to go into town ; through 
 the soft twiHght Ford and Chet and Phil rode away 
 up the wagon trail, to get Ford's chaps (if the chaps 
 had arrived) and Phil's word from home (if it had 
 arrived) and whatever mail might belong to the 
 camp. 
 
 Chap-accoutered, jingling into town with Chet, also 
 chap-accoutered, Phil felt very much the cowboy. All 
 three dismounted at the rail before the general store, 
 and loosely tying their horses beside of others stand- 
 ing there, entered — Phil striving, under the open 
 stare of three or four men and boys at the doorway, 
 to walk with bowed knees and toes in as if to the 
 range-saddle born. 
 
 "Yore chaps are here, Ford," greeted a clerk. 
 " Came last night." 
 
 With Phil looking on anxiously, Chet was receiv- 
 ing the mail. ' 
 
 " This telegram must be for your friend, I reckon," 
 vouchsafed the postmaster and storekeeper, handing 
 it out. " They sent it over from the Junction by 
 the stage two days ago, but I knew you'd all be down 
 at the roundup." 
 
 " Oh, pshaw ! " said Phil, taking it eagerly. " I 
 wish I'd known." 
 
 i$8 
 
THE HONOR OF BAR B 139 
 
 His tone of chagrin and astonishment over this 
 naive explanation drew a snigger from the onlookers 
 loafing at the threshold and within. He did not 
 notice, but tore open the envelope, and ran rapid eye 
 over the contents. 
 
 His dubious mien changed. Waving the paper he 
 executed a brief v^ar-dance. 
 
 " Hurrah ! " he cried. " It's all right. I can stay. 
 They say: (and he read) * Stay there if you prefer. 
 We are willing. Will write.' Isn't that swell ! Now 
 I'll have my baggage sent back to the Junction." 
 
 And seizing Chet he waltzed him about the store. 
 
 " It's shore fine," declared Chet, broadly, and grin- 
 ning. His reply was genuine, but Phil's exuberance 
 seemed to grate upon some of the hobbledehoys and 
 ranch boys standing by. 
 
 "It shore is," they mocked. 
 
 " His mammy says he can stay." 
 
 "Ain't that fine?" 
 
 " Goin' to have a reel Chicago dude all summer, 
 Joe." 
 
 But Phil was too enthusiastic to be annoyed by 
 such by-play. " Now I want some boots," he an- 
 nounced. " Sevens, please. And I need a couple of 
 bandannas, too; and a pair of heavy gloves. And a 
 flannel shirt. And some socks and a hat, and other 
 stuff. Got any spurs ? " 
 
 Glad enough to replace the things of Chet's that 
 he was using, assisted by that individual and at- 
 tended by the derisive, sniggering comments of the 
 other onlookers, Phil made his purchases. He paused 
 
i6o BAR B BOYS 
 
 to admire Ford's new chaps, and then leaving Ford 
 and Chet inside, talking with the clerks, he went out 
 to tie his outfit (as much as he was not wearing) to- 
 his saddle. 
 
 His tormentors followed him with their persistent 
 attentions. 
 
 " Say, Chicago dude ! Lemme wear them new 
 boots, won't yuh ? " called one. 
 
 " Why ? " asked Phil, waxing restive under the 
 nagging. 
 
 " Want to be reg'lar cow-puncher — wow ! " 
 
 " You can wear my boots if you'll let me wear that 
 face. I want to join a side show," retorted Phil. " Or 
 if you need them bad, you can have my old shoes that 
 I threw away." 
 
 There was a burst of laughter; but the chief tor- 
 mentor doggedly returned to the attack. 
 
 " Say, Chicago dude — does yore mammy reely say 
 yuh can stay a while ? " 
 
 Phil did not answer. He tied on his packages. 
 
 "Ain't yuh 'fraid you're overloadin' that hawss?" 
 
 Phil did not answer. Having unfastened Gray 
 Jack's lines from the rail he proceeded to mount. 
 
 " Look out ! He'll buck ! " cried his tormentors, in 
 simulated alarm. "He ain't gentled to Chicago 
 dudes." 
 
 " Kin you ride at a trot, mister ? " demanded the 
 chief of them. " Aw, watch him — he's puUin' leather 
 sittin' still." 
 
 Little pieces of dirt, and pebbles and chips began 
 to fly in Phil's direction, but under the irritation he 
 
THE HONOR OF BAR B i6i 
 
 sat without responding, now and then checking Gray 
 Jack, whom the missiles fretted. 
 
 Ford and Chet emerged. 
 
 " Say, Ford ; lemme wear them new chaps ? " 
 queried one of the galaxy. 
 
 " Yes, if you can take them off of me," returned 
 Ford, promptly. His offer was not accepted and he 
 and Chet and Phil rode away. 
 
 " Shooting it into you?" asked Chet. 
 
 " Yes," said Phil. He had been growing angrier 
 and angrier. 
 
 " Hey, Chicago dude ! You're afraid to come 
 back," sounded the challenge behind — as if after due 
 deliberation. 
 
 It seemed to Phil that this was just what he had 
 been waiting for. Without one instant's hesitation 
 he wheeled Gray Jack and went galloping back the 
 few rods to the rail. He dismounted, tied his horse, 
 and walked straight to the group at the store door- 
 way, who were receiving his action in sheepish silence. 
 
 " Here I am. What do you want ? " he demanded. 
 
 " You dared him. Buck. Now talk up to him." 
 
 "You told him to come back. What you goin' 
 to do about it?" 
 
 " He's called yore bluff." 
 
 Thus admonishing, the group pushed to the fore 
 a stripling ranch lad, who with an insolent swagger 
 grinned in Phil's indignant face. He extended a 
 bottle. 
 
 " You forgot to take along this soothin' syrup yore 
 mammy sent yuh," he said. 
 
1 62 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 "Chuck!" Phirs fist flew out and over went 
 Smarty. Furious beyond any calculation as to odds 
 of strength or numbers Phil piled on top. There was 
 a vigorous struggle, as the boys rolled and twisted 
 over the dusty ground. 
 
 " Give 'em room," exhorted voices, as the crowd, 
 gathered about the twain, jostled and opened and 
 closed again. 
 
 " Keep off, you other fellows ! Let 'em have it 
 out. Your man began it," warned Ford. 
 
 Chet, half-jubilant, half-fearful, his heart with Phil 
 and his fingers itching to take part in the melee, 
 beside Ford shoved to the front and peered excitedly. 
 The horses at the rail pricked their ears. 
 
 The two figures, at close grips there upon the 
 ground, writhed and struggled and panted and 
 grunted. The ranch boy was the stouter, but Phil 
 was the quicker, and madder. Up they rose, grap- 
 pling ; they locked and swayed and down they dropped 
 together, with a thump. 
 
 " Stay with him, Phil ! " encouraged Ford. 
 
 "Yuh got t' do it," affirmed a new friend. 
 
 " Aw, Buck ! " scoffed the chorus. 
 
 " Want any help, Phil? " queried Chet, breathlessly, 
 ready. 
 
 On his back Buck was kicking and squirming with 
 wild convulsive efforts. Twice — thrice he raised him- 
 self and Phil together clear of the ground, from heel 
 to head. But Phil, having secured his hold, clung 
 like a bull dog, with knees and hands pinioning the 
 arms, elbow athwart under the chin, and body weight- 
 
THE HONOR OF BAR B 163 
 
 ing down the chest. Buck's squirming ceased, and 
 he lay, exhausted. 
 
 " Ready to quit ? '* gasped Phil, glaring into the 
 face close underneath his own. 
 
 Buck nodded. 
 
 " If I let you up you'll leave me alone, after this, 
 will you?'* 
 
 " Sure," croaked Buck. 
 
 " All right." 
 
 Phil sprang clear. His enemy sat up and dabbled 
 at his mouth, exploring his teeth. 
 
 " Say, but he hit me an awful belt ! " he averred, 
 to the grinning circle. 
 
 "You need that soothing syrup more than I do, 
 now," quoth Phil, bluntly, tossing the bottle at him; 
 and taking his hat from Chet he walked with Chet 
 and Ford to the horses. 
 
 "'Rah for the Chicago dude!" 
 
 "You're all right!" 
 
 "Good for the kid!" 
 
 Such hearty sentiments followed him. 
 
 " Well, son, you upheld the honor of the Bar B 
 that time," spoke Ford, as they again rode away 
 through the golden gloaming. "Hurt you any?" 
 
 " Naw," answered Phil, and honestly. " I tried 
 not to give him a chance." 
 
 " I'm awful glad somebody took that Buck down," 
 said Chet. " He's too smart. He shoots it into every 
 new person that comes. I bet Phil won't have any 
 more trouble there." 
 
 "No; he's made good in Carbine," agreed Ford. 
 
1 64 BAR B BOYS 
 
 The fracas and the new chaps shared the atten- 
 tion of the camp, where the men were clustered about 
 the fire, before turning in. 
 
 "We'll have to vote Phil a medal, won't we, for 
 standing up to that smart Aleck gang?" proposed 
 Mr. Simms. " They're more than Chet ever tackled." 
 
 " Don't fight, myself, Smith-Jones ; I always run," 
 alleged Haney. "But I do love a natural fighter; 
 an' you suhtinly are a scrapper. Don't you evuh 
 get after me ! " 
 
 The camp went to bed. Snugly extended between 
 his blankets and quilts and tarpaulin, with his trou- 
 sers and coat and vest under his head for a pillow, 
 and his new cowboy boots tucked away to keep the 
 frost out of them, Phil blinked up at the myriad stars 
 blinking down. A yard from him Chet was similarly 
 lying, and around about through the brush were 
 lying in same fashion the men all, the cook under- 
 neath his wagon. The fire fitfully flickered; at a lit- 
 tle distance the picketed horse of Dick, whose watch 
 at night-hawking was to come later, stamped and 
 sighed; farther in the gloom a coyote yapped. Al- 
 ready somebody was snoring. 
 
 For a few minutes Phil blinked at those wondrous 
 many bright stars and thought. The great open was 
 now friendly, much more friendly, it seemed to him, 
 than when on that first lonely night he had faced it in 
 the darkling timber. He was comfortable — comfort- 
 able in body (housed by his cowboy bed) and in 
 mind, which reviewed his new outfit, his telegram, 
 and his victory over the aggravating "gang." He 
 
THE HONOR OF BAR B 165 
 
 was glad that he had had the spirit to turn back, at 
 the challenge, and whether accompanied by Ford and 
 Chet, or not, to assert himself. He was glad — he 
 was glad — he hoped that Medicine Eye wouldn't buck 
 with him — he would ride Gray Jack, anyway, to-mor- 
 row — he — he — and suddenly he, too, was asleep, so 
 soundly that he did not hear Dick awakened at half- 
 past twelve to mount and to go trotting away, nor 
 hear Old Jess come in. 
 
 The fire ceased its flicker, and it, also, slumbered; 
 and over the peaceful roundup camp the endless stars 
 steadily drifted in their eternal nightly march. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE BIG CIRCLE 
 
 Phil awakened to a shrill yelp. Above him now 
 in the paling expanse of sky flared only a single 
 great star, like a rear-guard posted by the departed 
 host. Amidst the brush chirped small bird-voices. 
 The canvas of the chuck-wagon loomed cheerily, 
 thrown into high relief by a blazing fire. The strokes 
 of an ax sounded with staccato sharpness, and the lank 
 figure of Pete the cook, topped by the tremendous 
 hat, was outlined in silhouette against the glow as he 
 wielded the tool. Over the sage hung a mist, and 
 through it spectral forms were seen sitting and ris- 
 ing, half-clothed, as if a resurrection was occurring. 
 
 " Whoop-ee ! Everybody up ! " came a yelp again, 
 from the fire, where one or two other figures had 
 joined the cook^s. 
 
 Phil hastily threw off his covers and crawled out. 
 Chet was doing the same. Frost had gathered upon 
 the tarpaulin and upon the edges of the blankets and 
 quilts. Phil shivered as he pulled on his trousers, 
 and yawned again, until it seemed to him that his 
 stiff face was cracking. Chet also yawned, audibly. 
 He stood ; Phil stood ; they donned coats and hats, and 
 with a mutual grunt of greeting stumbled through 
 the brush to the fire, and added themselves to the 
 
 i66 
 
THE BIG CIRCLE 167 
 
 group already (careful not to impede the cook) warm- 
 ing their backs. 
 
 Throughout the sage the resurrection continued. 
 There was joking, yawning and pulHng on of gar- 
 ments. The east, changing from gold to pink, deep- 
 ened rapidly, and the brush and the scattered beds 
 were plain. Ravens croaked hoarsely as they flopped 
 across the brigiitening sky, outward-bound upon their 
 day's foraging. The boys seized opportunity and the 
 tin basin and towel and soap, and descended to the 
 creek to wash. They returned to find the company all 
 assembled and the soap in demand. 
 
 " Come an' get it," bade Pete, who had been lifting 
 the covers from the Dutch ovens, here and there about 
 the fire, and investigating. 
 
 Rattle of tin, as prompt hands extracted from the 
 mess-box the eating utensils; a circuit by everyone 
 from pot to pot, sticking, spooning, pouring; and 
 presently a squatting and a sitting as everybody pro- 
 ceeded to breakfast. While they were eating the sun 
 appeared over the mesa to the east, and comfortably 
 warmed them. 
 
 " Cook won't bless you, boy, if you give him a 
 messy plate like that," observed Mr. Simms, as Phil, 
 arising with a sigh of fullness, passed him by, to 
 deposit his dishes with the others. 
 
 Phil paused, alarmed. It was impossible for him 
 to swallow another mouthful. His plate was " messy," 
 for he had helped himself to more stuff than he could 
 get away with. He noted other plates. Haney was 
 engaged in polishing his with a piece of bread; so 
 
i68 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 was a stranger cowboy. So was Chet. It was evi- 
 dently the custom, and for a reason. The cook was 
 king. He had plenty to do without having complica- 
 tions in his dish-washing. Phil sat down, and cleaned 
 his plate — eating the scraps and polishing with a bit 
 of bread, like the others. Thereafter he was careful 
 not to help himself beyond his utmost ability. 
 
 " Cavvy's comin'," announced Old Jess, peering 
 eastward and shading his eyes. "That Mexican's 
 right on time." 
 
 "Yes, Hombre's a good wrangler," asserted Mr. 
 Simms. " He went out himself and relieved Dick." 
 
 " Have to keep him at it to-day, if that kid don't 
 arrive," muttered Old Jess. " Then we'll pick up 
 somebody else. If Henry's kid doesn't show 'round 
 by night, he needn't show 'round at all." 
 
 " Give Phil the job," remarked the cattleman. 
 
 " Humph ! " said Old Jess — which might have indi- 
 cated anything. 
 
 Going to his horse, which was standing saddled 
 where he had left it upon coming in, and which was 
 pricking its ears at the tinted dust rising over the 
 sage eastward, Dick rode out to meet the incoming 
 herd. The men lazily watched and waited, and di- 
 gested. 
 
 " Guess I'd better heat this coffee up. That Mexi- 
 can'll be good an' ready for some. It's sharp this 
 mawnin'," murmured Pete, moving the big pot to the 
 coals again. " He was up 'fore I was." 
 
 The herd was near — galloping, trotting, biting and 
 kicking, the white mare and her colt in the lead, 
 
THE BIG CIRCLE 169 
 
 streaming on athwart the brush. The men about the 
 fire stood, stretched, and scattering to their saddles, 
 took their ropes. Phil imitated. Two of the men 
 held the rope corral, and Hombre and Dick cleverly 
 turned the herd in. The corral was jammed with 
 horses — squealing and nipping and shoving from the 
 outside for the inside. The men, ropes ready, cir- 
 cuited, alert to throw. 
 
 Phil was nonplussed. Occasionally he glimpsed 
 Gray Jack, as the mass of animals churned and milled, 
 but he never dared to cast. There were so many 
 heads all in motion! 
 
 " Anybody want a hawss ? I got two at once, 
 here ! " announced the Triangle Cross man, plaintively. 
 
 " Nearly got somethin' by the leg, myself," re- 
 turned another rider. " Come out o' there, you ! " 
 
 " Anybody see a little bay with a * 76 ' on his 
 hip ? " asked a third. " Can't find him, myself." 
 
 " He's there. He come with the rest," called Hom- 
 bre, from a cup of coffee and a heaped plate by the 
 fire. 
 
 One after another, and two and three at the same 
 instant, the curling ropes flew in over the herd with 
 a whizz, the loops snapped upon unwilling necks, 
 and the horses were dragged out and led away to be 
 ■saddled. 
 
 "What you lookin' for, boy?" asked Old Jess, 
 his own horse in hand. 
 
 "Why, Gray Jack. But I can't get a chance at 
 him," said Phil, in despair. 
 
 "Hold this animal o' mine, an' trade ropes with 
 
I70 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 me. No — put your loop through mine, from behind, 
 an' over his head; this way. Then the other fellow 
 doesn't have to pull his rope through yours. Now 
 I'll yank your Gray Jack out, I reckon." 
 
 Old Jess coiled his rawhide, and scanned the 
 heads. 
 
 " I see him," he said. He whirled his rope, bel- 
 ligerently, and stepping a few paces shot it forward 
 and over. With wicked swish the smooth heavy 
 braid flew like an arrow. Old Jess jerked taut, and 
 grunted satisfaction. 
 
 " Here comes your hawss," he announced, pulling. 
 Sure enough out burst Gray Jack. 
 
 Phil gladly traded ropes again, and conducted Gray 
 Jack to saddle and bridle. 
 
 " Come on, Phil ! Watch ! " cried Chet. '' Henry's 
 going to uncork a horse. 
 
 "Give him room, boys," cautioned Mr. Simms. 
 
 "Yes, give us room. This hawss 's liable to need 
 it," panted Henry, of the Lazy J, tugging at a cinch, 
 while Ford held the bits. 
 
 The men near him led their horses aside. Every- 
 body respectfully watched. Henry " rocked " the sad- 
 dle, and finding it to his liking gently gathered the 
 lines, and as gently inserted his foot in the stirrup. 
 The horse, a small roan with a big " K Bar K " 
 (K — K) showing on his flank, stood perfectly quiet, 
 but in a peculiar attitude of straddled legs, as if 
 braced under the saddle — or as if sleepy. 
 
 " Aw — I don*t believe he's going to do anything ; 
 is he?" delivered Phil, bluffly. 
 
THE ROAN JUMPED, STIFF LEGGED, BACK ARCHED, HEAD DOWN. 
 
THE BIG CIRCLE 171 
 
 "With his back humped like that? Gee! You 
 wait and see," reproved Chet, out of his superior 
 knowledge. 
 
 Henry suddenly swung into the saddle. With a 
 single motion he was there and firmly seated, lines 
 held high. 
 
 "Let him go," he said; and Ford sprang away. 
 For a moment the roan stood, motionless, as if dazed ; 
 then, while the spectators yelled their delight, with 
 a convulsive start forth he jumped, through the brush, 
 stiff legged, back arched, head down, bawling and 
 grunting. 
 
 Henry's hat soared high and floated to the ground. 
 
 " Pick it up, somebody," he besought, " 'fore it gets 
 stepped on." 
 
 " That hawss ain't buckin'," declared the cook. 
 " He's about all in, this quick. There he goes " 
 
 For under the jabbing of the spurs the roan, aban- 
 doning his dancing on his toes, broke into a run, and 
 with great leaps went scouring across the flat. 
 
 A keen whoop of pleasure drifted behind, as Henry 
 welcomed the change; and away he sped. 
 
 " Never did know a roan that wouldn't peter out," 
 remarked Foreman Jess. " All over, boys. Any- 
 body else got a hawss to uncork? Well, let's get 
 started. Day's 'most gone an' nothin' done yet ! '* 
 
 " Savin' my hawss, till I get stronger," said Haney, 
 mounting with easy, negligent grace. " But you-all 
 wait till Smith-Jones uncohks Medicine Eye. When 
 you goin' to ride him, Smith-Jones ? " 
 
 Phil did not think it necessary to answer. Haney's 
 
172 BAR B BOYS 
 
 allusion was too serious. For Medicine Eye did act 
 up — even Chet admitted that. 
 
 " When some of you get a real bad hawss you 
 want uncawked turn him over to me. I'll ride him," 
 boasted Pete the cook, whose cow-puncher blood 
 seemed aroused. 
 
 " Hi ! There goes Chet ! " exclaimed Mr. Simms. 
 "Nigger's frisky this morning. Didn't suppose he'd 
 need any uncorking." 
 
 Jumping like any billy goat was Chet's horse, with 
 Chet riding gallantly, albeit tugging at the lines. 
 
 ^* Don't lift his head. Have it out with him," or- 
 dered his father. " Scratch him. Don't be afraid." 
 
 So while the men cheered and Phil watched 
 anxiously, Chet let the lines lax, and sitting his best, 
 spurred roundly. 
 
 Nigger quit, received a meed of applause; Chet, 
 perspiring, red, grinned. Phil, wishing that his own 
 test was passed, almost envied him. 
 
 Not without a little thrill of uncertainty he pro- 
 ceeded to board Gray Jack. He felt that he was 
 covertly being observed and estimated — and evidently 
 on this frosty morning there was no telling what a 
 horse might do, the example having been set. But 
 Gray Jack stood staid and firm. 
 
 Henry came loping back from his run, and took 
 his hat without comment. His adventure was ancient 
 history. 
 
 ** I guess we'll try to clean up east o' the creek to- 
 day, boys," quoth Old Jess. " We'll drift them cattle 
 over, an' start 'em on, the first." 
 
THE BIG CIRCLE 173 
 
 And he crisply apportioned the country, sending 
 the men off two by two. Phil and Chet waited. 
 
 " You lads can come with me," said Old Jess, 
 finally; and he rode out. "We'll take Cottonwood 
 Canon, ourselves." 
 
 " Gee ! That's eighteen miles," ejaculated Chet. 
 
 "If you can't ride it yuh can stay in camp an' 
 help the cook," proffered Old Jess, with sarcastic 
 directness. 
 
 "Naw! You bet I can ride it," declared Chet. 
 "Can't you, Phil?" 
 
 " Sure I can," asserted Phil, endeavoring to fit 
 his feet into the stirrups so as to avoid those same 
 old gouges in his shins. 
 
 "It's the big circle of the day; isn't it, Jess?" 
 declared Chet. 
 
 " I reckon," answered Old Jess. 
 
 Heading out across the wide expanse of sage and 
 greasewood he obliqued from the creek, and ap- 
 proached the mesas. Along the base of these ran a 
 wagon-trail; and, trotting, he turned upon it. 
 
 Trot, trot, trot, they went, Chet and Old Jess be- 
 fore, Phil behind. Trot, trot, trot, over the wind- 
 ing road, which, now rock, now thick with dust made 
 gray by the alkali, wound interminably on, up hill 
 and down. Buster and the Triangle Cross man turned 
 off, into a draw. Ford and Henry turned off. Now 
 left to themselves, Old Jess and the two boys trotted 
 on. 
 
 Old Jess did not seem disposed toward chatting; 
 his mind was upon reaching his destination. He and 
 
174 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 Chet occasionally stood in their stirrups and rested 
 hands upon their saddle horns ; Phil did the same. Trot, 
 trot, trot; with the sun glaring down and setting the 
 mesas to shimmering, and the dust rising easier and 
 easier, and the saddle (at least Phil's saddle) waxing 
 hotter and hotter. Trot, trot, trot — a steady plugging 
 pace that was worse than the fat chief had made, be- 
 cause over the hard road and in the dust and alkali. 
 
 Trot, trot, trot. A hard taskmaster was Old Jess. 
 Phil groaned to himself and shifted in that saddle 
 which he was polishing so incessantly. 
 
 They left the road and entered a sagy draw flow- 
 ing down between mesas with precipitous rim-rock 
 sides. Through the draw trotted Old Jess, and pres- 
 ently turning chose the steep dry bed of a stream that 
 must at times be a raging torrent draining the mesa. 
 Up this passage he forced his horse, Chet and Phil 
 following; and slipping and scrambling upon the 
 water-worn ledges and boulders they emerged at the 
 summit. Phil never would have believed that a horse 
 could have climbed such a course. 
 
 Now they were on top of this mesa. Pausing while 
 the horses panted for breath, Old Jess, gazing at the 
 view spread southward, said: 
 
 " Want to see where you got off the train, boy ? 
 There it is — that saddle yonder." 
 
 " To the right of that snow-peak, you mean ? Away 
 off there?" 
 
 ** That's the divide where the railroad crosses." 
 
 ** How far from here, Jess?" 
 
 " Hundred miles." 
 
THE BIG CIRCLE 175 
 
 Phil stared. It did not look so far. 
 
 Old Jess dismounted and tightened his cinch. The 
 boys tightened theirs. 
 
 " You two clean this mesa and the flat the other 
 side," he directed. " I'll meet you where you come 
 out." 
 
 He went trotting off, along the mesa's western 
 edge. 
 
 " All right. Come on, Phil. There are some, over 
 in the cedars," and Chet, spurring Nigger to a gallop, 
 was away, too. 
 
 They raced easily through the brush. Seeing them 
 coming a number of cattle resting in the shade of 
 a clump of cedars raised their heads to watch. As 
 the boys drew near, out the cattle bolted, half-wild, 
 resentful at the intrusion. Steers and cows and sev- 
 eral calves they were, crashing from the cedars into 
 the open. 
 
 " Head 'em across. There'll be a lot more, and we'll 
 leave these and drive 'em all down together," in- 
 structed Chet. 
 
 So they gave the little band a good start along a 
 cattle trail winding in the right direction; and left 
 them. The cattle halted, dully gazed behind them and 
 around; and proceeded mechanically on again, as if, 
 their peace having been destroyed, they might as well 
 keep moving to another asylum. 
 
 It was good sport, hunting the mesa for cattle. 
 Here and there the boys galloped, all in the clear, 
 fragrant air of the flat table-land, in rivalry to see 
 which should succeed in routing out the larger bunch. 
 
176 
 
 lOYS 
 
 The mesa evidently was a favorite resort, for it was 
 well cut with trails, and the ground among the cedars 
 was trodden hard. Once, in the sage, Phil almost 
 rode upon a little calf so sound asleep, curled in a ball, 
 like a dog, that he shouted at it to awaken it. It 
 opened its eyes, sprang panic-stricken to all four legs, 
 and staggering from its nap ran blindly and confused, 
 blatting for its mammy. In the distance she an- 
 swered; with "ma-a-a!" and "moo-00," the twain 
 met — baby to claim refreshments, mother to nose for 
 possible injury. 
 
 All the mesa had been ransacked, and it seemed 
 scarcely likely that any animals, even a tiny calf asleep, 
 could have been missed. In several strings the ousted 
 cattle were trailing along, across the mesa, and gradu- 
 ally converging. Phil and Chet followed, riding 
 " straight up," as befitted masters of a herd, vigilant 
 to turn in stragglers whose minds still clung to these 
 local haunts; when the paths became one they had 
 quite a bunch before them: steers, cows, heifers, 
 calves, and a great white- faced bull; all-colors and 
 various brands. 
 
 The trail dipped over the edge of a mesa and ran 
 obliquely but abruptly to a wide flat below. So over 
 the edge plunged the cattle, and crowding, slipping, in 
 a cloud of dust patiently continued on. 
 
 " Don't hurry them," cautioned Chet. " Let 'em 
 take their time." 
 
 In the parching wake of the mass down they, too, 
 finally plunged. 
 
THE BIG CIRCLE 177 
 
 The flat was dotted with other cattle, quietly graz- 
 ing; the mesa projected into it with a high point. 
 
 "You go around this side and I'll go around the 
 other," directed Chet. " We've got to drift them all 
 this way." 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE SIGNS IN THE ARROYO 
 
 They separated. Gray Jack, pricking his ears at 
 fresh conquest, loped wiUingly again, and Phil pressed 
 to make a circuit behind the furthermost animals. 
 What an arroyo barred his way ! At least twenty feet 
 deep it was and almost the same in width. With im- 
 patience he skirted it, seeking to cross. The cattle 
 beyond were gazing at him. Some were liable to 
 make off. In desperation he sent Gray Jack at a 
 slightly shelving spot, and headlong they slid down, 
 landing recklessly but right side up. 
 
 Now they were in, and the question was, how to 
 get out again! High towered the gray dirt walls, 
 mottled and streaked with the white of alkali. They 
 trotted briskly through the defile, over the soft bot- 
 tom tracked as usual by cattle. Horsemen — or at 
 least horses — also had preceded him in this arroyo; 
 their hoofs were mingled with the cattle hoofs. Sud- 
 denly Phil's eye, roving from side to side in quest 
 of an ascent, caught sight of a stick hanging like a 
 skewer to the right-hand wall. It bi"»re tied about 
 it a small rag; he sidled Gray Jack to it and reach- 
 ing high, pulled it out. 
 
 It was a straight stem of brush, wih larger end 
 sharpened. The rag was tied to the smaller end, 
 
 178 
 
THE SIGNS IN THE ARROYO 179 
 
 and looked like a fragment of a white handkerchief 
 — woman's handkerchief, by the fineness of it. 
 
 Examining it, Phil rode on ; and presently he came 
 to another skewer, similarly adorned; this was al- 
 most beyond his grasp, but standing in his stirrups 
 he managed to jerk it loose. 
 
 Then the thought occurred to him that these might 
 be signs put there for a purpose, and in tampering 
 with them he was laying himself open to a reprimand. 
 So he stuck both skewers back into the dirt. He 
 passed another of the tokens — but it was higher than 
 he could reach, and he wondered how it got there. 
 Perhaps these were water levels when the arroyo 
 was half-filled with water! Then men in boats had 
 set the skewers, like stakes. Why? And here, next, 
 was a skewer much lower, opposite his knee. He 
 did not touch it. The white rag hanging from it 
 certainly was from a small handkerchief, for it was 
 the corner thereof and bore the letter " C." 
 
 Phil jogged on, anxiously seeking an exit. In a 
 few moments he noted, scratched in the adobe on the 
 side where he had been looking for more of the 
 skewers, a rude arrow pointing in the opposite direc- 
 tion, and beyond it a " P." Further along he passed 
 an "L,'* and next an "E"; at a longer interval an 
 " H " ; and if there were more letters he missed them, 
 for he discovered none. 
 
 Humph ! What sense was there to such a combina- 
 tion? And, anyway, he wanted to get out of this 
 
i8o 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 confounded arroyo, and to gather these cattle. That 
 was his business, as a cowboy. 
 
 The letters had ceased, but he encountered curious 
 hieroglyphics; first a >p, which he tried to read as 
 a Cross brand; and then a 4^, which might be a 
 watering-pot nozzle. He passed the remnants of a 
 camp-fire — evidently antedating the last rain, for its 
 ashes had run. It might have been the fire of the 
 party who had made a survey through the arroyo, and 
 had left those symbols. Maybe this arroyo was to be 
 used as an irrigating ditch! Perhaps oil prospectors 
 — the ones seen by Buster in the red automobile, in 
 "town," that time, — had been in the arroyo. 
 
 At any rate, here finally was a trail out ; and gladly 
 abandoning the arroyo and its mysteries they clam- 
 bered up, to emerge into the open again. Phil 
 eagerly looked for Chet, and beheld him already en 
 route, obliquing onward across the flat with a new 
 bunch of cattle. So he himself must hustle ; and spur- 
 ring Gray Jack to a gallop he circuited his own con- 
 tingent, to weave back and forth in their rear and 
 shout and urge. They made their trail, themselves, 
 crossing the arroyo lower down, at an easy pass, and 
 continuing through the brush to join their fellows. 
 The three bunches — Phil's, Chefs, and the one from 
 the mesa, — coalesced made quite a little herd. 
 
 Cows moo-ed, calves maa-ed, steers clashed horns, 
 the bull bellowed, the dust of sage and of alkali hung 
 in a pungent stinging cloud, and drifted back upon 
 the nostrils of the boys an acrid, nauseous odor, once 
 breathed, never forgotten. 
 
THE SIGNS IN THE ARROYO i8i 
 
 "What is that?" demanded Phil, wrinkhng his 
 nose. 
 
 " Wild onions they've been eating," informed Chet. 
 " See what I found ? " he said ; and trotting over 
 from his flank he handed it to Phil, and trotted back 
 again. 
 
 It was a skewer like those of the arroyo, and bore 
 instead of a rag a bit of folded brownish paper in- 
 serted in a cleft at the smaller end. Phil opened the 
 paper and saw: 
 
 t 
 
 roughly and uncertainly drawn as if with a burnt 
 match or a piece of coal. 
 
 " Found it sticking in the sage," called Chet, from 
 flank to flank. 
 
 ** Where?" 
 
 " Oh ; over there, where I was riding. Right near 
 a bend in the arroyo. Throw it away. I don't want it 
 any more." 
 
 Phil pondered over it. "What do you suppose it 
 means?" he queried. "Some joke?" 
 
 " Don't know, don't care," answered Chet. " Get 
 along, you old fool of a mammy." He thwacked a 
 loitering red cow with his rope-end. 
 
 " That arroyo's full of things, too," declared Phil, 
 as his share of news. " Some sticks like this are 
 sticking in the walls, high up, with rags instead of 
 paper fastened to them ; and somebody's been scratch- 
 ing brands and letters in the dirt." 
 
 "What brands?" 
 
l82 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " I couldn't read them. But there was an arrow, 
 and the letters P L E H, and then two signs — like 
 this. I'll show you." 
 
 With a pencil stub on the envelope of his telegram, 
 held against his chap-sheathed knee, Phil drew his 
 diagram thus — stopped short by the envelope's edge: 
 
 "Say!" he ejaculated, with sudden light, perusing 
 his work. " My two signs make that one of your's ! " 
 He rode over. " See, it's a picture of a girl, cut in 
 two in the middle." 
 
 "Look like Injun drawings," vouchsafed Chet, ex- 
 amining. " That's the way the Ute signs painted on 
 the rocks up above the house look. But mine said 
 * Help ' ; yours doesn't say anything. Just PLEH. 
 Huh. Maybe that's a Ute word." 
 
 " Oh, shucks ! " cried Phil. " I'm on to it ! What do 
 you know, Chet ? That's nothing but * help ' spelled 
 backwards. * H-E-L-P ' and P-L-E-H! I read it 
 from the wrong end." 
 
 " Aw, gee ! " derided Chet. And now an idea burst 
 on him, also. "I bet you that girl the rustlers have 
 did this ! She wants to get away ! " He reined short. 
 His face was very earnest. " She threw this stick 
 into the sage, with the paper on it, and she stuck those 
 sticks you saw, and left those signs " 
 
 " And the arrow to show which way she was go- 
 ing!" supplemented Phil, excited. "We ought to 
 follow her and rescue her." He wheeled Gray Jack. 
 
 " We sure ought," agreed Chet. " But — this paper's 
 
THE SIGNS IN THE ARROYO 183 
 
 been out four days. It*s got rained on. The last rain 
 was four days ago — in the afternoon, you know/* 
 
 " I saw a camp-fire in the arroyo. It had been 
 rained on, too," said Pliil. He held his horse. 
 " Shucks ! " he deplored. 
 
 " There's no telling where they are, now. We met 
 that man with the frozen smile away back, on the trail, 
 remember. So I guess we'd better keep on with the 
 cattle," decided Chet, gravely. 
 
 Resuming their positions they reluctantly pushed 
 onward again with their drive. 
 
 " There's Jess," announced Chet. " See him ? " 
 
 Ahead, in the rolling expanse of sage, a solitary 
 horseman was holding another bunch of cattle. The 
 boys' animals, sighting their kind, quickened their 
 pace slightly. 
 
 They blared, and those before answered. The bull, 
 hearing a rival, rumbled menacingly, and fain would 
 pause to throw dirt. Phil daringly whacked him with 
 the rope. 
 
 As the distance lessened, Phil was gratified to nore 
 that his and Chet's bunch was the larger. 
 
 " You did pretty well, didn't yuh," commented Old 
 Jess, inspecting critically, as the two bunches joined. 
 " But you got somebody's old milk-cow, there. What'd 
 you fetch her along for? Get out o' there," and rid- 
 ing in he separated a red and white animal from 
 the rest and turned her back. "Run her off, or old 
 Mrs. Jones'll scalp yuh bald-headed, sure." 
 
 Rather shamefaced Phil chased the persistent beast 
 through the brush (Gray Jack enjoying the sport) and 
 
i84 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 left her convinced that she was not wanted, but pro- 
 testingly mooing. He overtook the drive, which was 
 again moving onward. 
 
 From this side and from that, entered other riders, 
 with their bunches ; Ford and Dick, Buster and Henry, 
 Mr. Simms and the Open A man, and all, bringing 
 their gathers, until finally, uniting with a last bunch 
 held and waiting at a spot before, the whole was to- 
 gether. 
 
 " Might as well cut 'em out right here," quoth Old 
 Jess. " Go ahead. Ford ; you an' Henry." 
 
 .While the others kept the circumference of the un- 
 easy herd the two rode through, back and forth, right 
 and left, eying sharply and constantly forcing some 
 cow or steer to the edge, where it was instantly headed 
 out into the open. Some were willing to be sent trot- 
 ting off. But some were determined to get in again; 
 and everybody was busy blocking their return, and 
 giving short chases. Moreover, animals from the herd 
 were always breaking away, unauthorized, and must 
 be turned in. It was feverish, impatient work under 
 the hot, parching sun, in the midst of the alkali dust 
 — ^but Phil liked it. His station bore its share of re- 
 sponsibility ; he was a unit in the field. One of the 
 white-faced bulls came walking out. He gallantly 
 charged it ; and instead of turning, it fronted him with 
 red eyes and rumble, and pawed defiance. Gray Jack 
 swerved, and balked. Phil, taken aback by the burly 
 opposition, scanned the bull rather doubtfully. 
 
 " Better let him alone," shouted voices. " You're 
 liable to get in trouble." 
 
THE SIGNS IN THE ARROYO 185 
 
 " Let him go, Phil," agreed Chet. " He's mad, and 
 he ain't afraid of anything, then." 
 
 So Phil, accepting discretion as the better part of 
 valor, withdrew his opposition. The bull, rumbling 
 sullenly, slowly turned and went shouldering through 
 the mass seeking his rival. 
 
 ** All out, I think," stated Ford, his nimble mount 
 weaving here and there, while Henry, at ease in the 
 saddle, cast an eye over the array of backs and flanks. 
 
 " There's a thunderin' big maverick in yon," he an- 
 nounced. 
 
 "We'll brand her when we get on down. She's 
 a Seven D cow. I brought her in. Her grand- 
 mammy's 'round somewheres, too," said Old Jess. 
 " Found 'em 'way up on the mesy. They range 'tother 
 side the mountain. All right, boys." 
 
 Leaving behind the discard of animals whose brands 
 indicated that they belonged hereabouts and were not 
 to be shoved up with the main body, the drive resumed 
 its course once more. 
 
 " That hawss of Ford's is the best cutting hawss in 
 the country," declared Chet, proudly. "Did you see 
 how he stuck to a cow ? " 
 
 "What's his name?" asked Phil. 
 
 " Lonesome. Ford can show him a cow or calf in 
 a bunch and turn him loose without saddle or bridle 
 and he'll bring it out himself! Every time! He's a 
 dandy. Ford did it once on a bet. I saw him. They 
 always get Ford and Lonesome to do the cutting, if 
 they can." 
 
 It was a long, hard drive. Already Phil was tired. 
 
i86 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 He had ridden miles, up hill and down — trotting-, gal- 
 loping, walking; his lips were cracked, his throat was 
 husky with alkali and raw with shouting. Enveloped 
 in the dust, and the reek of wild onions and perspira- 
 tion from the herd before, forming with Chet the 
 right tip of the crescent of riders, he pressed on. 
 Burning was the sun. There was no breeze, no water, 
 no lunch. More and more perverse waxed the cattle. 
 The whitish dust covered their backs. Their tongues 
 hung out and they panted. Wearied, wabbling little 
 calves lagged, almost unable to stand, bawling for 
 their mothers and refreshment; and the mothers were 
 constantly lagging, also, looking anxiously for their 
 babes. Steers fretfully horned one another; the two 
 ponderous bulls waddled heavily, the fight effectively 
 taken out of them. At the rear the riders shouted and 
 scolded and whacked, using their reserve nervous force 
 to the limit. The herd was literally being shoved on- 
 ward. Phil would have been glad to tumble off his 
 horse, into the sage, and lie as he struck. But he 
 kept his flank in motion, regardless. It had to be done ; 
 and he ruthlessly brought his rope-end down across 
 the tottering black-and-white youngster who was al- 
 ways under Gray Jack's forefeet. 
 
 For the law of the range admits of no partiality. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE BRANDING OF THE BIG MAVERICK 
 
 Now into another road, stretching onward and on- 
 ward, sometimes skirting a hill, sometimes traversing 
 only the flat, monotonous plain; always hot, always 
 parched, always powdery, moved the drive, and toiled 
 along; cow, calf and steer rebellious at the stress which 
 they could not understand, horses fretting, riders ever 
 urging, man and beast alike enveloped in a common 
 cloud of dust fumy with alkali and perspiration and 
 the rank wild-onion breath. The afternoon sun 
 streamed quartering under the broad hat-brims, into 
 the riders' eyes. 
 
 The leading cattle, lowing hoarsely, broke into a 
 lumbering trot; and presently the whole herd was 
 pressing at its best speed, stringing out more and more 
 as the stronger forged to the front, the weaker fell 
 behind. 
 
 " There's a water-hole yonder," informed Chet, 
 thickly, to Phil. " Head 'em off ! " 
 
 But as he and Phil, and other flankers, spurred their 
 jaded horses in sudden circuit. Old Jess forbade. 
 
 "Let 'em go!" he shouted. "Can't hold 'em. 
 No matter. It's far enough for to-day." 
 
 Obliquing from the road, through the brush labored 
 the herd, at gallop, trot and walk, taking its own 
 
 187 
 
1 88 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 course; and the horses also kindled. For water in 
 the desert is life. 
 
 The foremost cattle crowded into a stagnant, white- 
 rimmed pool, and speedily a mass of the animals was 
 shoving and struggling for space to plunge hot, dry 
 nose into the tepid fluid, for long, greedy gulps. The 
 van having halted and no impetus being given by the 
 tyrants who had so relentlessly driven, the middle and 
 rear also halted. Calves dropped in their tracks and 
 lay panting ; others instantly fastened upon their mam- 
 mies and took refreshment then and there; and im- 
 mediately the brush was a spectacle of resting travel- 
 ers, too tired, the most of them, to graze. The favored 
 ones remained luxuriously knee-deep in the pool, bliss- 
 ful and blinking. 
 
 " A couple o' you men stay 'til we brand that 
 maverick, an' the others of yuh can go on to camp," 
 said Old Jess. 
 
 " Phil and I'll stay," announced Chet, promptly. 
 " Shall we, Phil ? " he asked. " There'll be some fun." 
 
 Phil nodded. 
 
 " All right," he agreed. 
 
 If any " fun " was to be the outcome now of this 
 most onerous day he assuredly did not want to miss it. 
 But, wow! He was limp and wearied and didn't 
 much care whether school kept or not ! 
 
 " Don't we give the horses a drink?" he asked. 
 
 "They won't drink that stuff after the cattle have 
 riled it up so. I don't believe they'd drink, anyway, 
 until they're unsaddled." 
 
 Chet dismounted; Phil did likewise — and stood on 
 
BRANDING THE BIG MAVERICK 189 
 
 numbed feet, with crooked knees. Gray Jack and 
 Monte drooped their heads and dozed. 
 
 " Look ! Haney and Jess are going after the maver- 
 ick ! Ford's bringing her out." 
 
 The majority of the riders had taken the foreman at 
 his word and were trotting away. However, Ford had 
 stayed, along with Haney; and whether this was a re- 
 flection upon the ability of the two boys who had so 
 promptly responded to the demand, nobody delayed 
 matters to argue. 
 
 " That'll do," directed Old Jess, when the victim, 
 an overgrown rangy red yearling, had been edged into 
 an open space. 
 
 He and Haney were attending cautiously ; and now 
 the Texan's rope sailed out, to drop its loop neatly 
 over the dazed animal's head. Continuing on Haney 
 took up the slack. At the tautening the yearling 
 awoke. Back and forth she surged, like a great fish 
 hooked. She bawled madly; she leaped and kicked. 
 In his saddle Haney grimly sat, and to her frantic 
 jerks gave no inch. 
 
 Old Jess, watchful as a hawk, followed her motions, 
 his rawhide loop swishing as he swung it, his horse 
 keeping an equal distance. Around and around lunged 
 the angry heifer, thus suddenly annoyed into re- 
 newed strength, bawling hoarsely ; around and around 
 pursued Old Jess. 
 
 '*Kick!" he derided. "Kick! The higher yuh 
 kick the better." 
 
 His slim noose shot out and downward, and with 
 a flipping motion he jerked, reining back sharply. 
 
190 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " Got her, all right ! " declared Chet and Ford. 
 
 " You bet I got her," affirmed Old Jess, his wrinkled, 
 grimy countenance revealing a certain satisfaction. 
 " Only by one leg, though." 
 
 The heifer was in a most uncomfortable position. 
 Stretched by Old Jess' rope her leg, well elevated, ex- 
 tended behind ; stretched by Haney's rope her neck ex- 
 tended straight before; but still she fought gamely 
 (gallant young creature!), balanced between the two 
 tethers, and pulled in opposite directions, but refusing 
 to fall. 
 
 " Swing her," called Haney. 
 
 " Break her leg," objected Old Jess. " Rope's too 
 low." 
 
 " Doin* all / can," averred the Texan. 
 
 " M-maa aa-aa ! " bawled the unhappy heifer, half 
 choked. 
 
 " Whoop-ee ! " gibed the spectators, keen to the pre- 
 dicament. 
 
 Ford, dismounting, darted in, and seizing the help- 
 less animal by the tail, with a violent tug, while the 
 boys cheered, hauled her sideways, and down she 
 thumped, overpowered but never conquered. 
 
 " Better snag that other laig, somebody," called 
 Haney, as he and Old Jess, straining back from their 
 saddle-horns, held the animal prostrate but by no 
 means quiet. 
 
 " I will ! " volunteered Chet, eagerly. 
 
 "Let Smith-Jones. Time he was broken in. He 
 ain't earnin' his pay," quoth Haney. " Take down 
 youah new rope, Smith-Jones." 
 
BRANDING THE BIG MAVERICK 191 
 
 " Get on your hawss, boy," bade Old Jess, impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 " Throw me your loop, Phil." And Ford adroitly 
 slipped it over the heifer's two hind legs, as Old Jess 
 eased up sufficiently. " Take your dallies — wrap the 
 end around the horn — pull the rope tight and your 
 horse'll keep it so. He knows." 
 
 " Yes. All you got to do is to set straight an' 
 look laik you were enjoyin* youahself 'stead o' bein' 
 half daid." 
 
 The big maverick, stretched by the Texan at one end 
 and by Phil (who, thus promoted, felt that at last he 
 was almost on a par with Chet and the other cow- 
 boys) at the other, was helpless. Old Jess, seeing that 
 Gray Jack, with Phil on his back, was holding the two 
 legs securely, grunted and descended from the saddle, 
 leaving his own rope lax. Ford was making the fire ; 
 and soon the red vagrant was given the mark of re- 
 spectable society. 
 
 Releasing her they all rode away — Phil, with the 
 air of a veteran, coiling his rope, which had thus been 
 initiated. 
 
 Unexpectedly to him they hove in sight of the 
 wagon, beyond the creek; abruptly the little company 
 put spurs to their horses and away they went, yap- 
 ping like Apaches, in a wild cowboy race ; Phil, taken 
 by surprise, plugging along in the dust of the rear. 
 They splashed recklessly through the ford, and still 
 at hard run bore down upon the camp, where Pete thei 
 cook was grinning from under his broad hat at tho 
 sight. They pulled up sharply, and while their horses 
 
192 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 were yet on the haunches they tumbled to earth, loos- 
 ened cinches, shed chaps, and were at ease. 
 
 The camp, left to the guardianship of Pete all the 
 day, had visitors. Phil recognized several of the Car- 
 bine group, encountered the evening before; among 
 them was Buck. A little tremor of apprehension 
 passed through him; but he loosened Gray Jack's 
 cinch, doffed his chaps, and approached the wagon to 
 seek his ease. He felt that he had earned it. 
 
 The visitors looked upon him curiously; several 
 nodded. 
 
 " There he is, Buck, if you want him,'' remarked 
 one, slyly. 
 
 Phil hoped that there was to be no more trouble; 
 he was so tired. But as Buck leisurely arose he 
 stood his ground. 
 
 " How," said Buck, gruffly, eyeing him. 
 
 " Hello," said Phil. 
 
 " Not mad, are yuh ? " 
 
 "No. It's all right, is it?" 
 
 " Sure," declared Buck, flushing. " Shake." 
 
 Phil, very gladly, and much relieved, shook hands. 
 
 " You'd never have done it, if yuh hadn't hit me so 
 sudden an' knocked me over," defended Buck, seating 
 himself again, and composedly rolling a cigarette. 
 
 " Maybe not," responded Phil, also sitting. But he 
 had his private opinion. 
 
 And thus differences were adjusted. 
 
 The party lolled, relaxed in Various postures, 
 around the mess wagon. The wearied cow-horses 
 stood drooping and dozing in the brush, waiting for 
 
BRANDING THE BIG MAVERICK 193 
 
 the herd to come in. Pete busied himself with his 
 dough making and his Dutch ovens. 
 
 *' Grub pi-i-ile," sighed Haney, softly, who had 
 thrown down his dusty hat, and himself, equally dust- 
 covered, beside it. " An* pity the pore cowboy. Seems 
 laik I smell pie." 
 
 " Got an awful good smeller, then," returned Pete 
 the cook. " I baked them pies this noon. Traid they 
 ain't much good, tho\ Reckon you fellers must be 
 hungry. Have supper in a minute, now." 
 
 And this time not a voice extravagantly protested: 
 "No hurry, Pete!" 
 
 Regardless of Pete's professional diffidence, the 
 dried-apple pie baked in those Dutch ovens proved ex- 
 cellent. But to Phil the best thing on the menu was 
 the canned tomatoes, whose pulp and juice, poured 
 into a tin cup and drunk therefrom, were as nectar to 
 alkali-burned mouth and throat. Phil never would 
 have believed that common canned tomato supped out 
 of a common tin cup could be so lusciously good. 
 
 Hombre came in with the horse-herd or cavvy; the 
 Open A man went out with it. Phil was thankful 
 that Old Jess had not assigned him to a night watch 
 — he, Phil, being about " all in." 
 
 " Get enough riding to hold yuh till morning ? " 
 queried Mr. Simms, observing him stiffly stagger to 
 his feet. 
 
 Phil smiled; he could not deny. And glad enough 
 to pull off his boots, yawning scandalously the mean- 
 time, he early put himself to bed; Chet joining him 
 and the rest of the camp being not much later. 
 
194 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 Not until he was lying snug and comfortable amidst 
 the coverings, upon the hard ground, did the message 
 of the arroyo occur to him — and Chet's note found 
 in the brush. 
 
 He gave an explosive little exclamation. 
 
 " What'smatter," murmured Chet, drowsily. 
 
 "We never said anything about the signs and that 
 note ! " 
 
 " She's 'way off now," murmured Chet. 
 
 But drifting into slumber, Phil resolved that the ap- 
 peal should not pass unheeded. The girl should be 
 succored, and if possible those villains, the man with 
 one eye, the man with the limp, and the man with 
 the frozen smile, be brought to book. 
 
 So again the round-up camp slept. And the cat- 
 tle, likewise wearied, about the water-hole, they, also, 
 no doubt, slept ; old cow, baby calf, bachelor steer and 
 lordly bull recking naught of the morrow, servants 
 all to the pitiless law of the range. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 PHIL PROVES HIMSELF 
 
 To Phil It seemed that scarcely had he closed his 
 eyes when he was being obliged to rise again, and 
 start upon another day. With yawns and grunts and 
 interchange of jocularities, in the frosty pink of the 
 dawn the camp dragged itself from bed and gathered 
 at the cook's fire. Some keen glances were cast upon 
 himself, as if critically appraising his condition; and 
 he endeavored to bear himself jauntily and tried hard 
 not to limp. He hoped that he did not look as he 
 felt — generally stiff and drawn and burned, and, in 
 particular spots, sore. He did not comprehend, yet, 
 that the men read him (or thought they read him) 
 like a book of brands; and he was ignorant that his 
 eyes were blood-shot and inflamed, and tell-tale by 
 themselves alone. He thought that he caught refer- 
 ence to his name between Old Jess and Mr. Simms: 
 but nobody addressed him otherwise than casually; so 
 he paid no attention except to his own business, which 
 was the proper thing to do. 
 
 " Boy," said Mr. Simms, after breakfast, while the 
 horse-herd was approaching, " there won't be much 
 doing to-day. A couple of us will shove that bunch 
 we got yesterday a few miles up the country, and 
 there'll be a little gathering in some o' the pockets 
 
 195 
 
196 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 we missed in the circle. How'd you like to stay 
 'round camp and help the cook a bit? " 
 
 Phil's face fell, but* he answered promptly : 
 
 " All right. If you and Jess think I'd better." 
 
 "The cook needs somebody to fetch him wood," 
 continued Mr. Simms, hesitantly. " You did your rid- 
 ing yesterday, and to-day'll be about the same thing, 
 only, less so. The roundup's young, yet, and you'll 
 get plenty of it 'fore you quit. And in the higher 
 country you'll enjoy it more. These are nothing but 
 the bad lands." 
 
 "Yes; if I can do anything I'll stay in camp. 
 Sure," assented Phil, now rallying from his disap- 
 pointment. 
 
 " Good," approved the cattleman. " There isn't 
 anybody'll think less of you for it. It's all in the 
 roundup work, to do what you're asked to do. Every 
 little helps. What hawss you going to ride to-day? " 
 
 "Will I need a horse?" 
 
 " Sure. Save out a hawss to snake the wood with. 
 You may want him, anyhow; and it'll be too late af- 
 ter the herd's gone out again." 
 
 " Medicine Eye, then. It's his turn," and Phil 
 brightened, for he had feared being that disconsolate 
 creature, a cowboy relegated to foot duty. 
 
 "You rope him, or I?" 
 
 " I'll rope him," declared Phil. 
 
 And so he did, at the first throw; Medicine Eye, 
 a long-legged bay with an eye walled (whence his 
 name), and further distinguished by a split ear, oblig- 
 ingly standing quietly on the outside of the herd. 
 
PHIL PROVES HIMSELF 197 
 
 This was quite a morning for " uncorking " horses, 
 no less than three animals bucking and racing through 
 the brush, carrying their hard-sitting riders, while 
 the camp applauded. Phil fervently hoped that Medi- 
 cine Eye would not be infected by the examples, 
 for he could buck, could Medicine Eye; everybody 
 said so. 
 
 Having saddled him and tethered him to a clump 
 of sage, Phil watched the camp, Chet and all, save the 
 cook, ride away; and the satisfaction that he was not 
 obliged to try out Medicine Eye before them helped 
 him to endure being left behind. 
 
 "What do you want me to do first, Pete.^" he 
 asked, turning. 
 
 " If Pm goin' to make up a mess o' bear-sign. Pit 
 have to have more wood. Got to have it anyway,'' 
 blurted Pete, gruffly, seeming to be not in the best 
 of humors. 
 
 "All right. Whafs bear-sign?" 
 
 "Oh, doughnuts, fried cakes, whatever yuh call 
 'em out East." 
 
 Phil proceeded to Medicine Ejre. 
 
 " Where do I get the wood ? " he ventured. 
 
 Pete snorted. 
 
 ''Get it? You know wood when yuh see it, don't 
 yuh?" 
 
 " Yes," answered Phil, meekly. 
 
 " Well, those hills yonder are full of it. Put yore 
 rope on a bunch of it an' snake it back. That's all 
 yuh got to do." 
 
 Phil threw the lines over Medicine Eye's head, and 
 
198 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 laid a foot in the stirrup, to mount. He paused ap- 
 prehensively. Medicine Eye appeared to shrink, at 
 the movement, and stood curiously humped, his walled 
 optic rolling back just a mere flicker. So Phil paused. 
 
 " Goin' to buck, ain't he ? " addressed Pete, cheer- 
 fully, from his dishwashing by the fire. 
 
 " I don't know. I guess not," averred Phil, in an 
 uncertain voice. 
 
 " Sorter humpy, jus* the same," persisted Pete, not 
 at all reassuring. " Get on him quick. Wouldn't 
 give him much time to think." 
 
 His heart in his mouth Phil desperately swung 
 aboard. 
 
 " Ought to have cheeked him," decreed Pete, 
 watching. 
 
 Medicine Eye did not budge. He stood ominously 
 humped; when Phil landed in the saddle he had 
 slightly cringed, that is all. 
 
 "Well, reckon you'll have to stick him. Hold up 
 his head an' stick him. Can't set there all day. 1 
 need some wood," directed Pete, ruthlessly. 
 
 Taking a deep breath and still far from confident, 
 Phil gathered short rein, and modestly touched Medi- 
 cine Eye underneath with the spur ; and clucked. 
 
 " Gwan." 
 
 With oddly stiff, jolty, abbreviated steps Medicine 
 Eye rebelliously moved through the brush. 
 
 " Aw, he ain't goin' to buck," called Pete. " He's 
 changed his mind. Here's the ax." 
 
 Ax across shoulder, Phil, greatly relieved by the 
 outcome of events, rode athwart the flat, for a sparsely 
 
PHIL PROVES HIMSELF 199 
 
 tiLibered knoll half a mile distant. Medicine Eye still 
 moved gingerly, as if not quite sure of himself, but 
 his rider boldly spurred him into a gallop. 
 
 Collecting a pile of the dry boughs and dead trunks, 
 having knocked off the smaller side branches, Phil 
 tightened his loop about a compact bundle and re- 
 turned, gloriously dragging it from his saddle-horn, to 
 Pete. 
 
 Pete viewed it with disgust. 
 
 "What do yuh call that?" he demanded. 
 
 "Wood," said Phil. "Why?" 
 
 Pete kicked the bundle contemptuously apart with 
 his foot, scattering it. 
 
 " Wood," he snorted, sourly. " An* not a stick in 
 it that a man can burn. If I was some cooks an' you 
 brought me a mess o' pifion to soot the camp up with, 
 I'd chase you off the ground with a six-shooter. Ain't 
 there no cedar over there ? " 
 
 " I suppose so," stammered Phil, astonished. 
 
 "Well, you put in yore time on that. An' don't 
 you ever again insult no roundup cook by fetchin' 
 him pitch-pine when he wants wood! Hurry up; I 
 got this bear-sign to bake, 'fore noon." 
 
 Crestfallen, Phil rode back to the knoll; and be- 
 hind him, at the mess wagon, the cook grumbled, 
 disgruntled, giving forth caustic remarks on the " fool 
 tenderfoot who fetched pifion when he was tol' to get 
 wood! " 
 
 Medicine Eye had steadied into ordinary horse 
 manner, and had objected not at all to hauling the 
 bundle of pifion, nor was he objecting now to hauling 
 
200 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 its successor, the bundle of cedar, bouncing and tum- 
 bling along in the rear. But when almost at the lire 
 the bundle caught fast in the brush. 
 
 "Come along. Pull her loose, an' come along. 
 I can't wait all day," bade Pete, the despot. " Fire's 
 most out, already." 
 
 Phil spurred Medicine Eye, the rope drew taut, 
 strained, and with a sudden snapping the bundle tore 
 loose, to hurtle forward and land under Medicine 
 Eye's rear cinch. An up-projecting stick prodded him 
 in the tenderness of his stomach — and with an af- 
 frighted jump and grunt he was off. 
 
 " Hi ! Ki yi ! " yelled Pete, also electrified. " Now 
 he's buckin'. Hang to him, kid. Hold up his head 
 — hold up his head ! " 
 
 For Medicine Eye, totally abandoning his pacific 
 mien, was gyrating wildly. Down was his head, up 
 was his back, curved was his tail, and thud, thud, 
 grunt, grunt, he hopped through the brush. 
 
 Alarmed and amazed at the violent change in his 
 charger, Phil could only cling desperately. Jerk, 
 jerk, jerk he went, the oscillations of the earthquake 
 saddle almost snapping his head from his neck. 
 
 " Pull leather, but stay with him ! " shrieked Pete. 
 " Get the motion ! Get the motion ! Don't fight it ! " 
 
 Amidst his terrific jouncing Phil tried to collect 
 himself, to remember all that he had heard in respect 
 to riding a "bad hawss," and to put it into prac- 
 tice, now at his need. But his ideas were being jolted 
 together, and mixed. 
 
 ** Grip with yore thighs." " Ride loose." " Best 
 
PHIL PROVES HIMSELF 201 
 
 rider ever I saw rode as if he was unjointed." " Ketch 
 yore spurs in his cinch. That's the way I do." These 
 fragments of conversation, shaken to the surface, 
 submerged again, were succeeded by others. 
 
 Away shot Phil's hat; his left foot lost the stir- 
 rup, and he hung, sprawled sideways, half off. The 
 end was near. But a lucky bounce righted him again. 
 At the very first leap his rope had slipped from the 
 horn, and the bundle of cedar was somewhere in the 
 brush. 
 
 " Hey ! Where the dickens yuh headin' ? " ex- 
 postulated Pete. " Turn him. Confound you, look 
 what you're doin' now ! " 
 
 He fled, but from his safe vantage the other side 
 of the wagon he continued to berate. Into the kitchen 
 had lurched Medicine Eye, and was plunging, re- 
 gardless, there. Over rolled Dutch ovens, a kick sent 
 the coffee-pot flying, the pails sped helter skelter, and 
 at the touch of hoof the mess box distributed " reload- 
 ing tools " far and wide. 
 
 "Get out o' there!" yelled Pete, frantic. "Ain't 
 yuh got no sense, either of yuh ? " 
 
 Now Phil's right foot was out of the stirrup. 
 And as incited to fresh endeavors by the rattle of 
 kitchen-ware under his hoofs. Medicine Eye, snorting, 
 jumped yet higher, his rider, flung from him at ^ 
 tangent, landed in a tall bush of greasewood. 
 
 Medicine Eye, lightened of the weight, instantly 
 ceased his spasm and, as if ashamed, mildly looked 
 about him. 
 
 Pete left his retreat and advanced into the open. 
 
202 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 "Hurt yuh?" he asked 
 
 Phil had picked himself up, and was feeling hii 
 face, somewhat scratched. 
 
 "No," he said. " ;Where*s my hat, I wonder. 
 Didn't he buck, though ! " 
 
 "Who? That hawss? He didn't buck," retorted 
 the cook, scornfully. "Don't call that buckin', do 
 yuh? 
 
 " Trouble is," continued Pete, " you can't ride. 
 Yuh sit like a sack o' potatoes. An' look what yuh 
 done to my camp, too! Pots an' pails kicked all 
 to pieces an' a whole batch o' bear-sign spoiled. Darn 
 yuh! Yuh ought to had yore head busted. Where's 
 that hawss ? I'll take all the buck out o' him! That's 
 what comes o' havin' a tenderfoot in a roundup camp. 
 Never see one yet that wasn't better off where ha 
 belonged, at home." 
 
 Thus scolding, Pete strode wrathfully to Medicine 
 Eye and grabbing him by the bit led him roughly out. 
 
 " I'll give yuh somethin' to buck for," he declared. 
 " Butt in on my ovens, will yuh ? Step in my coffee 
 pot, will yuh? An' dump dough all over the sage 
 brush ! When I'm on yore back you'll wish yuh could 
 lay down somewheres and die! I've forked buckin' 
 hawsses before." 
 
 Grasping the bridle at the cheek strap, and twist- 
 ing Medicine Eye's head rudely in toward him, he 
 vaulted into the saddle. 
 
 " Now go it ! " he ordered. " What yuh standin' 
 for? Go it." 
 
 But Medicine Eye's brief fit was over. He had 
 
PHIL PROVES HIMSELF 203 
 
 wearied of his program, as abruptly ended as be- 
 gun, and he was good horse again. Perhaps, as 
 alleged, he was ashamed. As if bewildered by the 
 strenuosity of his new rider he cantered a few ten- 
 tative steps. 
 
 "Go it, blame yuh! Buck! Yuh bucked with a 
 man who couldn't ride; now buck with a man who 
 can! Yuh got the real thing on yore back — a buster 
 from Busterville. When he ain't bustin' he cooks; 
 but mostly he's bustin'! Whoopee! I'll teach yuh 
 to run over my Dutch ovens an' good dough ! " 
 
 On this side and on that Pete slapped him across 
 the face with broad hat, and the while prodded him 
 with his heels. 
 
 " Take up the back cinch," called Phil. 
 
 Pete leaned and jerked at the cinch. As if he were 
 a trick horse and this were a signal. Medicine Eye, 
 loath no more, commenced indeed to perform. Away 
 he went, bucking, over the brush; and rocking in the 
 saddle Pete yelped with glee. 
 
 " Buck ! " he urged, slapping with the hat. " You 
 ain't buckin' ! You — whoa-oa, Emma ! " 
 
 Exasperated by the continual nagging Medicine 
 Eye now at last opened up. He bucked; he pitched 
 so violently that twice he almost fell backward, and 
 Pete swung loose, preparatory; he squealed and shook 
 his head, and tore hither and thither. Pete's hat no 
 longer slapped him — for the hat had gone to join 
 Phil's. Pete no longer urged him on — for urging 
 would be superfluous. Pete no longer yelped with 
 derision — for Pete's breath was becoming too precious 
 
204 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 to be wasted. But well and stoutly rode Pete, ex- 
 puncher, sometime cook, and had not Medicine Eye, 
 dashing at full speed for the creek, on the bank set 
 his fore-feet and abruptly stopped short, Pete might 
 have been riding there yet. As it was, he left the 
 saddle and head-first proceeded over Medicine Eye's 
 ears, with a mighty plash entering the water below. 
 
 Not knowing whether to laugh or to sympathize 
 Phil ran to the rescue. When he gazed from the 
 bank he was frightened. At this point, the current, 
 muddy and sluggish, flowed ominously smooth. Evi- 
 dently the creek was deep here. And there was no 
 token of Pete ! 
 
 Phil hastily kicked off his chaps and tugged at 
 his boots, all the time keeping his gaze fixed upon the 
 surface of the thick flow. 
 
 Aha ! A swirl in the water, and the sight of Peter's 
 ashy, streaming face and staring eyes ! 
 
 Phil hesitated not an instant, but plunged in. Ugh ! 
 The surprisingly cold fluid took his breath away as 
 he soused under, and as he rose to the surface again 
 he gasped convulsively. He had no stomach ; no room 
 to inhale, either; and fighting to start his lungs he 
 drew short, shuddering whiffs of the life-giving 
 oxygen. But he must not think of himself. He was 
 here for Pete; and as he raised high and peered 
 along the stream he again saw Pete's agonized coun- 
 tenance, amidst a great threshing of arms. Forgetting 
 his own sensations of pain he frantically struck out 
 for the spot. 
 
 Groping with legs and hands presently he encoun- 
 
PHIL PROVES HIMSELF 205 
 
 tered a soft, yielding object, and his fingers closed 
 upon it. At the same time his feet touched bottom; 
 and also at the same time Pete, who evidently enough 
 was not yet unconscious, returned the grasp with in- 
 terest by clutching him tightly and literally claw- 
 ing a way along his person to the surface. 
 
 They stood front to front; Pete holding on, for 
 dear life, and coughing raucously, strangled as he was ; 
 Phil gradually sinking deeper and deeper, held by the 
 cook's weight and his own. 
 
 " Let go of me ! " he ordered. " YouVe all right 
 now. We're on bottom. Let go of me. We're 
 sinking. You're drowning both of us." 
 
 " Ugh ! Ugh ! Ugh ! " coughed Pete, and essay- 
 ing to hoist himself farther inch by inch as inch by 
 inch Phil settled. 
 
 " You'll drown us both ! " protested Phil, angrily, 
 pushing him away, and trying to wrench loose. 
 
 " No, no ! Oh, no, no ! " gurgled Pete, whom the 
 unpleasant word " drown " set off into a panic re- 
 newed. "Hold me up. Ugh! Ugh!" 
 
 The water rose to Phil's lips and he tilted his 
 chin ; past his nose, and under he went, Pete fatuously 
 clinging to him like a squirrel to a piece of bark. 
 
 In the icy, suffocating depths they floundered; and 
 still grappled they came up again. The water here 
 was only chest-deep — Phil's chest. They were at the 
 edge of a little island; and Phil staggered up on it, 
 the coughing cook hanging to his neck. 
 
 "Now let go, can't you!" bade Phil, out of pa- 
 tience. " You can't drown here! " 
 
206 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 Pete opened his eyes, and stared affrighted about 
 him. Reluctantly he loosened his clutch; Phil by an 
 impatient jerk shook him off entirely. 
 
 " You ought not to hang on like that, when a 
 fellow's trying to help you. You keep him from 
 doing anything," rebuked Phil, as hotly as possible 
 for anybody so cold. 
 
 " I sure thought I was a goner," confessed Pete. 
 "Ugh! Ugh!" 
 
 "Well, come on." 
 
 " Where you goin* ? " asked Pete. 
 
 " Ashore. We can wade it." 
 
 " She looks deep. Dam that hawss ! Say, wait 
 a minute." 
 
 " No. I'm freezing. You can wade where I can, 
 I should think," and Phil, with this sarcastic prod, 
 started. 
 
 " Go slow. Fm right behind. But Fd feel a heap 
 safer if somebody had a rope on me. Ugh ! Ugh ! " 
 
 The water was only waist-high, and plowing 
 through it, Pete breathing hard and fearfully, they 
 clambered up the bank. Now in the air and slight 
 breeze, warm though the sun was, their teeth chat- 
 tered, their bodies shook. 
 
 " B-by th-thunder, that was a n-narrow squeak," 
 asserted Pete. " Did you jump in after me?" 
 
 "Why, y-yes," said Phil. "But I d-didn't need 
 t-to. It wasn't over y-your head." 
 
 " W-wasn't maybe if I h-hadn't b-been wrong side 
 up. Darned hawss d-didn't give me n-no chance. 
 You p-peel off them clothes. Got s-some others ?" 
 
PHIL PROVES HIMSELF 207 
 
 " Yes. P-peel off your own." 
 
 " Goin' to. But I ain*t had pneumony. You have. 
 Ugh! Burr!" 
 
 " Oh, Jiminy, but we're sights ! " laughed Phil, 
 suddenly hilarious as he stripped by the wagon. 
 " Mud bath." 
 
 " Swallowed so much my lungs are all bogged 
 down," grumbled Pete, likewise stripping. " Never 
 will get 'em out. Great Henry, boy ! " he exclaimed 
 abruptly, eying Phil. "What are those things on 
 yuh?" 
 
 " Saddle sores, I guess." 
 
 " Saddle sores! Well, if you ain't branded proper 
 I'm a greaser! Don't they hurt yuh?" 
 
 " Some." 
 
 " Humph ! I take off my hat to yuh. A man who'll 
 set on those an' never say a word has certainly got 
 grit, for a tenderfoot." 
 
 " They'll wear off," alleged Phil, embarrassed. 
 
 " Got to," agreed Pete. " Well," he sighed, " mebbe 
 yuh can't ride like yuh ought to, but you're wise 
 to the water. I can ride, but I'm plumb locoed when 
 I get in water." He was almost dressed, and he pro- 
 ceeded to spread out his soggy clothing on the bushes. 
 " Yuh might fetch in that wood, now," he directed. 
 " I'm goin' to build some more bear-sign." 
 
 Phil went to Medicine Eye, who was standing half 
 asleep, and prepared to mount. Pete, picking up his 
 precious hat, out of a corner of his eye observed. 
 
 " Think you'll give him another whirl, eh ? " 
 
 " Might as well," declared Phil, with a confidence 
 
208 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 which surprised himself. " Got to have wood, haven't 
 we? I'm not going to pack it clear in through the 
 brush on foot." 
 
 " I guess he won't make any more trouble, if he 
 ain't teched under his belly," and as if dismissing 
 past events entirely Pete turned his back, to work. 
 But in his gruffness and apparent unconcern Phil fan- 
 cied there lay a note of approval, again. 
 
 Medicine Eye was now as docile and willing as 
 the staidest of old cow-horses. The wood (cedar!) 
 was snaked without mishap — Phil being wary of tres- 
 pass on his mount's back-cinch region — and the new 
 batch of bear-sign was committed to the ovens. When 
 the camp for the first time assembled at dinner the 
 delicacy was ready. 
 
 Little by little Pete divulged the events of the 
 morning. 
 
 " Mebbe he can't ride, yet, but he's sure wised to 
 the water," he insisted, magnanimously. "Jumped 
 right in, he did." And he wagged his big hat. 
 
 " That's more than any man in camp would do," 
 averred Mr. Simms, with tone positive. " Unless it's 
 Ford. You swim, boy?" 
 
 " Of course," blushed Phil. 
 
 " Then I reckon you and Ford are the only people 
 in this whole country who can. And Ford's forgot- 
 ten, ain't yuh, Ford?" 
 
 " Shouldn't wonder. I'd probably try to rope any- 
 body out like the rest of you," said Ford, good- 
 naturedly. 
 
 " Gee, wish I could swim," quoth Chet, with open 
 
PHIL PROVES HIMSELF 209 
 
 envy. " But there ain't any place to learn, in the 
 mountains. Water's too cold." 
 
 " 'Fraid o' snaiks, daown in Texas where I was 
 raised," declared Haney. 
 
 Phil endeavored not to be over-proud. 
 
 " I didn't have to swim more than a few strokes," 
 he explained. " It wasn't over our heads." 
 
 "Was over mine," insisted Pete, stubbornly; 
 "'cause I went in that end fust an' got to millin' 
 'round." 
 
 Following a few words together, after dinner, with 
 Old Jess, Mr. Simms spoke aside, with Phil. 
 
 " Pete says you've got saddle welts on you as big 
 as his finger. How are they? Pretty sore?" 
 
 "No, sir; I can stand them," asserted Phil, de- 
 termined not to let anybody be concerned about him. 
 
 "Good. They'll flatten out, after a bit. How'd 
 you like to wrangle hawsses, for a while, then? Old 
 Jess thinks you'll do, and that other boy hasn't turned 
 up, yet." 
 
 Phil's face fell. He preferred being a cowboy. 
 
 "There's a dollar a day in it," tempted the cattle- 
 man, reading his countenance. "You'll be regular 
 on the pay-roll. Better try it. We all of us begun by 
 jinglin' hawsses at the roundup. Chet did, Buster did, 
 so did Dick. Besides, we got to have somebody." 
 
 "Yes, sir. I'll do it, then," assented Phil, still 
 not overjoyed. 
 
 " Don't think it isn't a full-size job ; because it 
 is," instructed the cattleman. " A good wrangler 
 means a whole lot to a camp. Get the hawsses in 
 
2IO 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 promptly and don't lose any of 'em, and you'll find 
 we all appreciate it. This lets you out o' night-hawk- 
 ing, too. If you herd all day yuh can sleep all night 
 — at least, till four or five o'clock. The herd's com- 
 ing, now. You can go back out with it, and let 
 Hombre show you the fine points, this afternoon." 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 PHIL MEETS THE ENEMY AND IS THEIRS 
 
 The official post of " hawss jingler " proved after 
 all a job not unpleasant nor to be sneezed at. It con- 
 sisted of supervising the herd from early dawn until 
 dusk — seeing that none of the horses strayed, and 
 that all were brought in three times a day in readi- 
 ness for the camp to select fresh mounts. 
 
 At first Phil had been rather staggered when he 
 came to figure upon managing alone a hundred ani- 
 mals loose in the open sage. But Hombre instructed 
 him. 
 
 "You not need watch ever'one, jus' a few," said 
 Hombre, his white teeth flashing as he talked so 
 earnestly. "Dos few they lead off, others follow. 
 Dat ol' white mare with brown colt — ^she a bad 
 one. All time sneakin' ofY. She ought be hobbled. 
 Mares, they the worst, always. Watch mares. Horses 
 follow them, ever' time. Ladies fust, jus' as with us. 
 That ol' white mare with brown colt, an' that big 
 roan with one ear busted (her name Jack Rabbit), 
 an' that ol' black fool with star on forehead, an' 
 that little bay Flying U man brought, with Box C 
 brand on hip — dos ones all bad for sneakin', an' 
 takin' ever' boss they can get with 'em. When I 
 see they in the herd, I guess nobody gone, an' I 
 lie in the sage and sleep, mebbe." 
 
 211 
 
212 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " You know why they call hoss-herd 'cavvy ' ? '* 
 inquired Hombre, next. 
 
 " No," answered Phil. " I've been wondering." 
 
 " That from Mexican — my language. ' Caballada ' 
 — eet mean hoss-herd, too. Americano say * cavvy ' 
 — what you call 'em — for short. Eet * remuda,' down 
 South." 
 
 " But that other's a Spanish word, isn't it?" sug- 
 gested Phil. 
 
 " No, no ! " Hombre was vehement. " Caballada ; 
 eet Mexican. I no spik Spanish. All Mexicano," 
 he asserted proudly. 
 
 Phil wisely did not argue. 
 
 It took only a couple of days for him to know 
 each horse in the herd. There were ninety-three when 
 every rider in camp had one out. This included the 
 four team-horses used on the wagon. He found 
 that Hombre had spoken truly, and that if especial 
 care was taken of the ring-leaders in mischief, the 
 herd stayed together. That was a good scheme. The 
 most toilsome part was rolling out in the frosty 
 graying just at the approach of dawn, when even the 
 cook scarcely was stirring; and sleepily donning gar- 
 ments by sense of touch, to stumble through the dim 
 brush, stiffly mount the waiting horse, in the cold 
 saddle ride yawning away, and rounding up the herd 
 grazing and groaning amidst the lightening sage to 
 bring it in by sunrise. 
 
 Then, relieved that every horse was present, he 
 could enjoy his cup of hot coffee and his other break- 
 fast, while his charges were in the rope corral. After 
 
 1 
 
PHIL MEETS THE ENEMY 213 
 
 the mounts of the morning were caught, his own 
 among them, out he drove the herd again — glad 
 enough, all left of it, to escape — and putting it at 
 pasture in a convenient draw loafed in the saddle 
 or upon the ground, sun-warmed and comfortable, 
 guarding. Occasionally he must make a dash to turn 
 back the " ol' white mare," or the Jack Rabbit mare, 
 or another of the sisterhood ; and this gave a spice of 
 excitement to his solitary vigil under the broad blue 
 sky. 
 
 At noon, or when the sun was highest, he gath- 
 ered his charges and took them in to camp again, 
 if they were to be needed, and at sunset did the 
 same. After he had placed them for the night he 
 could return to bed. 
 
 He missed the companionship of Chet, and of Haney 
 and Ford and the rest; but he was doing regular 
 work, and actually was earning wages. He was a 
 real member of the camp — albeit nobody had ever 
 spoken very complimentary of " hawss jingling " as a 
 profession. 
 
 The roundup proceeded. Phil was freed from the 
 long, dusty rides out, and the plodding, nerve-racking 
 drives in, but he rather envied Chet and the men their 
 burned, weary appearance, as he saw them at meals 
 and around the fire in the evenings. He was no 
 "hawss jingler," by spirit; not he. Like Hombre he 
 was merely helping out until the genuine wrangler 
 turned up. He, Phil, was cow-puncher with the Bar 
 B outfit. 
 
 The country at this end of the Owl Creek range 
 
214 BAR B BOYS 
 
 had now been well gone over, the cattle had been 
 pushed on up, and 'twas time to move the camp. 
 
 " We're goin' to change over to the Big Piney 
 water-hole, in the mornin'," announced Old Jess, to 
 Phil. " You can have Chet to help yuh take the herd. 
 He knows the country. You don't — ^an' it's a two-man 
 job, anyway." 
 
 Therefore, the next morning, the horse herd was 
 not driven out again to pasture, as usual, but was held 
 in the rope corral. The saddle animals and the pack 
 animals were snaked out, the beds were tied on, the 
 men good-naturedly helped Pete with his wagon; and 
 soon after breakfast the camp dispersed, the riders 
 diverging across the sage, the herd, in charge of Chet 
 and Phil, with Pete and his four-horse equipage be- 
 hind, following a trail. And the rendezvous was, as 
 said, the Big Piney water-hole — though where that 
 lay, Phil had no idea. 
 
 But Chet and Pete had. This sagy, rolling coun- 
 try with scarcely a land-mark in it — mesa resembling 
 mesa, and shaly hill resembling shaly hill — was as 
 varied and as familiar to them as is city or town to 
 anybody living there. Over yonder was the water- 
 hole, and they knew exactly the way to it without 
 looking for numbers or landmarks, nor counting blocks 
 nor turns. 
 
 The herd drove at a free pace, stringing out along 
 the dusty road, now breaking into a trot as the two 
 boys pressed the rear and the motion was communi- 
 cated through to the van, and now slackening to a 
 walk. 
 
PHIL MEETS THE ENEMY 215 
 
 Glad were Phil and Chet to be together again. As 
 they rode they chatted like old pardners of the range 
 re-united. Presently, glancing back at Pete who with 
 his heavy wagon had been dropping further and fur- 
 ther behind, Phil exclaimed: 
 
 "Where's he going?" 
 
 For the cook was striking off on his own hook, 
 into the sage. 
 
 " He's making a short cut, to hit the trail again 
 ahead of us," declared Chet. " But I know a shorter 
 one. Wait. We'll fool him, and beat him into camp, 
 easy." 
 
 Pete obliqued into a shallow draw and gradually 
 disappeared. The boys continued on along the road. 
 They traveled briskly. The country became rougher, 
 rim-rock and steep little hills, bouldered and timbered 
 with squat cedar, hedging the way on either hand. 
 But the road followed a slightly rolling course, be- 
 tween. 
 
 After some five miles, Chet ordered: 
 
 " Turn 'em up here." 
 
 Galloping from the flank Phil headed the herd 
 and directed the leaders up the sharp, loosely-graveled 
 incline at the right; snorting and jostling and scram- 
 bling the horses made the ascent. The top was level. 
 A single trail led across it, through the cedars and 
 the pinons, and this they followed. 
 
 " Pete couldn't get up here with the wagon," 
 chuckled Chet, delighted at the prospect. " He thinks 
 he's smart, but we'll fool him." 
 
 " How far is the Big Piney now ? " asked Phil. 
 
2l6 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " About fifteen mile, straight across this mesa. 
 This is the old Ute trail. It reaches clear across 
 the State, from Wyoming down into New Mexico." 
 
 " ^Tisn't the trail Chief Billy was taking, with me, 
 is it?" 
 
 "No. He was going into Utah. The Uintah 
 trail's different. This is the big trail for hunting and 
 war parties. But they don't use it much, any more." 
 
 Phil might have enjoyed the romance of fol- 
 lowing this old enduring bridle path over which had 
 passed during so many years the Indian upon hunt 
 or foray bent; but he had much else to occupy his 
 thoughts. 
 
 " Aw, what yuh doin' ! " shouted Chet, at the herd. 
 " Red Bird ! Get out o' there ! Ring ! Sukie ! " He 
 explained wrathfully to Phil. " They try to rub their 
 packs off by squeezing between two trees, and scrap- 
 ing under branches. Look at that? Red Bird's torn 
 my tarp! Watch 'em." 
 
 The trail led through a stretch of large cedars 
 and pifions thickly set. The very spirit of mischief 
 seemed to have pervaded the herd. The horses spread 
 out, and went racing and kicking amidst the trees, 
 the pack animals astutely rubbing their packs against 
 everything available. Both Phil and Chet had their 
 hands full, riding flank and rear; reproving, coercing, 
 galloping forward and galloping back, seeing that 
 no member was left, and that the packs stayed in 
 place. 
 
 The old white mare and her brown colt were on 
 Phil's side, and persistently gave him trouble. They 
 
PHIL MEETS THE ENEMY 217 
 
 edged more and more to the outskirts, and presently 
 he would glimpse them making away, at an angle, 
 through the tree trunks, slavishly accompanied by 
 half a dozen willing satellites. Whereupon, spurring 
 out and hallooing, back he would turn them into the 
 column again. Ah, twain pests they were, that old 
 white mother and her lanky brown boy. 
 
 There they went once more, trotting determinedly 
 off at a tangent with the main body, on an independent 
 course in quest of the unknown lying to the right. 
 His keen eyes roving hither and thither, Phil sighted 
 them; and spurring Gray Jack he dashed recklessly 
 through the cedars, to foil the plot. 
 
 Away loped the white mare and brown colt, with 
 four others whom they had inveigled; and hard pur- 
 sued Phil, swinging out in order to cut ahead of them. 
 
 With crackle, crash and shout on they raced, thirty 
 yards apart, Gray Jack and the white mischief-maker, 
 the trees intervening. This time the truant band was 
 proving most stubborn. 
 
 Faster pressed Phil. It was a test of wills, and he 
 had to keep on now, after his first attempt. Out they 
 all sped together, Phil dismayed but undaunted, Gray 
 Jack grunting with eagerness, the truants evidently 
 enjoying themselves; out from the thicker cedars, and 
 up a sloping swale well grassed and thinly timbered, 
 with ledgy shelves protruding. Something jumped 
 up with an explosive quickness from beside a boulder 
 right under Gray Jack's nose and went bounding off, 
 flashing white rump. It was a deer, the first that 
 Phil ever had seen wild. Involuntarily he pulled 
 
2l8 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 Gray Jack short, to gaze admiringly. Amidst the 
 grass and ledges a snappy, flat report rang out, and 
 the bounding creature pitched forward, to lie kicking. 
 A man on horseback, whom Phil had not noted be- 
 fore, came riding down, from opposite the fallen ani- 
 mal. Phil trotted over, curious — a glance showing 
 him that the old white mare and her followers had 
 halted and were grazing. He would have a look at 
 the deer, and then riding on would turn his squad of 
 truants. The man had dismounted and was cutting 
 the deer's throat, to bleed it. He straightened up, as 
 Phil arrived, and waited with an amused, rather con- 
 ceited smirk on his face. It was the man with the 
 frozen smile! 
 
 " Oh ! It's you once more, is it ? " stammered 
 Phil, taken aback. 
 
 "Yes; we meet again, lad," responded the man, 
 civilly. "You don't happen to be a game warden, I 
 reckon ? " 
 
 " No, sir. I don't." 
 
 " They say it's against the law to shoot a deer this 
 time o' year; but the law don't get up here. It ain't 
 meant for us men who need meat. Fine buck, eh ? " 
 
 Phil mumbled assent. 
 
 " Those your bosses? " asked the man. 
 
 "They're part of the roundup herd." 
 
 " Same ol' white mare that was givin' you the chase 
 before, eh ? " mused the man. " Must be changin' 
 camp. Goin' far?" 
 
 " Over to the Big Piney. Where are you travel- 
 ing to?" 
 
PHIL MEETS THE ENEMY 219 
 
 "Me? I'm. jus' prospectin' through, aimin' fer 
 Utah. Say, did you ever see a fatter buck than this, 
 for June? He's shorely a beauty. How'd you like 
 to take a quarter 'long with you to camp ? Bet 
 you're all tired o' beef by this time." 
 
 " Why — but it's your deer," stammered Phil. 
 "Can't you use it all?" 
 
 "Me? No, there's more than I can ever eat. 
 See, I'll show you. Supposin' I cut this quarter off, 
 
 here " and bending he sketched with the point of 
 
 his knife-blade on the hide. " You set still a minute 
 an' I'll butcher it out, an' then you can turn your 
 bosses back an' ride into camp besides with a nice 
 mess o' venison tied on your saddle. The cook'll be 
 glad to see you, an' so '11 the boys." He commenced 
 work, and continued his ingratiating line of talk. 
 " Won't stop to hang this critter up; '11 jus' give you 
 your piece now, quick as I can. S'pose you're in a 
 hurry. But those bosses '11 find the herd when you've 
 headed 'em back. I'll help you. Ever kill a deer ? " 
 
 Phil, interested by the process going on, was reluc- 
 tantly answering " no " when he caught a slight but 
 familiar swish; he was about to turn, for locating 
 the sound, when with strike like a lash something 
 whipped about his shoulders, and simultaneously, at 
 a sudden shout from the man and a spring forward 
 by Gray Jack, he was jerked viciously from the sad- 
 dle. 
 
 The back of his head banged thunderously against 
 the ground, and in a flash of fire he began a long, 
 long journey through space. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MAN WITH THE FROZEN SMILE 
 
 Phil does not know how long that journey lasted, 
 but when he landed from it and looked about him he 
 was propped, half-sitting, behind two boulders which, 
 touching, formed an angle. This angle held him, 
 and a rope wound around and around him held his 
 arms to his sides. Before, and down a little slope, 
 voices were speaking. It happened that the rough 
 surfaces of the boulders in contact left a small loop- 
 hole on a level with the eye; so that, now by chance 
 looking through this, Phil found himself gazing at 
 Chet's honest, tanned face, directly in line and sixty 
 or seventy yards away. 
 
 From the saddle Chet was talking with someone. 
 
 " No, ain't seen 'em §ence," declared the someone. 
 "Feller about your age, you say?" 
 
 "Yes. Riding a gray Circle Dot hawss," re- 
 sponded Chet. "They broke away from the herd 
 and I suppose he followed them." 
 
 " White mare an' two or three other hawsses went 
 by down yonder a bit ago, jes' as I said. But no 
 boy was after 'em. Guess you'd better look further." 
 
 Phil started to call Chet's attention to this inac- 
 curacy, when a hard point punching him in the side 
 caused him to turn his gaze. The man with the 
 
 aao 
 
LAST OF MAN WITH FROZEN SMILE 221 
 
 frozen smile was sitting by him, and the hard point 
 was the muzzle of a rifle. 
 
 The frozen smile was unaltered, but the eyes above 
 it were full of silent meaning. Just beyond the man 
 (and as if she, too, was prisoner to him) crouched 
 the unkempt yet not unattractive girl of the arroyo. 
 She gave a little shake of her head and an odd, speak- 
 ing little frown. Her battered slouch hat was upon 
 the ground beside her. Her hair hung in two long 
 braids, one over each shoulder, their ends tied with 
 draggled bows of black ribbon. She proceeded idly to 
 play with them, flirting them behind her and drawing 
 them back again. 
 
 Phil felt that the shake and the frown had coun- 
 seled him to keep quiet — advice emphasized suffi- 
 ciently, indeed, by that rifle muzzle poking into him. 
 So he dumbly submitted. When he had shifted his 
 eyes to the peep-hole once more, Chet was about to 
 leave. 
 
 " All right," he was drawling, clearly. " Must 
 have been swinging 'round 'em, to head 'em in." 
 
 " Like as not." 
 
 " Nice buck you got there. Well, so long." 
 
 ** Yes. Come in handy when a man's plumb out 
 o' meat. Wait; I'll ride with yuh," and the speaker 
 grunted as if he was tying the spoil on behind a 
 saddle. 
 
 Chet stolidly sat, his glance wandering haphazard 
 over the landscape, including the bouldered rampart. 
 Phil, peering eagerly, thought several times that their 
 eyes met; seemed to him that they must meet. But 
 
222 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 Chet's glance wandered as carelessly across the boul- 
 ders as anywhere else. 
 
 At sight of that familiar, homely countenance so 
 near and yet so unconscious of him, Phil was flooded 
 with an almost irrepressible desire to cry out; one 
 single cry, as an announcement of his presence. But 
 the hard muzzle of the rifle prodded him with a slight 
 increase of pressure, warning. His captor knew his 
 thoughts. 
 
 Chet turned Monte's head and rode him across the 
 line of vision. Followed him the man with the limp 
 (recognized at once by Phil), having behind the 
 saddle the dressed deer. And now the vista was 
 empty; exceedingly empty, for Chet was gone. 
 
 Still no movement to leave the boulders was made 
 by the man with the frozen smile; and the three re- 
 mained silent and quiet, as before. Ten minutes 
 elapsed ; and then, at last, the man arose cautiously to 
 his knees and removing his hat peered cautiously over 
 the top of the bulwark. After a long, earnest survey 
 he emerged from the shelter and with more abandon 
 seated himself in the open, his rifle ready across his 
 knees. 
 
 " You two stay where you be," he ordered, 
 grufily, his hat over his eyes, his profile to them. 
 
 Phil, uncomfortable and helpless, looked mutely at 
 the girl. She smiled (her teeth were white and 
 even) and lifted her eyebrows whimsically. Even 
 through her grime and sunburn she appeared to Phil 
 as being pretty ; at least, as being capable of prettiness 
 were she given a show. 
 
LAST OF MAN WITH FROZEN SMILE 223 
 
 " Set him up, if you want to," bade the man, 
 shortly. 
 
 " Can't I untie him ? " 
 
 " No. An' keep out o' sight, too." 
 
 The girl helped Phil wriggle to a more easy pos- 
 ture, with his back higher against the rock. 
 
 " Much obliged," he panted. 
 
 " They'll untie you after a while," she assured, smil- 
 ing frankly upon him. As said, her teeth were whole- 
 somely white; and Phil noted that she evidently had 
 made efforts to be neat. 
 
 " Yuh can cut all that out," informed the man, 
 gruff as usual. " Save your wind." 
 
 So Phil and the girl could only sit facing each other 
 and occasionally exchanging smiles; his rueful, hers 
 friendly. 
 
 Measured by an invisible timepiece the minutes 
 ticked away unbroken. At last the shuffling of hoofs 
 was heard. Phil barkened anxiously; but the atti- 
 tude of the man with the frozen smile, who now 
 stood and lazily stretched, killed his hopes. 
 
 " Started him on ? " asked the man, of the rider, 
 casually. 
 
 " You bet. He's some worried, still, but I told him 
 I'd round 'em up if I come acrost 'em, an' bring them 
 an' the boy together into the camp. How is he? 
 Got him hog-tied, yet, I see." 
 
 It was the man with the limp, gazing in from his 
 horse. He grinned evilly under his thin black mus- 
 tache. 
 
 " Roped, thrown an' tied, eh, boy?" he addressed. 
 
224 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 "How's your head? You certainly did fall from 
 that hawss. Ache?'* 
 
 "No," denied Phil, angrily. But it did. 
 
 " I'll tell your friend, if I see him again. He's in- 
 quirin' about you, already. Well," he remarked, to 
 the other man, " I'll fetch the hawsses over, an' we'll 
 git out. Can't start any too soon." 
 
 He galloped away, presently returning leading 
 three saddle animals, one of which was Gray Jack. 
 Phil, out of the corners of his eyes spying them, was 
 rejoiced to see Gray Jack. 'Twas like seeing an old ac- 
 quaintance, and next to seeing Chet. 
 
 The man with the frozen smile unwrapped the 
 rope bonds from about Phil's body. 
 
 "You git on your boss an' come along," he di- 
 rected. " If you don't try any tricks you won't be 
 hurt. But if you do, there's trouble for yuh. You 
 saw how I shot that runnin' buck? I'd shoot you 
 just as quick." 
 
 " So'd I," supplemented his partner. 
 
 " You two foller him, an' I'll foUer you/' directed 
 the first, continuing. 
 
 Phil, a little stiff and giddy, climbed into his saddle. 
 The girl spryly ensconced herself in hers, sitting 
 astride. The man with the limp rode off. The girl fol- 
 lowed, and Phil obediently fell into line behind her. 
 The man with the frozen smile brought up the rear. 
 
 With never another word they proceeded at a sharp 
 trot along the slope, grassy and bouldered. 
 
 Phil could figure out no chance of escape. He was 
 sandwiched in too closely. Behind was a man and a 
 
LAST OF MAN WITH FROZEN SMILE 225 
 
 rifle — and he had seen how accurately the twain 
 worked together. Before was a man and presumably 
 a revolver. No rifle was in evidence, but he must be 
 armed. Mr. Simms was warrant for this. The man 
 with the limp had fixed him, quick as a wink. Cogitat- 
 ing, Phil decided that in this case discretion was the 
 better part of valor. Besides, the girl! If he 
 escaped, he felt that he ought to take her with him. 
 'Twould be mean to desert her. She had been trying 
 to escape, herself, for a long time, maybe, judging 
 by the appeal left in that arroyo and found by Chet 
 in the brush. If he stayed, they could help each 
 other, and both get away. 
 
 Half around the hill the leader struck into a shal- 
 low swale, somewhat timbered with the usual cedars, 
 intersecting their way, and ascending this until it 
 suddenly ended against a steeper slope, they halted 
 before a tangle of dead brush. Phil saw that the 
 brush formed a rude corral; within were the old 
 white mare, the lanky colt and a dozen other bosses, 
 including all the Bar B truants. 
 
 A third man, rifle in hand, arose from a niche 
 where he had been concealed, yawned and stretched. 
 He was the man with the one eye. 
 
 " Tumble off,'* bade Phil's especial guardian be- 
 hind; and thus prompted, Phil dismounted. So did 
 the others. 
 
 " Set down, both of yuh." 
 
 With a little gesture of protest and her whimsical 
 smiling lift of the brows the girl instantly plumped 
 to the ground and sat upon her feet. Phil seated 
 
226 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 himself more leisurely, to show, by his manner, his 
 rebellion. The girl smiled upon him. The men 
 compared notes — talking low so that .only an occa- 
 sional phrase reached Phil's ears. 
 
 " Water-hole — keep the kid — run the bosses out 
 fust — didn't want to but had to do it — kid bumped 
 right into him with the hawsses — no, couldn't let 
 them by, an' the buck, too — sure; roped him off slick 
 an' clean — he'd seen me too much before — no; other 
 boy'd never seen Joe — jest kep' him talkin' an' then 
 rode away with him to play safe — yes, liable to back- 
 track " — mumble, mumble, — and " All right," from 
 the man with the frozen smile. " But git a move on 
 yuh. Ther' ain't no time to lose." 
 
 The two other men rode away; the man with the 
 frozen smile, sitting rolling a cigarette, rifle across 
 knees, remained on guard. The minutes passed. 
 Nobody spoke. The man lighted his cigarette, and 
 puffed. Phil disconsolately stared at his own boot 
 toes, before him. 
 
 "Hee-hum," sighed the girl, demurely. 
 
 " Shut up," roughly rebuked the man. 
 
 With a little face the girl shrugged her shoulders, 
 as if such a response was quite to be expected ; and 
 answering Phil's glance of concern smiled bravely. 
 She was a girl of spirit. 
 
 Now, suddenly in the midst of the quiet, Phil 
 caught sight of two horsemen galloping, against the 
 hillside beyond. They were in the opposite quarter 
 to that where, the man with the limp and the man 
 with the one eye had disappeared. And as suddenly 
 
LAST OF MAN WITH FROZEN SMILE 227 
 
 Phil's heart beat high. Those two figures looked 
 familiar. 
 
 He waited breathlessly, hoping that no one else 
 had noted. But he hoped in vain ; the man with the 
 frozen smile had seen as quick as he, and with a 
 startled exclamation was springing to his feet. His 
 face hardened; he hesitated, alertly searching right 
 and left. Among the scattering of cedars back in 
 the draw through which they had arrived sounded 
 hoofs approaching at a trot. For an instant gazing 
 hard, then abruptly decided, the man with a disgusted 
 oath ran to his horse, vaulted into the saddle and 
 spurred away across the pocket for the other side. 
 
 Down the opposite slope came thudding at full 
 speed Pete the cook and Chet. Haney, bareheaded, 
 face and hair aflame, now burst from the cedars ; and 
 riding like a demon flashed past. Chet pulled up by 
 the two prisoners; Pete joined the Texan and the two 
 raced on in pursuit of the man with the frozen smile. 
 Pete was riding Pepper. 
 
 " Hello," greeted Chet, grin and shaggy chaps the 
 same as ever (it seemed an age to Phil since he had 
 last seen them), swinging to the ground. 
 
 He addressed Phil but looked at the girl. 
 
 However, there was little time to talk. All 
 watched the pursuit. The fleeing rustler was pushing 
 at full speed up the farther slope. Pete, his broad 
 hat flaring back, was beating Haney. The three 
 watchers — Phil and the girl on their feet, in their ex- 
 citement ; but they did not know — could hear the 
 sharp commands to halt. 
 
228 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " He'll get away ! " exclaimed the girl. 
 
 " No, he won't," replied Phil, hopefully. 
 
 " That's an awful good hawss he's on," appraised 
 Chet. 
 
 " It used to be a race-horse," said the girl. 
 
 " But look at Pepper go, though ! ' directed Phil. 
 Pepper was his horse. 
 
 "Yes, sir! Pete's closing up» I didn't know 
 Pepper was that fast ; did you ? " 
 
 " Haney's mad at getting left. See him spur." 
 
 " Oh, I hope they do catch him," murmured the 
 girl. 
 
 " They'll shoot pretty soon," announced Chet. 
 " They're shooting now ! " 
 
 For on a sudden, the fugitive, as if nagged beyond 
 endurance, turned in his saddle. His rifle, leveled 
 backward, puffed faint smoke. Almost simulta- 
 neously the bullet zipped through the brush clear to the 
 three spectators below — so nearly were they in the 
 line of fire. He bent to his work again. The flat 
 report finally drifted down. 
 
 The Texan swerved to the right. Phil thought 
 that he was hit or dodging ; but no, he was only seek- 
 ing an easier grade, and kept doggedly on. 
 
 " Haney hasn't got any gun," vouchsafed Chet, 
 soberly. " But he doesn't care." 
 
 Pete threw his horse on its haunches. The rifle 
 that he was carrying jerked to his shoulder. 
 
 " Oh, I hope nobody is killed," quavered the girl. 
 " Look out ! " she almost screamed, in warning. 
 
 " He shot first," accused both boys. 
 
LAST OF MAN WITH FROZEN SMILE 229 
 
 Pete's rifle spurted rapidly — once, twice, three 
 times. The fugitive turned and again fired. The 
 horses in the brush corral ran about wildly. The 
 bullet must have struck among them. Phil jumped 
 to catch Gray Jack and the girl's horse, which also 
 showed signs of unrest. At the same time he saw 
 Pete shoot once more; and the fugitive, crumpling 
 forward, pitched limply to the ground; was dragged 
 along several feet, and was left lying in a form- 
 less blotch while his horse trotted on a few yards, and 
 stopped. 
 
 " He got him ! " cried Chet. 
 
 Pete (they could see him shove fresh cartridges 
 into his magazine) rode up. Haney obliqued and 
 joined him. The two gazed down upon the blotch. 
 They did not dismount. But stooping from the 
 saddle Haney picked up the rifle; and next catching 
 the horse by the bridle they came slowly back, horses 
 lathered, to the three spectators. 
 
 " All over/* quoth Haney, endeavoring to speak 
 lightly. 
 
 " Is he killed ? " quavered the girl. 
 
 " Plumb," declared Pete. 
 
 " Oh, oh ! " she moaned. " I wish I hadn't seen. 
 I didn't want anybody killed." 
 
 Regret and sorrow, in a little shiver, passed 
 through Phil also. Chet was grave — embarrassedly 
 kicking with one toe at a bit of brush". 
 
 "He was the best of the three to me," faltered 
 the girl. " He hardly tver struck me, ,even when I 
 teased him. Is he dead?*^ 
 
230 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " He was, Miss, last time I looked at him," avowed 
 Pete, wiping his forehead, still wet with exertion. 
 
 "What'd they do to you, Smith-Jones?" queried 
 Haney. " Hurt yuh any ? " 
 
 " Just roped me off my horse, is all." 
 
 " We must start some hustlin'," said Pete. " You 
 boys afraid to stay here alone ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " There are two other men. They rode off just 
 before you came," added Phil. 
 
 " They won't bother, after all that shootin'. But 
 
 here " and Pete passed his rifle to Chet. " You 
 
 all set in the cedars a ways an' if anybody interferes 
 with yuh, fix 'em. We'll be back direc'ly." 
 
 With Haney he galloped away — Pepper bearing 
 him gallantly. ' 
 
 " Hope I find my hat," they heard Haney remark, 
 plaintively. " Cedar done snaitched it off." 
 
 The boys led the three horses back amidst the 
 cedars of the swale, and with the girl sat down where 
 they could see the brush corral and the approaches 
 to it. 
 
 " How did you know where to find us?" demanded 
 Phil, of Chet; striving to blur the mental picture of 
 the body lying on the hill-slope. 
 
 "Aw, I saw you behind those boulders. I saw 
 you all the time I was talking," declared Chet. 
 " That man didn't fool me for a minute — but I had 
 to let them think he did." 
 
 " Then you saw me looking through that hole ? 
 You never let on; that's sure," said Phil, admiringly. 
 
LAST OF MAN WITH FROZEN SMILE 231 
 
 " I mightn't have seen if something hadn't flipped 
 above the rocks, like a bat." 
 
 " That was my braids," asserted the girl. " I 
 flipped them on purpose, as high as I could." 
 
 " I saw them and then I sort of made out some- 
 body's eye stopping a crack, and I guessed. The 
 man gave me a nice talk, but I didn't see any rifle 
 and I knew he hadn't killed the deer. Then he was 
 left-handed with his knife, and " 
 
 " He limped, too." 
 
 "Not riding, he didn't. But I decided that soon 
 as he quit me I'd leave the hawss-herd at the first 
 good place and ride ahead and get the men back 
 quick. Then here came Haney, 'cross country, to 
 say that camp had been changed to Coyote Springs, 
 because the Big Piney hole was dry. So we hustled 
 the herd one side, and roped out a hawss for Pete, 
 and caught the wagon. Pete was tickled to join in. 
 He got his saddle out in a jiffy, and he had a rifle, 
 too, in the wagon. Then we reckoned the rustlers 
 would make for the old cowboy corral, here; it's a 
 good place to hold stock in, and it's out of the way; 
 so we cut over to it, and divided up — ^and you saw us 
 come." 
 
 " You bet I did," agreed Phil, heartily. " Where 
 have Pete and Haney gone ? " he asked. 
 
 " There's a spade in the wagon, I suppose," an- 
 swered Chet. 
 
 " Oh." Phil was silent a moment. " Wish Pete 
 hadn't had to do it," he said, impulsively. 
 
 " I don't know." Chet spoke slowly. " Rustlers 
 
232 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 It's the law of the 
 
 must expect to end like that, 
 range. And he shot first." 
 
 Chet suddenly appeared to be a man. Eyeing- him, 
 and listening, Phil realized that beneath his chubby 
 exterior his partner already was invested with the 
 grim practical spirit of the open, where men must 
 take care of themselves, and the fittest survive. 
 
 "What's your name?" asked Chet, directly, of the 
 girl. 
 
 "Cherry. What's yours?" 
 
 " Mine's Chester Simms. His is Philip Ma- 
 cowan." 
 
 " Mine's just Cherry. That's all I know." 
 
 " That man " (and Chet nodded toward the hillside) 
 "your father?" 
 
 " No. Of course he wasn't. I haven't any father, 
 I guess. He and the other two men stole me." 
 
 " Is this yours ? " Chet held out the help message 
 found by him in the cleft stick among the sage. 
 
 " Oh, goody ! " The girl clapped her hands softly. 
 " I shot it out of the arroyo with my bow. And I 
 stuck a lot more in the walls, and left some signs 
 there, too." 
 
 " I saw those," put in Phil promptly. " How did 
 you stick in the sticks so high ? " 
 
 " Shot them in with a little bow I made," she ex- 
 plained. " When I was riding past and when the 
 men weren't looking." 
 
 " And you wrote on the walls, didn't you ? " pur- 
 sued Phil. 
 
 " That was a sign to show which way I was travel- 
 
LAST OF MAN WITH FROZEN SMILE 233 
 
 ing, and to ask help. I didn't have any more paper, 
 so I put pieces of my handkerchief in the arrows. I 
 read all about such things in an old book the men 
 had, where white people had been captured by 
 Indians." 
 
 " It was mighty smart of you," blurted Chet. 
 
 " Smarter than I was," confessed Phil. 
 
 "Yes. We read your word in the arroyo back- 
 wards — * p-l-e-h ' instead of * help,' " supplemented 
 Phil. " Until we guessed right." 
 
 " When I was drawing the girl there my horse 
 started up right in the middle, and I had to put half 
 of her on one spot and half on another," she ex- 
 plained further. 
 
 "That fooled me, too," confessed Phil. "They 
 looked like brands." 
 
 " After you'd seen me in the first arroyo, when you 
 were lost, then I knew Pd get rescued some time. I 
 tried to make a signal to you, but the men watched 
 me too close." 
 
 "I'd almost met you before that. Twas one 
 evening when all of you were camped by a spring at 
 the foot of a rock, up in the timber. And they tried 
 to shoot me." 
 
 " Oh< — 'and were you the boy they chased ? It was 
 Joe, the lame man, who shot at you. He's awful. 
 He'd as soon kill a person as not. I tell you he was 
 mad that night. So were they all. They were 
 scared, too, because they'd been overheard. And in 
 the arroyo, when you came upon them the next time, 
 they were suspicious. After you'd gone they were 
 
234 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 sorry they hadn't kept you, and they said the next 
 chance they would. They've got your watch." 
 
 "Oh, have they? How'd they get it?" 
 
 " Didn't you lose it, that time when you ran and 
 they chased you? Well, Foley, the one-eyed man, 
 found it, and he's wearing it. It's gold, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Maybe you'll get it back sometime, again," pro- 
 posed Chet. 
 
 "I will if I can," agreed Phil, determinedly. 
 
 At any rate this was better than if the watch was 
 lying in the timber, exposed to all weathers. Now 
 he at least knew where to look. 
 
 " How long they had you ? " queried Chet, curi- 
 ously, of the girl. 
 
 She gave a characteristic shrug. 
 
 " I don't know," she said. " It's about all I can 
 remember — being with them." 
 
 " You don't talk as if you'd been raised with such 
 folks," proceeded Chet. " You talk like Phil, here. 
 Reckon they must have stole you." 
 
 In deprecating fashion she shrugged again and 
 lifted her eyebrows. 
 
 "Did they beat yuh?" 
 
 " Some. The lame man was the worst. He 
 bossed the others. I was afraid of him. I wish it 
 was he up there instead of Jack, because he'll follow 
 and try to get me again." 
 
 She shivered. 
 
 "Only wish he would — and that other man, too," 
 declared Phil. " Then we'd get them." 
 
 " Somebody's coming. Listen ! " prompted Chet, 
 
LAST OF MAN WITH FROZEN SMILE 235 
 
 who all this time had been sitting with eyes and ears 
 intent upon the outskirts around and about. 
 
 "Oh, dear!'* murmured the girl, apprehensively. 
 
 " It's Pete and Haney," returned Chet, who had 
 been standing and peering, rifle in hand. 
 
 The two rode up. Haney bore a spade across his 
 shoulder, and wore his hat again. 
 
 "Those other fellows haven't showed themselves 
 yet?" asked Pete. 
 
 The boys shook their heads. 
 
 " They won't, then." 
 
 " No ; their business lays 'tother side the range, 
 jes' now," remarked Haney, grimly. 
 
 They passed on, to the hillside. Phil tried not to 
 look, and when they returned he asked no questions, 
 nor did Chet, but joined in driving the horses out of 
 the rude corral. With the loose stock before (there 
 were, as said, the truants from the herd, and half a 
 dozen others) the party rode soberly away — the 
 empty saddle in the midst of the little herd constantly 
 suggestive. Phil tried not to imagine the dead man 
 left behind, under the sod and rocks of the sunny 
 slope, that sarcastic smile (no doubt) still upon his 
 face. 
 
 It was Pete the cook who commented first. 
 
 "Well, boys," he said, "I didn't do it until I had 
 to. See here." He removed his great hat. A bullet 
 hole was discovered low in the crown. 
 
 Haney noted it gravely. Chet uttered " Gee ! '* 
 
 " He had as good a burial as we could give him," 
 soliloquized Pete, replacing his hat; and his hand 
 
^z^ 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 trembled. " And once he may have been a good 
 man; good as any of us. But he sure was in bad 
 company, an' he acted queer. Hope his mammy 
 never knows." 
 
 "It's the law of the range," said the Texan, 
 grimly. 
 
 And Phil thought that either expression would 
 make a fit epitaph for that lonely grave : " He was 
 in bad company " or, " It's the law of the range." 
 
 " When we see the coroner or sheriff we'll tell 
 him," remarked Pete. Whereupon, with this, the 
 subject was dismissed. 
 
 They jogged on. The girl related her history, add- 
 ing little to what she had already told. The main 
 real news came from Haney. 
 
 " Got a sure-'nough hawss jingler at camp now, 
 Smith- Jones," he said. " Caught us on the march. 
 Reckon you'll have to go to punchin'." 
 
 "Who? That kid Henry hired?" asked Chet. 
 
 " Yes, suh." 
 
 "Bully!" exclaimed Chet. "Phil can ride with 
 me, then." 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 MISTRESS CHERRY JOINS THE CAMP 
 
 At the wagon Pepper was turned loose, and the 
 horse that had been ridden in flight by the man with 
 the frozen smile also was stripped of accoutrements. 
 
 " Purty good saddle/' observed Haney. 
 
 "Cheyenne?" queried Pete. 
 
 "Ogden.'' 
 
 "Well, can't tell by a man's saddle where he's 
 from. Not these days." 
 
 "Cain tell where the h'awss is from, tho', right 
 quick," retorted the Texan. " That Key brand come 
 out o' Texas. Know the ranch an' all about it." 
 
 " He bought that horse," put in the girl. " Truly 
 he did. He said so. I heard him. He bought him 
 because he was a racer." 
 
 " Have to take youah word foh it, Miss," responded 
 Haney, but not convinced. 
 
 " Anybody want one o' these guns ? " asked Pete. 
 
 "Ain't got no way o* carryin' it," averred Haney. 
 "Leave 'em in the wagon. Smith-Jones here'll fight 
 foh us with his fists ; won't you, Smith-Jones ? " 
 
 " Nobody's goin' to bother yuh, anyway," said the 
 cook. " Those fellows won't come out in the open." 
 
 " Joe (he's the one who limps) is awful mean, 
 tho'," insisted the girl. " He doesn't ever give up." 
 
 "Better take my rifle, then," advised the cook. 
 237 
 
238 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " Here," and he handed it across to Phil, as the 
 nearest; while Chet, who had but a moment before 
 rehnquished it, looked disappointed. "I've got this 
 other one an' a six-shooter." 
 
 They left Pete to follow with his wagon ; preceding, 
 they added their loose horses to the herd (which they 
 found intact, awaiting) and continued upon the route 
 for Coyote Springs. To Phil one direction in this 
 strange country was the same as another ; the change 
 of destination from Big Piney to Coyote was im- 
 material. He and the girl rode at the rear of the 
 herd; the red-headed Haney had the left flank, Chet, 
 in shaggy chaps, the right. 
 
 The region traversed was flat mesa, sagy and 
 warm, sprinkled with cedars and an occasional stunted 
 pin oak, all under a sky of intense soft blue amidst 
 which floated lightly a few cottony clouds. Peace 
 ruled again. Phil, jogging on, rifle across saddle, 
 despaired of any call to arms. But the possession of 
 the gun imbued him with a feeling of responsibility. 
 'Twas a real rifle this; he had witnessed it in action. 
 And its weather-worn and service-worn condition, as 
 he examined it minutely, impressed him. 
 
 Thus, watchful, ready, the guardian of the trail, 
 he rode behind the herd, with the sensation of being 
 an emigrant on the outlook for Indians. The girl 
 beside him chatted happily. 
 
 It was past noon when Haney went galloping 
 around and on ahead; and unexpectedly the camping 
 place had been reached : a bunch of men lolling about, 
 Haney and a strange youth holding a rope corral. 
 
 ^ 
 
MISTRESS CHERRY JOINS CAMP 239 
 
 After the pack animals had been relieved of their 
 burdens the strange youth, who proved to be the 
 long absent v^rangler, prepared to take the herd out 
 again. But first he must join in the conversation 
 which floated to him as the loquacious Pete, aided by 
 Chet, began to narrate the adventures of the morning. 
 
 " You ought not to have let 'em rope you off your 
 hawss that way," he advised Phil wisely. 
 
 "How could I help it?" retorted Phil, nettled by 
 the patronage. 
 
 " You ought toVe been watchin' out. And say, 
 your stuff's in the depot at the Junction, with a whole 
 lot to pay on it, too." 
 
 Having thus delivered himself of counsel, and of 
 news, with a little swagger in his business-like mien 
 he proceeded with the cawy. 
 
 "That lad's too fresh," remarked somebody, re- 
 flectively. 
 
 Silence gave assent. Bud, the new youth, already 
 had been appraised at his true value. However, Phil 
 was glad to know about the baggage. 
 
 Coyote Springs was a small shallow basin in the 
 open, containing at its center a pool of stagnant water 
 about the size of a hogshead, held as in a cup by the 
 rocks. 
 
 The water had to be dipped very carefully, so as 
 not to stir it up; and anyway it was rather wriggly. 
 But it was the only supply in the vicinity. 
 
 By the time Pete had dug his fireplace and, while 
 his fire was being built, had unpacked his " tools," the 
 story of Phil's encounter and the events that followed 
 
240 BAR B BOYS 
 
 had been recited to all comers. The first curiosity 
 over the arrival of the girl merged into a lively un- 
 certainty as to what should or could be done with 
 her. This was a topic which seemed to be of more 
 importance than the tragedy of the hill slope; that 
 was past history, this was present. The man with 
 the frozen smile had brought his end upon himself. 
 
 " Can't take her down to the ranch and leave her," 
 said Mr. Simms, puzzled. " Nobody there but the 
 cat." 
 
 " If we could get her over to the Junction my 
 wife'd take care of her," said Henry (who was mar- 
 ried) ; " only, she ain't at home. She's visitin' her 
 folks." 
 
 "Well, don't see how we can keep her 'round 
 camp," grumbled Old Jess. " This ain't no place for 
 women or girls. Can't be ketchin' an' saddlin' 
 hawsses for 'em all the time." 
 
 " Thank you. I can catch my own horse, and I 
 can saddle him, too," flashed Mistress Cherry, in- 
 dignantly, who chanced to overhear this remark. 
 " And I can throw a rope, and do lots of things. 
 You needn't be afraid that I'll bother you!" 
 
 " Oh ! Excuse me, ma'am," proffered Old Jess, 
 meekly. 
 
 ** And I can cook, too," she continued. 
 
 " Humph! One cook's all we can stand," rejoined 
 Old Jess. 
 
 "You bet. If I ain't cook enough for this outfit, 
 I'm ready to leave," declared Pete, tartly. " Won't 
 have anybody, he or she, messin' 'round my things." 
 
MISTRESS CHERRY JOINS CAMP 241 
 
 It was Ford who gallantly came to the rescue in 
 this social crisis, and filled the breach. 
 
 " I move you," he said, standing and extravagantly 
 taking off his hat, " it be the sense of this camp that 
 seeing Miss Cherry can rope and ride and cook and 
 is an all-'round hand she be retained indefinitely." 
 
 " 'Specially sence she fetched her own string, as if 
 she counted on stayin' a while," added Haney softly. 
 
 " Might put her at the Dober ranch. Reckon 
 they'd keep her," proposed Buster. 
 
 " Please let me stay here," faltered the girl. 
 " Please. I'll do anything — and some of you'll be 
 good to me." 
 
 " Y-yes," stated Mr. Simms, slowly; "I second 
 Ford's motion. She might as well stay with the 
 camp, now she's here. Chet and I'll look after her. 
 Come here, honey," he bade. He put his arm about 
 her shoulders, and gazed upon her wistfully. " After 
 roundup and summer camp, how'd you hke to go back 
 to the Bar B ranch with Chet and me, and be our 
 girl, against the time we find your own folks ? " 
 
 " I'd like it," she replied simply. " You'd be good 
 to me." 
 
 " And you'd be good for us," he smiled. " It's 
 pretty lonesome without a bit o' she-stock 'round to 
 show us manners. Chet needs something o' that 
 kind, and so do I." 
 
 " Hurrah ! " cried Chet, jubilantly. " I'll 
 teach " 
 
 " You wait," admonished his father. " Mebbe 
 she'll teach you/* 
 
242 BAR B BOYS 
 
 And thus the girl was adopted; henceforth as 
 " Cherry " to Mr. Simms and Chet, Philip and Ford ; 
 and as " Miss " and " ma'am " to the others, she was 
 accepted by the camp — Old Jess and Pete speedily, if 
 gruffly, betraying their pleasure also at the arrange- 
 ment. 
 
 She did not know how long she had been with the 
 three rustlers. She believed that the man with the 
 limp had her first — but back of him her recollection 
 seemed not to extend. Yet she evinced tokens of cul- 
 ture. The roughness of manner and speech with 
 which she had been surrounded had not infected her. 
 She proved to be a sweet, bright girl, extraordinarily 
 independent. That she was smart Phil and Chet had 
 early decided as soon as they had appreciated her 
 signs. And her flipping of her braids to call Chet's 
 attention — that sure was smart ! 
 
 A few hours' stay in the camp changed Cherry's 
 appearance considerably. Like a waif kitten which 
 has found a home she immediately proceeded to clean 
 up. 
 
 Haney the Texan without saying a word before- 
 hand got out the cone-shaped little dog-tent which 
 he was packing in case of rain and set it up. 
 
 " That's youah tent, now, Miss," he informed. 
 
 Whereupon she promptly retired into it with water 
 and soap and towel (so much water that Pete was 
 aghast — " Didn't have that toted to take a bath in ! " 
 he remonstrated) to emerge fairly abloom. The 
 grime had vanished. Phil's discarded hat (much 
 superior to her own old one) was perched becomingly 
 
 I 
 
MISTRESS CHERRY JOINS CAMP 243 
 
 upon her crown, and at Ford's suggestion she had 
 been supplied with a pair of overalls : Chet's — large, 
 but clean! 
 
 " Reg'lar cowgirl, now, shuah," congratulated 
 Haney, while the camp all gazed admiringly. 
 
 " Here — I give you dees," exclaimed the impulsive 
 Hombro. " I buy heem down Sierra la Luz, where I 
 leev. Mexican." 
 
 He had been rummaging in his bed pack, and now 
 he handed her a beautiful pair of cowboy boots, of 
 soft brown leather and red tops decorated with silver 
 filigree. 
 
 "Goat skin," he quoth. "Wear 'em. They fit. 
 See? " and he thrust forth his own foot, as small as 
 any girl's. " Bueno," he grinned, when she had 
 donned them. " I mek you spurs, too, sometime." 
 
 Thus by one and another was Cherry outfitted — 
 not omitting quilts and blankets for a bed. Her old 
 clothing which she did not need she disdainfully flung 
 away. 
 
 Quite unexpectedly to himself Phil shared in the 
 distribution of things. There was not much riding 
 done during the remainder of this day, for by the 
 time dinner had been eaten 'twas the middle of the 
 afternoon. As the men lounged about, the captured 
 rifle was passed from hand to hand and casually 
 examined. 
 
 " I reckon this is yore's," said Buster, gravely, ex- 
 tending it to Phil. 
 
 " No, it isn't," answered Phil, astonished. " Pete 
 and Haney took it" 
 
244 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " Have one already," spoke Pete. " Don*t want 
 two." 
 
 " Never tote a gun, myself," quoth Haney. 
 " Traid of 'em." 
 
 " Naw ; it's yours, Phil," declared Chet, eagerly. 
 " Everybody says so. You've been wanting a rifle." 
 
 " But " Phil hesitated. 
 
 " Take it, boy," urged Mr. Simms. " You de- 
 serve it. They gave you a hard fall. Might have 
 broke your neck." 
 
 Phil took it. Flushing with pleasure he turned it 
 over and over, scrutinizing its every point. It was 
 his first real rifle, and it seemed the more real to him 
 because it was one of the spoils of war. He might 
 have wished that he had not gained it through the 
 death of a man — but in his hands it was safer to the 
 community than when in a rustler's and bandit's. 
 And this was the law of the range : that the un- 
 desirable habitant must leave, if not by one way then 
 by another. 
 
 Chet joined him in the scrutiny. The gun was a 
 •30-30 carbine, as light as a ,22 target gun but very 
 much more powerful. Its wood showed tokens of 
 travels through brush, but the metal was free from 
 rust, and the mechanism seemed to have been per- 
 fectly cared for. Evidently the owner had appre- 
 ciated that a firearm to be a friend in need must be 
 given proper care. 
 
 " Bet she shoots as good as mine," declared Chet, 
 as they examined it. 
 
 " Now you come up to my boss camp," invited 
 
MISTRESS CHERRY JOINS CAMP 245 
 
 Hombre, with white teeth flashing from his sunny 
 face. " We kill bear, lion, bob-cat — ever't'ing." 
 
 " They're up on the summer range, just as much,'* 
 averred Chet. " I'll have my rifle there, too. We'll 
 carry rifles when we ride. But you haven't got any 
 scabbard." 
 
 " Take the one that belongs with it, off the saddle/' 
 proposed Pete, from his dishwashing. 
 
 " Take saddle and all," directed Mr. Simms. 
 " Might as well have the whole outfit. That's your 
 saddle and your bridle from now on." 
 
 " Sure," murmured several voices. 
 
 Phil scarcely could credit that he was at last on 
 a footing with the other men. He examined the 
 saddle and the bridle. They were in good condition 
 — worn just enough, like the rifle, to avoid the sus- 
 picion which attaches to newness. In his equipment 
 for the range Phil was now a veteran. 
 
 " Better give him the hawss, too," grunted Old 
 Jess, whether in sarcasm or in earnest no one might 
 tell. 
 
 "He belongs to Cherry's string," observed Mr. 
 Simms, quietly. 
 
 " Don't belong to nobody's string, yet," corrected 
 Pete. "Looks as if he belonged to the Key ranch, 
 down in Texas." 
 
 " But he was bought. I heard them say so," de- 
 clared Cherry. 
 
 " Cain't prove that, now, 'cause we buried the bill 
 o' sale," drawled Haney. 
 
 "Didn't you search the man?" 
 
246 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " No, suh. Didn't have time. Coroner can do 
 that, if he wants to." 
 
 " Well — we'll keep the hawss, along with those 
 others that have strange brands, till we find the 
 owners." 
 
 " Lookee here. Smith- Jones," directed Haney, who 
 had been fingering the rifle with a certain aptitude and 
 grimness which belied his allegations of ignorance as 
 to firearms. "Got a notch in the stock; mus' have 
 killed its man ! " 
 
 Phil peered, horrified. But the notch was only a 
 nick from a scratch, he claimed. 
 
 "Maybe," admitted the Texan. "But I reckon 
 you'll go to fillin' it plumb full o' notches. Smith- 
 Jones is suhtinly the bad name of a bad man." 
 
 " Put a notch in it right now, if yuh want to," 
 grunted Old Jess. " Somebody's got to kill that 
 critter." 
 
 For the cowboy Dick came riding in, leading at his 
 rope end a stout red and white calf half grown. Be- 
 hind, the Three I man urged it on. 
 
 " Meat foh the camp," murmured the Texan. 
 
 " Go ahead and try your gun, Phil," prompted 
 Ford. " You'll never have a better chance." 
 
 " Ca'tridges are in the wagon," said Pete. " I un- 
 loaded it." 
 
 Phil hesitantly took the carbine from Haney. 
 
 " Here," said Ford. He slipped in a couple of 
 cartridges — slim, wicked things — and restored the 
 gun to Phil's hands. Still Phil hesitated. He hated 
 to do the deed. It did not seem to him very credit- 
 
MISTRESS CHERRY JOINS CAMP 247 
 
 able to shoot at a calf tied by a rope so that it was 
 helpless. A calf was not " game," anyway. 
 
 " If it isn't shot it'll be knocked on the head," said 
 Mr. Simms. 
 
 " Got to have meat for supper, boys," declared the 
 cook. " Plumb out *cept a little bacon." 
 
 " Give me the gim. I'll shoot," invited Chet. 
 
 But Phil, seeing that the calf was doomed, walked 
 slowly toward it. 
 
 " Don't shoot into camp," warned Mr. Simms. 
 
 " No. Don't yuh go shootin' me, Smith-Jones," 
 called Haney. " I might not laik it." 
 
 The calf sturdily standing with head lowered, fac- 
 ing the camp, eyeing its human enemies and panting 
 after its endeavor to break its tether, now turned and 
 faced Phil as he made a half circuit ; followed him as 
 if recognizing in him a new tormentor. Phil cocked 
 the gun and raised it to his shoulder. He held the 
 tip of the sight upon the center of the calf's forehead. 
 A great pity for the innocent, defenseless animal 
 welled within him, as his finger remorselessly tight- 
 ened against the trigger. He could only trust that 
 his shot was to be a shot of mercy. 
 
 One of those countless animals termed "dumb," 
 which are reared but to die at the will of man, the 
 calf felt in the round muzzle opening at it a menace. 
 It lowed tremulously as if to say : " Do your worst." 
 
 Holding his breath for steadiness Phil fired. 
 Almost before the slight recoil the calf had collapsed 
 in a heap upon the ground, so instantaneous was its 
 end. Phil was immensely relieved. 
 
248 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " Right to the center," quoth Dick, dismounting 
 from his horse. 
 
 The little gun shot true. 
 
 " Hurt the brains any ? " queried Pete, anxiously. 
 
 "Narry," asserted the Three I man. "Just 
 blovved the top of its head open." 
 
 ''Ought to be careful an' shoot 'em behind the 
 ear," grumbled Pete. " Liable to scatter the brains 
 all over. Brains are best part." 
 
 " Is it dead ? " faltered Cherry, who had been 
 standing with eyes shut tight and fingers in ears. 
 
 " Changed to veal shore now. Miss," informed 
 Buster. " Coin' to eat him up next." 
 
 " Poor thing," said Cherry, opening her eyes, but 
 looking away. 
 
 The men dressed the veal and hung it in the 
 branches of a cedar, with a tarpaulin over it. 
 
 " For seventeen years I rode with a Winchester 
 under my leg," announced Mr. Simms, the veteran. 
 " Rarely carry a gun, now. You'd better leave your 
 gun in the wagon, boy. It'll be ketching on the 
 brush, you'll find, and may cause you trouble when 
 you're running an animal through the timber." 
 
 The work of the roundup proceeded. 'Twas rid- 
 ing, riding, riding, o'er slope and level, through cedar 
 and sage, gravel and clay and alkali, while the saddle 
 grew hot and throat and eyes grew parched, and the 
 sun beat hard and dust enveloped, and man and horse 
 perspired together in fretful activity. Ever the 
 cattle, unwilling mother and unruly bachelor, fright- 
 ened little calf and burly bull, were routed from their 
 
MISTRESS CHERRY JOINS CAMP 249 
 
 chosen coverts and drifted across the country to join, 
 bawling, with the bunches gone before. 
 
 "They're going to brand the calves to-morrow," 
 informed Chet. 
 
 The Coyote Springs camp was a thing of the past, 
 and now the roundup was moving on. Like any full- 
 fledged cowboy Phil, sitting his own saddle, aboard 
 Medicine Eye, by the side of Chet his partner, was 
 helping with the drive of the gather from the Coyote 
 territory. 
 
 " Oh ! '^ said Cherry. " Then I shan't watch." 
 
 Keeping close to the two boys, she had overheard. 
 A good range-girl Cherry had proved. She could 
 catch her horse out of the rope corral, and could do 
 her own saddling and bridling.^ She could ride as 
 far as anybody ; Chet and Phil found out that she re- 
 quired no odds, when she accompanied them. But 
 she would not watch a branding. Whenever a 
 maverick was to be thrown, she was absent. 
 
 All that day the march continued. The wagon 
 and the horse-herd were ahead. Behind, the gather 
 followed, constantly increasing as from right and left 
 fresh batches of animals were added. At noon halt 
 was made, where the wagon had stopped, for a water- 
 less cold lunch in a grassy basin. 
 
 The only excitement of the route was caused by a 
 sharp-horned steer who, pausing to fight upon a nar- 
 row passage, was shoved off into a narrow sink-hole. 
 Wedged at the bottom, ten feet down, he was help- 
 less. First a spade was used, in an attempt to dig a 
 slope which he might ascend. But such a plan proved 
 
250 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 too sk>w; and while Ford, with the spade, carelessly 
 afoot, watched, and Phil held his breath, and Cherry 
 vainly expostulated, by eight ropes upon his horns 
 as many horsemen, pulling all together, hauled him 
 out bodily. It seemed as if the steer would have his 
 neck dislocated; but amidst a cheer he came scram- 
 bling, grunting to the rim. A moment he stood con- 
 fused and irresolute. The men hastily cast off, as 
 they might, one after another. 
 
 " Wait ! Wait ! " appealed Ford, suddenly real- 
 izing his predicament. For his horse he raced, in 
 his chaps, spade across shoulder, and with a snort 
 the steer, seeing redly, charged him. 
 
 A slight cheer started; but the situation was too 
 perilous. Haney's rope snapped; the steer was free 
 — when Buster, racing by, leaning from the saddle 
 grabbed the trailing portion, turned short, braced his 
 willing horse, and threw the steer head under heels, 
 whether he broke its neck or no. A clever, dashing 
 piece of work, this, by Buster. 
 
 The steer lay stunned. And by the time, with all 
 ropes removed and Ford safely horseback, it stag- 
 gered to his feet, its ungrateful resenting of things 
 human had cooled to normal. 
 
 Everybody could laugh now ; even Ford. 
 
 "That or steer's naik is a full foot longer than it 
 used to be," declared Haney. 
 
 " Grew longer still, a-reachin' out to prod Ford," 
 chuckled Dick. 
 
 " By thunder, if it had been an inch or so more 
 'twould have got him, too ! " asserted Mr. Simms. 
 
MISTRESS CHERRY JOINS CAMP 251 
 
 Across a high and tangled ridge where the wind 
 blew icily toiled the drive, to pour down upon the 
 farther side. This was hard riding, through the 
 brush ; tongues were hanging far, calves were lagging 
 and cow and steer were continuously turning aside, to 
 rest. But the end was near. Amidst the slanting 
 shadows the herd traversed a level draw, which open- 
 ing out displayed to view another mass of cattle 
 scattered through and peacefully grazing or dully 
 staring. 
 
 This was the result of the first camp's gather. The 
 drive quickened. But leaving it, with a whoop of 
 joy the riders all swung out around it, and galloped 
 madly past both herds to unsaddle at the mess wagon, 
 waiting there beyond. 
 
 To-morrow was the branding. Spread out 
 through the sage the camp slept soundly, men and 
 boys beneath their tarpaulins. Cherry inside her dog 
 tent, preparing for the next task. The tired new- 
 comers among the cattle needed no night-herding, the 
 others were content, and the horses were well pas- 
 tured, well watered, not inclined to stray. So the 
 camp, from Pete the cook to Bud the wrangler, might 
 sleep, and sleep at peace. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE BRANDING OF THE CALVES 
 
 The draw opened between steep sandstone cliffs 
 into the usual sage and greasewood flat; and here 
 opposite the mouth the camp had been located. For 
 the wagon had halted near the high bank of a muddy 
 creek, and where the chuck-wagon was, camp was. 
 
 " We'll hold 'em up against the rim-rock, boys," 
 said Old Jess, as all, save cook and wrangler, rode 
 out in the morning sun. Making a brave show, they 
 trotted, then in a gallop they swept four abreast 
 across the silver-gray brush, after their breather pull- 
 ing their horses down to a walk. 
 
 Widely through the flat and draw were scattered 
 the cattle ; dropping aside by ones and twos the riders 
 diverged right and left, seeking out the draw and all 
 the ramifications thereof, and scouring the flat, until 
 pouring in to a central point against the rim-rock 
 wall by the mouth of the draw the cattle — old, young, 
 cow, calf, steer and bull — formed a loose, uneasy, bel- 
 lowing, parti-colored mass. 
 
 With Chet as partner, and accompanied by Cherry, 
 Phil had done his share in the gather — upon Bowlegs 
 swooping at glorious gallop to get in behind far- 
 grazing animals; plunging through arroyo, leaping 
 little ditch and badger-hole, crashing against tall sage 
 
 252 
 
BRANDING OF THE CALVES 253 
 
 and greasewood; finally, after sundry chases of re- 
 fractory beasts, turning them in the right direction. 
 
 Half a dozen of the men were now busy riding 
 back and forth on the outside of the herd, heading 
 off the members who were inclined to stray. Many 
 of the cattle stood, inert; others, particularly mothers 
 who had temporarily lost their children, roamed here 
 and there, bawling ; and these, and still others ever and 
 anon set forth in deliberate attempt to leave their 
 confines for some spot elsewhere. 
 
 Thus there was a constantly threatened leakage, 
 stopped at every point by the riders. 
 
 Forty or fifty yards from the herd out on the flat 
 Haney was chopping with an ax. Old Jess came rid- 
 ing from the camp with a bundle of stamp-irons — 
 brands set at the end of four-foot rods — under his 
 arm. Mr. Simms, the Flying U man and one or two 
 others were building a bonfire of sage stalks and 
 some larger pieces. Henry and Ford lay lazily near, 
 as if their work was yet in prospect. The saddled 
 horses of all stood dozing by. Bud the wrangler 
 approached at a trot, snaking along a cedar stump. 
 
 " That's right," approved Old Jess, clanking down 
 his irons. "You lads fetch in all the wood you can 
 find. There's a pile of it near the head of that arroyo 
 yonder, where some old beaver dam was washed out. 
 And there's cedar on the mesas." 
 
 " I know of a lot more," said Bud, the consequen- 
 tial; and spurred away. Chet and Cherry together 
 and Phil took different directions — Phil leaving to 
 them the arroyo hoard. By the time the quota of all 
 
254 BAR B BOYS 
 
 had been delivered the fire was blazing, and the irons 
 had been thrust in. 
 
 " That's enough," decreed Old Jess, gruffly, after 
 the second trips. " Now we want a fire-tender and 
 a tally man." 
 
 " I'll tend fire," announced Mistress Cherry. 
 
 Old Jess eyed her doubtfully with a " Humph ! " 
 
 " Purty hot work," he grunted. " One o' you show 
 this boy how to keep tally, then. He may have been 
 to school but I reckon he never learned to read 
 brands. Wrangler can help the gal tend fire, case 
 she peters out on us." 
 
 Mr. Simms pulled out an envelope from his hip 
 pocket. 
 
 *' Who's got a pencil ? " he invited. 
 
 The Open A man contributed a stub. 
 
 " Here, boy," directed the rancher. "Here are 
 all the brands you're likely to have: "5 Bar B;/\ 
 
 open A ; C-^ Lazy J ; 9\ Reverse R ; \f Flying U ; 
 Zi + Triangle Cross ; ^JJ^ Three I ; j^ Boot. Mark 
 'em up opposite by fives — four straight lines and a 
 diagonal." 
 
 "Like this — see?" put in Bud, prompt to air 
 his superior knowledge. And he sketched in the 
 
 dust rm 
 
 The veteran cowman, ignoring him, drew his own 
 diagram, even though identical, and Phil regarded 
 that. 
 
 " Aw, I used to keep tally before I got to wran- 
 glin'," proclaimed Bud. 
 
BRANDING OF THE CALVES 255 
 
 "Yes," drawled Mr. Simms; "and Phil used to 
 wrangle before he was put to keeping tally." 
 
 " Wranglin' 's the bigger job," protested Bud, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Um-m-m," inurmured the veteran. "It's just 
 big enough to keep some people at it all their lives. 
 That's their limit. Phil, here, 's a pretty good cow- 
 hand already." 
 
 " He can't rope much." 
 
 " No ; but he's got cow sense. That's the most 
 important. Roping '11 come later." 
 
 To Phil the compliment seemed a little doubtful; 
 yet he was grateful for the defense made in his be- 
 half. Bud, as if perceiving a rebuke, flushed and 
 would boldly have continued the discussion, but the 
 cowman turned away, somewhat contemptuously; 
 moreover, the business of the day was about to claim 
 all attention. 
 
 In the saddle Ford and Henry waited. Old Jess 
 drew out a branding iron, from the fire, and spat 
 upon it to test its temperature. 
 
 " All ready ? " remarked Ford. He turned Lone- 
 some's head, and taking down his rope, recoiled it, 
 riding leisurely to the herd. At a slightly different 
 angle Henry, preparing likewise, also rode away. 
 
 On the edge of the herd Ford and Lonesome 
 paused, and peered within. But immediately they 
 started on again, Ford shaking out his loop. Lone- 
 some with ears pricked, nose forward. The loop be- 
 gan to swing over Ford's head, in a beautifully regu- 
 lar elliptic ; the reins hung loose upon Lonesome's neck, 
 
256 BAR B BOYS 
 
 who, ears still pricked, nose out, like a big dog fol- 
 lowing a hot trail, ambled persistently in the wake of a 
 little white calf. The calf, suddenly vaguely alarmed 
 to find itself being pestered, dodged from side to side 
 of its mother, and she, also alarmed, shoved hither 
 and thither, to lead it from the danger zone. But 
 Lonesome — wise fellow — now that he had " spotted " 
 his master's choice, was not to be denied. Slowly 
 and menacingly swung the loop until at a sudden 
 opportunity, it shot lazily forward. Phil saw Ford 
 jerk sharply upward; the rope tightened, like a fish 
 line; Lonesome turned, of himself, and made at a 
 quick walk for the fire, Ford sitting nonchalantly, 
 half sideways, to give play to the rope stretched over 
 his right thigh, while behind, hauled from the herd 
 like a fish from a pool, plunging and bucking and 
 baa-ing, followed the little white calf, caught by 
 the neck. Just behind it came the old mammy, her 
 nose almost touching its tail, on her blazed face a 
 singularly worried, inquiring expression, as if she 
 wondered what under the canopy ailed that child. 
 
 She halted, to gaze. Lonesome dragged the bound- 
 ing calf nearer the fire. Dick and Buster ran to 
 meet it. 
 
 " Bar B," announced Ford. 
 
 Dick seized it, grabbed it by the neck and the 
 slack of its flank, and with a deft lift and thrust of 
 his knee flopped it flatly upon its side. 
 
 " One calf wrastled," quoth Haney. " Tally him, 
 Smith-Jones." 
 
 Having " wrestled " it, Dick cast off the loop, he 
 
BRANDING OF THE CALVES 257 
 
 and Buster sat at either end, and braced in the ap- 
 proved fashion held the animal, Old Jess bent over 
 and with his knife, sniffed a piece from the ear, put- 
 ting it in his vest pocket. Loudly bawled the calf. 
 The Open A man firmly pressed a cherry-red stamp- 
 iron to the flank. The hair smoked, the hide sizzled. 
 
 " Oh, I can't stand this ! " declared Cherry ; and 
 running to her horse she was away in a jiffy, desert- 
 ing her post. 
 
 Nobody had time to comment. Bud the wrangler 
 proceeded to be sole fire tender. 
 
 "Triangle Cross," hailed Henry, dragging up his 
 calf. 
 
 Another gang — Haney and Chet to do the wrest- 
 ling or flanking, Mr. Simms and the Flying U man 
 to do the marking and branding — hastened for it. 
 
 Phil scored a tally opposite the ^ + sign on his 
 envelope. 
 
 " Lazy J," announced Ford, who, having re-coiled 
 his rope, had made another round trip. 
 
 Dick and Buster pounced upon it. 
 
 " Three L" 
 
 " Boot." 
 
 "Bar B." 
 
 "Bar B." 
 
 "Lazy J." 
 
 " Flying U." 
 
 "Bar B." 
 
 "Lazy J." 
 
 "Reverse R." 
 
 " Open A." 
 
258 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 In rapid succeasion the titles were proclaimed; 
 but never once did Old Jess or Mr. Simms hesitate 
 over an ear-mark. They knew instantly which ap- 
 plied to which. 'Twas to them like A, B, C. Thick 
 and fast arrived the calves, for picking at first was 
 easy. They arrived in all manner of positions — on 
 their sides, on their backs, on their heads, or bracing 
 their forelegs, depending haw they were hooked. 
 Ford and Henry seemed to care little where the loop 
 fell, so long as it caught neck, leg or body. The 
 mammy cows usually followed a little way, puzzled, 
 and stood bewildered and anxious. Released from 
 its ordeal, each calf ran blatting and unsteady back 
 to find its mother, to be nosed and licked, and given 
 a drink. Occasionally a spunky calf charged its late 
 tormentors, as a parting token. And occasionally 
 one arose so pitiably dizzy that it must be turned 
 around by hand and pointed in the right direction. 
 
 Phil's envelope was becoming crowded — the num- 
 ber of Bar B rail-fence sections, each section repre- 
 senting five calves, being double that of any other. 
 This was pleasing to him, as a Bar B man. The 
 branding squads, particularly the flankers, were red 
 and perspiring and weary. The herd, filled with 
 smarting, cowed or indignant youngsters, was rife 
 also with an angry, uneasy bellowing, as the steers 
 and the three bulls smelled the blood. 
 
 The calves were coming to the fire with less regu- 
 larity, now. The branding squads took turns tack- 
 ling them. 
 
 " How many tallied ? " demanded Old Jess. 
 
BRANDING OF THE CALVES 259 
 
 Phil counted with his pencil. " Two hundred and 
 six," he proclaimed. 
 
 " Gee ! " commented Chet. 
 
 There was a lull. Ford and Henry were riding 
 about through the herd, their loops hanging, their 
 eyes searching for other victims. The branding 
 squads had thrown themselves on the ground. Haney 
 the Texan wiped his scarlet countenance with a limp 
 bandanna only less scarlet. 
 
 "I move Smith-Jones wrastle the next calf," he 
 said. "Too hahd work, this. Want to rest." 
 
 "All right. Here it comes," seconded Chet. 
 
 Henry was making another trip, bringing a can- 
 didate for initiation. 
 
 " She's a nice big one," said the Flying U man. 
 
 " Come along, Henry," encouraged the Texan. 
 " Come a-runnin\ Smith-Jones is goin* to wrastle 
 this one." 
 
 "Go an' grab it," bade Old Jess. "Yuh saw 
 how it's done, didn't yuh ? " 
 
 "Yes, I know," declared Phil. 
 
 He gave his tally to Chet, and advanced with a 
 show of more confidence than he really felt. It was a 
 large calf — an unusually large calf, stocky and active, 
 caught by the neck and cavorting and maa-ing. 
 
 "Lazy J," called Henry. 
 
 " Grab him, Smith-Jones," exhorted Haney. 
 
 Phil darted in, crowded against the calf, and reach- 
 ing over, tried to seize her, lift her and flop her. The 
 operation had looked easy, but ! 
 
 The calf was soft and warm in his grasp. He 
 
26o 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 could feel its heart beating a wild pitty-pat under 
 his fingers. Once, twice, thrice he lifted. The crea- 
 ture's hoofs left the ground a few inches, sprawled 
 in all directions, but landed again practically as be- 
 fore. 
 
 *^ Heave ho!" 
 
 " Wrastle him, Smith-Jones." 
 
 " Go to it, boy ! " 
 
 The calf bawled and struggled. From his saddle 
 Henry gazed, smiling faintly. He waited. 
 
 " Somebody help him. Want my rope," he ap- 
 pealed, with plaintive, patient tone. 
 
 "Aw, I'll throw him," announced Bud, the wran- 
 gler, rushing in. 
 
 " Yuh won't throw him. That's a her" derided 
 somebody — at which there were sniggers. 
 
 But at that instant, exerting more strength, Phil 
 raised the calf high. It kicked furiously, and over 
 he went backwards, calf on top. Bud flung himself 
 forward. The spectators deliriously cheered. From 
 the melee of calf and Phil the former had emerged, 
 triumphant, and was bolting. Burning to distinguish 
 himself, Bud now dived for it. The rope brought 
 it up short and whirled about it met him head-on. 
 Doubled over, face to its tail, behold the impulsive 
 Bud a-straddle of the calf's neck and riding rapidly 
 about the arena. 
 
 The near spectators were gasping with glee. From 
 the horsemen gazing, on the edge of the herd, came 
 whoops. 
 
 " Which way you goin', boy ? " queried Haney. 
 
BRANDING OF THE CALVES 261 
 
 "He ain't a hawss-jingler; he's a calf-buster," 
 quoth Old Jess. 
 
 Staggering to his feet, regardless of his swollen 
 lips and swimming head, Phil rushed gallantly to 
 the rescue. The science of flanking was thrown to 
 the winds; 'twas a rough and tumble. Bud sprawled 
 off sideways; the calf rolled on top of him; Phil 
 floundered a-top the calf, and presently out of the 
 dust of hurly-burly, the panting and grunting and 
 bawling, evolved calm and the sight of two exhausted 
 boys lying across an exhausted calf. 
 
 " Somebody give me my rope," pleaded Henry. 
 " I'm tired o' sittin' here." 
 
 "One calf wrestled; one hour," remarked Mr. 
 Simms, grimly, as, with the others of his squad he 
 moved forward to mark and brand. " Wouldn't get 
 through a very big bunch in a day." 
 
 " What's the matter with your mouth, boy ? " 
 asked Dick. 
 
 " Calf put its foot right in it," accused Phil, dab- 
 bling gingerly. 
 
 " Case o' calf wrastlin' boy, that was," said Buster. 
 
 " Branded one hundred twenty calves in one hour 
 once, where I was," drawled Haney, as he held the 
 present victim's hind quarters. " Didn't nobody get 
 kicked in the mouth, either," he added, slyly. 
 
 " That was using a corral, tho', wasn't it ? " grunted 
 Mr. Simms. 
 
 " Yes, suh. Corral, two ropers, plenty irons, lot 
 o' flankers an' branders; all one brand — double quar- 
 ter cuhcle." 
 
262 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " That's the last animal. Don't see any more/' 
 reported Ford, arriving from the herd. 
 
 " All right." Old Jess whoo-eed to the horsemen 
 riding herd, and waved them in. With a series of 
 yelps they raced for camp and chuck wagon. " Guess 
 they mus' reckon it's dinner time," commented Old 
 Jess, with the flicker of a smile. 
 
 He kicked aside the embers, and began to stamp 
 them out. The others aided. The stout calf, now 
 much less spirited, was with her mammy, and being 
 comforted. 
 
 " Say, but it must have kicked you ! " giggled 
 Chet, surveying Phil. 
 
 " I'd have wrastled him, but I didn't have a good 
 chance," claimed Bud. 
 
 " Aw, if he hadn't had a rope on him he'd have 
 run away with you ! " jeered Chet. 
 
 " I've got to bring in the horses," announced Bud, 
 thus excusing himself to gallop off. 
 
 " He's too fresh," declared Chet, to Phil. " You'd 
 make a better hand than he would, now, and he's 
 lived out here all his life. He's big on the tell, is 
 all." 
 
 Squatting, Old Jess and Mr. Simms were gravely 
 fishing bits of reddish fuzzy leather from their vest 
 pockets and counting them. 
 
 "They's counting ears and dewlaps," said Chet, 
 explaining. 
 
 " What's that tally ? " again demanded Old Jess. 
 
 Phil once more summed up. 
 
 " Two hundred and seven, now." 
 
BRANDING OF THE CALVES 263 
 
 " That's right, ain't it ? " suggested Old Jess, to 
 his companion. " Hundred an' nine, mine." 
 
 " Ninety-seven, here," responded Mr. Simms, 
 anxiously, exploring his pockets. His face light- 
 ened. " Oh, I know ! " he remarked. " Forgot to 
 save that last big fellow. They wrestled her so quick, 
 sorter took my breath away ! " 
 
 "Grub pi-ile," sighed Haney. He mounted. So 
 did all, and rode for the wagon. 
 
 The herd, left to its own devices, slowly wan- 
 dered. 
 
 "But supposing there isn't any mark," proffered 
 Phil. 
 
 "All the stock in this district is marked," answered 
 Ford. " But where there happens to be a brand 
 without other mark I suppose the pieces would agree 
 with their own brands and the tally would account 
 for the rest." 
 
 " How do you tell what brand, every time ? " per- 
 sisted Phil. 
 
 " Tell by the old cow. Each calf takes its mammy's 
 brand. We see what cow the calf sticks to, in the 
 herd." 
 
 " But supposing the cow and calf have got sep- 
 arated." 
 
 "Well — that doesn't happen if we're all careful. 
 There's a lot in handling a herd easily, and in cutting 
 out without stirring it all up. You have to use cow 
 sense!* 
 
 So for the second time Phil heard the phrase; and 
 he began to understand it. 
 
264 BAR B BOYS 
 
 Everybody had washed and dinner was being given 
 final preparatory touches by Pete, before someone 
 thought to ask, suddenly : " Where's the girl ? " 
 
 " Sure. Where's Cherry ? " 
 
 The camp looked about, at first languidly (for it 
 was tired), then with more interest. 
 
 " She was almost a-top the mesa yonder, when I 
 last seen her," said Pete. "Come to the wagon an' 
 then rode off again.'* 
 
 A little thrill of apprehension stirred the camp; 
 Old Jess rose to his feet, and peered. Mr. Simms 
 started for the nearest horse of those that, with 
 cinches loosened and lines down, were sleepily await- 
 ing the arrival of the cavvy. 
 
 " There she comes," he said, relieved, turning 
 back. 
 
 Down the gravelly side of the far mesa, and across 
 the brush of the flat Cherry approached at a gallop. 
 
 Mr. Simms waved at her, once; and seated him- 
 self abruptly as if ashamed of such a display on his 
 part. 
 
 " She hears the dinner-bell, I reckon," observed 
 Buster, as all eyed her critically but not unkindly. 
 
 However, Cherry had another topic uppermost in 
 her mind. 
 
 "A whole flock of sheep is over there, the other 
 side," she proclaimed, excitedly. "I saw them and I 
 talked with the herders, too." 
 
 " What's that ? " ejaculated Mr. Simms. 
 
 With hasty exclamation, Buster and Dick sprang 
 up. Others were about to follow. 
 
BRANDING OF THE CALVES 265 
 
 " A great big lot of sheep, and four or five herd- 
 ers," repeated Cherry. 
 
 " Steady, steady, boys,*' cautioned Old Jess. ** Let's 
 hear the girl's story, first." 
 
 " No woolly ever is anything but mutton, on this 
 range," decreed Buster, hotly. "Come on, boys." 
 
 " I'm v^ith you," announced Pete, the cook. 
 " Who'll lend me a hawss ? Why don't that jingler 
 fetch his bunch in, anyway ?" 
 
 " Yes, wait a minute," urged Old Jess. " Now, 
 girl, you say you saw sheep, did yuh ? " 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 NO WOOLLIES ALLOWED 
 
 " Yes, sir. Lots and lots of them." 
 
 " What were they doin' ? " 
 
 " Eating and baa-ing," informed Miss Cherry, 
 pertly. 
 
 " Uh." And two or three of the men chuckled. 
 " Were they travelin* ? " 
 
 "Kind of, slowly." 
 
 " Whose outfit are they ? Did yuh hear ?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Mexican herders ? " 
 
 " I think so. One was, anyway." 
 
 " What hees name ? " demanded Hombre, interested. 
 
 "I don't know, Fm sure," responded Cherry. 
 
 " Where they from. Did you find out that ? " 
 
 "Utah, \hty saidr 
 
 " What else did they say ? " 
 
 " Oh, we talked a long time. I told them this was 
 cattle country, and they'd better get out, and they 
 said they had a permit to cross it and nobody could 
 make them get out. And they asked me where the 
 nearest water was, and invited me to stay to dinner, 
 but I didn't." 
 
 " How fur do yu reckon that is, Miss, to where 
 them sheep are ? " asked Buster, coolly. 
 
 966 
 
NO WOOLLIES ALLOWED 267 
 
 " Four or five miles, I guess." 
 
 "Jest a nice little canter," continued Buster. 
 " Cook, keep my dinner warm half an hour or so, 
 will yu?" He started toward his horse. "I'll 
 fetch yu back a mutton. There'll be chili con carne 
 all ready mixed, over yonder. Who's coming along 
 to help pile up the woolHes?" 
 
 The men, except Old Jess and Mr. Simms, made 
 simultaneous movement — even Pete. 
 
 " If I can get a hawss I'll pick out my own mut- 
 ton," he said, untying his apron. " Dinner's ready, 
 for anyone who stays." 
 
 " Hold on," bade Old Jess, without rising. " Hold 
 on, boys. Take your dallies. We'll 'tend to those 
 sheep, but we won't stop roundup to do it." 
 
 " Chet, you stay here," spoke Mr. Simms ; and that 
 was sufficient for the two boys. 
 
 " Didn't they say that nobody could make 'em get 
 out ? " demanded Buster, wrathfully. " Never a 
 sheepman lived could give me that talk on my own 
 range." 
 
 " We have it from the girl's lips, straight," sup- 
 plemented Pete — as fierce as the fiercest, and now 
 rummaging in the wagon, presumably for his rifle. 
 " Who'll lend me a hawss ? " 
 
 " No sheep stay on this range," declared several 
 voices, supported by an assenting murmur. 
 
 " Come along, fellows," invited Buster, again start- 
 ing. "If yu don't want to, I can clean 'em out 
 alone. I ain't beggin' for help." 
 
 " Come back an' set down," ordered Old Jess, 
 
268 BAR B BOYS 
 
 testily. "G€t off your hawss, gall. You've done 
 enough for one day." 
 
 " Oh, I didn't mean to make trouble. They'll take 
 the sheep away, I know, if you ask them to," pleaded 
 Cherry, now appalled. 
 
 "Ye-es; we'll send 'em a special request, all done 
 up in pink ribbon," drawled Haney. 
 
 " Write it on sheepskin," proposed the Open A 
 man; and everybody laughed with hard, meaning 
 emphasis. 
 
 " Set down ; set down, all of yuh," reiterated Old 
 Jess. " There comes the cavvy. We ought to change 
 hawsses, anyway. Cook, you said dinner's ready, 
 didn't yuh?" 
 
 " Pick out yore loadin' tools an' pitch in," answered 
 Pete. 
 
 " Yes, boys, let's eat. Those sheep'll wait. They 
 can't get away," argued Mr. Simms. " Must be 
 middle of afternoon, already. I'm hungry." 
 
 " Two-thirty," informed Pete. 
 
 Half reluctantly the men followed the example of 
 Old Jess and the veteran rancher, and first turning 
 loose their horses to join the approaching herd, they 
 each selected eating utensils, and proceeded to fill their 
 plates and themselves. But by the resolute motion 
 of their jaws as they chewed, it could be surmised 
 that their wrath was only smouldering. 
 
 " Didn't notice what paint brand those sheep wore, 
 did yu, Miss?" inquired Buster, gently. 
 
 " Some had a black K on their backs." 
 
 " It's an eastern Utah outfit, all right," stated the 
 
NO WOOLLIES ALLOWED 269 
 
 Open A man. " Fve seen it when I was ridin' that 
 country." 
 
 With elaborate detail the men wiped up their plates, 
 to the last vestige of gravy and sorghum, and as 
 elaborately stacked them away. They fiddled about, 
 lighting pipes, rolling cigarettes, in a covertly expect- 
 ant fashion, killing time until a plan of action had 
 been mapped out. Pete, the cook, as though still 
 pugnacious, rattled his pots and pans irritably. 
 
 Old Jess arose and stretched. If he was conscious 
 of antagonism in the air he did not betray himself. 
 
 " Get your hawsses, boys," he said. " We can 
 move that herd up a mile or two an' start another 
 gather over east." 
 
 " What about those sheep ? " asked Buster, direct. 
 " Yu thinkin' of lettin' sheep in on this range ? If 
 yu are, I quit." 
 
 " Me too," murmured voices. 
 
 Old Jess smiled, with a touch of sarcasm. 
 
 " Well, boys," he said, " you might all quit an' 
 yuh wouldn't be hurtin' me, pussonally, at all. I 
 don't own any o' the cattle. But you know well 
 enough how much use I got for sheep. I've punched 
 cows before some of yuh were born. What I reck- 
 oned was, a few of us would ride over to that sheep 
 camp this afternoon and see what's what. No need 
 of stoppin' the roundup. If a few of us can't per- 
 suade those sheep out, then the whole of us can take 
 a hand." 
 
 " That's the proper course, boys," concurred Mr. 
 Simms, " This is cattle range, and mostly Bar 
 
270 BAR B BOYS 
 
 B cows on it, too, so I've got as much interest as 
 anybody and can smell a sheep as far. But we can 
 afford to go slow; and if that outfit won't listen to 
 reason, why then we can talk to 'em in a different 
 way." 
 
 " They said they had permission," reminded Cherry. 
 
 " Permission ! " snorted Old Jess, impolitely. 
 
 He had donned his chaps, removed for coolness and 
 ease while eating ; and now trailing his rope, waddled 
 to the horse-herd. 
 
 The fresh mounts were roped out and saddled. 
 Others pulled on their chaps — with a certain grim 
 painstakingness as if foreseeing stern and disagreeable 
 work. 
 
 " Seems to me if George and Buster and Henry 
 and I ride over to that outfit it'll be enough," quoth 
 Old Jess. " How about you. Buster ? You reckon 
 yuh can cool off an' let somebody else do the talkin' ? " 
 
 Buster grinned. 
 
 " The rest o' you can push that herd up a little 
 ways, an' make a short circle out east," continued 
 the boss, swinging into his saddle. 
 
 " Can't we go with you ? " appealed Chet, anxiously, 
 half to his father and half to Old Jess. 
 
 " I'm not boss," reproved Mr. Simms, significantly. 
 
 Old Jess grunted. The sound might be interpreted 
 either way, but Chet chose to take the chance. 
 
 " Come on," he said ; and he and Phil and Cherry 
 fell in behind. 
 
 " If there's any fun don't leave me out, boys," 
 plaintively called Pete, as the party rode away. 
 
NO WOOLLIES ALLOWED 271 
 
 Scarcely a word was spoken until they had mounted 
 the mesa, in the direction whence Cherry had 
 come ; and were riding across the flat, sagy top. 
 
 "It's farther toward the left," called Cherry. 
 " Down in a hollow. I didn't come straight." 
 
 " Hear 'em ? " said Old Jess, presently. 
 " Humph ! " 
 
 " Can almost smell 'em ! " responded Henry, in 
 tone disgusted. 
 
 Phil strained his ears, and even his nostrils. It 
 seemed to him that he could catch a faint, multitudi- 
 nous murmur, distant ahead, rising and falling in a 
 confused cadence. 
 
 " Believe I hear them, too," he exclaimed. " Is 
 it that sing-song noise ? " 
 
 " That's sheep," affirmed Chet, gravely. " There 
 must be a big band of 'em." 
 
 " I said there was a lot, didn't I ? " reproved 
 Cherry. 
 
 " What will sheep do, in here ? " asked Phil, 
 curiously. 
 
 " They won't do anything. They won't have a 
 chance," and Chet laughed shortly. "The range 
 won't agree with 'em. This is cattle country." 
 
 " Don't they and cattle get along together ? " 
 
 " Look at 'em, will yuh ! " growled Old Jess, at 
 that moment. 
 
 Horses picking way amidst the brush, they had 
 been crossing the mesa at a sharp trot ; and now they 
 were upon the farther edge, with a view before and 
 below of a shallow draw or swale. They paused to 
 
272 BAR B BOYS 
 
 survey. Louder and yet more confused drifted to 
 Phil's ears that multitudinous murmur — and suddenly 
 what he had taken for sage clumps, massed in the 
 bottom and skirting the sides, resolved themselves 
 into a thousand low bodies moving with a peculiar 
 streaming effect, through the real sage. These were 
 sheep, in three divisions following one another at a 
 narrow interval; behind each division was a man 
 afoot. On the outside, opposite the rear of the last 
 division, was a man horseback. 
 
 Buster swore. 
 
 " Pushing right on, aren't they," remarked Mr. 
 Simms. 
 
 Down the slope plunged the squad at a trot again — 
 Phil minding not the jolting in the sudden fierce re- 
 sentment communicated to him by the determined 
 mien of the leaders. Without especial cause he found 
 himself, all of an instant, hating sheep. 
 
 They broke into a gallop; and dashing through 
 the middle band of the sheep, sending them baa-ing 
 and affrighted right and left, the four men, appar- 
 ently not at all averse to riding underfoot whatever 
 animals got in the way, greeted by the angry barking 
 of an indignant collie, pulled up before the herder 
 in charge. 
 
 " Where's your boss ? " demanded Old Jess, abruptly. 
 The herder, a tanned stripling in broad hat, ragged 
 blue overalls and brogans, looked upon them out of 
 skimmed-milk eyes set in a slightly scared Scan- 
 dinavian countenance, and said, without other emo- 
 tion, jerking his head sideways: 
 
NO WOOLLIES ALLOWED 273 
 
 "Over there." 
 
 The dog growled. He met hostility with equal 
 hostility, and as open. These people had acted im- 
 politely, to say the least, and he told them so. 
 
 Through the next band of sheep the cowmen reck- 
 lessly plowed — seeming to take delight in the dis- 
 may of their passage. Old ewes and wethers ran 
 panic-stricken, little lambs bolted and dodged. The 
 herder in charge of this detachment was a Mexican — 
 squat and full-bearded and swart. He yelled, and 
 shook a staff vigorously. 
 
 " You come out ! " he protested. " What you 
 mean, ridin' through sheep that way ? " His dog 
 barked. 
 
 " Shut up, you greaser ! " retorted Henry ; and 
 Buster jeered shrilly, half turning in his saddle to 
 make a face. 
 
 These sheep bore large black K*s stamped upon 
 their rumps, and upon the side of their noses, as 
 their blank faces and cold yellow eyes turned up 
 imploringly, was to be noted, in the majority of cases, 
 a burned V. Ears were marked with a swallow fork. 
 
 The man on horseback, who, out of the corner of 
 his eyes, must have witnessed the approach, rode 
 along imperturbably, with lazy, loose seat. The 
 party halted right athwart his path, and he, too, 
 halted. 
 
 He was a thin, lank individual — even thinner and 
 lanker than Pete, the cook — with small head and 
 features and a very long neck rising out from a dirty 
 gingham shirt which, unbuttoned half way down, ex- 
 
274 BAR B BOYS 
 
 posed a soiled undergarment. His overalls had crept 
 well above his shoes resting loosely in the wooden 
 stirrups, and the gap was filled with crumpled gray 
 sock. 
 
 Between left leg and saddleflap was a rifle, in scab- 
 bard. 
 
 From under a disreputable derby hat, oddly top- 
 ping his bullet head, he spat copious tobacco juice; 
 with a flicker of keenness in his small hazel eyes sur- 
 veying the intruders. 
 
 " Howdy," he said. 
 
 " How do do," spoke Old Jess, curtly. " Trailin' 
 those sheep far ? " 
 
 " So so." The man threw a leg over the horn 
 of the saddle, and sat more comfortably. " Any 
 water ahead ? " 
 
 " Might be, if yuh reach it. Yuh know this is 
 cattle country, don't yuh ? " 
 
 " Is it ? " The man extracted a well-gnawed plug 
 and after a cursory inspection bit off a piece. 
 
 "Yes, it is. Yuh can't take your sheep through 
 here, my friend." 
 
 " Where's your dead-line ? " 
 
 " We don't need any dead-line. This is cattle 
 range, an' nothin' but cattle range. That's enough." 
 
 " Not for me. I'm from Missouri," said the man, 
 Btill cool. " Who are you ? " 
 
 "We're running cows on this very ground," put 
 in Mr. Simms, also curtly. " If you don't know it 
 you ought to know it — and I reckon we can * show * 
 you, mighty quick." 
 
NO WOOLLIES ALLOWED 275 
 
 "You bet!" supplemented Buster. " Yu or any 
 other sheep outfit." 
 
 " No objection to our crossin' through, have you ? " 
 asked the man, unmoved. 
 
 " Yes, sir." Old Jess' reply was very prompt. 
 "We object, an' we object a heap. Yuh can't do it." 
 
 " Hate to disoblige you," asserted the man, with 
 the trace of a smile on his weazened countenance. 
 He spat. " This is government reserve land, ain't it ? 
 Reckon we have as much right on it as you have. 
 An' I got a permit to cross, anyway." 
 
 " Who gave it to you ?" 
 
 " A couple o' rangers we met." 
 
 " A couple o' rangers ! " Old Jess laughed sar- 
 castically — and his party joined in, Phil and Chet 
 loudest of all. " You're mistaken, my friend. This 
 ain't reserve, an' you didn't meet no rangers for it. 
 Where's your permit ? " 
 
 The lank, bullet-headed horseman lazily pulled a 
 slip of paper from his hip pocket, unfolded it and held 
 it up in the palm of his hand. 
 
 " There she is. I call your bluff." He tucked it 
 back in his pocket again. 
 
 " This ain't reserve, an' there ain't no rangers. 
 We cow-punchers do all the rangin' that's necessary," 
 said Buster, hotly. 
 
 " That's right," supported Henry. 
 
 " What kind o' lookin' men ? " inquired Old Jess. 
 
 " A one-eye, an' a man with a little black mus- 
 tache." 
 
 "Lame?" 
 
276 BAR B BOYS 
 
 '*Dunno. Didn't ride lame." 
 
 " Oh, I know ! " exclaimed Cherry, who had been 
 listening with eyes and ears. "That was Foley and 
 Joe. They aren't rangers," she added, disdainfully. 
 " They did that just for meanness." 
 
 " Friends o' yourn ? " inquired the sheepman, 
 amiably. 
 
 " You'd better get rid o' that dockyment mighty 
 quick," advised Old Jess. " Those two fellers ain't 
 rangers at all. 'Cordin' to your description, they're 
 common rustlers." 
 
 " What'd they give me a permit for, then ? " 
 
 "Jes* to make trouble. This range ain't healthy 
 for them, an' they thought they'd leave us a sheep- 
 job." 
 
 " Naw, they ain't rangers," concurred all. " They 
 fooled you, mister." A grim laugh went 'round — 
 save that the sheepman only imperturbably chewed, 
 smiling not. 
 
 " Well, boys," he remarked, throwing his leg into 
 position again, upon the opposite side of the horse, 
 "adios to you. I'll have to ketch up with those 
 sheep. How far to water, did you say ? " 
 
 But the rank before him opened not. Old Jess, 
 Mr. Simms, Buster and Henry sat ranged closely, 
 hedging his advance. 
 
 " Hold on, friend," bade Mr. Simms. " You go- 
 ing to turn back, did you say ? " 
 
 "No, I didn't. Why?" 
 
 " Count on going through with 'em, do yuh ? " 
 
 " Certainly do." 
 
NO WOOLLIES ALLOWED 277 
 
 An ominous murmur swept through the little 
 squad. The veteran cowman compressed his lips and 
 sternly shook his head. 
 
 " You'll never make it," he declared. 
 
 "No water?" 
 
 " Too many men ! " 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 " This is cow-range. WeVe told you that several 
 times." 
 
 " We won't hurt your range. We're simply cross- 
 ing for the short cut of it. There's grass enough for 
 that, an' for your cows too." 
 
 The atmosphere had suddenly waxed tense again. 
 Tempers were strained, and word, spoken and un- 
 spoken, clashed with word. 
 
 " No, sir. There is not. We know what a * short 
 cut ' for sheep means. Once sheep get into a coun- 
 try, by hook or crook, you never get 'em out. They 
 
 * cross ' a little wider and a little wider, and fust thing 
 yuh know they're crowding out the cattle. No sheep 
 
 * crosses ' through the Owl Creek or the Steeple 
 country — do they, boys?" 
 
 "Not in a hundred years," declared Henry. 
 
 " Sheep have as much right in here as cattle, I 
 take it." The horseman's tone was steady, his mien 
 unruffled. Phil could not help but rather admire 
 how he sat, giving not an inch nor the quiver of an 
 eyelash, in the midst of the angered half-circle. 
 " What's your claim on the whole country? " 
 
 " Thirty years' possession. That's been enough 
 to date, and I suspect it isn't outlawed yet. Possession 
 
278 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 is nine points o' the law, friend — and the tenth point 
 we can produce, on occasion." Mr. Simms tapped 
 his hip suggestively. " I reckon you'd better trail 
 your woollies out 'o here, the way they came in." 
 
 " No, I reckon different." The sheepman met the 
 cowman's look squarely. His little eyes had a latent 
 blaze of defiance, and the poise of his bullet-head 
 upon his long neck stiffened. Otherwise he was 
 ostensibly as negligent as ever. " I've had orders to 
 make this short cut, an' I'm goin' to do it. We're 
 late, now, off the lambin' grounds, an' we're due on 
 the summer range. We won't hurt your forage. 
 We'll push right along. But it's too late for us to 
 back out. I'm sorry to disoblige you, boys; but be- 
 cause you run cattle over a country is no sign you 
 own it. We've as much right in here as you have. 
 But we're not here to stay; we're just passin' 
 through." 
 
 " Yes, * passin' through ' ! " derided Old Jess. 
 " An' after you another bunch '11 be * passin' through,' 
 an' another, till the whole country '11 stink so of sheep 
 that no white man can live in it." 
 
 " Supposin' I go on to the next water. Then we 
 can have another talk." 
 
 " No next water ; no talk. We've palavered plenty 
 already," asserted Mr. Simms. "Your sheep stop 
 right here." 
 
 " But, my God, man ! " protested the other, with 
 abrupt alarm, " those sheep got to have water. I 
 can't trail 'em all the way back to the last water. 
 It's a day behind." 
 
NO WOOLLIES ALLOWED 279 
 
 " Can't help that/' responded the cattleman, hard 
 as flint. " You're in a bed of your own making. 
 The quicker you get back to that water, then, the 
 better." 
 
 " I'll kill off my sheep for no outfit," declared the 
 other, doggedly. 
 
 " Do you own 'em ? " 
 
 " No. I'm foreman, tho', an' I'm here to see they 
 get fair treatment." 
 
 " Yu seem anxious to have 'em piled up on yu, jest 
 the same," put in Buster. 
 
 " I'll 'tend to the pilin' up," retorted the sheepman, 
 with that flicker of the eyelid which denoted his 
 temper. " By you or by anybody else. But they 
 sha'n't die o 'thirst." 
 
 " Come on, boys," quoth Old Jess, wheeling his 
 horse. " We've given him his chance. We'll come 
 again." 
 
 " Yes — an' we'll come a-shootin'," boasted Buster. 
 
 " When you come we'll be ready for you," called 
 the sheepman. 
 
 Away dashed the cow-camp party, heading whence 
 they had come. The sheep, reorganized by the herd- 
 ers after the late demoralization caused by the reck- 
 less passage of the riders through their midst, were 
 some distance up the draw, pursuing their onward 
 way. Over their backs floated a dust, golden in the 
 westering sun. The barking of the dogs and the 
 shouting of the herders, mingled with the myriad 
 baa-ing from five thousand throats, wafted through 
 the still air. Looking back Phil saw that the sheep- 
 
28o BAR B BOYS 
 
 man, now at a trot, was overtaking his outfit. He 
 was plucky, that chap. He had been intimidated not 
 a speck, but had stood his ground. 
 
 Buster was commenting wrathfully, for whomever 
 might listen. 
 
 " That fellow has his nerve. He certainly is from 
 Missouri," commented Mr. Simms. 
 
 "We'll 'show him,' all right," declared Buster. 
 "We'll * show him.' We'll pile those sheep so high 
 they'll look like a snowy range." 
 
 " Seems a pity," quoth Old Jess. " But we gave 
 him his chance." 
 
 " They'll likely camp at the end of the draw. 
 There's a water-hole there." 
 
 " Yes. They'll have to. Some o' those ewes were 
 about all in with thirst." 
 
 "They'll spoil that water so no decent animal will 
 drink there for a month," scolded Buster. 
 
 "What are they going to do next?" asked Phil 
 of Chet. 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Our outfit." 
 
 " We'll get out to-night, I bet, an' pile 'em up." 
 
 Phil pondered. 
 
 " What's that? " he ventured. 
 
 " Aw, ride back and forth through them shooting 
 and running 'em down," explained Chet, with savage 
 emphasis. "Nobody's going to get sheep into this 
 country. It's cow country. Three years ago an- 
 other outfit tried it and the boys piled up two thousand 
 and the rest were stampeded into the brush so they 
 
NO WOOLLIES ALLOWED 281 
 
 never zuere gathered again. We all had lamb and 
 mutton for six months! " 
 
 " What a shame ! " exclaimed Cherry, indignantly. 
 "The poor things! It isn't their fault." 
 
 " Sometimes the herders get killed, too, unless they 
 keep out of the way," proceeded Chet. "But they 
 usually take to the brush themselves at the first shot." 
 
 " I think it's a shame ! " reiterated Cherry. 
 
 " Then they've no business bringing sheep in." 
 
 " The poor defenseless things ! What harm do 
 they do?" 
 
 " Who ? The sheep ? " Chet sputtered angrily. 
 Bred in the school of the open range, he could take 
 only the cowman's view. " They kill the forage. 
 They eat it so close that nothing else can live on it, 
 not even deer. A cow and horse won't even try to 
 graze where sheep have been, and they won't drink 
 after sheep, either. They don't like the smell. It 
 takes about fifty acres, here in the mountains, to sup- 
 port a cow. Dad says that about thirty used to do, 
 down on the plains. When the sheep come in they 
 drive the cattle out, for they eat so close they can 
 live where a cow can't. Everybody hates woollies — 
 that is, everybody but the fellows who own them, 
 and they hire herders and don't do the work them- 
 selves. You bet no sheep get in here, to stay long." 
 
 " But these just want to pass through." 
 
 Chet snorted. 
 
 " Aw, that's the old trick," he flouted. " First a 
 bunch passes through. Then another bunch follows, 
 but has to take a little different trail, because the 
 
282 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 forage has been cleaned out. Pretty soon a bunch 
 camps for a day or two — and first thing you know the 
 range is sheep range, and that's the end of cattle." 
 
 " Are you going along to-night when they pile 
 them up?" queried Phil. 
 
 Chet answered promptly. 
 
 " Sure! It'll be fun. We'll all go. I wish I had 
 my gun." 
 
 " Maybe the sheep people will shoot back," sug- 
 gested Phil. 
 
 Chet was no whit alarmed. 
 
 " They'd better not," he blustered. " Buster and 
 Dick and the other boys would as soon fix a sheep- 
 herder as a coyote. I hate to have the dogs hurt, 
 tho'," he added. " But they generally are." 
 
 Cherry said not a word. Only, as she rode, a vivid 
 red spot glowed in each cheek, and her lips were 
 pressed tightly together. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 MISTRESS CHERRY TO THE RESCUE 
 
 "What I don't savvy," remarked the Open A 
 man, "is why those rustlers headed this sheep outfit 
 in here with a fake permit — .acceptin' that there is a 
 permit." 
 
 " He only showed us a piece of paper," said Buster. 
 " That was jest a bluff. He an' any other sheepman 
 knows there can't any ranger give a permit to cross 
 cattle country." 
 
 " But s'posin' those two fellers fooled him. 
 Why ? " persisted the Open A man. 
 
 " There are some people in this world naturally 
 plumb mean, I reckon," averred Mr. Simms. " They 
 like to stir up trouble. Those two fellows are get- 
 ting driven out o' the district; we've touched 'em up 
 pretty bad already, and they're just sore enough to 
 strike whatever they can, around in a circle like a 
 mad rattlesnake. If they can bother us with sheep, 
 and hurt the range and get us into a fix some way, 
 they'll do it." 
 
 " It's kinder hahd on the sheep," murmured Haney. 
 
 " Yes, it sure is," agreed somebody. 
 
 But despite this opinion no token of relenting from 
 hostility against the invader flock was evident in the 
 camp. The men had eaten, and now in the long rays 
 of the sun, slanted across from the crest of the west- 
 
 283 
 
284 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 ward mesa, they were lounging about relaxed and 
 lazy; only Pete was busy, washing the dishes, occa- 
 sionally joining, with his characteristic freedom, in 
 the conversation. But although the scene was one of 
 peace, ominous preparation for action was visible. 
 
 ** You men who'll want your hawsses had better 
 save 'em out o' the herd before the wrangler gets 
 away with it," had prompted Old Jess, quietly. 
 
 "Somebody loan me a hawss," appealed Pete. 
 " Say, save me one, somebody. I want to be in on 
 this picnic." 
 
 The herd had come in and gone again (wrangler 
 Bud protesting that he would hurry back, and that 
 the "crowd" must wait for him), leaving behind it 
 a score of horses picketed to the brush. 
 
 Following Chet's example Phil had roped out Pep- 
 per; reluctantly, but bound to do as the rest: and 
 much to the camp's amusement Cherry likewise had 
 reserved a mount. 
 
 " Looks like this camp is unanimous," commented 
 Old Jess. " You'd better stay at home, gal," he ad- 
 vised bluntly. 
 
 " All alone ? I'm afraid," objected Cherry. 
 
 " Got two boys to look after yuh." 
 
 " Who? Us? " Chet spoke up quickly " Naw, sir! 
 We're going, too. Phil wants to see the fun as much 
 as anybody." 
 
 Old Jess, with his usual non-assenting grunt, ac- 
 cepted the mutiny. He had delivered his say, and 
 did not intend to assume further supervision of 
 juveniles. 
 
MISTRESS CHERRY TO THE RESCUE 285 
 
 Mr. Simms added his word. 
 
 " You're better off at camp, all three of you," he 
 spoke. "You'll just be in the way and you're liable 
 to be hurt. It's no pleasure trip; it's a bad business.*' 
 
 But with this speech he, too, was done. In the 
 open West people travel their own road, to profit by 
 experience. And the two boys must live and learn, 
 like everybody else. As for Cherry — well, a girl in 
 a cow-camp was a problem new to this range. 
 
 " Ought to have more shootin' irons, hadn't we ? " 
 volunteered Pete, cheerfully, now having finished his 
 dishes, and advancing, sociably inclined. 
 
 " Might do a more thorough job," agreed several. 
 
 " Ride 'em daown ; ride 'em daown," drawled 
 Haney the Texan. " Raid 'em good an' plenty an' 
 they'll never bothuh any moh this year. Don't laike 
 shootin', me." 
 
 " Oh, we'll have guns enough, I reckon," quoth 
 Mr. Simms. " Somebody can take the boy's." 
 
 "Yes; I don't want it," proffered Phil, without 
 hesitation. 
 
 "I'll use it," volunteered Chet, the bloodthirsty. 
 
 " No, you won't." His father was emphatic. 
 " You'll go empty-handed. Otherwise you'll be put- 
 ting a hole in a good hawss or someone's leg instead 
 of a sheep." 
 
 " Yes ; a sixty-dollar horse or a forty-dollar puncher, 
 Chet," supplemented Ford. 
 
 " It would serve you right," declared Cherry, flatly, 
 from the spot where now for some time she had been 
 silent. " Killing a lot of poor defenseless sheep ! " 
 
286 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 Various eyes surveyed her with calm, dispassionate 
 gaze, as if politely weighing her remark. 
 
 " You're going along,'* hazarded a voice, slyly. 
 
 To this and to the chuckle that followed Mistress 
 Cherry made no retort. 
 
 Bud the wrangler arrived breathless, at a trot, but 
 found that his haste was unnecessary, for the camp 
 was just as he had left it. Dusk settled. 
 
 " There's no law against a man gettin' what sleep 
 he can, is there ? " said the Boot rider. He arose and 
 strolled to his bed. " Who'll wake me? " 
 
 " All o' yuh go to bed. I'll wake yuh," vouch- 
 safed Pete the cook, affably. 
 
 "Pete wants to make sure we don't sneak off on 
 him, some way," explained Mr. Simms, amidst the 
 general scattering to the nightly nests. 
 
 " Come on. But don't you let 'em leave us while 
 we're asleep," adjured Chet. 
 
 " How long will they wait ? " asked Phil, non- 
 plussed, as sitting upon his bed he pulled off his boots. 
 
 " 'Bout midnight, maybe. Till things have quieted 
 down at the sheep camp and the moon's up." 
 
 Beneath his tarpaulin Phil lay for some time 
 awake. Chet's adjuration of watchfulness seemed 
 to have placed a responsibility upon him — Chet being 
 an extraordinarily sound sleeper. The project afoot 
 also worried him. He was loyal to cow-land and 
 cow-man — for was he not a puncher, himself, riding 
 for the Bar B? — but he wished that there was some 
 other way of getting rid of those sheep without mal- 
 treating them. He kept seeing their servile mien, 
 
MISTRESS CHERRY TO THE RESCUE 287 
 
 their coward yellow eyes looking up in such appre- 
 hension out of their blank faces, their confused run- 
 ning to and fro with no attempt upon the part of any 
 mother to protect her child ; and he agreed with 
 Cherry that the foray was one not to be proud of. 
 Even Mr. Simms had said it was a " bad business.'* 
 
 Nevertheless, evidently it had to be done. The 
 range demanded. Ford had made no objection. 
 The peace-loving Haney had grimly supported the 
 measure. Perhaps it was not so severe as it sounded. 
 At any rate, in Rome one did as the Romans. Cherry 
 thought even branding cruel — but it had to be done, 
 too. Still, the sheep were so utterly defenseless, and 
 they had been forced in here — they could not help 
 themselves — he hoped that not many would be hurt — 
 or anybody killed — what queer yellow eyes and white 
 lashes they had — and how fat and comical were the 
 lambs — he wished that he and Chet weren't going — 
 Cherry didn't want to — what would his mother say? 
 — but, still, he was a cowboy, and sheep spoiled the 
 range — to " pile 'em up " was the only way, wasn't 
 it ? — nobody liked to, except maybe Buster and Pete, 
 and they were hot-headed — hee-hum — he must be 
 careful not to let Chet and himself sleep through — 
 though he wouldn't mind, for himself — perhaps they 
 had been taken out, already, those sheep — hurrah, if 
 they had — perhaps — perhaps 
 
 He must have dropped off. For from a confusion 
 of running sheep, all with basilisk yellow eyes, and 
 shouting, shooting riders, he was transported as 
 abruptly as the snapping of a thread to find himself 
 
288 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 half sitting up, among his covers, staring wildly into 
 the brush ; with a gibbous moon low in the sky before 
 him, about him the dimly white tarpaulin beds of 
 the camp, and enveloping him the chill dampness of 
 the wide night. 
 
 He listened attentively to make sure that he and 
 Chet had not been left. No; snores were numerous 
 enough to prove that the camp was intact. The 
 picketed horses sighed and stamped. Then, as his 
 eyes roved around, straining to pierce further the 
 dusk, they rested upon Cherry's little tent (obscurely 
 showing twenty yards away) just in time to distin- 
 guish the flap momentarily fade, so to speak, and a 
 figure emerge — the figure, by size and quickness, of 
 Cherry herself! 
 
 Phil cowered back in his covers, so that only his 
 head was out, as customary. He curiously watched, 
 and almost he giggled, at the thought that Cherry 
 was walking in her sleep. 
 
 An instant she halted, and stood; then she turned 
 aside, and gathering her saddle equipment carried it 
 toward the horses. Depositing it (she moved with 
 little sound, but with exceeding haste) she proceeded 
 on, and came back leading a horse — ^presumably her 
 own. 
 
 Phil began to be alarmed. Also, he was puzzled. 
 She acted as if she was awake. Now she was sad- 
 dling up, feverishly, again in much haste. Phil raised 
 his head. 'Twas time that he intercepted. 
 
 " Hello," he said, softly, across the dusky space. 
 
 She made no response, nor appeared to hear. But 
 
MISTRESS CHERRY TO THE RESCUE 289 
 
 something in her nervous celerity made him think 
 that she did hear. 
 
 " Hello," he repeated, in undertone ; " where you 
 going?" 
 
 " Uh ! uh ! " she murmured, shortly — which ex- 
 pressed "Shoo, fly!" "Be quiet!" and "None of 
 your business," all in one. There rarely was any 
 mistake as to what Cherry meant, when she spoke. 
 
 Now thoroughly in earnest, Phil sat up. Even as 
 he did so Cherry led her horse away, by the bridle. 
 Phil threw aside his covers and hauling his boots 
 from beneath his bed tugged to get them on. He 
 wriggled into his coat and scrambled to his feet, at 
 the same time. 
 
 "Whoo-ee," he called, mildly, staggering stiffly 
 through the brush, after her. 
 
 But with another low, warning " Uh ! uh ! " — this 
 one being less a remonstrance than a caution — on the 
 outskirts of the camp she had mounted, had ridden 
 off, had merged, horse and self, with the mist and 
 faintly illumined night; and was gone. Where? 
 
 In earnest Phil turned for his own saddle, found 
 Medicine Eye, clapped bridle and saddle on him, 
 working hard in the dimness with awkward fingers to 
 accomplish the job before the girl was out of reach 
 or he was interrupted. He would have wakened 
 Chet, but he had no time. However, some of the 
 camp was now aroused, for a voice spoke: 
 
 " Who is that, over there ? " 
 
 "What's the matter, Dick?" Another voice. 
 
 " Somebody's saddlin' a hawss. Time to get up? " 
 
290 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 "I dunno. Who is it?" 
 
 "Cook ain't called, has he?" A third voice. 
 
 " Who is that over there?" 
 
 " Macowan," replied Phil, swinging hurriedly 
 into the saddle. " Cherry went somewhere — I'll 
 see," he called back. 
 
 " Who ? " demanded the sleepy questioner again, 
 in tone irritated. 
 
 Phil paused not to repeat. But breaking Medicine 
 Eye at once into a trot he sallied forth, upon the trail. 
 
 Behind him the camp began to chatter and stir, 
 one after another of its members joining the con- 
 fused discussion that he evidently had excited. Thus 
 might exchange remarks a small colony of prairie- 
 dogs, routed out of their holes; and as he left it be- 
 hind Phil was moved to chuckle. 
 
 The open country, partially lighted by the gibbous 
 moon, lay ghostly around him. Before, he could 
 barely make out the combination figure of Cherry and 
 her horse, crossing the flat. Medicine Eye pricked 
 his ears, and whinnied. Of his own accord he quick- 
 ened his trot. Occasionally he stumbled upon the 
 brush hedging his course. No sound was to be heard, 
 except the hoof-beats and the crackle of the branches. 
 The moist sage gave forth a pleasantly pungent 
 aroma, diffused from below and hanging in the damp, 
 sluggish air. A slight mist, as of an exhalation from 
 the heavy dew, hovered o'er. Phil's nostrils ex- 
 panded, and he drank deep of the soothing atmos- 
 phere. He was thoroughly enjoying the adventure. 
 
 Cherry was climbing the mesa beyond which had 
 
MISTRESS CHERRY TO THE RESCUE 291 
 
 been discovered the sheep; and now his trot was 
 rapidly bringing him nearer to her. Still at the trot, 
 with sundry eager grunts Medicine Eye forced the 
 ascent. 
 
 Cherry was pushing right on, as far ahead as ever. 
 She was at a lope; and Medicine Eye, giving a little 
 whimper as of disgust, also forged into a lope. 
 
 " Whoo-ee ! " signaled Phil ; but Cherry slackened 
 not nor waited. 
 
 However, at the other edge of the mesa she pulled 
 short, for a moment, as if peering into the swale be- 
 low. Phil could distinguish her, in a spectral manner, 
 doing this. It seemed as if she were listening, as well 
 as peering. Then resuming her excursion she rode 
 along the mesa edge. This enabled her pursuer, by 
 changing Medicine Eye's course, to oblique in a short 
 cut and converge upon her. 
 
 "What's the matter? Where you going?" Phil 
 asked, about to reach her side. 
 
 " I can't find the sheep," she said. " Where do you 
 suppose their camp is ? " 
 
 Phil stared anxiously upon her, debating whether 
 she was asleep or really awake. 
 
 " Oh, they're safe some place," he said, to humor 
 her. " Come on ; let's go back to camp." 
 
 " They are not safe," she retorted, so sharply as to 
 convince him that she was indeed awake. " Every- 
 body's coming over to kill them, and you know it." 
 
 The sight of her face and her widely-open indignant 
 eyes, as she turned upon him, further convinced him 
 as to her sanity. 
 
292 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " We can't help it. And I don't see why you want 
 to start out and ride alone this way, in the middle 
 of the night. You've no business to. It's danger- 
 ous." 
 
 " / can help it. I think it's a shame. You go back, 
 but I'm going to find the sheep people and tell them." 
 
 " They know it. Buster told them what would 
 happen. What can you do ? " 
 
 "I can tell them again, and that it's really so, and 
 that the men are coming right away and they'd 
 better get ready to promise to take their sheep out." 
 
 " But they wouldn't promise, just a little while ago. 
 Come on back. You can't do anything." 
 
 " They've had water now, maybe. They wouldn't 
 promise before because they hadn't had water. And I 
 don't believe they knew what a lot of men would get 
 a,fter them. I told on them and got them into trouble, 
 too. If it hadn't been for me maybe they'd have 
 gone through without being caught." 
 
 " Of course they'd have been caught." Phil spoke 
 as confidently as he could. " Come on back, now. 
 You've got to come back." He did not mean to be 
 over-authoritative, but this assuredly was no escapade 
 for a girl. He was alarmed. 
 
 " No, sir." Cherry was away again. " Go back, 
 yourself. I don't ask you to stay, and I didn't ask 
 your advice." 
 
 Phil followed. Of course, he could not go back and 
 leave her. That was no part to play. He could not 
 carry her back, either. So he must see her through. 
 
 " They couldn't have gone very far," soliloquized 
 
MISTRESS CHERRY TO THE RESCUE 293 
 
 Cherry. "We'll turn down here, Sukie (Sukie was 
 her horse) and look for them." 
 
 She and Sukie plunged down the loose slope, in 
 diagonal descent. Phil and Medicine Eye promptly 
 did the same. There was no sound, save the passage 
 of the horses. The swale all was quiet, as if devoid 
 of life. 
 
 "You must be nearly opposite the water-hole," 
 volunteered Phil, from behind. " That's where the 
 camp would be." 
 
 " Oh, dear ; we must hurry, Sukie," she sighed. 
 " We'll be too late. I can hear the men coming." 
 
 Phil listened. He could hear nothing. But just 
 then, close ahead amidst the denser mist that shrouded 
 the swale into which they were entering, a dog barked. 
 
 "There they are!" exclaimed Cherry, joyously. 
 "Hurry, Sukie." And at a gallop she dashed reck- 
 lessly on. 
 
 The dog barked furiously. There was a querulous 
 baa, followed by another and another. The chorus 
 swelled. The riders seemed right upon a flock, un- 
 seen in the mist and brush. Phil frantically ham- 
 mered Medicine Eye, to gain Cherry's side and thence 
 to take the lead. 
 
 " Don't anybody shoot us," Cherry was calling, 
 shrilly. " We want to tell you something." 
 
 Phil's ear caught a metallic click. 
 
 " Stop where you are, then. And tell it mighty 
 quick," ordered a gruff voice, from the brush, close 
 in front. 
 
 "We've stopped," informed Cherry. 
 
294 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 "Who are you?" 
 
 " Oh, I'm just a girl." 
 
 "Who's with you?" 
 
 " Just a boy." 
 
 Phil was far from flattered, but this was no time 
 nor place to argue upon his status of real cow-puncher. 
 
 " We've come from the cow-camp," he explained. 
 
 "What do you want?" 
 
 " It's to tell you that the whole camp is riding over 
 to kill your sheep," narrated Cherry. 
 
 " We know that. Yuh can ride back again. Bet- 
 ter do it 'fore yuh get hurt, too." 
 
 " But they are. There's such a lot of them. They 
 are. They're coming now," protested Cherry, 
 poignantly. 
 
 " What's it to youf You're a part of the camp, 
 aren't yuh ? " 
 
 " We don't want the sheep killed. I don't, anyway. 
 Please promise to take them out, won't you ? Please, 
 please do. And hurry. The men'll be here in a min- 
 ute," pleaded Cherry. 
 
 The figure of a man, rifle in hand, arose out of the 
 brush, and approached them. This was a relief. To 
 talk to a mere voice was unsatisfactory. 
 
 " It's only us," reassured Cherry. " I'm the girl 
 who was over yesterday. But the whole camp's com- 
 ing, just the same. Aren't they?" she appealed, to 
 Phil. 
 
 " They shore are," corroborated Phil, with his 
 broadest cow-range accent — intended to counteract 
 that recent " boy " imputation of hers. 
 
MISTRESS CHERRY TO THE RESCUE 295 
 
 "How many?" 
 
 " Fifteen or twenty." 
 
 "Hear them?" added Cherry. 
 
 Distant could be distinguished a slight jingle, as of 
 horses accoutered and ridden. 
 
 The sheepman — he was the tall, small-headed in- 
 dividual who had been so obstinate at the interview 
 with Old Jess and squad — appeared to hesitate. 
 
 " There'll be guns a-poppin'," he said. " If those 
 men want fight, they'll get it," and he cursed the near- 
 ing raiders bitterly. 
 
 "But you'll lose your sheep. Truly, you will," 
 pleaded Cherry. " While you're fighting some of 
 them Buster and the rest will ride through and kill 
 everything. They'll kill you, too, if you shoot back, 
 I know they will. Please tell them you'll take the 
 sheep out right away in the morning. I'll go and 
 tell them to wait. Shall I ? " she proffered, eagerly. 
 
 " I don't care for myself or the herders, but I do 
 care for the sheep," mused the foreman. "I hate to 
 be bluffed, too. Still — we've had water. I wouldn't 
 have backed down last evenin* for no gang. I was 
 bound to get water. Now — well, supposin' you ride 
 back an' meet 'em, an' tell 'em I'm willin' to talk a bit. 
 I hate to have the sheep killed. There's no sense in 
 that" 
 
 As thus he argued, in helpless, hesitant fashion, 
 half to them and half to himself, Phil felt a tinge of 
 compassion. A second figure had emerged, shadowy, 
 from the brush and the mist and stood silently near, 
 listening. 
 
296 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " All right. We will/' answered Cherry, in tone 
 glad ; and wheeled her horse. 
 
 " But tell 'em if they want fight jus' for the sake o' 
 fightin' they can get it. We're armed an' we can 
 shoot," called the foreman, after them, defiantly. 
 
 " They wouldn't care for that" scofifed Cherry, 
 stanch to the camp, although appearing to betray it. 
 " They're not afraid ! " 
 
 Phil doubted the entire force of the foreman's dec- 
 laration. He had noted that the second figure dis- 
 played no weapon. 
 
 With Cherry he rode back. They were guided by 
 that jingle, now much plainer and mingled with the 
 scrape of leather and the crackle of hoofs among the 
 sage. Abruptly out of the dimness loomed obscure 
 the bunch of horsemen descending along the swale; 
 Cherry spurred to meet and intercept them. 
 
 "Wait!" she cried. "Wait!" 
 
 " Not by a jugful ! " muttered Old Jess, from the 
 front rank. " Get out o' the way. We'll wait later." 
 
 " What are you doing here, anyway ? " demanded 
 Mr. Simms. " Here — ^you and Phil and Chet and the 
 hawss wrangler go back to camp. You aren't wanted, 
 any of yuh." 
 
 "No, no!" protested Cherry. "Wait. You must 
 wait." She weaved Sukie back and forth before them, 
 as if to hold them. " He'll take his sheep out. He 
 said so. He sent us to tell you." 
 
 "He will, will he?" 
 
 " He'll take 'em out by the tails, then." 
 
 "We'll tend to all that for him." 
 
MISTRESS CHERRY TO THE RESCUE 297 
 
 " Mutton for all. Come on, boys." 
 
 A medley of angry remarks was delivered. And 
 diet took occasion to reproach, of Phil : 
 
 " Aw, what'd you go off and leave me for? " 
 
 " But he said he would, first thing in the morning. 
 He did — ^and he meant it, too ; didn't he, Phil ? " pur- 
 sued Cherry, desperately. " He doesn't want his 
 sheep killed. He's ready to talk with you. They've 
 had water, now. He only wanted water for them. 
 Please wait." 
 
 She was almost crying. 
 
 "That's the truth," corroborated Phil. 
 
 " Who told you two to butt in ? " attacked a voice. 
 
 But Old Jess asked, crossly: 
 
 " Where is he, then, with his talk ? " 
 
 " Back in the sage. I'll take you to him," answered 
 Phil. 
 
 " I reckon we can find him without you, if we have 
 to." 
 
 " Say, are yu goin' to talk with that skunk ? " 
 The demand was in Buster's curt, indignant tones. 
 
 " Mebbe we'd better. Shall we, George ? " 
 
 " I'm with you," responded Mr. Simms. 
 
 A sullen murmur ran now here, now there, through 
 the group. 
 
 " But what about us ? " demanded Dick. 
 
 " You stay where you are. We'll be back in a min- 
 ute." And the two rode on. 
 
 "Yes; *wait,' jes' like the girl told us to," com- 
 mented somebody, sarcastically. 
 
 This raised a laugh — but slight and of short dura- 
 
298 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 tion. The horsemen shifted irksomely in their 
 saddles. 
 
 " Listen to the woollies baa, will yuh ! ** 
 
 "Faugh!" 
 
 " What's the use in talkin' ? He's had his chance." 
 
 " There's only one way to talk. That's with a 
 thirty-thirty." 
 
 " Or a forty-five." 
 
 "Come on, boys. Shall we pile 'em, anyway? 
 That's what we're here for." 'Twas the belligerent 
 Pete who spoke. 
 
 " Pete wants his mutton." 
 
 " Shore I do," agreed Pete. " An' I want some 
 fun, too. Ain't been in a sheep pile-up for two 
 years." 
 
 " Mutton'd taste powerful good," sighed Haney. 
 " Grub pi-ile." 
 
 " Sheep pi-ile, yuh mean," corrected Dick. 
 
 "What'd you go off and leave me for? " reproached 
 Chet, again, of Phil. 
 
 " I couldn't help it," defended Phil. 
 
 " Was ridin' with his girl," sneered Bud the 
 wrangler. 
 
 " Shut up, you hawss jingler," silenced Chet, tartly. 
 
 " There they come," announced somebody. 
 
 The group awaited the report of Old Jess and Mr, 
 Simms, who could be descried returning. 
 
 " Well, it's all right, boys," said the veteran cattle- 
 man. " He back-tracks with his woollies, first thing 
 in the morning." 
 
 " He does, does he ? " replied Buster, boldly. " I 
 
MISTRESS CHERRY TO THE RESCUE 299 
 
 don't savvy that * all right ' business. We're goin' to 
 let him, are we? " 
 
 " I reckon we are." 
 
 " I reckon we aren't. What'd we take this ride for 
 — our healths? " 
 
 " No, for his, looks like," commented somebody, 
 slyly. 
 
 "For Buster's, too; thought he was kind o' pale 
 and peaked. Can't eat," supplemented somebody else. 
 
 " To pile up the sheep means a fight, boys, and some 
 one'll get hurt," explained Old Jess, farther. " He 
 means business — an' if he'll take his sheep out peace- 
 able we'd better let him. Any one of us is worth 
 more'n his whole outfit, an' in the mix-up he's jes' as 
 likely to pot us as we are to pot him. We'll send a 
 man or two along with him in the mornin', to see that 
 he keeps the trail an' don't stop." 
 
 " Don't yuh try to send me," growled Buster. " I 
 ain't got down to breathin' sheep-dust yet." 
 
 " He still claims he came in by mistake. That those 
 two fellers told him this was reserve and they'd pass 
 him through," was saying Mr. Simms. " Better give 
 him the benefit o' the doubt. Of course, he was 
 blamed spunky yesterday afternoon. But nozv he's 
 going to take his sheep out. And that's what we 
 want. If it was the owners of the sheep with 'em I'd 
 be for teaching a lesson — but he's only boss and per- 
 haps he wouldn't get a square deal from them after 
 it was all over." 
 
 " Huh ! " growled Buster, still unmollified. 
 
 The party faltered and fidgeted. The ardor was 
 
300 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 cooling. The veteran cattleman decided for the 
 waverers. 
 
 " Well," he quoth. " 'Most time for the cavvy to 
 come in. Let's go to camp, boys." 
 
 " An' don't we get a mutton, even ? " queried Pete, 
 aggrievedly, as the party turned. 
 
 "Out on the roundup, boys, I tell yuh what yuh get — 
 Little chunk o' bread an' a little chunk o' meat; 
 Little black coffee, boys, chuck full o' alkali " 
 
 chanted Haney, softly. 
 
 " Yuh can ride over early in the momin' and dicker 
 with him, Pete ! " proposed Old Jess, grimly. 
 
 " Not on yore life ! " repudiated Pete, in scorn. 
 " Any sheepman who dickers with me'll have to come 
 to my fire. I ain't buyin' my mutton, either. Not in 
 cattle country." 
 
 The party rode on in silence. Cherry sighed. 
 
 " Oh, I'm so glad." 
 
 "Mus' be yu don't like mutton," accused Buster, 
 disgustedly. " What'd yu come interferin' for — 
 spoilin' our picnic?" 
 
 " I'd got those sheep people in trouble by telling on 
 them, so I tried to get them out," elucidated Cherry, 
 promptly. 
 
 "Well, yu shore are a trouble maker," grumbled 
 Buster. 
 
 "She thought she was doing right," supported 
 Mr. Simms. 
 
 The men had begun to talk more freely, with re- 
 
MISTRESS CHERRY TO THE RESCUE 301 
 
 marks varied. Loudest of all in his assertions and 
 complainings was Bud the wrangler; and presently he 
 came sidling between Chet and Phil. 
 
 " What do you say," he communicated, confiden- 
 tially. " You two an' me an' Pete an' Buster '11 sneak 
 back an' get a mutton. I bet we could do it. Then 
 we'll pile up some sheep an' skip." 
 
 " Aw, pish ! Yuh make me sick," rebuked Chet. 
 
 Bud faded. 
 
 " What'd you go off and leave me for ? " reiterated 
 Chet, to Phil. 
 
 " But I couldn't help it. Honest, I couldn't," pro- 
 tested Phil. " You see— Cherry started out and I 
 followed." 
 
 He stopped short. He didn't wish to appear to 
 blame her — she being a girl. 
 
 " But what'd you two go and interfere for, any- 
 way?" scolded Chet. "We'd give (sometimes Chet 
 waxed ungrammatical) him his chance and he 
 wouldn't take it He'd ought to have his sheep piled 
 up." 
 
 "But Phil didn't interfere," interposed Cherry, 
 quickly. " He didn't know anything about it until he 
 caught me, and then he tried to make me come back. 
 But I wouldn't." 
 
 This exoneration spread; for in due time Phil 
 found himself reinstated to his former standing as a 
 member of the camp. And even the resentment 
 against Mistress Cherry speedily paled. Not that she 
 cared, apparently, whether or no ; for a more independ- 
 
302 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 ent creature never breathed. The quality was one 
 that the men could not help but admire. 
 
 " Grub pi-ile/' murmured Haney, that night — or 
 that morning — as he again crawled into bed. " An' 
 nothin' but beef. Pity the pore cowboy." 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 PEPPER SEEKS THE WILD BUNCH 
 
 " This ain't a roundup. This is a shoveup," de- 
 clared Old Jess, scornfully, as they rode along. 
 
 "Why?" invited Phil. 
 
 "Why!" grunted Old Jess. "Because it is. It's 
 a shoveup from the winter range to the summer 
 range. O' course we make a point to brand the 
 calves an' cut out the herds, but it's no reg'lar round- 
 up like in the plains country. On the plains we set 
 out in April, soon as the grass was green, an' rode 
 our circles 'till we'd gathered all the critters in the 
 district at the rodero ground — know what that is?" 
 
 " No, unless it comes from * rodeo,' " confessed 
 Phil. 
 
 He was enjoying Old Jess, who was in one of his 
 rare talkative reminiscent moods. 
 
 " It does, I reckon. * Rodear ' is Spanish for round- 
 in'-up, and * rodero ' mus' be the roundup itself. 
 Anyhow, that's how we use it, pronounced on the sec- 
 ond syl'ble. And after all the critters been gathered 
 each outfit cut out its own animals an' tuk 'em away 
 to the home range. Cattle on the plains'd drift a 
 hundred miles durin' the winter, and the roundup dis- 
 trict might cover a hundred and fifty miles. No, this 
 ain't a roundup. There ain't roundups any more. 
 
 303 
 
304 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 I've seen forty wagons an* two hundred men together. 
 Yes, sir; forty fires agoin'. That was a picnic for 
 the cowboys. We started when there was grazin' for 
 the hawsses, and we were gone 'till the summer, sleep- 
 in' on the ground an' livin' off the chuck-wagon, an' 
 renewin' acquaintance with other cowboys." 
 
 Phil reflected. 
 
 " But those days are gone — and the long-horn breed 
 o' punchers and o' cattle is gone, too. I'm one o' the 
 last men who rode the Texas Trail, I reckon ; and that 
 banded steer in the wild bunch of the Little Squaw 
 country is the only long-horn animal I've seen in ten 
 year — and he's a throw-back." 
 
 " Where are the long-homed cattle, like those in 
 pictures ? " asked Phil. 
 
 "Quit. Played out. The cattleman to-day wants 
 beef, not horn. He can get it, because cattle aren't 
 trailed any more from Texas clean up into Kansas and 
 Montana, like they once were when we needed the 
 little ol' Texas dogie with his four-foot spread o' horn, 
 who could travel his three mile an hour, and the Texas 
 boys to drive him. He was good enough for the 
 Injun an' the soldier. O' course, up here everything 
 is a short-horn, anyway. Cows taken into the moun- 
 tains an' the timber breed to shorter horns, as a rule. 
 That banded steer is part of a Texas herd. His 
 mother was from Texas. But he's gone back o' her 
 several generations. Does my eyes good whenever I 
 see him. Do you know how to tell the age of a 
 cow?" 
 
 " No." 
 
PEPPER SEEKS THE WILD BUNCH 305 
 
 **By the horns. A yearlin's horns are rough. 
 When she's two-year-old her horns are smoother an' 
 the roughness gets to be a button on the tip. Horns 
 of a three-year-old have lost that button and are 
 sharp. Some folks claim the horns hold a wrinkle 
 for every year. And you'll have to remember that a 
 yearlin's a yearlin' till she's two years old, and a two- 
 year-old till she's three. Three-year-old's tail begins 
 to almost touch the ground. Long tail, old cow. 
 Down in Texas they used to put a figger on the calf 
 when they branded it, to show the year. Once in a 
 while now you'll come across an animal branded that 
 way, with the range brand and a number — a six, or 
 eight, or two, as happens, to tell the year it was born. 
 O' course the only sure way, when you're partic'lar, 
 is to throw the critter and examine its mouth. But 
 an experienced cowman usu'ly can look at a cow from 
 the saddle an' guess mighty close." 
 
 The roundup was nearing completion. One by one 
 the various outfits whose range lay adjoining had 
 taken their herds and left. The Reverse R had 
 dropped out; the Flying U, the Triangle Cross, the 
 Open A, the Boot and the Three I (last to join) ; all 
 had eventually diverged, at the proper places, and 
 gone upon their own trail, seeking their own recog- 
 nized summer pastures. Only the Lazy J remained, 
 keeping its herd separate but traveling on in company 
 with the Bar B. 
 
 Larger even than the Lazy J's was the Bar B herd ; 
 so large, in fact, that two herds had been made of it — ■ 
 one of the steers, and one of the cows or she-stock. 
 
3o6 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 And thus, in three columns, the twain outfits steadily 
 advanced, into the higher country, making for the 
 summer range. 
 
 Phil, riding with the cavalry behind the she-stock 
 herd, had become thoroughly hardened. There was 
 nothing of the convalescent about him. Not only was 
 the pneumonia a thing of the remote past, but all his 
 saddle-welts and blisters and stirrup-sores had suc- 
 cumbed completely or had been changed to harmless 
 callouses. He sat his saddle with never a thought of 
 himself; no more did he clutch the horn when career- 
 ing through the brush ; he was perfectly competent to 
 catch his horse out of the herd — but he did not yet 
 pretend to roping from horseback. As a plain roper, 
 afoot, he was passable. But he could ride, and ride, 
 and ride, with the toughest. 
 
 The day was hot. However, the program of late 
 had been straight driving, with only occasional side 
 excursions to gather in a few strays, all, with few ex- 
 ceptions. Bar B or Lazy J ; for the cattle were still on 
 the lower levels, whither winter had held them or the 
 spring and quest of water had impelled them. 
 
 " There's a critter or two," abruptly indicated Old 
 Jess, who after his brief dissertation upon roundups, 
 long-horns, and connected matters, had lapsed into si- 
 lence. " Bring 'em in, you two boys." 
 
 On the Bar B side, across the rolling sandy flat 
 which they were traversing, could be noted several 
 cattle grazing. For them the boys headed, racing 
 along at a free gallop; and parted, to close in behind 
 them from opposite directions. 
 
PEPPER SEEKS THE WILD BUNCH 307 
 
 Giet had the easier time of it ; the two animals on 
 his flank allowed themselves to be circumvented 
 readily, and in docile manner they trotted before him, 
 in the direction of the herds. But the third animal, 
 a roan mammy cow, thin and long-legged, veered 
 from Phil's onrush, and breaking back repeatedly 
 kept him and Pepper busy. Chet laughed with de- 
 risive glee. 
 
 " She's got a calf back in the timber somewhere, I 
 bet," he called. " Let her go and come along.'* 
 
 Phil and Pepper were not disposed to let her go. 
 It was a game, with the roan cow dodging and turn- 
 ing, and boy and horse constantly intercepting her. 
 On the edge of a shallow arroyo, at the base of the 
 cedared slope which came down to meet the flat. Pep- 
 per slipped in the treacherous gravelly sand, and slid 
 upon his side. Phil instinctively threw himself clear 
 (he was mindful of his legs, not to get them caught) 
 and he too went plunging and plowing. The bridle 
 lines were torn from his hand. 
 
 Pepper regained feet first; when Phil scrambled 
 to his. Pepper was standing, gazing in alert, suspicious 
 way all about, and the roan cow was trotting off 
 through the cedars. 
 
 Pepper snorted, loudly. For some inexplicable 
 reason he seemed on the verge of a panic. He held 
 his head high, and his ears were pricked, and he con- 
 tinued to stare and with long-drawn breaths to sniff 
 the atmosphere. Phil approached him very cautiously. 
 
 " Here, Pepper. Whoa-oa, now. What's the mat- 
 ter with yuh ? Steady ! " 
 
3o8 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 Certainly there was nothing in a mere faUing down 
 to make a horse act so. 
 
 Pepper started to walk, irresolutely. This was 
 alarming to Phil, for no well-bred cow-horse is sup- 
 posed to move when his lines are on the ground. 
 
 " Whoa ! What's the matter with yuh/you fool ! " 
 Phil, cow-boy, spoke to Pepper, cow-horse. 
 
 Pepper hesitated. Authority hailed him — but some- 
 thing else, unfathomed by Phil, also was hailing. 
 Again Pepper snorted; and then, with a succession 
 of snorts, head high, ears pricked, lines dangling about 
 his forefeet, away he went, at a trot, faster, faster, 
 climbing into the cedars. 
 
 Vainly Phil ran clumsily after, and panted, angrily : 
 
 " Hey ! Whoa ! " Pepper paid no attention ; the 
 cedars swallowed him; from among them he whin- 
 nied shrilly — ^but it was not for his master. He 
 continued to whinny, at intervals, until his silly fal- 
 setto died in the distance. 
 
 Phil halted, breathless, stunned. Pepper, of all 
 horses, to serve him such a trick ! And now what 
 was he, himself, to do — thus left afoot, in chaps and 
 high-heeled boots, and in a country where walking 
 was neither the fashion nor locomotion easy. 
 
 The chase after the roan cow (confound her !) had 
 taken him into a little draw leading off from the flat. 
 He was out of sight of the herds; he was out 
 of sight of Chet. Nobody knew his predicament. 
 And what ought he to do ? Chase after Pepper ? 
 No; inasmuch as Pepper had disappeared among the 
 timber the proper thing to do, now, in the crisis, was, 
 
PEPPER SEEKS THE WILD BUNCH 309 
 
 it seemed, get another horse. Anyway, get in touch 
 with help: man or horse. So he shuffled quickly to 
 the juncture of draw and flat and looked for Chet. 
 
 His heart sank. Chet was continuing on, across 
 the flat, driving the two cows. Far distant were the 
 herds themselves, also continuing, and going almost 
 directly away from him. If Chet did not look back 
 and espy him thus afoot, small was the chance that 
 he would be espied by anybody. He groaned at the 
 prospect of having to catch up, by hook or crook, 
 afoot. 
 
 Shucks ! But he started on, making what speed 
 he could, accoutered as he was, amidst the brush, 
 under the burning sun. He whooped his loudest, to 
 attract attention; putting his hands either side of his 
 mouth and using lungs and throat to the limit. Then 
 he toiled on again, stumbling and perspiring. 
 
 Chet, riding methodically, drew farther and farther 
 away. The driven herds formed a confused mass, 
 marked chiefly by the dust which they were raising. 
 Very small felt Phil, trudging ignominiously after, 
 essaying to cover distance with his puny steps; very 
 small, and somewhat vexed and somewhat abashed. 
 However, he was certain that he had not lost Pepper 
 through fault of his own. He ought not to have let 
 go of the lines, but they had been wrenched from 
 him. Moreover, Pepper was to blame ; Pepper should 
 not have refused to stand. He had acted unac- 
 countably. 
 
 Phil had no fear that he would not rejoin the 
 roundup camp. He had only to keep going until he 
 
3IO 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 struck the trail made by the drive, and then to follow 
 persistently. The chances were that when he did not 
 turn up somebody would be sent back to look for him. 
 But he did not fancy this walking when he had been 
 accustomed to riding. No cowboy likes to walk ! 
 And he was a cowboy. 
 
 However, while he was plugging ahead, wrathfully 
 cogitating as he zigzagged through the constantly 
 impeding sage and greasewood, his heart suddenly 
 lightened hopefully. Chet had halted, and had turned 
 in the saddle to gaze behind him. 
 
 Frantically yelled Phil, and waved his hat, wishing 
 that he were twenty feet tall or could send up a 
 rocket. But presently Chet's keen eyes must have 
 seen, anyway, for back he came, at a trot. 
 
 Once assured that Chet had actually sighted him, 
 Phil sat down, more content, and rested. When Chet 
 was near, and peering right and left, he stood again. 
 
 " What's the matter ? Where's your horse ? " de- 
 manded Chet. 
 
 " He ran away." 
 
 " Throw you off ? " 
 
 "Not exactly. No. He fell down with me, and 
 then he wouldn't let me catch him." 
 
 "Where'd he go ?" 
 
 "Up through the cedars, there." 
 
 " You went at him too brash, I bet. Ought to've 
 gone up to him slow and easy, talking to him ; then 
 he'd have let you catch him," decreed Chet, wisely. 
 
 "That's what I did," defended Phil. "But he 
 didn't give me much chance. He stood for just a 
 
PEPPER SEEKS THE WILD BUNCH 311 
 
 moment, then he started into the cedars whinnying, 
 and that's the last I heard or saw of him. How'll 
 I get to camp ? I can't walk" he added, in regula- 
 tion cow-puncher disgust. 
 
 " Maybe this hawss '11 carry double. Get up and 
 see," invited Chet. "If he don't throw you off I'll 
 take you in. Or you can stay here and I'll come back 
 for you with a horse out of the cawy." 
 
 " Don't know whether Camel Face '11 carry double, 
 or not," he continued, as Phil carefully mounted, and 
 sat behind with his grasp upon the cantle. " Look 
 out, now. Don't you go pulling me off, too, when 
 you tumble." 
 
 But Camel Face proceeded peaceably. At walk and 
 at trot (the latter jouncing Phil, insecure behind the 
 saddle, most maliciously, as seemed to him) they 
 picked their way through the brush. Chet insisted 
 upon driving the two cows. And thus, bringing the 
 two animals and only the one horse they at last over- 
 took the drive. 
 
 To the cautious, but interested queries upon his 
 plight, Phil, red-faced with the jolting and with the 
 vexation, earnestly related his experience. 
 
 " Didn't yuh keep hold the lines ? " asked Old Jess. 
 
 " It was all soft, and when I threw myself clear I 
 went sliding and they were jerked out of my hands." 
 
 " He wouldn't stand for you to ketch him, eh ? " 
 
 " No; and of course I didn't have my rope." 
 
 " We 're up in the wild-horse country. That's what 
 the matter is," asserted Mr. Simms, who had come 
 over from the cow-herd. 
 
312 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " Yes ; he smell 'em. Now he go find 'em," con- 
 curred Hombre. 
 
 " He took my saddle and bridle and rope and 
 everything. I want those," declared Phil. 
 
 " And I want that hawss. He's worth sixty dollars. 
 One o' the best hawsses in the herd," announced Mr. 
 Simms, emphatically. " By ginger, I wouldn't take 
 sixty dollars for him." 
 
 " Won't he ever come back ? " exclaimed Cherry. 
 " Phil can have one of my horses." 
 
 " Perhaps he'll find the herd and come back with 
 that," volunteered Phil. 
 
 "No, he follow up those wil' boss," afifirmed 
 Hombre. " Like wil' boss better than tame boss." 
 
 " We'll have to night-hawk that herd, for a while," 
 said Mr. Simms, "or we'll lose every hawss in the 
 bunch." 
 
 " I suppose the boy an' Chet had better set right 
 out on his trail, an' not quit 'till they find him," 
 grunted Old Jess. " Sooner he's found the better, 
 too. If he's gone long he won't be wuth the 
 cat'ridge to shoot him with for sake o' the saddle." 
 
 " No; he get to like it, then he always run," agreed 
 Hombre. 
 
 " That's so," nodded Buster. " Might as well shoot 
 him." 
 
 " Shall we shoot him, dad, if we have to ? " in- 
 quired Chet. 
 
 " Give him a good long try, first. You'll get him, 
 if you can see him once. Keep after him. He may 
 tangle up in the bridle lines, or the saddle'll slip 
 
PEPPER SEEKS THE WILD BUNCH 313 
 
 around under his belly and hold him. Anyway, don't 
 shoot unless it's the last thing left." 
 
 " They may never sight him at all," said Buster. 
 "He's a Green River hawss, ain't he? Like as not 
 he'll work back to the home range. That's the way 
 they do." 
 
 " No; he follow wil' hoss," insisted Hombre. " Lots 
 of wil' hoss through here." 
 
 " When the cavvy comes in this evening Phil can 
 take another hawss, and you two boys go over to the 
 wild-hawss camp at Mustang Hole and mebbe they'll 
 make a surround with you and you'll get him," 
 directed Mr. Simms. 
 
 "All right," exclaimed Chet, with alacrity. 
 
 " I hope we do get him," proffered Phil, as they 
 rode on double. 
 
 And he meant it. Pepper was his favorite. Gray 
 Jack came next. Medicine Eye was a pretty good 
 horse, when one was careful not to interfere with his 
 back cinch region. So was Red Bird. Even Bow- 
 legs was a mount to be fond of ; he was big and strong 
 and went crashing through the stoutest sage, never 
 attempting to jump or dodge. But Pepper, active, 
 alert, wiry, always willing, was the best. 
 
 At the camp, while dinner was preparing and be- 
 fore the cavvy had been driven in, Pete (as to be ex- 
 pected) discoursed to the assembly upon his ex- 
 periences. 
 
 " When I was ridin* for the Box C we lost a hawss 
 jes' this way — got loose an* the man couldn't ketch 
 him, an' he ran off to join the wild hawsses. The 
 
314 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 man follered that hawss for a month, an' when he got 
 him the saddle blankets had growed right into the flesh 
 so hide an' all come off with 'em. Had to kill the 
 hawss. Mouth was all sore from the bit, too." 
 
 Phil hoped that this would not be Pepper's con- 
 dition. It seemed rather an uncertain hunt, this — 
 seeking a stray horse in such a boundless expanse of 
 country, hilly and timbered. A needle in a hay-stack 
 was about as practicable. 
 
 Pete was continuing. 
 
 "An' saddled an' bridled like he was he'd run the 
 wild hawsses plumb out the country; further they 
 got, further he got." 
 
 This assertion did not simplify the situation any. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 THE WILD-HORSE CAMP 
 
 " Are they regular wild horses ? " asked Phil, as 
 he and Chet rode out through the twilight, across 
 the park wherein the roundup camp (what was left 
 of it) had been located for the night. 
 
 " Some are. Of course the old ones were tame 
 horses that got away from ranchers or roundups or 
 cowboys, but there are a lot of mavericks, too, born 
 wild. The State claims these as strays, but the wild- 
 horse men can buy *em for five dollars. The branded 
 stock is claimed by the owners and the wild-horse 
 men get something for them. There isn't much money 
 in wild-hawss catching, tho*, and it's awful hard 
 work, too." 
 
 "Where is the wild-horse camp?" 
 
 " Over in Mustang Basin. I know where. About 
 ten miles from here. We can make it in two hours." 
 
 They trotted along, Chet upon Thunder, Phil upon 
 Gray Jack. 
 
 " You want to take your top hawss," had instructed 
 Chet. " You need a good hawss, to run other 
 hawsses." 
 
 Now that Pepper had absconded with saddle and 
 bridle Gray Jack was left the sole "top hawss" in 
 Phil's string. Formerly they had shared the honors 
 
 315 
 
3i6 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 — with Pepper perhaps a little in the lead. But 
 mounting Gray Jack this evening, Phil had mentally 
 apologized to him for ever having rated him as second. 
 He surely would not be such an ingrate as to desert, 
 basely, carrying with him valuable property and dis- 
 regarding the plight of his master. 
 
 Phil felt rather sore about Pepper. Were it not 
 for that extra saddle and bridle which he had used 
 before falling heir to the equipment of the man with 
 the frozen smile, he would indeed be in a fix. He 
 might have borrowed Pete's outfit — but Pete was 
 liable to want it again any time; he was so erratic. 
 Moreover, Pepper did not know that there was the 
 extra saddle. He would have put his master afoot. 
 
 Besides, a fellow liked to be using his own. 
 
 Mr. Simms had mildly suggested that Chet have the 
 rifle, as being more accustomed to one; and as being 
 less apt to shoot unnecessarily. Phil had meekly 
 turned the little gun and scabbard over, and they now 
 were under Chefs left leg. 
 
 " But I don't want that hawss shot, remember," 
 had instructed the cattleman, sternly. "You try him 
 to the limit, without. Scout around through that 
 Mustang country, and when you sight him work up 
 to him easy, and like as not you won't even have to 
 put a rope on him. Those wild-hawss men will help 
 you. You can stay at their camp." 
 
 Chet had listened gravely. He had the mien of one 
 who could be depended upon. Phil resigned the rifle 
 to him willingly enough, for upon him were resting 
 the responsibilities of the expedition. 
 
THE WILD-HORSE CAMP 317 
 
 As they rode, the twilight changed from golden to 
 pink. A soft refulgence, which threw no high-lights 
 nor shadows, flooded the cedars. The world was 
 growing quiet; a few birds twittered as they flitted 
 here and there within easy access of their favorite 
 roosting places; several times rabbits went hopping 
 through among the low trees, or amidst the bushes. 
 The mountain-range to the south, displayed in all its 
 ruggedness as the boys followed along a ridge, stood 
 out gloriously rose and purple, with one snowy peak, 
 the highest, just tipped by sunshine. 
 
 In the valleys and over the mountains the purple 
 gained upon the rose; the white of the dazzling tip 
 swiftly dulled; it vanished; almost imperceptibly, yet 
 surely, that soft refulgence among the cedars merged 
 with chill somberness; and through the dusk, with 
 the west still bright, but with the stars marching up 
 out of the east, the boys rode into the wild-horse 
 camp. 
 
 This was a dingy tent pitched beside a srnall spring 
 at the foot of a short timbered slope, and inhabited 
 by two men and a shaggy, aggressive black dog. The 
 dog barked. One of the men, with smooth thin face, 
 high cheek-bones and slanting eyes, stood in the door 
 of the tent and watched the approach of the visitors. 
 The other man, burly and full-bearded, was squatting 
 without, pipe in mouth, washing dishes. 
 
 " Hello," said Chet, halting Thunder. 
 
 Phil nodded. 
 
 " How," said the man in the tent door. The other 
 man, like Phil, also nodded. 
 
3i8 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 The two boys dismounted. 
 
 " Running any hawsses, these days ? " asked Chet, 
 casually. 
 
 The man who was squatting over the dishes looked 
 up keenly. 
 
 " Some/' responded the other man. " You're from 
 the Bar B, aren't you ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " George Simms' boy, eh ? " 
 
 Chet, too, nodded. 
 
 "We lost a hawss," he informed. "Went off, 
 saddle, bridle and all." 
 
 " When was that ? " 
 
 "This afternoon." 
 
 " You ridin' him ? " 
 
 " No ; he was from the Bar B herd, but this friend 
 of mine was riding him." 
 
 Both men eyed Phil as if estimating him. But Phil 
 had grown used to this Western trait of silent, non- 
 committal scrutiny, and took it coolly. 
 
 " Throw you off ? " addressed the squatting man, 
 removing his pipe. 
 
 " I threw myself off," explained Phil. " He slipped 
 and fell under me, and jerked the lines out of my 
 hands." 
 
 " Couldn't ketch him, eh ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " He went at a trot through the cedars whinnying 
 as if he'd smelled some wild hawsses," supplemented 
 Chet. 
 
 " There's quite a few of 'em about." The man in 
 
THE WILD-HORSE CAMP 319 
 
 the tent door spoke laconically. " What hawss was 
 it?" 
 
 " A little speckled blue, with a diamond on his right 
 hip and the Circle Dot brand on his right shoulder.** 
 
 " You know Buster thought that he might work 
 back to Green River, where he came from." reminded 
 Phil. 
 
 " No ; not if he*s following any wild hawsses," 
 stated the squatting man, decisively. " Think so, 
 Fred ? " 
 
 " Never in the world, till the wil* hawsses shake 
 him. But they won't have much to do with him long 
 as he has that saddle an' bridle on him." 
 
 " I want that saddle and bridle," declared Phil. 
 " They're worth as much as the horse." 
 
 " Can't be a very good horse, then," rebuked the 
 man in the doorway, whose name was Fred. " You 
 may have to shoot him to get 'em. He's likely to 
 use 'em pretty hard, too," 
 
 ** We want the hawss, too," said Chet, decidedly. 
 " If you're going to make a surround pretty soon we'll 
 stay and help, and see if we can't get him." 
 
 " Sure," said the man Fred. " You're just in 
 time. There's a bunch that's been comin' in to water, 
 an' if they come to-night we'll make a surround in 
 the mornin'. Only got our corral fixed to-day." 
 
 "Yes," concurred the squatting man, who now, 
 having done the dishes, straightened. He relighted 
 his pipe. " If you do get him it'll save you a lot o' 
 work. This is a bad country to find hawsses in. You 
 might hunt him six months and never even sight him 
 
320 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 — 'specially if he's on the trail of a wild bunch and 
 they're scared of him. Turn your hawsses into the 
 little corral with ours. Had supper? " 
 
 " Now, boys, it's this way," elucidated the bearded 
 man, as they all lay upon the bedding inside the lan- 
 tern-lighted tent. " ril tell you in case you don't 
 know. We won't have time to talk in the morning. 
 The hawsses come in to water at a certain time, three 
 or four o'clock, and by a certain way. They're using 
 a water-hole across the basin, and we've built a brush 
 corral down below it. They come in at the upper 
 end. We get there just before daylight, and run 'em 
 down into the corral. Then if your hawss is there 
 you can rope him out. Savvy ? " 
 
 The boys " savvied." 
 
 " How's your friend, on the ride ? Pretty good ? " 
 asked the other man. 
 
 " Yes ; he can ride all right," assured Chet. 
 
 " He'll have to, or he'll get his neck broke," re- 
 marked the man. " May get it broke anyway." He 
 yawned. " Well, let's turn in," he proposed. 
 " Mornin' comes quick when you're goin' to run wU'- 
 hawsses." 
 
 The bedding was spread. They removed boots and 
 coats and trousers; and the tent flaps having been 
 thrown open they all crawled in together, four in a 
 row, under covers. The bearded man reached for 
 the lantern and blew out its flame. 
 
 They lay quietly. The boys had been given the 
 guest place in the middle — that being naturally the 
 warmer place. From without the dog sneaked in, 
 
THE WILD-HORSE CAMP 321 
 
 to curl himself with a sigh behind the yet warm camp 
 stove. A coyote barked. In the near-by corral a 
 horse whinnied shrilly. 
 
 " There's wil- ones around somewheres, all right," 
 commented Fred, sleepily. 
 
 The other man already was snoring. Presently 
 Fred and Chet also were snoring. But Phil stayed 
 awake for some time, the morrow's strenuous pro- 
 gram racing through his mind. Outside the wind 
 moaned dismally. The horses whinnied no more. 
 
 While wondering where Pepper was, fatuously 
 roaming, saddled and bridled, through the timber and 
 the open, and how he liked it, Phil fell asleep. 
 
 His bed-fellows stirring awakened him. The 
 bearded man was just lighting the lantern. The man 
 Fred was yawningly pulling on boots. Chet sleepily 
 sat up. 
 
 " Tumble out, boys," bade the bearded man. " Be 
 ketching your hawsses, and Til warm some coffee. 
 Then we'll start." 
 
 The boys donned what they had doffed, it seemed 
 to Phil, only a minute before, and following Fred 
 went stumbling out into the darkness. By this dark- 
 ness and by the chill, morning might have yet been 
 hours away. But their eyes speedily grew accustomed 
 to the obscurity; and even by the time they had 
 reached the corral they could see sufficiently for their 
 errand. 
 
 In the small brush enclosure no ropes were required ; 
 bridled, the four mounts were led forth, and saddled. 
 
 The pitch smoke, tinging the dampish, murky at- 
 
322 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 mosphere of just-bef ore-dawn, smelled good. It told 
 of warmth and coffee; and a pleasant sizzling told of 
 bacon. The lantern shone through the tent walls. 
 
 " Here's coffee, whoever wants some," announced 
 the bearded man, from the flaps, as the three were 
 drawing on their chaps. 
 
 He did not mention bacon, but it was there; and 
 sitting amidst the touseled bedding they all drank, 
 hastily, and chewed. 
 
 The dog gobbled the few scraps. 
 
 " Right, oh," quoth the bearded man, rising. 
 " This'll hold us till we get back." 
 
 " And weVe got no time to lose, either," said the 
 other, as the lantern was extinguished and they stepped 
 out. 
 
 During the brief meal, the dimness had grayed per- 
 ceptibly. Dawn certainly was at hand. The sky was 
 paler, the stars not so numerous ; a bird chirped, with 
 drowsy, inquiring little voice. But he may have been 
 dreaming. 
 
 " Had this camp long ? " asked Phil, bluffly, as they 
 mounted. 
 
 " Been here since January." 
 
 The answer was rather startling. 
 
 " Much snow ? " 
 
 " 'Bout four feet on the level." 
 
 In single file they rode out, the bearded man taking 
 the lead, Phil bringing up the rear. He shivered, but 
 the motion of the horse soon corrected that. 
 
 At a smart jog they proceeded, winding through the 
 cedars, whose thick, crooked trunks and low branches 
 
THE WILD-HORSE CAMP 323 
 
 showed dimly in the gloom. Occasionally stumbling 
 upon fallen branches in their path the horses kept the 
 file, each seeming to step in the tracks of the one 
 before. The bearded man, leading, never faltered. 
 Evidently he knew exactly where he was going, and 
 no word was spoken. 
 
 So it was jog, jog, jog, on eerie, mysterious quest 
 amidst the silent, murky coppice, until, having traveled 
 for perhaps half an hour, they halted. 
 
 " One man stay here," directed the leader. " You 
 boy that lost the hawss will do. Now, the brush cor- 
 ral is off yonder, down the draw. A wing of it 
 reaches up this way, and another wing is across op- 
 posite. When it's lighter you'll hear one of us 
 whistle. Then you want to ride forward at a jump, 
 making all the noise you can; don't you let a hawss 
 get past you. Head 'em off if they try it. Ride your 
 darnedest and break your neck if you have to, but keep 
 moving. When we get them pointed on down we 
 shove them right along into the corral." 
 
 A sudden coughing snort, in the gloom beyond, 
 and a faint jangle, interrupted him. The horses, with 
 a whoof, stared. 
 
 " Hear that ? " exclaimed Fred. " There's your 
 hawss, I bet a hat. It's some animal with a saddle 
 on, all right." 
 
 Phil's heart gave a leap of hope. 
 
 "I'll start him down," said the bearded man; he 
 rode on, and in a moment with another snort and a 
 crash and jangle the unseen creature went blundering 
 away. 
 
324 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " He's inside the line, now ; we ought to get him," 
 remarked the bearded man, looming through the dim- 
 ness. " Come on, you other fellows." 
 
 They rode away, leaving Phil posted like a sentinel, 
 or like a hunter in a duck-blind awaiting the morning 
 flight. All sound of them died out, swallowed, 
 along with themselves, by the gloom. 
 
 However, the gloom was fading; it was waning to 
 a thin gray, through which the bushes and the tree- 
 trunks showed plainer and plainer. Birds twittered 
 and fluttered unseen. The dawn was at hand, and 
 Phil harked nervously for the whistle signal. It came 
 — a clear, but distant note, token for him to move into 
 action. At the prick of the spur jammed against his 
 side Gray Jack sprang forward; and with his ears 
 pointed as if he, too, was alert, trotted ahead. 
 
 What was to happen, now ? 
 
 Standing in his stirrups Phil peered anxiously be- 
 fore. The ground sloped away, and the direction 
 which seemed natural for him to take bore diagonally 
 adown. Down-hill riding — especially on the jump — 
 was hard work. However, he was in for it. 
 
 A sudden series of shrill shouts came echoing 
 across to him ; they were taken up and repeated along 
 the unseen line, and he joined in. They sounded as 
 though something had been caught, already. 
 
 A rabbit ran affrightedly athwart his path, fleeing 
 from the left. And more interesting, another animal, 
 with sharp ears, sharp snout, and bushy tail held low 
 behind yellowing, shaggy body came loping, so intent 
 upon the other shouts that it saw him only just in 
 
THE WILD-HORSE CAMP 325 
 
 time and veered, changing to a streak, into some 
 bushes. Loudly yelped Phil, to accelerate its rout. 
 Gray Jack broke into a lope. Two bare and riderless 
 horses next came galloping, heads up, mane and tail 
 streaming. Almost they crossed in front, making up 
 the slope, before they saw. They must be part of 
 the wild bunch ! Gray Jack swerved of his own ac- 
 cord, and wheeling with a snort they dashed back 
 down again. 
 
 " Ki yi ! " 
 
 Exultantly yelled Phil; exultantly and plainer 
 sounded the yells of his co-partners. Gray Jack loped 
 faster. The cedars opened and through the scattered 
 boles they recklessly tacked. Now and beyond, across 
 upon an opposite slope another horseman was descried 
 likewise riding hard. Down in the cup of the draw, 
 which lay between, treeless and misty, loose horses 
 were cantering wildly. From the center behind burst 
 Chet and Fred at full speed, driving before them a 
 second squad. One animal therein was saddled, the 
 stirrups dangling wide. Hurrah, then ! 'Twas Pep- 
 per ! 
 
 The race was on. To hold his flank even, Gray 
 Jack fairly flew. No time was to be given the driven 
 horses to break back. So down they tore, the riders 
 all, converging, spurring, whooping. Phil steadied 
 himself (willy-nilly) by the saddle-horn, and gripped 
 his best with his thighs. It was his roughest ride 
 yet. Now he knew what " running horses " in the 
 timber meant. Now he realized why that allusion to 
 a damaged neck ! But he could not stop, if he would ; 
 
326 BAR B BOYS 
 
 Gray Jack was sliding, plowing, plunging irresistibly 
 onward, mad with the zest of pursuit. And he would 
 not stop if he could, because he must keep uo his end 
 of the semicircle. 
 
 They all were upon the comparative level, clatter- 
 ing over the rocks, leaping bushes, careering head- 
 long in the wake of the fleeing quarry. Suddenly 
 the work had been accomplished. The whooping 
 ceased and the pursuit pulled up, to watch as the driven 
 herd, with recoil and snort, seeking right and left 
 for exit, trotted along the low bristling barrier form- 
 ing the front of the brush corral. 
 
 "Easy, boys. They'll go in when once they get 
 started," cautioned the bearded man. 
 
 " There's Pepper ! " called Chet, across. 
 
 " I see him," answered Phil. 
 
 " He's got his saddle twisted." 
 
 " Yes, and he's stepped on his 6ridle reins and 
 snapped 'em short," informed Fred. 
 
 Suspiciously a horse entered through the opening 
 which indicated the corral gate ; another did the same, 
 and another followed. 
 
 " That's a maverick," announced the bearded man. 
 " There's that little stallion, too, Fred, we've been 
 after so long." 
 
 Turned back as they tried right and left for other 
 avenue the remainder of the horses entered — Pepper 
 jostling in with the rest. Immediately when there 
 was space enough he received from his nearest neigh- 
 bor a resounding kick, which he accepted meekly, as 
 a sign to keep away. 
 
THE WILD-HORSE CAMP 327 
 
 "Good enough for you," jeered Phil. "That's 
 what you get for trying to be a wild horse." 
 
 " All right, boys," said the bearded man. He and 
 Fred dismounted and closed the opening with brush 
 which was lying ready. 
 
 " Pretty fair haul," he remarked, as all surveyed 
 the captives who, trotting about the enclosure, nipping 
 and laying back ears as if each blamed the others for 
 their plight, found themselves entrapped. 
 
 There were nine, not including Pepper: seven 
 adults and two colts. 
 
 " Two broke back and got away, up the hill," quoth 
 Fred. "Couldn't stop 'em." 
 
 The sun of morning shone out, topping the cedars 
 banked against the east and succeeding the milder glow 
 of dawn. 
 
 " Want to take your hawss now, boys ? " inquired 
 Fred. 
 
 They thought that they might as well. 
 
 "Want to get that saddle straightened, anyhow," 
 advised the bearded man. " Liable to hurt it or him- 
 self." 
 
 Pepper was roped and overhauled. His condition 
 was not, one would imagine, very comfortable. The 
 saddle had been thrust sidewise so that it hung with 
 the horn sticking straight out from his ribs, one stirrup 
 thumping the ribs opposite and the other stirrup bang- 
 ing against his fetlocks. The cinches were wearing 
 the hide from his backbone. Both bridle reins had 
 been snapped, and the bit had torn his lips slightly. 
 
 " Reckon if you'd take that bridle off he'd like to 
 
328 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 eat. Can't chew well with the bit in his mouth," 
 suggested Fred. 
 
 They relieved Pepper of his incumbrances and con- 
 ducting him away picketed him near the camp. His 
 coat was scratched, his mane and tail filled with twigs 
 and dirt. In so short a time he had degenerated. 
 And he seemed not particularly glad to be recovered. 
 
 The wild-horse men refused to take any pay for 
 him or the services that they had rendered; in fact, 
 they declared that the account was squared by the 
 help which the two boys had given. And after break- 
 fast, with a " So long,'* the visitors rode away, leading 
 with them the recreant. 
 
 " Got him, did you ? " congratulated Mr. Simms, 
 with a grim smile, as about the middle of the morning 
 they fell in again with the cow-herd, behind which 
 were leisurely trailing the twain veterans : rancher and 
 old-time puncher. " Any trouble ? " 
 
 "No, sir; not much." 
 
 " Found him with the wild-hawss bunch ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir; got him in a surround this morning." 
 
 Mr. Simms grunted; Old Jess grunted. 
 
 "Looks kinder seedy, don't he?" observed the 
 latter. 
 
 The boys found the roundup finally dissolved down 
 to the Bar B itself. During their absence — brief 
 though that had been — the Lazy J had vanished ; gone 
 to its own range. Pete the cook had gone with it. 
 So had Bud the wrangler. Haney and Hombre were 
 driving the diminished horse-herd. 
 
 Phil felt a vain disappointment that he might not 
 
THE WILD-HORSE CAMP 329 
 
 have bid good-by to Henry and Dick, the captious, 
 lanky Pete, and the rest; even to Bud the brazen. 
 But Chet took the departure as a matter of course, 
 and nobody else expressed any regrets; so he said 
 nothing. Welcome to come and welcome to go, evi- 
 dently was the sentiment in the cow country. 
 
 When Pepper had been thrown in with the horse- 
 herd then it was that Mr. Simms produced an en- 
 velope and held it out to Phil. 
 
 " Here's a letter for you, I reckon," he said. 
 
 A letter from home ! 
 
 " Who brought the mail ? " demanded Chet. 
 
 " Hombre rode in to town last night and brought 
 it back with him this morning." 
 
 " They want me to come home," announced Phil, 
 looking up from the page. " They think I'm getting 
 too well." He laughed, ruefully. " I've told them 
 so much about the riding and how tough I am that 
 they say they think I'm well enough to quit ! " 
 
 " Oh, thunder ! " protested Chet. " We were just 
 getting ready to have some fun !" 
 
 " Coin' ? " queried Old Jess, quietly. 
 
 " Yes. I suppose I ought to. I was out of school 
 this spring and there's some work I can make up 
 before September term," 
 
 " Then when do you want to start ? " asked Mr. 
 Simms. 
 
 " As soon as I can. I've had a lot of fun, anyway. 
 I'd better go." 
 
 " You can come back again. We'll be here, if those 
 rustlers don't drive us out — and I reckon they won't; 
 
330 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 or sheep either. Did you leave any things at the 
 ranch ? " 
 
 "A few." 
 
 "Then you and Chet might ride over there and 
 get 'em. It's your best chance ; right from here. I'm 
 going to send in a bunch o' beef in a day or so to the 
 Junction, and you can go along with that and catch 
 your train there." 
 
 "We'll bring up the rifles," exclaimed Chet, alert. 
 " Maybe Phil and I can shoot a bear before he leaves." 
 
 Cherry came galloping over from the steer herd; 
 but they could not delay, and with her lamentations 
 over the sudden change in plans following them they 
 rode away again, for the ranch. 
 
 I 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 MORE RUSTLER SIGNS ^AND BEARS 
 
 " There she is," announced Chet, in the advance ; and 
 now himself rounding the shoulder of the hill Phil 
 saw, before and slightly below, the familiar Bar B 
 ranch lying bathed in the full sun. 
 
 " Seems to be all there," he commented. 
 
 "She sure does," responded Chet. 
 
 They rode down, into the road, and through the 
 lane entered among the buildings. The low, rud(; 
 group, basking silent and lifeless, appealed to Phil 
 as mutely reproachful at having been so long de- 
 serted. And yet really it had not been long; only a 
 few weeks. 
 
 With the air of proprietorship, the boys dismounted, 
 tied their horses to the rail and trod familiar ground. 
 
 " Somebody^s been here ! " exclaimed Chet, whose 
 eye, as usual, was the quicker. 
 
 He flung open the door of the kitchen and followed 
 by Phil, clumped in. They looked about them. The 
 remains of a meal were upon the table and the shake- 
 down bed — what was left of it — formerly occupied 
 by Old Jess, was in tumbled disorder. 
 
 " Somebody spent a night here," deduced Phil ; a 
 remark which really proved no particular keenness, 
 the signs being very evident. 
 
 331 
 
332 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " No folks from this country, or they'd have had 
 sense enough to clean up after 'em," growled Chet, dis- 
 gustedly. " Didn't even wash their dishes. There 
 were two of 'em ; see ? " 
 
 Phil for the first time noted the two plates, indi- 
 cating the number who had dined or supped. 
 
 " Tramps, maybe," he suggested. 
 
 "Don't have tramps away out here. Indians or 
 tourists did it, I reckon." 
 
 " Why didn't you lock the door ? " 
 
 " Dad does lock the office door. But nobody locks 
 doors or windows out in this country. If people want 
 to walk in that's all right; they can, and help them- 
 selves to what they need, as long as they don't act 
 mean. But they ought to leave things in as good 
 shape as they found 'em. There's too many folks 
 passing nowadays, though. We'll have to lock every- 
 thing, same as you do in cities." 
 
 Grumbling against the inroads of civilization here, 
 deep among the mesas, seventy-five miles from any 
 railroad, Chet, clumping out, sought beneath the office 
 door-sill for the key there. He found it, and applying 
 it to the lock, opened the door. 
 
 " Somebody's been here, too," he said, again dis- 
 gusted. 
 
 For the bed was as tumbled as the shake-down; 
 not merely torn apart as when it was left after having 
 contributed to the roundup a quilt and a blanket. 
 Since then it had been slept in. 
 
 Spiked to the table, beside the lamp, with a pin, 
 was a note in pencil: 
 
MORE RUSTLER SIGNS 333 
 
 Charge on account. Will settle in full when we 
 get the girl back. Shooting and kidnaping don't 
 bluff us. Sorry you weren't at home. 
 
 " Aw, gee ! " deprecated Giet. " It was those two 
 rustlers. Wish some of us had been here. Wonder 
 if they took anything? Aw, won't dad be mad, 
 though, when he reads? They signed their TB and 
 Lazy Eight." 
 
 Nothing was gone. The rifles (most important) 
 were undisturbed where stowed away beneath the 
 mattress (so as not to over-tempt the casual eye), 
 and not even the clothes in the wardrobe had been 
 molested. 
 
 The boys had looked through bunk-house and 
 blacksmith shop without having discovered any dam- 
 age done there, when Phil's ear caught a hoarse, 
 plaintiff little mew. 
 
 " There's old Tom ! " he cried. " We forgot him/' 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 " I heard him. Didn't you ? " 
 
 " Here, Tom," called Chet. 
 
 They re-entered the blacksmith shop. The mew 
 sounded again, faint and hoarse and appealing. 
 
 " He's in his nest up under the roof," declared 
 Chet. " Come on outside." 
 
 "Here, Tom," called Phil. 
 
 " It's up in that corner, somewhere," informed Chet ; 
 and standing under the place they both called. 
 
334 BAR B BOYS 
 
 There was a tremendous scratching about, above, 
 and presently Tom's round face peered out, from 
 amidst the eaves, inquiringly. 
 
 "Come along down. What's the matter with 
 yuh ! " scolded Chet. 
 
 Tom yowled querulously, and projecting farther, 
 with movement stiff and slow, began to descend. 
 
 " He's been hurt ! " ejaculated Phil. 
 
 At that moment Tom's hold loosened and down he 
 came with a thud, immediately to gather himself and 
 stagger to the boys' legs, where he rubbed and rau- 
 cously, rapturously purred. 
 
 "Yes, sir; he's been shot ! That's what's the mat- 
 ter with him," exclaimed Chet. 
 
 They examined. A ragged gash (now partially 
 healed) had been torn through the fatty portion of 
 his back, over the hind quarters. The ball must nar- 
 rowly have missed his spine. 
 
 " Yes, sir; somebody's shot him !" 
 
 " Who do you suppose could have done that ? " 
 
 " Poor Tom ! Poor old Tom ! " 
 
 They petted him. And poor he was, indeed ; gaunt 
 with fasting and fever, but evidently upon the road 
 to recovery. 
 
 " It wasn't any soft-nose bullet," declared Chet. 
 " That would have ripped the whole end off of 
 him. The lame man shot him with the revolver. 
 That's what ; just for meanness ! " 
 
 The boys growled their indignation. Tom, over- 
 joyed at having sympathy and friends again, would 
 have crawled up into their laps as they crouched down 
 by him. 
 
MORE RUSTLER SIGNS 335 
 
 " Poor Tom. He waited until he recognized our 
 voices, you bet." 
 
 Tom hobbled after them, with movement like a 
 rabbit, as they searched here and there. They found 
 no further instances of viciousness on the part of the 
 vandal visitors. 
 
 They watered their horses at the creek (it had fallen 
 perceptibly), Tom sticking close down and back, and 
 turned them loose to munch upon hay in the corral. 
 Phil's few things at the ranch were collected, the rifles 
 — Chet's and his father's — and the cartridges were 
 laid out; and these details having been attended to, 
 there was little then to do but to loaf about, petting 
 Tom, and awaiting sunset and supper-time. 
 
 Chet did the bulk of the cooking; to cook was a 
 range accomplishment not yet acquired by Phil; but 
 Chet could "build" as good bread (biscuit) as could 
 Old Jess or Pete. With bread, bacon, fried potatoes 
 and coffee the boys fared liberally — Tom dividing his 
 time between the table and the hot stove. 
 
 He certainly was glad to have the opportunity. 
 
 " We've got to take him up to camp with us," 
 decided Chet. " Can*t leave him here, in that 
 shape." 
 
 " I should say not. He's liable to starve to death,'* 
 agreed Phil. 
 
 " He might pull through. But he's pretty stiff and 
 wobbly." Chet surveyed him judicially. " We'd bet- 
 ter take him. If we don't, like as not dad'll send down 
 for him. Dad thinks more of that cat than he does 
 of his best hawss." 
 
 " How'll we carry him ? " 
 
336 BAR B BOYS 
 
 "Oh, put him in a box or sack. I'll carry him, 
 myself/' 
 
 " Wish those rustlers would turn up here to-night, 
 again," voiced Chet, after their dishes were all washed. 
 Perhaps the extra accumulation aided in stirring 
 his wrath. " We'd give 'em what they gave Tom." 
 
 " That's right," concurred Phil, boldly. 
 
 But although sleeping together upon the office bed, 
 each with an ear hopefully open and both with a 
 knowledge that the three rifles were at hand ready 
 for action, they passed a peaceful night. And so did 
 Tom, luxurious behind the kitchen stove. 
 
 It really was a question whether in his stiffened 
 condition he could regain his nest in the blacksmith 
 shop roof, and whether once there he might not be 
 too weak to get out again to forage. 
 
 So they tucked him into a large peach-basket which 
 they were lucky enough to find, tied a piece of sack- 
 ing over it, and fairly well laden — Phil sitting between 
 two of the rifles, his possessions fastened to the saddle, 
 behind — Chet carrying Tom and basket — after break- 
 fast they set out. 
 
 Once more the Bar B ranch was left to itself and 
 to casual guests ; this time even the cat had deserted ! 
 
 The boys jogged on, retracing their route of the 
 day before. Tom, confined in the basket resting upon 
 the saddle and against Qiet's stomach, emitted an 
 occasional melancholy yowl as the motion of the horse 
 slightly racked him. 
 
 They had been traveling for about two hours, when 
 Chet suddenly declared: 
 
 I 
 
MORE RUSTLER SIGNS 337 
 
 "There's a bear!" 
 
 "Where?" Phil was startled. 
 
 " On the side of the hill, across this gulch." 
 
 Phil searched. 
 
 "Big one?" 
 
 "No. Little one. See it?" 
 
 "It's a badger, isn't it?" 
 
 " No. It's a bear, only half grown. Let's go 
 over." 
 
 Chet turned Thunder down off the ridge. Phil 
 followed — but dubiously. 
 
 " Supposing its mother is around," he ventured. 
 
 " Aw, we can get away. She wouldn't chase us 
 and leave her cub. But I don't believe she's very 
 near. He's big enough to take care of himself." 
 
 As they rode up that opposite slope the bear (a fat, 
 dumpling chap, half-grown as Chet had claimed and 
 much larger than any badger) who had been busily 
 engaged in rooting and pawing among the rocks and 
 grass tufts, sensed their approach. He sat up on his 
 hams like a begging dog, and gazed. Gray Jack 
 snorted ; so did Thunder. With pricked ears and star- 
 ing eyes they advanced only under protest. 
 
 Phil had nervously drawn his carbine from its 
 sheath. 
 
 "Shall I shoot?" he asked. 
 
 " Naw ! " rebuked Chet, the cowboy in him upper- 
 most. "We'll rope him and take him to camp. 
 We'll have him for a pet. Don't you shoot." 
 
 The bear, ludicrously sitting erect and with very 
 babyish motions waving its two paws at them, was so 
 
338 BAR B BOYS 
 
 utterly inoffensive and juvenile and roly-poly that Phil 
 scarcely would have had the heart to shoot, anyway. 
 
 " He's a young brown bear," averred Chet. " Here ; 
 you take Tom. I'll rope him. I'm not afraid. 
 Then you can drive him and I'll lead, and we'll fetch 
 him in and show him to Haney. Haney roped a 
 bigger bear than this, once. A full-grown one, too, 
 almost." 
 
 Nothing loth Phil slipped the carbine back into its 
 scabbard and took Tom and basket. The horses 
 were dancing so, that the transfer was not easy 
 (" Whoa-oa, Jack! " "What's the matter with yuh, 
 Thunder!"), but it finally was consummated. Tom 
 mechanically yowled. 
 
 The cub had been interested watching proceedings; 
 pivoted there upon his haunches, with solemn but also 
 quizzical expression, following by twisting his head 
 the gyrations of the horses. 
 
 Rope down, Chet circled about, forcing the unwill- 
 ing Thunder nearer. 
 
 " Hurry up," urged Phil. " Or else the old one 
 will be coming! " 
 
 " Want to get it over neck and front leg. Then 
 it won't choke him and it won't slip back, either," 
 claimed Chet, cheerfully. " Go on up there. Thunder. 
 What's the matter with yuh ! " 
 
 Under the repeated spurring Thunder in his cir- 
 clings sidled a little closer; and from above the bear 
 Chet prepared to cast. 
 
 " Don't let him run down past you," he called. 
 
 " I won't," bravely responded Phil ; although, handi- 
 
MORE RUSTLER SIGNS 339 
 
 capped by Tom's basket and by Gray Jack's continuous 
 performance of side-stepping and plunging, he hardly 
 was capable of attending to runaway bears. 
 
 "I got him!" announced Chet. "Oh, the 
 dickens ! " 
 
 His noose had fallen over the cub's head and both 
 shoulders too; for as it flipped down upon him the 
 youngster had thrown up his two paws like a boy 
 warding off a blow — and had stuck them both 
 through. 
 
 Chet sharply tightened the rope, toppling the cub to 
 all fours. At the sensation of the tether around his 
 body the animal deliberately turned upon his back and 
 with his paws around the rope tried to draw it into his 
 mouth. His action was so babyish and so monkey- 
 like as well that both boys laughed. 
 
 "Get up!" bade Chet. 
 
 " You'll have to bring him along on his back." 
 
 "That'll take all the hair off," Chet objected. 
 " Get up on your feet, you ! Ride closer to him, Phil, 
 and scare him ; can't you ? " 
 
 But Phil succeeded very poorly. Chet started to 
 apply compulsion, and moving ahead, rope taut, hauled 
 the cub a few yards; skidding it. The cub squealed, 
 in piggy fashion, thus protesting vigorously, still on 
 his back, feet in the air. 
 
 Chet halted ; and Phil, behind, halted. Other ways 
 and means must be considered. 
 
 "Aw, gee! I wish he'd get up," deplored Chet 
 " Quit your yelling, you baby, yuh ! " he scolded, 
 " Nobody's hurting yuh I " 
 
340 BAR B BOYS 
 
 Phil's heart suddenly seemed to skip a beat, taking 
 his breath ; then it popped into his throat. 
 
 " Chet ! Chet ! " he cried, at the sound of a guttural 
 roar. " The old bear's coming ! " 
 
 " Look out ! There she is ! " And Chefs voice 
 rang excitedly. 
 
 Incidents now occurred with great rapidity. At the 
 message of the old bear's roar the cub, taking on a new 
 lease of life, whipped to his feet, and sprawling and 
 floundering tugged madly, the while mingling squeals 
 and whimpers. Up the hill bowled a bear as big as a 
 buffalo (Phil thought), its every jump a thunderous, 
 snarling growl. The horses threw high their heads, 
 trembling and snorting and glaring, on the verge of 
 a bolt. 
 
 "Shoot her! Shoot! Shoot!" appealed Chet, 
 frantically. " I can't get loose ! I can't get my gun 
 loose, either ! " 
 
 The lash end of his rope had jammed about the 
 horn, and the straining and plunging of Thunder, who 
 was quite unmanageable, was holding the rifle stock 
 between rope and saddle, as in a vise. 
 
 Phil endeavored, one-handed (he had Tom in that 
 pesky basket to retain before him) to draw one of his 
 rifles. Gray Jack, with a leap, almost unseated him 
 in the act. The basket tilted and Tom was in dire 
 peril of being dumped. 
 
 "Shoot! Why don't you shoot?" implored Chet, 
 angrily. 
 
 " How can I? I can't! " retorted Phil. " I " 
 
 Gray Jack executed a grand demi-volte. Betwixt 
 
MORE RUSTLER SIGNS 341 
 
 his two guns Phil clutched Tom's basket desperately 
 and hung to the saddle with knees and hand. 
 Thunder, braced, half turned, was shrinking and pull- 
 ing, and Chet's spurs had no effect to move him nor 
 release the tension on the rope. 
 
 With a rush and a roar the old bear arrived. Gray 
 Jack wheeled, but by main force Phil wheeled him 
 back again. Chet must not be abandoned. 
 
 "Oh, gee!" wailed Chet. "I can't get loose." 
 
 His face was crimson. Phil felt that his own must 
 be very white. 
 
 The old bear (she was a monster, light brown and 
 burly, bristles standing in a clump between her 
 shoulders, small eyes sparking green, white fangs all 
 exposed) stopped beside her cub, below the horses. 
 She nosed it eagerly, and pawed it toward her. She 
 paused to glare up at the two boys and snarl defiance. 
 She grasped the cub again, to draw it in to her, but 
 anchored by the rope it stuck fast, struggling fruit- 
 lessly and still whimpering. This sticking fast seemed 
 to puzzle her. She lifted it completely off the ground, 
 with her stout forearms. 
 
 The rope caught her attention; and with a snarl 
 renewed she grabbed it, tugging at it with her teeth 
 like a bull-dog. Irritably she battled it; and astride 
 of it, her cub beneath her body, she tugged and 
 worried. 
 
 Phil had been spasmodically working to disengage 
 a hand and a rifle at the same time — yet hold Gray 
 Jack to the vicinity and not drop Tom, No, not drop 
 Tom, at all hazards ! Chet could only sit and wrestle 
 
342 BAR B BOYS 
 
 to release himself and Thunder from their end of 
 the rope! But now his voice wailed out agonizedly: 
 
 " She's pulling us in ! Help ! Phil ! Throw a 
 rope on me ! She's pulling us in ! " 
 
 Thunder was sliding down the hill! The weight 
 and the strength of the old bear as she hauled and 
 worried were bringing horse and rider right on top of 
 her! Furiously Chet spurred. But the footing was 
 loose gravel. And Thunder, half paralyzed, yielded 
 inch by inch. 
 
 " Help, can't yuh ! " besought Chet. " Throw me 
 your rope." His voice broke. " Going to let me be 
 eaten alive? Can't you shoot, or anything f" 
 
 Phil certainly was anxious to do something; but he 
 was embarrassed by a multiplicity of duties; to hold 
 Tom, to rein Gray Jack, to abstract a rifle, to pluck 
 free his rope coil, to retain his seat. At this crisis, 
 when Chet seemed doomed to be " eaten alive," 
 Thunder pitched forward almost upon his nose. Un- 
 der the teeth of the old bear the uniting and binding 
 rope had parted. 
 
 With a glad snort Thunder, his paralysis snapped 
 like the rope, lunged in flight. Chet as gladly en- 
 couraged. Upon Gray Jack, Phil, also glad, followed. 
 Obliquely ascending the slope they raced, bending for- 
 ward, urging their horses, until at the top they dared 
 to look behind. 
 
 The old bear was staring after, but she had not 
 pursued. She fell to nuzzling her cub, which stand- 
 ing, shook itself roundly. Both started back, down 
 the hill, at a lumbering lope, the rope trailing after. 
 
SHE'S PULLING US IN! THROW A ROPE ON ME!' 
 
MORE RUSTLER SIGNS 343 
 
 Chet jerked his rifle loose and pumped away at 
 them. 
 
 "Darn yuh!" he said. 
 
 But Thunder, dancing, spoiled his aim. Two of 
 the bullets raised puffs of dust just beyond the bears; 
 the other three were not marked at all. 
 
 " Aw, shucks ! " And Chet ceased firing. 
 
 " Shall we go after them ? " proposed Phil ; hoping 
 not, but resolved to be game. 
 
 " No. What's the use ? These hawsses are too 
 scared." 
 
 Mother bear and cub had disappeared in the brush 
 at the bottom of the gulch. 
 
 " They took my rope, most of it,'' complained Chet 
 — actually for the moment unmindful of the fact that 
 they did not take him, too. " This hawss was so 
 scared he couldn't pull. He couldn't get any pur- 
 chase, up hill on that gravel. And that bear was 
 strong. She's a cinnamon. Got me all twisted up. 
 Couldn't use my rifle, or cast off my rope, or tumble 
 off, myself, or nothing!" 
 
 " Look at Tom." 
 
 They laughed. Through an opening in the sack- 
 ing over the basket stuck Tom's round, owlish visage, 
 wide-eyed surveying the world. 
 
 " He's wondering what's happened." 
 
 " Do you suppose he can smell bear, like a horse ? " 
 
 " He would if you'd dropped him! " 
 
 " I was all tangled up, too," said Phil. " First you 
 wanted me to shoot, and then you wanted me to pass 
 you my rope, and all the time I was trying not to 
 
344 BAR B BOYS 
 
 dump Tom, and to keep Gray Jack from running 
 away, and I couldn't get a gun loose or take down my 
 rope, either." 
 
 ** That sure was a mix-up," admitted Chet, gravely. 
 "I thought I was bear-meat — and I guess Thunder 
 thought he was. I'd like to have brought that cub 
 into camp, though. He was a dandy." 
 
 Even by the time that they reached camp the horses 
 had not quieted; during all the remainder of the 
 route they showed a disposition to shy, at intervals, to 
 snort frequently and to travel fast. 
 
 The summer camp was just being settled when the 
 boys rode in. Mr. Simms eyed the basket. 
 
 " What you got there ? " he asked. 
 
 With a lugubrious howl Tom responded, announc- 
 ing himself. 
 
 " Same oV voice. Sounds familiar laik," com- 
 mented Haney, lolling near. " Howdy, Tom ? " 
 
 " What'd you bring that cat for ? " demanded Mr. 
 Simms. 
 
 " Is it a real cat ? " cried Cherry, flying to the 
 scene. " Oh, the poor thing ! " 
 
 " He's some bunged up, ain't he, Miss," agreed 
 Buster. 
 
 While Tom hobbled from friend to friend they all 
 listened to the boys' story of the discoveries at the 
 ranch. 
 
 " Never washed up the dishes ! Think o' that, will 
 yu!" gasped Buster, scandalized. 
 
 " An' slep' in the bawss's baid ! " added Haney. 
 
 " And shot the cat ! " further added Cherry. 
 
MORE RUSTLER SIGNS 345 
 
 Mr. Simms folded the note and tucked it into his 
 vest pocket. 
 
 " Well written. Fetched my gun, too, did you, 
 Chet? All right," he said, simply. But his face, as 
 he stooped to stroke the hoarsely purring, very happy 
 Tom, had the same grim, hawklike expression of that 
 time when, upon the hilltop, kneeling, rifle at a ready, 
 with bleeding shoulder he waited for the rustlers to 
 emerge into the open, below. 
 
 There was an instant of silence ; then the tenseness 
 was relieved by the boys' tale (to Haney's infinite de- 
 light) of the bear " mix-up." 
 
 " Whoopee ! " cheered Haney, fairly rolling and 
 kicking up his heels. " Smith-Jones held on to the 
 cat! That's right, Smith-Jones. Bear can eat Chet 
 but she cain't eat ol' Tom." 
 
 '' Those big bears can shore pull," declared Buster, 
 solemnly. " I heard o* one once — a grizzly he was — 
 that did pull a hawss right in to him, hand over hand, 
 only he got shot up first." 
 
 " Bears laik to go fishin' an' ketch a hawss an' boy, 
 I hear tell," averred Haney. " Reckon that ol' she- 
 bear had jes' left her baby out there for bait ! " 
 
 "How ridiculous!" scoffed Cherry. "But I'm 
 glad they got away." 
 
 "Which? Bear or boy?" quizzed Mr. Simms. 
 
 " Both." 
 
 As evening came, and Buster prepared supper, Phil 
 finally asked : 
 
 "Where's Old Jess, and the rest?" 
 
 "Jess and Ford have taken the steer-herd to the 
 
346 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 other side the mountain. That's the steer range, over 
 there. Hombre's gone along with the horse-herd," 
 explained Mr. Simms. 
 
 "Won't I see them again, before I leave, then?" 
 Phil was somewhat dismayed. The company was be- 
 ing cut more and more. 
 
 But the cattleman reassured him. 
 
 "Shouldn't wonder if you would. That's where 
 we start with the bunch you take along into the Junc- 
 tion with you." 
 
 "Oh!" said Phil. "Soon?" 
 
 "Well, pretty soon." 
 
 " Cain't spare Smith-Jones till we get those rustlers 
 run out," chipped in Haney. " They're scaired o' 
 him/' 
 
 " Shore," agreed Buster, solemnly. 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 SOMETHING HAPPENS TO CHERRY 
 
 The summer camp was a log cabin and a couple of 
 tents among the spruce and pines at the head of a 
 little valley of the high country. On this, the Bar B 
 summer range, the grass was long and uncropped, 
 save by deer and elk, throughout the spring, waiting 
 for the cattle, and the flies were not so bad as lower. 
 Nor did the water fail as soon. The cattle would be 
 kept here until late in the fall, when with the last beef 
 drive they would be drifted over to the winter range. 
 Then the summer range would be given its rest, in 
 turn. 
 
 The change from the sage and cedars and gravelly 
 slopes to the spruce and pines and parks of spangled 
 grasses was a distinct relief. The boys spread their 
 beds under the trees, and slept there rather than oc- 
 cupy tent or cabin. The mattress of the dried needles 
 was soft and fragrant. 
 
 Down through the valley ran a small brook. This 
 was the same Owl Creek which passed the Bar B 
 ranch, thirty miles north, and below. But the Owl 
 Creek in these its beginnings was not the stream of 
 that lower country ; muddy, yellow. It was clear and 
 cold and sparkling, and swarming with mountain trout 
 about the length of one's hand; easily caught with 
 hook and line, a willow pole and a grasshopper. 
 
 347 
 
348 BAR B BOYS 
 
 Yes, a cool, green, shaded, well-watered, very 
 pleasant country it was for cattle and for men. And 
 Phil would have liked to spend the summer here. 
 There were many rides to take, through the mysteri- 
 ous timbered vales; there were bear (if one really 
 7mnted bear) and later in the season there would be 
 deer-hunting. Fishing was good. All in all the sum- 
 mer camp was a vacation. 
 
 Of course the cattle must still be looked after. 
 They must be ridden through and ridden around, so 
 that tab should be kept upon their whereabouts and 
 so that calves should be branded. But it was more 
 of an easy, unhurried riding, for the cattle were wax- 
 ing lazy and the calves were fewer. 
 
 However, Phil's time on the Bar B summer range 
 was limited. Home was calling him. And while 
 Mr. Simms' " pretty soon " in reference to taking out 
 that first bunch of beef was rather indefinite, yet 'twas 
 bound to come. 
 
 Now, upon this the third morning after their — 
 Phil's and Chet's — arrival at the summer camp the 
 two boys and Cherry, riding out together, separated 
 where upon the brink of a sunny, grassy park stood 
 a magnificent yellow pine. Cherry stopped. The 
 pine and the neighboring trees were rife with the 
 dark -gray pine-squirrel; the flowers of the park ex- 
 tended clear amidst the serried timber; the shafts of 
 the sun penetrated among the boles; the air was 
 scented with the warm balsam oozing from wood and 
 needles; Mistress Cherry decided that she would ride 
 no further. And with Cherry decision was the act 
 itself. 
 
SOMETHING HAPPENS TO CHERRY 349 
 
 So she dismounted, to sit and amuse herself while 
 the boys proceeded upon their original purpose of re- 
 connoitering this, the northwest corner of the range. 
 They would pick up Cherry on their return, soon. 
 
 " You ride around one way and I'll ride the other," 
 directed Chet. 
 
 So they, also, separated, at the opposite edge of the 
 park. Phil's course led to the right, down into a long 
 gulch which, brushy and shaded, curved away like a 
 thoroughfare grown to weeds. He followed this, 
 Medicine Eye treading springily and noiselessly a soft, 
 narrow cattle-trail. 
 
 Ahead some old cow was bellowing ceaselessly, as if 
 she was in distress mental or physical. She may 
 either have hung herself up some way in the brush, or 
 simply have lost her calf. At any rate, he and Medi- 
 cine Eye would presently see, for evidently they were 
 nearing the center of disturbance. More distinct 
 swelled the bellowing ; Medicine Eye pricked his ears ; 
 and suddenly rounding a little turn of the path, here 
 where the brush opened somewhat, Phil found himself 
 face to face with four mounted Indians. The second 
 in line was hauling along with a rope the bellowing 
 cow. 
 
 Startled, Phil stared hard. It seemed to him that 
 he recognized the foremost Indian. The suit of buck- 
 skin w^as missing, but the face looked familiar. He 
 was Charley, Chief Billy's son — wasn't he? 
 
 "How," said Phil, with laconic Western greeting, 
 as involuntarily he drew aside to let the short caval- 
 cade pass. 
 
 The leading Indian who might have been Charley 
 
350 BAR B BOYS 
 
 barely grunted, in response; the next Indian did not 
 even glance; and the others (young bucks all were 
 the four) likewise rode with non-committal mien, gaz- 
 ing straight to the front. 
 
 But this was lost upon Phil, for violently wheeling 
 Medicine Eye he dashed almost at a bound to block 
 the further progress of the file. 
 
 " Here ! What are you doing with that Bar B 
 cow ? " he demanded, impetuously. 
 
 The foremost Indian, whom he addressed, surveyed 
 him out of dark visage wooden, emotionless. 
 
 " No savvy." 
 
 " You're Charley, aren't you ? " experimented Phil, 
 ingratiating. 
 
 " Uh. No savvy." 
 
 " Isn't his name Charley? " appealed Phil, down the 
 line. 
 
 The three faces made no answering sign. Phil, a 
 bit nonplussed, sturdily resumed. 
 
 "Well, you've got a Bar B cow, anyway," he ac- 
 cused. "What you going to do with it?" 
 
 " No savvy," reiterated the leader who so resembled 
 Charley. " No savvy." He waved his hand im- 
 patiently for Phil to clear the path again. 
 
 But Phil, with Medicine Eye held broadside, did 
 not budge. 
 
 " No," he refused. " You've no right to that cow." 
 He pointed. " No wueno. Cow, no wueno." He 
 tapped his chest. "My cow. No yours. Bar B." 
 And he drew with his finger a Bar B in the air. 
 "Let go." 
 
SOMETHING HAPPENS TO CHERRY 351 
 
 Having exhausted his stock of Mexican-Spanish, 
 elementary English and sign-language he paused, 
 hopeful that they had interpreted. 
 
 The two middle Indians laughed, exchanging a 
 comment in guttural tongue. The laugh had some- 
 thing supercilious and covert in it, as if making light 
 of him. Phil's cheek burned. The carbine under his 
 leg gave him boldness — but he judged that he had 
 better not draw it save as a last resort ; and even then 
 the odds would be against him. Each Indian, also, 
 had a rifle. So he tried to swallow his wrath. The 
 cow gazed up at him and lowed mournfully, as if rec- 
 ognizing in him her rightful guardian from whom she 
 expected protection. 
 
 The rearmost of the Indians came on the trot 
 around into the van. He jostled Phil fiercely, assail- 
 ing him with a string of grunted language, essaying 
 at the same time to crowd him to one side. 
 
 " Puk-a-chee ! " he scowled, out of avid, pock- 
 marked, angry countenance. " Puk-a-chee ! Va- 
 mose ! " He was a very ugly Indian. 
 
 " Puk-a-chee yourself," retorted Phil. " Cow, no 
 wueno; no good. Bar B cow. My cow.'* 
 
 An ominous guttural murmur ran down the short 
 line. It crowded forward. The pock-marked Indian 
 gestured Phil aside imperiously. Objecting to being 
 jostled Medicine Eye laid back his ears, but stood his 
 ground ; Phil, also exasperated, put his hand upon the 
 stock of his carbine. 
 
 "Better not,*' cautioned the Charley-appearing In- 
 dian, curtly. 
 
352 BAR B BOYS 
 
 Phil was astounded. 
 
 ^' You do speak English, then ! " 
 
 A smile flitted across the Indian's face, momentarily 
 disclosing perfect teeth; and vanished, leaving that 
 face as stolid as before. But now Phil was positive. 
 
 " And you're Charley, too," he declared. " You're 
 the man who gave me this. Remember?" 
 
 Bethinking himself he extracted from his pocket the 
 little beaded buckskin sack which he had been carry- 
 ing all this time, and passed it over. 
 
 The effect was magical. The greasy sack, after 
 cursory examination by the first Indian, traveled from 
 hand to hand amid grunted comment. Fingers traced 
 the bead design, as if emphasizing. Heads nodded. 
 Phil found the hostile atmosphere changed to one of 
 respect and almost friendliness. The grasp upon 
 rifles was relaxed. And all because, as seemed to 
 him, of the bead pattern. 
 
 " Yes, I remember. I knew you all the time. 
 How do do," said Charley — for Charley it was — re- 
 turning the sack, and now smiling widely extending 
 his hand to shake. 
 
 The three other Indians shook Phil's hand. 
 
 " How, how," they grunted. 
 
 " Is this your cow ? " asked Charley. 
 
 " She belongs to the Bar B, the outfit I'm riding 
 for," asserted Phil, stoutly. " That's why I had to 
 interfere." 
 
 " All right." 
 
 Charley spoke a few words in Ute to his compan- 
 ions. One of them cast off the rope from about the 
 
SOMETHING HAPPENS TO CHERRY 353 
 
 animal's horns. With a toss of her head she walked 
 away into the brush. 
 
 The pock-marked Indian asked a question. 
 
 " He wants to know if that other man we saw is a 
 companion of yours," translated Charley. 
 
 " Who ? A boy, kind of short, with freckled face 
 
 and blue eyes? The same boy " Phil stopped. 
 
 Maybe reference to that first encounter, when the cow- 
 boys and the Indians clashed and the pistol was held 
 against Chief Billy's stomach, might not be agreeable. 
 
 " No. This was a man with one eye, on a light bay 
 horse with two white feet.'* 
 
 " Oh ! " Poignant alarm swept through Phil, as he 
 recalled Cherry alone up there among the timber on 
 the edge of the park. " Thunder ! " he muttered. 
 " I've got to go," and he turned Medicine Eye. 
 
 "Where you going?" 
 
 " Back again. I left somebody, who's waiting." 
 
 " I'll ride with you," volunteered Charley, with his 
 friendly smile. He dropped a brief word of Ute to 
 his comrades; and starting his horse fell in beside of 
 Phil. The three other Indians stayed behind, on the 
 trail. 
 
 Worried and full of fears, Phil urged Medicine Eye 
 into a brisk trot. He did not know how much he 
 ought to tell Charley, and so decided to tell him noth- 
 ing. But he asked : 
 
 " That man was alone, was he ? '* 
 
 "Whatman?" 
 
 " The man with the one eye." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
354 BAR B BOYS 
 
 "Far back?" 
 
 " Pretty far." 
 
 Phil felt a bit reassured. And yet he would have 
 preferred that there had been two men, together. 
 
 "Where's your buckskin suit, Charley?" he asked. 
 
 "Oh, that one? Sold it. Tourist wanted it." 
 
 "Where's the rest of the camp? Is Chief Billy 
 back, too?" 
 
 "Yes; all back. We're on our way to our own 
 reservation." 
 
 " What were you going to do with that cow ? " 
 
 " Eat her. Take her close to camp, first, so the 
 women could butcher her." 
 
 " But she wasn't your cow," argued Phil. " She 
 was a Bar B cow and she's worth twenty-five or thirty 
 dollars. And she's on the Bar B range." 
 
 " This was our country before the whites put us 
 off," retorted Charley, doggedly. " Some the govern- 
 ment bought but most it stole ; and anyway our treaty 
 rights give us privilege of hunting. But the game 
 laws try to stop us in that. When we need meat 
 what can we do ? " 
 
 Behind sounded a dull rifle shot. Phil pricked his 
 ears. 
 
 " Guess maybe one of the boys has found a deer," 
 quoth Charley. 
 
 But in Phil's private opinion that cow had been 
 granted only scant reprieve. 
 
 "I was sure it was you, even without your buck- 
 skin," profifered Phil. " But you pretended you didn't 
 know me, and couldn't understand English." 
 
 I 
 
SOMETHING HAPPENS TO CHERRY 355 
 
 "Yes," responded Charley, unabashed. "I didn't 
 want to know you. Sometimes we do that." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 He did not answer. 
 
 " But the bear-grease sack did the business. What 
 does that beading mean? " 
 
 " It's an emblem. I don't know what you call it in 
 English. We call it medicine. It's a medicine em- 
 blem." 
 
 " A talisman, maybe." 
 
 "Maybe. It's a medicine sign. My medicine. 
 My mother made it. You can show it anywhere. 
 All the Southern Utes know it." 
 
 Phil examined the beading more closely. 
 
 " What does it represent ? " he asked. 
 
 Again his companion did not answer. While now 
 affable as any American youth in many matters, in 
 others he was Indian reticent. 'Twas difficult for 
 Phil to foretell which phase, the white or the red, 
 would be uppermost, moment to moment. 
 
 But they trotted onward in comradely fashion, 
 sometimes side by side, sometimes Phil leading. Ar- 
 riving at the edge of the grassy, flowery park Phil 
 looked across eagerly, hoping to espy Cherry. He 
 waved his hand, on the chance that she might be see- 
 ing him even if he had not been able to pick her out, 
 there among the timber (for she was not in the 
 open) ; and pointing Medicine Eye for the big pine, 
 now at a gallop he spurred across. 
 
 No Cherry was under the giant pine. It was the 
 pine, all right — the self-same giant yellow pine. He 
 
356 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 remembered it distinctly — and furthermore, here were 
 the horses' tracks. 
 
 He called, his heart in his throat again. 
 
 " Whoo-ee ! Cher-r-ree-ee ! " 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " Gone ? " inquired the Indian, who had kept pace 
 through the park, and now was calmly noting his 
 efforts. 
 
 " Yes. It*s a girl. That's what I was afraid of. 
 Some man has taken her — perhaps that one-eyed man 
 you saw. He has a partner, too." 
 
 Phil was all of a tremble. The Indian dismounted. 
 
 " She was here," he said, eying the sod. " Girl's 
 foot — see? Horse stood there. How many horses 
 were with you? " 
 
 " Three. Hers, and mine and my partner's. We 
 came in together, from over that direction; and Phil 
 and I rode out right along here, across the park." 
 
 "You and he get off?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Some man has been here, afoot. See ? " The 
 Indian was scrutinizing the sod, rapidly. Phil dis- 
 mounted, to help. " See? His feet, her feet." Phil 
 could decipher faint outlines — now and then a heel- 
 mark. " Came in from over there " and Charley 
 
 gestured. " Went out over there, maybe. Yes. 
 Carrying girl (he lapsed into a crisp, Indian-like 
 vernacular) — sinks in deeper — going to horse, I bet — 
 uh. See where he grabbed her? Sneaked around 
 the tree. She was asleep; can't tell. Carried her to 
 horse — her horse — ^put her on, I guess — led her away. 
 
 ^ 
 
SOMETHING HAPPENS TO CHERRY 357 
 
 If we follow we'll find he went to his own horse, then, 
 I bet." 
 
 Thus, while Phil looked on in bewilderment, Charley 
 read the sod and finally glanced up triumphant. 
 
 " Was it a lame man ? " demanded Phil, anxiously. 
 
 " Didn't notice. But only one man. Want to fol- 
 low?" 
 
 " I sure do." And Phil set his lips determinedly. 
 " He's stolen the girl. He had her before, but we got 
 her. She doesn't belong to him and she doesn't like 
 him. He's a low-down rustler. We shot one of the 
 gang. Which way did he take her? Show me, will 
 you?" 
 
 " I'll go along. You never could trail them." 
 
 "All right!" accepted Phil, heartily. "That will 
 be fine. We'll catch them sure, now." 
 
 He had hoped that Charley would volunteer, but he 
 did not like to ask him. 
 
 " I wish we would meet Chet," he added, as they 
 hastily mounted. " He's a fighter, and he's got his 
 rifle, too." 
 
 Horseback, eyes scrutinizing the ground before, 
 Charley led off through the trees, riding alongside the 
 combined tracks of man and animal. 
 
 " He got on here," he reported. " Come. He's in 
 a hurry. Lame man." 
 
 And at a quick fox-trot, Phil behind, the trail was 
 taken up in earnest 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 PHIL REGAINS HIS WATCH 
 
 Charley rode straight along, never faltering, his 
 horse at the quick single-foot amble — a. cow pony trot. 
 The hoof-prints in the soft sod of the timber made a 
 plain trail to follow. Even Phil could have followed 
 it, by himself; although not so rapidly. 
 
 The trail ran off among the trees as unswerving as 
 if made with a definite destination in view. 
 
 " He's trotting, too. But the back horse doesn't 
 lead well," commented Charley. " We'll catch them 
 all the easier." 
 
 " How do you know ? " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "All that — that they're trotting and the horse 
 won't lead." 
 
 Charley grunted " Huh ! " in true Indian fashion. 
 
 " Because these are trot-tracks. And the led horse 
 digs in with his front feet, hanging back." 
 
 " Cherry'U make him hang back all she can," as- 
 serted Phil. " She's smart." And a little glow of 
 admiration warmed his heart, bitter with worriment 
 and chagrin. 
 
 He and Chet ought not to have left her, that way. 
 No. She was as capable of taking care of herself as 
 any girl could be — but they ought not to have taken 
 
 358 
 
PHIL REGAINS HIS WATCH 359 
 
 her at her word and left her. Would those men beat 
 her, now, he wondered. Oh — ! He tried not to 
 think of it. 
 
 She would get away, though, if given half a chance. 
 For she was as smart as a whip; her mind concealed 
 a whole lot when she wanted it to. And she never 
 quit when once she was started, until she had arrived 
 at her goal. 
 
 " Three horses, now," informed Charley. " An- 
 other came in back there." 
 
 " It*s the two men, then. TheyVe joined. Ar^ 
 we catching up with them? " 
 
 "No. They travel as fast as we. They'll hiir^y 
 at first; later they'll slacken, maybe. You want to 
 catch 'em, do you ? " 
 
 " Sure." 
 
 "Fight?" 
 
 " If I have to." Phil hesitated. " But you needn't. 
 It isn't your fight. You're doing enough, to help me 
 find them." 
 
 Charley looked back at him with the characteristic 
 grin which so thoroughly could light up his otherwise 
 opaque countenance. By the readiness of it Phil in- 
 terpreted that the owner was bent upon seeing hin 
 through. No words were necessary. 
 
 Several little parks had been encountered, but thfc 
 trail sedulously kept to the timber, seeming to prefer 
 short circuits under cover to crossing the open. How- 
 ever, the pines and spruces appeared to be thinning 
 out; and presently the two riders emerged upon a 
 rocky ridge, with an undulating slope flowing down, 
 
36o BAR B BOYS 
 
 grassy, sparsely bushed and sparsely timbered, into a 
 great gulch. Opposite and across arose a steeper, 
 barer slant, to culminate in another rocky ridge. 
 
 Charley's eyes traveled over the ground beneath 
 him; then swept the expanse before. 
 
 " Lost the trail ? " queried Phil, anxiously. 
 
 The Indian grunted, with emphatic negation. 
 
 " They stopped here a minute, too. Guess they 
 aren't sure which way to go. Maybe they hate to 
 cross this open place. First they ride along the ridge 
 
 — this way " and he did the same. " That 
 
 wasn't very long ago ; horse's mouth dripping on this 
 stone— see? Hasn't had time to dry. Then all of a 
 sudden they strike down this side lickety-split. Must 
 have got frightened. Expect they saw somebody. 
 Maybe us. No. Cowboys." 
 
 With head up and keen hawk-like expression 
 Charley was gazing to the left and beyond where the 
 ridge terminated in a shoulder which, also, flowed 
 away in a long descent. And following that gaze 
 Phil descried two horsemen, obliquing from below 
 and heading leisurely up toward them. 
 
 " That can't be them ! " he hazarded. 
 
 " No. Cowboys. Got on chaps." 
 
 Charley started and rode down to meet them ; Phil, 
 keeping close to him, suddenly was rejoiced to recog- 
 nize in the two horsemen Chet and his father. 
 
 The two parties met. 
 
 " How, Charley," greeted Mr. Simms ; his eyes 
 searched both faces curiously. 
 
 " Cherry's gone ! " exclaimed Phil. 
 
 ^ 
 
PHIL REGAINS HIS WATCH 361 
 
 He explained. Mr. Simms listened quietly, but his 
 features set hard and stem. Chet's face was white. 
 
 " Dad and I were going back there. He said we'd 
 no business leaving her." 
 
 " Never mind about that. The thing to do now is 
 to get her again. Are you on the trail, Charley?" 
 
 " Over there." And the Indian indicated by a jerk 
 of his head. 
 
 " All right. That's what we want." 
 
 The little party crossed the slope until in a few mo- 
 ments Charley had picked up the trail where it cut 
 down. He turned upon it; the others followed. At 
 a smart jolting trot they proceeded. Charley and Mr. 
 Simms spoke together, commenting. 
 
 "Fresh, and made at a gallop — eh?" 
 
 " Saw you." 
 
 " We didn't see them." 
 
 " They keep in this little hollow, so you wouldn't." 
 
 " Must have seen us when we had a cow down and 
 were looking her over." 
 
 Behind, Chet and Phil reproached themselves, to 
 mutual satisfaction. 
 
 " I thought I'd get back before. Honest I did," be- 
 wailed Chet. 
 
 " I went back right away, as soon as I heard about 
 the one-eyed man," declared Phil. 
 
 " I suspect by the way they're running their hawsses 
 they've a good notion that somebody's on their trail," 
 was saying Mr. Simms. 
 
 Charley grunted his Indian grunt. 
 
 " Pretty soon they try to lose us." 
 
362 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 "They can't lose us, can they?" asked Phil, 
 alarmed. " Not while we have Charley." 
 
 " No," answered Chet. " He's a first-class trailer, 
 for a Ute. Apaches are the best, though. But 
 Charley's been with the Apaches, some. Dad's a 
 pretty fair trailer, himself, for a white man. No 
 white man's as good as an Injun." 
 
 " They won't know that we've got an Indian." 
 
 " Hope not ; unless they're up among those rocks, 
 looking down on us." 
 
 Phil scrutinized the rocks, apprehensively. The 
 little party had reached the bottom of the slope and 
 were plunging into the gulch. Opposite was the 
 other slope, now near and plain: a solid stretch of 
 rock masses and boulders, jumbled and heaped, strewn 
 from low to high. They ranged in size, the majority 
 of them, from piano-boxes to small cottages. Among 
 them a hundred men might lie collected in the one 
 spot and never attract the eye. How much easier 
 might two men and a girl! 
 
 But the trail swerved from this startling moraine 
 and turned to the right, up the gulch. 
 
 " We'll get 'em cornered, soon now, if they keep 
 on," said Mr. Simms. " They can't take their 
 hawsses over these rocks, and this gulch pinches out 
 after a bit. Trail growing fresher, Charley ? " 
 
 Charley nodded. 
 
 " One horse is giving out. Lots of froth — see ? " 
 
 Mr. Simms twitched his rifle from the scabbard, 
 and with watchful eyes glancing right, left and peer- 
 ing ahead rode carrying it across the horn. The boys 
 
PHIL REGAINS HIS WATCH 363 
 
 (Phil with an excited thrill at the prospect of close 
 quarters) imitated him. But Charley was occupied 
 with picking the trail which waxed harder and harder 
 to decipher. 
 
 The gulch was narrowing, until it was only the dry 
 bed of a mountain torrent that had scoured deep and 
 clean to the rock stratum. Under the hoofs of the 
 horses the rock rang like iron. Boulders encumbered 
 the way. But ever the trail, at times a mere scratch 
 or two in the tough surface underfoot, led on, and 
 Charley the Indian, riding more slowly only, never 
 was at loss. 
 
 " Try to get out. No good," he indicated, twice, 
 pointing to the sheer edge or bank, where hoofs had 
 torn the meager soil, inside. " Gave it up." 
 
 These efforts somehow reminded Phil of the efforts 
 of rats seeking escape from a barrel. But he felt no 
 pity — no, not so long as they had Cherry. 
 
 The gulch, narrower still, split into a double head; 
 a fork diverging to the right, a fork diverging to the 
 left. Charley dismounted and examined on foot. He 
 bent close, studying. 
 
 "Horses went up this way," he averred. "But 
 one man went up the other. Better follow the man." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " He'll have the girl. Now they think they fool 
 us, sure. One man goes on with the horses; other 
 man hides behind with the girl. They think if you 
 trail 'em you'll keep on after the horse prints and 
 never notice." 
 
 " Don't know we've got an Injun with us, do they/* 
 
3^4 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 remarked Mr. Simms, grimly. " Come on, Chet, 
 Phil, you stay here and hold the hawsses." 
 
 Thus Phil found himself relegated to the rear! He 
 could not protest. He had learned that in emer- 
 gencies some duty falls to this person, some to that; 
 each is important, no matter if apparently trivial, and 
 all must be performed. Consequently, disappointed 
 but saying naught, he obediently held the reins of the 
 four horses, in his hand, while the veteran, Chet and 
 Qiarley the Indian advanced up the right-hand rocky 
 little wash. 
 
 "He won't have gone far carrying that girl," de- 
 clared Mr. Simms. " If anyone tries to pass you, 
 stop him," he called back, to Phil. And, to his own 
 company, again : " Spread out, boys." 
 
 Rifles forward, they rounded a turn in the wash 
 and disappeared. 
 
 " If anyone tries to pass you, stop him." These 
 words echoed portentously in Phil's brain. He, too, 
 then, had a responsibility — one aside from simply 
 holding the horses of the more active participants. 
 
 His carbine in his left hand, the reins of the four 
 horses gathered in his right, he stood, waiting and 
 listening. A pair of mountain jays screamed harshly 
 as they darted from branch to branch. A red mar- 
 mot whistled plaintively. The four horses stamped 
 upon the shelf-rock beneath their hoofs and whisked 
 their tails. These were the only sounds. Down upon 
 the wash and the slopes either side poured the gener- 
 ous sun. 
 
 But another sound now crept upon Phil's ears. It 
 
PHIL REGAINS HIS WATCH 365 
 
 was a queer, choking sound — a gurgle and a whine in 
 one. He endeavored to locate it. It seemed to 
 emanate from up the right-hand flank of the wash 
 through which Mr. Simms, Chet and Charlie had ad- 
 vanced. Phil stared, seeking out the source. The 
 whining gurgle, or the gurgling whine, continued. 
 Bobbed into view above a fallen trunk something 
 black; bobbed, and fell back again; bobbed, and fell 
 back again. 
 
 Phil cogitated a moment. Then tying Medicine 
 Eye to a projecting root and looping the reins of the 
 three other horses over the adjacent saddle-horns 
 (each animal thereby being connected with each), 
 cocking his carbine he hastily ascended to the log in 
 question. 
 
 Cautiously he reconnoitered behind it — and discov- 
 ered Cherry, lying helpless save that she could make 
 that gurgling whine and raise both feet. She was 
 gurgling and in the act of kicking above the log when 
 he looked in upon her. 
 
 Feet and hands were tied; a handkerchief — two 
 handkerchiefs — gagged her. Her eyes gazed up into 
 Phil's imploringly; also indignantly. 
 
 Phil uncocked his carbine. Falling to his knees he 
 worked at top speed to release her. He untied the 
 handkerchiefs. 
 
 " Wuh ! " sputtered Cherry, red in the face, ejecting 
 them violently from her mouth. " The dirty things ! " 
 
 But Phil had no time to waste upon aesthetics. 
 He cut the ropes that bound feet together, and hands. 
 
 " Can you walk ? '* he demanded. 
 
366 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " Of course I can walk. Didn't you see me waggle 
 my feet over the log?" sputtered Cherry. 
 
 She scrambled up. 
 
 " We'll have to go right back to the horses, then. 
 Come on. Where is he ? " 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " The man that had you ? " 
 
 " I don't know. He went on." 
 
 "Which was he?" 
 
 "Joe. The lame one." 
 
 Panting, they reached the horses. 
 
 "They'll catch him. He can't have gone far, can 
 he? How long were you there?" 
 
 " Just a little while. He knew you were close be- 
 hind, and he carried me from the horses — ^he dragged 
 me part way, but he carried me too ; he's awful strong 
 — and tied me (I was gagged anyway) and threw me 
 behind that tree trunk and left me." 
 
 " Jiminy, but I'm glad I found you ! " 
 
 " So am I. But I knew I'd be found. Who else 
 came ? " 
 
 " Mr. Simms and Chet and Charley Pow-wow. 
 He's a Ute Indian." 
 
 " I heard you. I wasn't sure at first, but I thought 
 I'd better attract attention. Did you see my feet, or 
 hear me gurgle ? " 
 
 "Both. Where ?" and in the midst of his 
 
 question he was interrupted by an outburst of voices 
 from up the wash. 
 
 A shot rang out; another. The wash and the 
 slopes suddenly were filled with savage cries. 
 
PHIL REGAINS HIS WATCH 367 
 
 "There he goes!" 
 
 "Halt!" 
 
 "Halt!" 
 
 "Look out, Chet!" This was from Mr. Simms. 
 
 "Bang!" 
 
 "Stop him!" 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " quavered Cherry, her lips parted, her 
 eyes wide. 
 
 There was rapid shuffle of feet, on the shelf-rock 
 bed of the dried stream. Phil resolutely half raised 
 his carbine, in readiness. 
 
 " Don't shoot," begged Cherry. " Oh, please 
 don't." 
 
 There was a rapid shuffle of feet ; apparently behind 
 it and upon either side the voices shouted sharply. 
 
 " Phil I Phil ! " they cried, in warning. 
 
 There was rapid shuffle of feet — a panting and a 
 hoarse breathing, and around the curve lurched into 
 view, running, the man with the limp. He was run- 
 ning hard — leaning forward, dragging his lame foot, 
 hatless, coatless, face streaked with perspiration, in 
 his left hand, by his side, a revolver, long-barreled. 
 
 " Oh ! " spoke Cherry, piteously. 
 
 Phil could feel her cower and shrink; the horses 
 threw up their heads. His carbine sprang to his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Halt I " he called shrilly. " Halt ! " He did not 
 want to shoot — no, no; not to shoot point-blank at a 
 human being. But he had Cherry to protect, and the 
 horses to hold. 
 
 "Halt!" 
 
368 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 The man, running, looked. His upper lip lifted 
 so that beneath his thin black mustache his teeth 
 showed in a snarl ; and without slackening his pace he 
 instantly shot from the hip. Yes, his revolver scarcely 
 moved save to point. 
 
 Something viciously smote Phil's carbine, driving 
 it from his shoulder; simultaneously, with a bang, it, 
 too, exploded; and in the momentary confusion he 
 thought that he heard other bangs, and shouting 
 anew; he hastily picked himself up from his knees 
 to which he had been whirled. 
 
 Cherry was crouching, her face in her two hands, 
 whimpering hysterically. From right and left figures 
 were scrambling down the steep bank. Between them, 
 in the wash, was lying huddled and prone another 
 figure. It was the man with the limp. He was 
 motionless. One of the figures stopped by him, the 
 two others came straight on. 
 
 " Are you hurt, boy ? " 'Twas Mr. Simms, white 
 and earnest, his voice trembling. 
 
 " N-no, sir. No, I don't think so." Phil was not 
 certain. He examined himself. Mr. Simms' eyes 
 were searching him. " No, sir ; he didn't hit me, after 
 all, I guess." 
 
 " He got your gun. That's what he hit." Chet 
 picked it up. " Gee ! Right in the stock, too. 
 Look!" 
 
 The heavy bullet from the revolver had struck the 
 walnut stock on the inside, and plowing a way along 
 it had passed over Phil's shoulder. 
 
 " Close call," commented Mr. Simms, " We 
 
PHIL REGAINS HIS WATCH 369 
 
 thought he had you. Phew." And with shaking 
 hand the veteran wiped his brow. 
 
 "Is he dead?" queried Phil. 
 
 " That's what we call him." 
 
 Phil forced himself to ask another question. 
 
 "Did— did /kill him?" 
 
 " You ? No. Did you shoot ? " 
 
 "I thought I did." 
 
 " But Charley brought him down. Didn't you, 
 Charley?" 
 
 " Yes." Charley approached. " I shot the same 
 time he did," and he jerked his head nonchalantly to- 
 ward the body. " The boy's gun went off right-away 
 afterward." 
 
 "That was when the bullet struck the stock," rea- 
 soned Phil, much relieved. 
 
 "You can thank Charley that the bullet didn't hit 
 you" asserted Mr. Simms. " It was full of inten- 
 tions, all right, but went a little wild. He wasn't the 
 man to miss, if he'd been let alone. And he wanted 
 to get at these hawsses mighty bad. But think of 
 him drawing gun on a boy! Well, he'll never draw 
 again. Did he hurt you any, girlie?" 
 
 " No. Just my feelings," quavered Cherry, regain- 
 ing her self-possession. 
 
 " That's good. We can cure them, I reckon. 
 Where's the other fellow?" 
 
 "The one-eyed man?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " He went up that other way, with the horses." 
 
 "Um-m-m. That's what we thought. Well, you 
 
370 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 boys can take Cherry and the mounts down a bit. 
 Charley, let's you and I search that fellow." 
 
 " Did you shoot at him, Chet ? " asked Phil, as they 
 led the four animals. 
 
 "No. Dad did, though, and so did Charley. I 
 didn't see him. We got to the place where he had 
 climbed out, and then first thing we know he was 
 running off behind us." 
 
 " Did he spoil your gun, Phil ? " inquired Cherry. 
 " Let's see. Can't you have a new stock put on ? " 
 
 " He doesn't want to — do you, Phil ! " objected 
 Chet. " Take it home and show it, just the way it 
 is. Wish I had it." 
 
 Phil agreed. He would not have renovated the 
 carbine, now, for anything. Its deep scar was in- 
 valuable. Few persons could boast of such a weapon 
 — bullet-marked in actual combat ! 
 
 " How did that man capture you? " demanded Chet, 
 of Cherry. 
 
 " He sneaked up on me behind a tree, and when 
 I woke he had grabbed me and had tied a handker- 
 chief in my mouth. Then he took me along, horse- 
 back." 
 
 " Were you scared ? " pursued Chet. 
 
 " Yes, but I knew I'd be rescued. I kept him from 
 going very fast. I pulled my horse in all I could." 
 
 " That's what I told Charley you'd do," exclaimed 
 Phil, admiringly. " He could see by the hoof-marks. 
 too." 
 
 " Is he a real Indian ? " 
 
 "Yes, I should say he was." 
 
PHIL REGAINS HIS WATCH 371 
 
 " How did you meet him ? " 
 
 Phil suddenly recalled the circumstances. 
 
 " Why — I ran right into him and three others. 
 Tht> had a Bar B cow and I made them drop her. 
 That is, the medicine bag he'd given me made them." 
 
 " I reckon he's earned a Bar B cow, now," said 
 Chet. " I bet dad'll tell him he can pick one out 
 once in a while, for meat. If it hadn't been for him 
 we'd have followed that other man and the horses. 
 The Utes come through here only twice a year — and 
 sometimes not that. Of course we don't mean many 
 cows." 
 
 Mr. Simms and Charlie came into view, descending 
 the gulch. They were leading a horse. Charlie car- 
 ried the long-barreled revolver. 
 
 " Oh, goody ! " cried Cherry. She clapped her 
 hands. "It's my horse. They've found him." 
 
 " We cut across the point, into that other wash," 
 announced Mr. Simms. " This hawss was there, only 
 a couple o' rods or so up. Wouldn't lead, probably." 
 
 " No, I told him not to," asserted Cherry. 
 
 " This yours, boy ? " And Mr. Simms extended a 
 small object. 
 
 Phil inspected. 'Twas his watch ! 
 
 " Where did you find it ? " he ejaculated. 
 
 " Took it off that fellow. Rather thought it might 
 be yours. Initials P. T. M. on it." 
 
 " It's mine. But the man with the one eye had 
 it, Cherry said." 
 
 " And he did," concurred Cherry. " But maybe 
 they traded." 
 
Z7^ 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " Well, you Ve got it back now, anyway, and you 
 want to hang onto it," remarked the veteran. " Here's 
 a hawss apiece, too. Don't know but what Cherry'll 
 have to walk, though, and let her hurt feelings ride ! 
 We'd better make for camp. Adios, Charley." 
 
 "Adios." And Charley shook hands all *round. 
 
 " Ugh ! " shuddered Cherry, eying the revolver 
 which dangled in his grasp. " There's that dreadful 
 gun. He was always practicing with it and showing 
 how he could shoot people ! " 
 
 "That gun belongs to Charley now. He won't 
 shoot anybody with it; will you, Charley?" said the 
 rancher. 
 
 Charley grinned, and flushed. He rode the one 
 way; they rode the other, for camp. 
 
 " I told him if he wanted to trail that man with 
 the one eye he might," communicated Mr. Simms; 
 " and have all he got out of it. But we'd done 
 enough, ourselves, for this time." 
 
 " Is Joe dead ? " asked Cherry, anxiously. 
 
 " Dead enough, girlie." 
 
 She sighed. 
 
 " I'm glad," she said, frankly. " He was a bad 
 man ; he struck me and he tried to shoot Phil." 
 
 "But what I can't figger is why he's been so 
 possessed to get hold of you," responded Mr. Simms. 
 " He never was your father — was he ? " 
 
 "The idea!" protested Cherry. "I'm not his at 
 all. I know I'm not. I belonged to somebody else 
 before he got me^-only I can't quite remember. But 
 some day I shall remember," she declared, defiantly. 
 
PHIL REGAINS HIS WATCH 373 
 
 " All right, honey. But in the meantime, Chet and 
 I'll keep you." 
 
 " I'll have to do better than I did this time, then," 
 self-accused Chet, ruefully. 
 
 "That one-eyed man isn't so mean. You won't 
 have to watch out for him as you did for the other," 
 comforted Cherry. " Maybe he won't try, now, after 
 this." 
 
CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 ADI09 
 
 " * Bury me not on the lone prair-ee 
 
 Where the wild coyotes may howl o'er me, 
 
 Where the rattlesnake glides to his cottonwood lair/ 
 But they took no heed to his dying pray'r; 
 
 In a narrow grave just six by three 
 
 They buried him there on the lone prair-eeeeeeee." 
 
 Thus sang Haney the red-headed Texan as, leather- 
 chapped, broad-hatted, spade upon shoulder, he rode 
 into camp again, and cheerfully dismounted. It was 
 the morning after the affair in the wash ; and but three 
 hours before the boys and Cherry had noted Mr. 
 Simms and the Texan ride out, bearing the spade, 
 upon final business with the man with the limp — or 
 what represented the man with the limp. 'Twas a 
 gruesome errand, but it was necessary and not un-^ 
 kindly. 
 
 Haney threw down the spade and changed the 
 words of his song, although not the subject. He 
 raised his voice lustily, his freckled face beaming. 
 
 " Then roll the drums slowly, 
 And play the fife lowly, 
 
 Play the dead-march as you carry me on; 
 Take me to Boot Hill, 
 And throw the sod over me, 
 For Fm a pore cowboy and knows I done wrong.* 
 
 374 
 
ADIOS 375 
 
 "Did you — did you bury him?" faltered Cherry. 
 
 "Wasn't there," promptly answered Haney, tying 
 his horse. 
 
 "Oh," said Cherry, meekly. 
 
 Timid in the matter, she failed to interpret Haney's 
 meaning; however, Chet pricked up his ears. 
 
 "What wasn't there?" 
 
 "The corpse for the buryin'." 
 
 " Then you didn't do it ? " 
 
 "Jes' tol' yuh. Cain't bury somebody when he 
 ain't there to bury." Haney negligently extended 
 himself, his hat over his eyes. 
 
 "But, great Caesar! Where'd he go?" exclaimed 
 Phil. 
 
 "Don't know. Looked laik somebody'd come an' 
 got him. Mus' have wanted him more'n we did. 
 Glad of it, myself; don't admire buryin' folks, good 
 or bad. 'Drather punch caows, or rope bears ! " 
 
 " Then he wasn't dead ? " gasped Cherry. 
 
 " Kin savvy that, either," declared Haney — using 
 that favorite cowboy corruption of "Quien sabe (who 
 knows) ? " 
 
 " Where's dad ? " queried Chet. 
 
 " Comin'." 
 
 Chet waited, in a feverish curiosity, shared fully 
 by the other two. Nothing definite could be extracted 
 from the imperturbable Texan, who, for his part, was 
 not excited at all. 
 
 " Didn't you find him ? " assailed Chet, the mo- 
 ment that his father approached. 
 
 " Did not," assured Mr. Simms, gravely. 
 
Z1^ 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 " But what became of him ? " put in Phil. 
 " Wasn't he killed ? " 
 
 " We certainly thought he was, at the time. He 
 was about as killed a man as I ever saw. But when 
 we got to him this morning he'd plumb gone." 
 
 When Mr. Simms and Haney had confidently ridden 
 into the little wash there were marks where the body 
 had lain, blood-stains and all. But the body itself 
 had vanished ! Mr. Simms was grimly confident that 
 it could not have walked. Haney ventured the opinion 
 that it was not of a type angelic enough to fly. 
 Someone must have carried it. 
 
 " That one-eyed partner of his did the trick," as- 
 serted the cattleman. 
 
 "Thanks to Mistuh One-Eye, then. Saved us a 
 heap o' trouble," drawled the Texan. 
 
 " Y-yes — but maybe he's only saving trouble to give 
 it back to us with compound interest," returned the 
 cattleman. He sighed. " Just as we thought we'd 
 got that worst fellow disposed of, too. I don't like 
 it; I don't like it." 
 
 "Cohdin' to all reports, he's daid. Ought to 've 
 let Charley scalp him." 
 
 "Wish I had," avowed Mr. Simms. " 'Spect 
 Charley would, too. His father, the old chief, would, 
 all right." 
 
 " But isn't he dead ? " appealed Cherry, anxiously. 
 
 " Um-m-m — maybe," mused Mr. Simms. " But 
 don't you worry. He'd had plenty to hold him for 
 a long, long while. A man with such a hole in him 
 has no business living, anyway." 
 
ADIOS 377 
 
 " Vm glad I got my watch back," said Phil. " He 
 didn't go off with that ! " 
 
 "Aren't we going to follow him up and see where 
 he went to, dad ?" demanded Chet, hopefully. 
 
 " Nope. We're too late for the funeral now." 
 Mr. Simms closed his lips resolutely. He addressed 
 Phil. " Get your things together, boy, whatever you 
 have. We'll ride over to the steer camp. I want 
 to start that bunch o* beef out, first thing in the 
 morning to-morrow. That's your chance to catch 
 your train." 
 
 " Aw, dad ! " expostulated Chet. " It's right in 
 the middle of things I Phil wants to stay to the 
 finish." 
 
 "He's been in at one finish — or two. We'll try 
 to save the rest until he's back again. But if he 
 means to go home in the next ten days or three weeks 
 he'd better ride in to the Junction with this bunch 
 o' beef. Can't tell what will happen later." 
 
 "Yes, I'd better go," assented Phil, reluctantly, 
 gathering his possessions. 
 
 "We're going, too, then," declared Cherry. 
 
 " Hurry up." 
 
 " Good-by, Haney," said Phil. He reached out his 
 hand. 
 
 Haney stood politely. 
 
 " Good-by, Smith-Jones. Come back 'foh the bears 
 eat us all up." 
 
 " I sure will," asserted Phil. " Tell Buster good-by 
 for me, will you ?" 
 
 "Yes, suh." 
 
37^ 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 They rode away, the four of them; glancing be- 
 hind, from the saddle, Phil saw that Haney already 
 was mounting, to resume his daily routine. 
 
 The steer camp was a good half-day's ride; and 
 so, after a pleasant travel up hill and down, through 
 timber and park, 'twas toward evening when they 
 at last arrived. 
 
 "Hello," greeted Ford. 
 
 Old Jess grunted. They both were "at home," 
 where the rude cabin nestled among the quaking 
 aspens of a green draw, above which, by a series of 
 terraces, rose beyond timber-line a mountain, its crest- 
 ing ridge seamed and blotched with snow. 
 
 In a corral were confined twenty-five or thirty 
 cattle. 
 
 " There's your gather," said old Jess to Mr. Simms, 
 with a jerk of the head. 
 
 Together they walked over to inspect. 
 
 " Homeward bound, are you ? " remarked Ford, 
 to Phil. He was mixing bread, was Ford — sleeves 
 rolled and chaps not yet doffed. An odd enough 
 cook, and an odd enough Bostonian. 
 
 " Yes, sir; it's my chance." 
 
 " Well, you can't tell them back East that we didn't 
 give you a lively send-off, in regular *Wild West* 
 fashion." 
 
 " Oh, how did you know ? " exclaimed Cherry. 
 
 " By mountain wireless." Ford smiled good-na- 
 turedly, and wiped the dough from his fingers. " Dick 
 was here just before you came. He'd met Buster, 
 and Buster had told him." 
 
ADIOS 379 
 
 " But you haven't heard all. He disappeared ! " 
 
 "Who ?" 
 
 "The killed man! They couldn't bury him !" 
 
 " Is that so ? " Ford's smile changed to a puzzled 
 frown. " What ? " 
 
 " Come on ! " yelped Chet, from the corral fence. 
 " They 've got the banded steer ! " 
 
 Followed by Cherry, Phil joined him. 
 
 " See ? " and Chet pointed. 
 
 " Oh, I think it's a shame ! " scolded Cherry. 
 
 The banded steer was easily singled out; and there 
 he was, with his lean, rangy frame, his enormous 
 flaring horns, his red hide cleanly circled by the white 
 stripe like a parti-colored sweater, standing somewhat 
 morose and aloof among the common captives. 
 
 " How'd they get him ? " 
 
 "Dick and Ford did it. They roped him and 
 brought him in. He was with a lot of tame cattle. 
 He's lame — see? A bear or lion clawed him." 
 
 " Are they going to take him for beef ? " 
 
 " I guess so." 
 
 Here, then, was the monarch of the cow-range; 
 who had been long as free as his remotest ancestors 
 back when the cow-kind was new upon the earth 
 and apart from man's dictation; as free as any deer, 
 to roam, to doze, to fight, to graze, to know the secrets 
 of the sage and of the timber and of all the other 
 wild folk, friends and enemies; to defy the human 
 tyrants, with their futile ropes; here, then, he was, 
 brought to the level of those cattle enslaved, driven, 
 condemned, his pitiable contemporaries. 
 
38o 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 Keen compassion, which did not require the fillip 
 of Cherry's reiterated " Oh, what a shame ! " surged 
 in Phil's heart. The banded steer glared dully about, 
 limped a few paces, and hoarsely bellowed. 
 
 Mr. Simms and Old Jess, by the corral gate, seemed 
 to be having a friendly discussion; which terminated 
 by Old Jess hastily waddling away, and returning with 
 Ford, both on horseback. They entered the corral. 
 
 "Come along here and hold this gate, boys," or- 
 dered Mr. Simms. 
 
 They went. 
 
 " I know ! " suddenly declared Chet, after having 
 watched operations a moment. "They're cutting out 
 the banded steer ! " 
 
 In and out of the captive bunch weaved Ford and 
 Old Jess ; they crowded it to the far side of the corral. 
 
 " Open that gate ! " yelled Old Jess, abruptly ; and 
 he and Ford headed for it, driving between them the 
 banded steer. 
 
 Out they passed, at a trot ; the boys shoved the gate 
 to again; Ford halted; Old Jess with a shrill whoop 
 slapped the steer upon the flank with his hat-brim, and 
 away they tore, lameness or no lameness, down the 
 draw. 
 
 "They're letting him go 1" ejaculated Chet. 
 
 Old Jess pulled short. 
 
 " There ! " he shouted after, as the steer galloped 
 clumsily on. " Go back to your range. Yuh ain't 
 wuth the trailin' to market." 
 
 " Just the same, he offered me $25 for him," ob- 
 served Mr. Simms, dryly. 
 
ADIOS 381 
 
 " Did you take it ? " Ford winked slyly at the 
 boys. 
 
 "No; nor twenty-five cents!" Mr. Simms smiled, 
 sheepishly. " That steer dies on the range, I reckon," 
 he said. " And " he added, in tone almost half- 
 defiant, as he turned away, " I'll be sorry when he 
 does ! " 
 
 " He'd never have let that steer go to the market," 
 laughed Ford. " Not on your life. No more than 
 Jess would. They're three old long-horns together. 
 Fact is, we'd all miss the animal. Dick and I brought 
 him in for fun. He was crippled or we couldn't have 
 done even that." 
 
 " I hope I find him when I come back," vouchsafed 
 Phil, wistfully. 
 
 " We'll save him for you," promised the ready 
 Cherry. And Chet concurred. " You bet ! " 
 
 Yes, the "Wild West" was, as Ford had com- 
 mented, giving its departing guest a good send-off. 
 That evening, in the cabin. Old Jess tossed Phil a 
 snaky coil. 
 
 " Take it, if yuh want to," bade Old Jess, curtly. 
 
 It was a braided rawhide rope — new. 
 
 " Yuh can show it to the people out East and tell 
 'em a man forty years a puncher made it for yuh," 
 growled Old Jess. 
 
 " Tell 'em a reg'lar long-horn made it," supple- 
 mented Mr. Simms. 
 
 Chet, examining and fingering, gurgled extrav- 
 agant envy. Phil, even more joyed, could say little; 
 and that was, perhaps, under the circumstances. 
 
382 BAR B BOYS 
 
 enough. Old Jess did not care for lengthy thanks. 
 He had spent many hours over that rope, it was a 
 good rope, and he knew that it would be appreciated. 
 
 " Hombre left you this," said Ford, tossing another 
 article, wrapped in a piece of old newspaper — Mexican 
 print. " He was over last night. Thought you'd 
 be here then, he claimed." 
 
 " Pshaw ! I wanted to see Hombre," deplored 
 Phil, honestly. He undid the package. Within the 
 Mexican newspaper was a pair of spurs inlaid with 
 dimes. 
 
 " Oh, say ! " exclaimed Phil. " I ought to pay him 
 for these. Did he tell you how much ? " 
 
 "Not a word. Just keep them. When he sends 
 in a bill you can pay for them then." 
 
 " But " protested Phil, feebly. 
 
 " Nada, nada (nothing, nothing)," interrupted Old 
 Jess. " They go along with the rope. That Mexican 
 won't take pay for 'em. I knew what he was doin'." 
 
 " Well — 'Some of you thank him for me, will you ? " 
 asked Phil, anxiously. " Tell him I'll be back and 
 thank him myself, some day." 
 
 " Sure," they replied. 
 
 " I'm leaving my saddle and bridle," he continued. 
 " If anybody wants to use them he can." He forced 
 a laugh. " And exercise my string, will you, please ? 
 So they won't get too frisky for me." 
 
 " We'll tend to your saddle and bridle and string. 
 They'll be ready for you when you're ready for them 
 again," assured Mr. Simms, heartily. " Your job with 
 the Bar B's open for you, anytime." 
 
ADIOS 383 
 
 Phil would have impressed upon them, further, the 
 importance of not letting Cherry be stolen nor Pepper 
 run off again, of saving some of the rustlers for his 
 return, of taking good care of Tom, and other re- 
 sponsibilities which must not suffer through his de- 
 parture; but Old Jess growled "Bed," and his mo- 
 tion was seconded immediately by everybody acting 
 upon it. 
 
 After the two-day drive of the little bunch of beef 
 Phil now stood, still hot, still dusty, upon the meager 
 depot platform at the Junction, with the train already 
 whistling its approach. He had found his trunk and 
 suit-case ; but he had had no time to change his clothes. 
 He could only stuff away his beloved chaps, raw- 
 hide, spurs and other extra belongings, and count upon 
 making his complete toilet at his leisure in the Pull- 
 man. 
 
 They four — Mr. Simms, Chet, Cherry and he — 
 had brought the drive in ; Ford and Old Jess had not 
 been needed and had stayed behind upon the steer 
 range. Mr. Simms had given quick hand-shake and 
 had said, simply: "Well, adios. Come back when 
 you can." He was uptown; he had not come to the 
 station. But Chet and Cherry were here. 
 
 " We ought to have Buster, to show him a train," 
 blurted Chet. " There she comes." 
 
 He drew back a little; so did Cherry. She had 
 discarded her overalls and was in short skirt again. 
 She grasped Chet nervously by the arm, for with 
 rumble and grinding of wheels, hissing of air and 
 
384 
 
 BAR B BOYS 
 
 heat of engine the long heavy train was thundering 
 past — to slacken, to stop. 
 
 Phil gripped a hand of each. 
 
 " Adios," he said, huskily. " Keep me posted." 
 
 "Adios," answered Chet. "You bet I will." 
 
 " Good-by," from Cherry. " Til watch after Tom 
 and Pepper and Gray Jack " 
 
 The conductor was calling, impatiently : " All 
 aboa-oard ! " Phil turned and sprang for a Pullman 
 entrance. 
 
 " Dis yere's a sleeper. Chaih car on in front," 
 objected the porter, eying him dubiously. 
 
 " I know it," retorted Phil, tartly. 
 
 From the steps he looked back; he just had time 
 to glimpse Chet's sturdy figure and well-known 
 shaggy chaps, and the wave of the quicker Cherry's 
 hand, when the train started; the porter, boarding, 
 stool in clutch, rudely shoved him back up into the 
 vestibule. 
 
 But Phil, when in his seat and chancing to see 
 himself in the narrow mirror between the two win- 
 dows, could not marvel that the porter had viewed 
 his entrance with suspicion, and that in this well- 
 bred car his presence was being tolerated only until 
 an excuse might be found for putting him out. That 
 roughened, reddened countenance, that ragged shock 
 of hair, that shirt with decidedly negligee collar, these 
 certainly were much at variance with the plush and 
 the polish and the neat people sitting about covertly 
 scrutinizing him. 
 
 Yes, he was a cowboy just off the range; that was 
 
ADIOS 385 
 
 evident. So let them look at him ; they would witness 
 the real thing, boots to hat. He was a cowboy from 
 the Bar B outfit. Little they knew what a lot he 
 had done and what a lot he could tell. Bears, In- 
 dians, rustlers, wild-horses, bucking horses, long hours 
 in the saddle, roundup customs, roping, branding, 
 marking, tarpaulin beds, sage and timber — he was 
 " wised " to all. His faithful leathern chaps were 
 in this very suit-case; so were rawhide rope and in- 
 laid spurs and gauntlet gloves. He owned a Ute 
 medicine bag. This parcel leaning beside him was 
 his rifle, once carried by a rustler, with a bullet gash 
 in its stock ! He was leaving behind him, in the 
 Bar B country, which he had ridden, a log ranch 
 among the remote mesas, cowboy friends, including 
 his partner, Chet, a string of " hawsses," a dead out- 
 law shot by Pete the roundup cook, another who 
 might be dead and might not, shot by Charley the 
 Indian, a third, with one eye, who was alive, a girl 
 named Cherry whom the outlaws had stolen and who 
 could not remember where she came from, a man 
 who had punched cows forty years and another who 
 never had seen a railroad train and another who was 
 from Boston — all working at the Bar B, a wild long- 
 horn steer whom nobody wanted killed ; and oh, much 
 other romance which city people would never guess. 
 
 He had left also his saddle and bridle (they, too, 
 had belonged to an outlaw) ; for he was to go back; 
 aye, he was to go back and be a cowboy again; there 
 with Chet his partner (another boy) to help in fin- 
 ishing those events which they had helped to start. 
 
386 BAR B BOYS 
 
 But just now he was going home, to show himself 
 and his trophies and to relate his adventures. Strong 
 and well and self-reliant (a very different personage 
 from him of the outward trip) was he going home, 
 to his father and mother, to a welcome, to a bed 
 betwixt clean, fresh sheets, to a table set with cloth 
 and napkins and gleaming glass and china, to cream 
 and butter and chicken, to a bath-tub, to a familiar 
 porch and familiar street and familiar, eager voices. 
 He was going home; home. Suddenly a great gush 
 of warmth welled in his heart. He was going home 
 — and he was glad of it! 
 
 THE END 
 
'T -^^Tjj 
 
[^23082 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY