The Dude Wrangler

by Caroline Lockhart

  THE DUDE WRANGLER

  by

  CAROLINE LOCKHART

  Frontispiece by Dudley Glyne Summers

  "Wallie swung the frying pan with all his strength ...knocking the six-shooter from Boise Bill's hand as he jumped across thefire at him"]

  Garden City, N. Y., And TorontoDoubleday, Page & Company1921

  Copyright, 1921, byDoubleday, Page & CompanyAll Rights Reserved, Including That of Translation into ForeignLanguages, Including the Scandinavian

  Copyright, 1921, by Street & Smith Corporation

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE

  I. The Girl from Wyoming 3 II. "The Happy Family" 10 III. "Pinkey" 18 IV. The Brand of Cain 24 V. "Gentle Annie" 33 VI. "Burning His Bridges" 42 VII. His "Gat" 47 VIII. Neighbours 62 IX. Cutting His Eyeteeth 69 X. The Best Pulling Team in the State 81 XI. Merry Christmas 92 XII. The Water Witch 112 XIII. Wiped Out 131 XIV. Lifting a Cache 142 XV. Collecting a Bad Debt 156 XVI. The Exodus 168 XVII. Counting Their Chickens 176 XVIII. The Millionaires 182 XIX. A Shock for Mr. Canby 196 XX. Wallie Qualifies as a First-Class Hero 207 XXI. "Worman! Worman!" 221 XXII. "Knocking 'Em for a Curve!" 231 XXIII. Rifts 247 XXIV. Hicks the Avenger 261 XXV. "And Just Then----" 301

  THE DUDE WRANGLER

  CHAPTER I

  THE GIRL FROM WYOMING

  Conscious that something had disturbed him, Wallie Macpherson raisedhimself on his elbow in bed to listen. For a full minute he heardnothing unusual: the Atlantic breaking against the sea-wall at the footof the sloping lawn of The Colonial, the clock striking the hour in thetower of the Court House, and the ripping, tearing, slashing noises likethose of a sash-and-blind factory, produced through the long, thin noseof old Mr. Penrose, two doors down the hotel corridor, all sounds towhich he was too accustomed to be awakened by them.

  While Wallie remained in this posture conjecturing, the door between theroom next to him and that of Mr. Penrose was struck smartly severaltimes, and with a vigour to denote that there was temper behind theblows which fell upon it. He had not known that the room was occupied;being considered undesirable on account of the audible slumbers of theold gentleman it was often vacant.

  The raps finally awakened even Mr. Penrose, who demanded sharply:

  "What are you doing?"

  "Hammering with the heel of my slipper," a feminine voice answered.

  "What do you want?"

  "A chance to sleep."

  "Who's stopping you?" crabbedly.

  "You're snoring." Indignation gave an edge to the accusation.

  "You're impertinent!"

  "You're a nuisance!" the voice retorted. Wallie covered his mouth withhis hand and hunched his shoulders.

  There was a moment's silence while Mr. Penrose seemed to be thinking ofa suitable answer. Then:

  "It's my privilege to snore if I want to. This is my room--I pay forit!"

  "Then this side of the door is mine and I can pound on it, for the samereason."

  Mr. Penrose sneered in the darkness: "I suppose you're some sour oldmaid--you sound like it."

  "And no doubt you're a Methuselah with dyspepsia!"

  Wallie smote the pillow gleefully--old Mr. Penrose's collection ofbottles and boxes and tablets for indigestion were a byword.

  "We will see about this in the morning," said Mr. Penrose,significantly. "I have been coming to this hotel for twenty-eightyears----"

  "It's nothing to boast of," the voice interrupted. "I shouldn't, if Ihad so little originality."

  Mr. Penrose, seeming to realize that the woman would have the last wordif the dialogue lasted until morning, ended it with a loud snort ofderision.

  He was so wrought up by the controversy that he was unable to composehimself immediately, but lay awake for an hour framing a speech for Mr.Cone, the proprietor, which was in the nature of an ultimatum. Eitherthe woman must move, or he would--but the latter he considered a remotepossibility, since he realized fully that a multi-millionaire, sociallywell connected, is an asset which no hotel will dispense with lightly.

  The frequency with which Mr. Penrose had presumed upon this knowledgehad much to do with Wallie's delight as he had listened to theencounter.

  Dropping back upon his pillow, the young man mildly wondered about thewoman next door to him. She must have come in on the evening train whilehe was at the moving pictures, and retired immediately. Very likely shewas, as Mr. Penrose asserted, some acrimonious spinster, but, at anyrate, she had temporarily silenced the rich old tyrant of whom all thehotel stood in awe.

  A second time the ripping sound of yard after yard of calico beingviciously torn broke the night's stillness and, grinning, Wallie waitedto hear what the woman next door was going to do about it. But only astranger would have hoped to do anything about it, since to prevent Mr.Penrose from snoring was a task only a little less hopeless than that ofstopping the roar of the ocean. Guests whom it annoyed had either tomove or get used to it. Sometimes they did the one and sometimes theother, but always Mr. Penrose, who was the subject of a hundredcomplaints a summer, snored on victoriously. The woman next door, ofcourse, could not know this, so no doubt she had a mistaken notion thatshe might either break the old gentleman of his habit or have himbanished to an isolated quarter.

  Wallie had not long to wait, for shortly after Mr. Penrose started againthe tattoo on the door was repeated.

  In response to a snarl that might have come from a menagerie, sheadvised him curtly:

  "You're at it again!"

  Another angry colloquy followed, and once more Mr. Penrose was forced tosubside for the want of an adequate answer.

  All the rest of the night the battle continued at intervals, and bymorning not only Wallie but the entire corridor was interested in theoccupant of the room adjoining his.

  Wallie was in the office when the door of the elevator opened with aclang and Mr. Penrose sprang out of it like a starved lion about to hurlhimself upon a Christian martyr. While his jaws did not drip saliva, thethin nostrils of his bothersome nose quivered with eagerness and anger.

  "I've been coming here for twenty-eight years, haven't I?" he demanded.

  "Twenty-eight this summer," Mr. Cone replied, soothingly.

  "In that time I never have put in such a night as last night!"

  "Dear me!" The proprietor seemed genuinely disturbed by the information.

  "I could not sleep--I have not closed my eyes--for the battering on mydoor of the female in the room adjoining!"

  "You astonish me! Let me see----" Mr. Cone whirled the register aroundand looked at it. He read aloud:

  "Helene Spenceley--Prouty, Wyoming."

  Mr. Cone lowered his voice discreetly:

  "What was her explanation?"

  "She accused me of snoring!" declared Mr. Penrose, furiously. "I heardthe clock strike every hour until morning! Not a wink have I slept--nota _wink_, Mr. Cone!"

  "We can arrange this satisfactorily, Mr. Penrose," Mr. Cone smiledconciliatingly. "I have no doubt that Miss--er--Spenceley wil
l gladlychange her room if I ask her. I shall place one equally good at herdisposal---- Ah, I presume this is she--let me introduce you."

  Although he would not admit it, Mr. Penrose was quite as astonished asWallie at the appearance of the person who stepped from the elevator andwalked to the desk briskly. She was young and good looking and woresuitable clothes that fitted her; also, while not aggressive, she had aself-reliant manner which proclaimed the fact that she was accustomed tolooking after her own interests. While she was as far removed aspossible from the person Mr. Penrose had expected to see, still she wasthe "female" who had "sassed" him as he had not been "sassed" since hecould remember, and he eyed her belligerently as he curtly acknowledgedthe introduction.

  "Mr. Penrose, one of our oldest guests in point of residence, tells methat you have had some little--er--difference----" began Mr. Cone,affably.

  "I had a hellish night!" Mr. Penrose interrupted, savagely. "I hopenever to put in such another."

  "I join you in that," replied Miss Spenceley, calmly. "I've never heardany one snore so horribly--I'd know your snore among a thousand."

  "Never mind--we can adjust this matter amicably, I will change your roomto-day, Miss Spenceley," Mr. Cone interposed, hastily. "It hasn't_quite_ the view, but the furnishings are more luxurious."

  "But I don't want to change," Miss Spenceley coolly replied. "It suitsme perfectly."

  "I came for quiet and I can't stand that hammering," declared Mr.Penrose, glaring at her.

  "So did I--my nerves--and your snoring bothers me. But perhaps," withaggravating sweetness, "I can break you of the habit."

  "I wouldn't lose another night's sleep for a thousand dollars!"

  "It will be cheaper to change your room, for I don't mean to change_mine_."

  The millionaire turned to the proprietor. "Either this person goes or Ido--that's my ultimatum!"

  "I will not be bullied in any such fashion, and I can't very well beput out forcibly, can I?" and Miss Spenceley smiled at both of them. Mr.Cone looked from one to the other, helplessly.

  "Then," Mr. Penrose retorted, "I shall leave _immediately!_ Mr. Cone,"dramatically, "the room I have occupied for twenty-eight summers is atyour disposal." His voice rose in a crescendo movement so that even inthe furthermost corner of the dining room they heard it: "I have a peachorchard down in Delaware, and I shall go there, where I can snore asmuch as I damn please; and don't you forget it!"

  Mr. Cone, his mouth open and hands hanging, looked after him as hestamped away, too astonished to protest.