"Suppose we all go to the 'rent rag,'" said Stella suddenly. "I never saw anything of the sort, and I'm crazy to go."
"It's likely to be pretty rough, and break up in a row before its natural time," said Ted.
"We'll only stay a short while," said Stella. "But I should like to do my share toward helping the poor fellow."
"It's done already. I bought ten tickets. Thet's as much ez they expect from ther Moon Valley Ranch, an' it goes inter ther running expenses o' ther ranch, anyhow, in ther charity account."
"I don't care, I want to go."
"I move we go," said Ben. "It will add some tone to the proceedings."
"Ben wants to air his spike-tailed coat and low-neck vest," said Kit.
"Not for me," said Ben, laughing. "I wonder what those cow-punchers and miners and gamblers would do with a chap who sauntered in there in evening dress."
"He shore would come up ter Stella's conception of a rent rag, which is a torn rag," said Kit.
"Ted, won't we go?" pleaded Stella.
"Sure, if you want to; you are our guest, and whatever you want, all you have to do is to ask for it," answered Ted.
It was agreed that they should wear their everyday uniforms, and Stella was for going in her distinctive cowgirl costume, but this Mrs. Graham would not permit, and insisted that she should wear a frock which she had had made in Denver.
When, the next night, Stella walked into the living room, where the boys were waiting to escort her and Mrs. Graham to the ball, there was a general exclamation of wonder and admiration, at which Stella hesitated with a blush, then came forward with smiling assurance.
Instead of the bold and dashing Stella in her bifurcated riding skirt and bolero jacket, the boys saw a beautiful young woman in a pale-blue gown of silk and chiffon, with her pretty hair piled on top of her head, instead of flowing over her shoulders.
For a moment they were awed. They had never seen her so, and perhaps had never thought of her as being a young lady. Most of them were content to regard her just as Stella, their girl pard, and to-night she had given them a surprise.
At her throat was a superb sapphire set in a brooch, which had come out of the broncho boys' sapphire mines on Yogo Creek, and in her hair was an ornament of diamonds and rubies which the boys had made from jewels which had come as their share of the treasures of the Montezumas, which they had discovered beneath the castle of Chepultapec, near the city of Mexico.
Altogether Stella was very stunning, and in their admiration of her in this new rôle of society girl the boys were between two preferences, as she was now, and as they knew her in the saddle, throwing her lariat or handling her revolver.
Most of them, however, came to the conclusion that she was still Stella, no matter what she wore.
"Say, Stella, that's not fair," drawled Ben, "to dress up like that and make us wear our working togs. I've got a good mind to go and get into my spike."
"If you do, I won't go," said Stella. "Unless the other boys wear theirs also. You and I would look fine going in there dressed up, and the other boys as they are now. No, I wouldn't have worn this dress if aunt hadn't insisted upon it, and this time I couldn't shake her determination. I hate it, and would much rather have my working clothes on. But, never mind, it won't be for long. How do you like me in this?" She revolved slowly before them.
"Scrumptious!" said Ben appreciatively.
"Prettier than a basket of peaches," ejaculated Kit.
"Thar ain't nothin' in art er nature what kin show up more gaudy," said Bud. "Except, mebbe, it might be a pink rose in er garden at airly mornin' with ther dew on it."
"Say, hasn't Bud got us all faded?" said Ben. "I didn't know the old sandpiper had so much poetry in his soul."
"So perfectionately lofely a younk lady nefer did I saw," exclaimed Carl, clasping his hands and holding them before him, while he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.
"She's all thet," said Bud. "But come down ter airth. Stella ain't up among ther rafters."
Ted had said nothing, and Stella looked at him. He was regarding her attentively.
Her look said: "What do you think?"
He answered it with a look of admiration that satisfied her that he thought her perfect.
"I think I like you best in the everyday clothes," he said quietly. "But that gown is as if you were made for it and it was made for you."
The thought had come into Ted's mind that some day, in the far future, they would lose their girl pard, and society or duties elsewhere would claim her.
Stella understood him and agreed with him.
Soon they were ready to start for the ball. The carriage was got out and Carl volunteered to drive the horses, while the other boys rode.
Just as they were about to start Stella cried: "Where is Jack Slate? I don't see him. Isn't he coming to the ball?"
"Haven't saw him," said Bud. "I reckon he'll be moseyin' erlong after a while. We won't wait fer him. He knowed when we wuz goin' ter start."
"He came in a little while ago from the lower pasture," said Kit, "and went to his room. He said he had been thrown by his horse, and that the jar had given him a headache."
"Oh, don't let us wait for him," said Ben. "If he gets to feeling better he'll be along. You couldn't keep Jack away from a ball with an injunction."
So they proceeded to town, the boys acting as outriders to the girl, whom they were convinced would be the belle of the ball.
When they arrived at the hall in Soldier Butte they found the people flocking in, as Martin, the beneficiary, was a very popular fellow, and any man in hard luck in the West always gets all the help he needs, if he deserves it.
Ted escorted Stella into the ballroom, while Ben followed with Mrs. Graham, the other boys taking the horses around to the corral.
As Ted and Stella entered the room there was a hum of admiration, and conversation stopped as men and women craned their necks to look at the handsome couple.
Ted was both proud and pleased, but a little bit embarrassed at the attention they received, while Stella held her head up proudly, with a look of indifference on her face, as if she had been used to admiration all her life.
The ball certainly was a mixed affair.
In one corner were a lot of army officers and their ladies.
All down the sides of the ballroom cowboys were sitting with girls from the ranches. Town girls and boys had a corner to themselves. The gamblers flocked together, and miners and others wandered here and there, mixing with cavalrymen from the fort.
When the boys returned from the corral they found that Mrs. Graham and Stella and their escorts had preëmpted a vacant corner.
There was a piano in the room, but no one to play it. Soon, however, a fellow dressed after the cowboy fashion entered and took a seat on a raised platform, producing a fiddle from a green bag.
A round of applause greeted him.
He tuned his instrument, and after a few preliminary scrapes began to play a monotonous tune, repeating over and over again the same few bars.
At the first scrape the cowboys and their girls leaped to the floor and began to dance, but none of the people from the fort cared to dance to such music.
Suddenly the door flew open and a band of a dozen cow-punchers walked into the room, and were greeted by joyous shouts by the other cowboys in the hall.
At their head was a handsome young fellow, slender and dark, with a resolute face and a pair of piercing eyes that flashed around the room for the purpose of seeing and locating his possible enemies.
"Who is that?" asked Stella.
"That's Billy Sudden," answered Ted.
"And who is he?"
"Foreman at 'Cow' Suggs' ranch. That's the Suggs bunch of cow-punchers. There'll be something doing here to-night."
"Why?"
"There are a lot of fellows in this part of the country who don't like Billy, and some of them are liable to tread on his feet."
"Oh, is he quarrelsome?"
; "No, Billy is the best sort of a fellow, but he won't let any one hobble him. When he first went to the Dumb-bell Ranch, as the Circle-bar Circle is called, they took him for a kid and tried to run over him. He kicked them, then fired them, and they don't like him."
"Did you see him look around the room?"
"Yes, he has every man who is likely to make trouble for him spotted and located. But we won't wait long enough to see the trouble. I never did like trouble myself."
"Well, for a chap who gets into it as often as you do—"
"What's the trouble now, over there?" interrupted Ted, looking at the door.
Around the entrance to the hall was a crowd of young town fellows led by a youth named Wiley Creviss, the son of the local banker, a dissipated and reckless young man, and a crowd of cow-punchers.
They were shoving some one here and there, making a punching bag of him, at the same time laughing uproariously.
Just then Ted saw the head of Jack Slate in the mix-up.
"Excuse me," said Ted, turning to Stella. "Ben, take care of the ladies until I return."
He strode across the floor toward the door.
As he neared it he heard Billy Sudden say:
"Be careful, there. That is one of Ted Strong's fellows."
"I don't care if it is," said some one. "I'd give it to Strong just as hard if he was here."
"Here I am," said Ted, pushing through the crowd.
CHAPTER IV.
THE TROUBLE IS STARTED.
The crowd of men and youths opened out in front of Ted, and he strode into the circle.
There he saw Jack Slate in a much disheveled condition, dressed in his evening clothes.
Ted gasped as he stared for an instant at the youth from Boston.
He wanted to tell Jack that "it served him right," but that was not the part of loyalty, and in the presence of the enemy it did not make any difference to a broncho boy if his pard was right or wrong, if he was in need of help.
"Where is the fellow who was going to throw me around?" asked Ted, looking into the faces about him.
No one replied, although Ted waited for a moment or two before looking at Billy Sudden.
Billy winked at him, but said nothing.
"Seems as if somebody's sand has run out," said Ted contemptuously.
"Oh, I don't know," said Wiley Creviss. "There's plenty of sand left if you need any to prevent your wheels from slipping downhill."
"No, my sand box is always full," said Ted quietly. "But there is some sneak in this bunch who hasn't the nerve to back up his brag."
"Are you talking to me?" said Creviss, swelling up as to chest.
"Oh, are you the misguided chump whom I heard make the remark about pushing me about, as I came up?" said Ted, in a tone of surprise.
The cowboys from Suggs' ranch were snickering.
"Well, what if I was?"
"I'm going to make you try it."
"Oh, I can do it, all right."
"Well, why don't you? I'm the easiest proposition you ever saw to be hazed by a bunch of hoodlums, such as you and your pals are!"
"For two cents I'd punch your nose."
"You're too cheap. I'll give you a heap more than that if you will. It's been so long since my nose was punched that it feels sort of lonesome. I'll pay you well for the job, if you succeed in pulling off the stunt."
"You think you're the whole works because you've got a crowd of dudes around you. You're not the only dent in the can."
Ted flushed at this allusion to his pards.
"I'll put a dent in you if you open your face to remark about my friends again," he said, with some heat.
"See here, you town rough, you better take in your slack and clear out for home, or you'll begin to taste the sorrows that come from inexperience and bad judgment," said Billy Sudden to Creviss.
"It's up to you to mind your own business," snarled Creviss. "What are you but a lot of greasy cow-punchers. We haven't much use for your sort in this town, anyway."
"Now, son, keep quiet and behave yourself," said Billy paternally. "If you get me riled I won't be as patient with you as Ted Strong has been. I'll fix you so as to keep two doctors busy the best part of the night."
"What are you fellows butting in for, anyhow?" said Creviss angrily. "Can't this freak that comes here in a dress suit and tries to lord it over us take care of himself?"
"Surest thing you know," drawled Jack Slate. "But there are ladies here, a thing you don't seem to realize. If you'll step outside, I'd be glad to whip you right and propah."
"What's the use, Jack, of fussing with these rowdies?" said Ted. "Let it go until some other time."
"You bet," said Creviss, courage returning when he heard Ted propose peace. "I guess you'd like to let it go forever."
"That settles it," said Ted. "Go to him, Jack, and if you don't give him what's coming to him, I'll finish the job."
"Git!" said Billy Sudden, opening the door and shoving Creviss out into the street. The rest followed.
As Jack stepped into the open air he peeled off his swallow-tailed coat and threw it over Ted's arm.
He had no sooner done so than Wiley Creviss made a rush at him from the front, while one of the crowd ran in on him from the rear.
It seemed an unequal beginning, and Ted was preparing to take on the second fellow.
But Jack had seen him out of the corner of his eye, and as he came on the Boston boy stepped backward and threw his right elbow up.
It was a timely and masterly trick, for the sharp elbow caught Creviss' ally full in the nose, and he dropped like a limp rag to the ground, with a howl of anguish.
At the same moment Jack swung his left. Creviss had struck at him and missed when he back-stepped, and coming on swiftly ran into Jack's fist with a thud that jarred him into a state of collapse.
"Finish him!" shouted the cow-punchers, who stood about the fighters in a circle.
"Go to him," said Ted, in a low voice. "I saw him signal his pal to tackle you from behind."
Creviss had partially recovered from the blow and was getting ready for another rush, when Jack slipped in and to one side and hit like a blacksmith at the anvil.
This time Creviss went down and out.
"Hooray fer ther bantam!" shouted a big cow-puncher, slapping Jack on the back. "Say, I hear them say you're from Bosting. I'm goin' ter buy a hundred-pound sack o' beans myself ter-morrer an' begin trainin'. If beans'll do that fer you, a sack o' them will make me fit ter lick Jess Willard."
But Jack was busy smoothing down his ruffled hair and pulling his white lawn tie around into its proper place, and when he had put on his coat he and Ted walked into the ballroom as calmly as if they had just stepped out to view the stars.
"What was the trouble?" asked Stella, when they reached her side.
"Some town rowdies became noisy, and they were put out," answered Ted carelessly.
But Jack's dress suit was the joy of the cow-punchers, who had never seen anything like it before, although they all knew that it was the way well-groomed men dressed for evening in the big cities.
"Say, pard," said a cowboy to Jack, as he crossed the room, "I axes yer pardon fer buttin' in, but yer lost ther front part o' yer coat tails."
"That's all right," answered Jack. "Can't help it, don't you know. I left the blooming coat hanging on the line at home to air, and a goat came along and ate the front half of the tails off before I could get to it. I was just on my way to apologize to the master of ceremonies for it. You see, it is the only coat I have, and I was bound to come to the ball."
"Ha, ha! that's on you, 'Honk,'" laughed the cowboy's friends, who had overheard the conversation, and Jack passed on, the boys alluding to him as a "game little shrimp," for the news of his summary punishment of Creviss had got abroad.
But Jack was not through yet. He went into the men's dressing room to leave his hat. As he was coming out he was met by a crowd of town youths, friends of Creviss. There was no one else about.<
br />
They scowled and sneered at Jack, and one of them bumped into him.
"Heah, fellah, that will do," said Jack, with his Bostonese drawl. "You're solid; you're no sponge."
"I ain't, eh?" answered the bully. "I'll tell yer, Mr. Slate, you're covered with bad marks what I don't like, an' I'm just the sponge to wipe them off."
"Step lively, then," said Jack, "for I've an engagement to dance the next waltz."
"I'll waltz you all you'll need this evenin'."
But before he had finished speaking Ben Tremont stepped around the corner.
"Hello, Jack! What is this I see?" said Ben. "Disgracing yourself by talking with these hoodlums."
"Yas, deah boy," drawled Jack. "This—er, what shall I call him?—stopped me to tell me he was going to rub the marks off me, at the same time wittily making a pun on my name. I was just telling him to hurry, or I'd miss the next waltz."
"Well, I'll take the job off your hands. Stella was asking for you a moment ago."
"Yes, run along to your Stella," said the hoodlum. "I reckon she's pining for the sassiety o' another dude."
That was where he made the mistake of his life.
It didn't really make much difference what these fellows said about themselves, but the boys would not permit Stella's name to be bandied about by the roughs.
So swiftly, that they didn't know what had happened to them, both Ben and Jack sailed into them.
They went sprawling like tenpins before the ball as Ben jumped in among them and mowed them down with his powerful blows, while Jack, hovering like a torpedo boat around a battleship, sent in several of the telling blows Ted had taught him during the boxing lessons at Moon Valley.
The fight was soon over, and Ben and Jack slipped quietly back into the ballroom, leaving a well-thrashed crowd to stanch bloody noses, and patch up swollen lips and black eyes as best they could.
Meanwhile, a diversion had been created in the hall by the joshing that the Suggs' ranch outfit had directed toward the fiddler, who knew only one tune, and sawed that off for a waltz, quadrilles, and two-steps, without fear or favor.
The musician had been engaged because he was a friend of the beneficiary, and had volunteered his services. As the ball grew more and more hilarious the cow-punchers felt the restraint of the folks from the fort and Moon Valley the less, and began to take it out of the fiddler, who paid no attention to them, but kept on scraping.
Ted Strongs Motor Car Page 3
