CHAPTER III
TO THE ROUND-UP CAMP
Supper smelled good to Jack as he entered the house on his return, forhe had had nothing to eat since breakfast, and the ride had sharpenedhis appetite. Mrs. Powell and Bess were putting the food on the table,and Jack was sent to Charley's room to wash his hands. He noticed as hepassed through the sitting-room that all was in order, and that hereand there the floor was damp, showing that it had been scrubbed afterhe left.
When they sat down to the table, Jack's first words were:
"Well, he got off all right, and I watched him for a mile or two. Hewas going fast toward town, and I reckon we won't see him again in thispart of the country. What did you do with the other horses, Bess?"
"I took the saddles off, and turned them into the pasture with yourstring. The two saddle horses are good ones, but I don't know what weought to do with them."
During the evening much of the talk was about the exciting events ofthe day, though several times the women tried to get away from thesubject by asking Jack about his life in the East and his studies, orby discussing the daily happenings of ranch life.
It was getting late, and Jack was thinking about excusing himself andgoing to bed, when he noticed that Bessie was holding her head to oneside and apparently listening; and in a few seconds Jack heard thefaint tramp of a galloping horse, which presently stopped at the barn.
"I'll just go out and see who that is," said Jack.
"You needn't bother, Jack; I know that gallop," Bessie replied. "That'sold Kate; and probably father riding her."
"Good!" exclaimed Jack. "All the same I'll just go out and make sure."
He stepped out of the front door and walking around the unlighted sideof the house stopped near the kitchen door and looked toward the barn.In a moment he heard footsteps and the clinking of spurs, with thesound of shaps rasping as a man walked, and a moment later recognizedMr. Powell, and stepped forward to speak to him.
"I don't suppose you know me, Mr. Powell, but I'm Jack Danvers fromover at Mr. Sturgis' place and I want to say a word to you before yougo to the house."
"Why sure I know you, Jack! That is, I know your voice; but I don'tbelieve I'd know your body. Maybe when I get a chance to see your face,I'll recognize that. Are you out here for the summer?"
"Yes, Mr. Powell," was the reply; "but I want to speak to you nowbefore you go in. There has been trouble here at the house; badbusiness, but no great harm done. It's all over now. Mrs. Powell willtell you the whole story."
The two shook hands and went into the house. Powell kissed his wifeand hugged his daughter in a way that showed how glad he was tosee them again. Then he sat down and looked about, as if expectingsomething. Mrs. Powell spoke at once.
"I don't know if Jack told you about what happened here, Henry; but Iwas badly scared, and I guess Bess was, too, only she didn't show it."
"Well," said Powell, "tell me the story. There's no use in beatingabout the bush."
Mrs. Powell told him what had happened, and as her story went on,Powell's face took on a stern, hard look that promised badly forthe criminals, if one of them should fall into his hands. When thenarrative was ended, he turned to his daughter.
"Well, Bess," he said, "you certainly did the right thing: and I feelproud that you were so ready and so plucky. You did well, too," he saidto Jack; "but, as I understand it, the thing was all over when youstopped the man who was running away. What's become of him?"
Then Jack took up the story, and told the decision that had beenreached and how it had been carried out.
"Well," said Powell, "I believe on the whole you did the right thing. Idon't quite think it's what I'd have done, if I'd been here; but if I'dbeen here I should have been mad clear through and would probably havekilled the young fellow offhand."
"That would have been the natural thing to do," Jack replied; "but ofcourse it wouldn't have been the pleasantest thing for Mrs. Powell andBessie, and I felt that they had both had a pretty hard time, and thatwhat they said ought to go."
"Yes," declared Powell, slowly, as if considering the thing, "you didthe right thing. I can see that now, and I'll feel a good deal surerin the morning. I'm glad that neither Charley nor any of those youngfellows came on with me from the round-up camp. If they had, I knowthey would have caught up fresh horses and followed that fellow to therailroad, and very likely caught him before he got on the train.
"Well," he went on, "you've all had a pretty exciting day, and I expectyou women had better go to bed. I'll sit up here and smoke a pipe ortwo, and talk with Jack, and then we'll go to bed too. I'm going backto the camp in the morning, and I expect you'll want to go along too,won't you, Jack? I judge that you're headed for the round-up camp."
"That's where I want to go," agreed Jack. "I came here because I had anidea the camp would be somewhere in this neighborhood, and I thought Icould get directions to find it."
After the two women had gone to bed, Powell filled his pipe and thendrawing his chair close to Jack they talked together for a little whilein a low tone. Jack told his host all that he had learned about the manwho had been killed, and when he mentioned his name, Powell exclaimed:
"Why, that might have been the Bill Davis that was mixed up in thattrain robbing business nearly ten years ago, the one the miners hungBig-Nose George for in Rawlins. If that's the man, he surely was bad,and deserved all he got."
"Well," said Jack, "I went through his clothes but couldn't find anypapers. The young fellow gave him the name of Davis. He was a man, Ishould think, between forty and fifty, just beginning to get gray, ahooked-nosed man, with black hair and mustache."
"I never saw Davis," said Henry Powell; "only heard of him."
"The young fellow," Jack went on, "didn't seem to be bad. He seemed tobe worthless, and no account. He had no great amount of sand, and wasalways looking around to find some way to get out of the difficulty."
"I've an idea, then, that he was not mixed up in the thing any fartherthan being in bad company."
"That's just what I thought," said Jack, "and I believe I'm right.Why, when he talked to me when I turned him loose, he came pretty nearcrying. I don't think he's a fellow of any force at all, and I don'tbelieve that he will ever get back into this part of the country again."
"Could he get off on the railroad?" asked Powell. "Did he have anymoney?"
"Yes, he had five dollars of his own, and I gave him five more for hissaddle, which he said he would leave at Brown's, and then if he lets meknow his address, I will send him fifteen more by mail. Besides that,he left his horse here, and it's a better one than the gray I gave himto ride on. If he gets off on the railroad he's to leave the horse atBrown's, or turn it loose on the range. Of course, ten dollars willcarry him some distance, but will leave him afoot wherever he stops.Still, that's a whole lot better than being hanged."
"Well," decided Powell, "I guess you did just right; and I'm glad itall happened as it did. It's a mighty lucky thing for the women and methat you rode up here just as you did. I shouldn't have been afraid ofanything more happening to them, but it would have been pretty bad forthem to have to get rid of that carcass. Well, let's go to bed."
He stretched out his hand and gave Jack a grip that made the boy wince,and they went to their rooms.
Early the next morning Jack and Powell looked over the horses leftthere by the strangers the day before. The men had been well mounted,and the saddle and bridle belonging to Davis were new, good and strong.The pack horse was also a good animal, and looked as if it might havespeed and endurance.
"Nice horses, aren't they, Mr. Powell?" said Jack. "But I don't knowwho owns them now."
"Yes," answered Powell; "they are nice horses. You'll find, if you livelong enough in this country--maybe you've found it out already--thatthese rustlers and bad men always do have good horses. They've alwaysgot to be ready to skip off when any one gets after them, and theyalways try to be fixed so as to ride
a little faster and a littlefarther than the man who is chasing them. So they always have goodhorses and good saddles. As to who owns these horses now, you and Ican't say, but I guess nobody has a better title to them than we two,so we'll just hold them until somebody comes along and claims them andproves property. I don't know the brands of any of them. That one onthe brown horse might be old Missouri John's "beer mug," blotted. If itis, he'll be along some day and likely know the horse. Now I've got toget Bessie to write some letters for me this morning, and then I wantto get some grub and put it on a horse, and after dinner we can startback to the round-up camp and get there before dark. Will that suityou?"
"Yes," replied Jack, "that will suit me to a T; and I am certainly gladto wait for you, to have company on the road over."
"Well," said Powell, "that will be good; then we can turn my pack horseloose and drive him with your _remuda_, and we can get along prettyfast."
As he said this, a call from the house told them that breakfast wasready, and they started back.
"By the way," asked Powell, as they were approaching the house, "whatabout those guns that you took away from the men yesterday?"
"Why," Jack answered, "you may as well keep them here. I have my ownand don't need any more. I think the pair that Davis wore ought tobelong to Bess."
Powell smiled.
"Well, maybe they ought to. I guess we'll keep those here, but the oneyou took from the young man you might as well keep."
"All right," said Jack, "I will; but of course I don't want to pack itaround with me now. This one I am carrying came from a horse thief. Doyou remember that time four or five years ago when we ran into a bunchof stolen stock on the Sweet Water, and Hugh killed black Bob Dowling?Hugh gave me his pistols, and ever since then I have worn one of themwhenever I was in a place where I carried a pistol."
The house this morning looked more cheerful than it had the afternoonbefore. Mrs. Powell and Bess were bright and smiling, and the breakfastwas very good. Soon after the meal was over, Powell began the work ofwriting his letters by his daughter's hand. Jack went out and strolledabout the barns and corrals, and killed time for several hours, andthen coming back to the house, interrupted the letter writing by askingPowell if he could not get out the grub that was to be taken to thecamp.
"I wish you would," said Powell, "if you haven't anything to do.Mrs. Powell will show you where the stuff is, and all I want to takeis a couple of sacks of flour and two slabs of bacon. You will findpack-saddles and riggings hanging up in the storeroom where the grubis, and if you feel like doing it, you might catch up that sorrel horsethat you'll find in the pasture, the one with two white feet, andeither tie him in the barn, or put him in the small corral, so that wecan get him quick when we are ready to pack."
"All right," answered Jack, "I'll do that. First I'll get out the gruband then I'll fix the saddle, and along just before dinner time I'll godown and get the horses and bring them up and put them in the corral. Idon't know what horse you're going to ride."
"I'll ride old Kate back again. You know her. She is the brown, with abald face and one white hind foot. Bring them all up to the corral justbefore dinner, and then they'll be handy."
It took Jack but a little time to get together the load for the packhorse and set it outside the storehouse; then he went to the barn,saddled up Pawnee and rode into Powell's small pasture where he gottogether the required horses, and drove them up to the corral.
Dinner was not so cheerful a meal as breakfast had been. It seemed toJack that the women felt a little nervous about losing their men folk,and before the meal was over this was so obvious that Powell spokeabout it.
"You women," he said, "don't want to get scared over nothing. It's mybelief that you might rake this country over with a fine-tooth comband not find another man that would act as mean as that Davis did.You've both of you got good pluck, and have shown it, and I want youto keep on showing it now. All the same, if I were you I wouldn't letany strangers come into the house. People that you know, of course,are all right, but strangers you had best keep off. If they ask what'sthe matter, tell them you were badly treated once by some strangers,and that you won't risk it again. You, Bess, had better wear yoursix-shooter all the time, unless you see somebody coming that you know;then I expect you would want to shed it. Somebody will be coming infrom the round-up every two or three days; and in the course of a dayor two, when this scare you've had wears off, things will go on justas they've always gone on, and you'll have a real good time. Now," headded, as he pushed back his chair, "Jack and me'll go down and packthem animals, and then we'll roll."
The saddling and packing of the horses took but a short time, and afterthe animals had been turned out, and were feeding on the flat in frontof the house, the men went up to say good-bye. The women clung toPowell, and seemed loath to let him go, and they shook hands with Jackin an earnest, cordial fashion that greatly pleased him.
"I don't know what we'd have done, Jack Danvers, if it hadn't been foryou," Mrs. Powell said. "We folks will never forget how you helped usout."
Powell waved his hand, and Jack lifted his hat, and they rode off.
Jack the Young Cowboy: An Eastern Boy's Experiance on a Western Round-up Page 5
