I WAS A STARNGER, AND YE TOOK ME IN
As Shock stood, uncertain as to his
next move, he noticed that out of the confused mingling
of men and horses order began to appear. The
course was once more being cleared. The final
heat, which the Swallow had won, and which had been
protested by the owner of the Demon, on the ground
that his course had been blocked by Shock and his cayuse,
was to be run again. Shock was too much occupied
with his own disappointment and uncertainty to take
much interest in the contest that was the occasion
of such intense excitement to the throngs on the street.
With languid indifference he watched the course being
cleared and the competitors canter back to the starting
point. Behind them followed a cavalcade of horsemen
on all sorts of mounts, from the shaggy little cayuse,
with diminishing rump, to the magnificent thoroughbred
stallion, stall-fed and shining. In the final
heat it was the custom for all the horsemen in the
crowd to join at a safe distance behind the contestants,
in a wild and tumultuous scramble.
Shock’s attention was arrested
and his interest quickened by the appearance of Ike
in the crowd, riding a hard-looking, bony, buckskin
broncho, which he guessed to be Slipper.
In a short time the Demon and the
Swallow were in their places. Far behind them
bunched the motley crowd of horsemen.
The start was to be by the pistol
shot, and from the scratch. So intense was the
stillness of the excited crowd that, although the
starting point was more than half a mile out on the
prairie, the crack of the pistol was clearly heard.
In immediate echo the cry arose, “They’re
off! They’re off!” and necks were
strained to catch a glimpse of the first that should
appear where the course took a slight turn.
In a few seconds the two leading horses
are seen, the riders low over their necks, and behind
them, almost hidden by the dust, the crowd of yelling,
waving, shooting horsemen.
The Demon is leading, the Swallow
close on his flank. As they come within clear
view the experienced eyes of the crowd see that while
the Demon, though as yet untouched by whip or spur,
is doing all that is in him, the Swallow is holding
him easily. On all sides the men of the west
raise a pæan of victory, “The Swallow!
The Swallow! Good boy, Kiddie! Let her go!
Let her go!” “You’ve got him standing!”
“Bully boy!”
Fifty yards from the winning post
The Kid leans over his mare’s neck and shakes
out his fluttering reins. Like the bird whose
name she bears the Swallow darts to the front, a length
ahead. In vain the Captain calls to the Demon,
plying fiercely whip and spur. With nostrils
distended and blood-red, with eyes starting from their
sockets, and mouth foaming bloody froth, the noble
animal responds and essays his final attempt.
It is a magnificent effort. Slowly
he creeps up to the Swallow’s flank, but beyond
that he cannot make an inch, and so they remain to
the winning post.
Down the street behind the leaders,
yelling wild oaths, shooting off their guns, flinging
hats in the air, and all enveloped in a cloud of dust,
thunders the pursuing cavalcade.
Just as the Swallow shoots to the
front, out from the cloud of dust behind, with his
cowboy hat high in one hand and his reins fluttering
loosely in the other, Ike emerges on his beloved Slipper.
At every bound the buckskin gains upon the runners
in front, but when level with the Demon, Ike steadies
him down, for he would not be guilty of the bad taste
of “shoving his nose into another man’s
fight,” nor would he deprive the little mare,
who carried the fortunes of the men of the west, of
the glory of her victory.
The riot that follows the race passes
description. The men from the west go mad.
About The Kid and his little mare they surge in a wave
of frantic enthusiasm. Into the Ranchers’
Roost they carry the rider to wash down the dust,
while as many as can find room for a hand get vigorously
to work upon the Swallow.
After the riot had somewhat subsided
and the street had become partially clear, side by
side, threading their way through the crowd, appeared
the two competitors for the Cup. On all sides
they were greeted with renewed cheers, and under the
excitement of the hour they abandoned the customary
reserve of the cowboy, and began performing what seemed
to Shock impossible feats of horsemanship.
“I bet you I’ll ride her
into the Roost, Captain,” cried The Kiddie.
“Done, for the drinks!” replied the Captain.
The boy cantered his mare across the street.
“Out of the way there!”
he cried. “Out of the way, you fellows!
I’m coming!”
As he spoke he put the little mare
straight at the flight of steps leading up to the
door of the Roost. The crowd parted hastily, but
the Swallow balked and swerved, and but for the fine
horsemanship of the rider he would have been thrown.
With an oath, the Kid took hold of
his horse again, and riding carelessly, faced her
once more at the steps. But again she plunged,
reared, swung round, and set off at a run down the
street.
The lad rode her easily back, brought
her up to the steps at a walk, quieted her with voice
and hand, and then, cantering across the street, came
back again at an easy lope to the steps. The mare
made as if to balk again.
“Up, girl!” cried the
boy, lifting her with the rein; and then, as she rose,
touching her with the spur, Like a cat the little mare
clambered up the steps, and before she could change
her mind she found herself through the door, standing
in the bar-room with her rider on her back.
Through the outer entrance thronged
the crowd of men, giving vent to their admiration
in yells and oaths, and lining up at the bar waited
for the payment of the bet.
Shock, who had been singularly attracted
by the handsome, boyish face of the rider, walked
up to the door and stood looking in, his great form
towering above the crowd of men that swayed and jostled,
chaffing and swearing, inside. As he stood looking
at the boy, sitting his horse with such careless grace,
and listening with pleased and smiling face to the
varied and picturesque profanity in which the crowd
were expressing their admiration, the words of his
Convener came to his mind, “They may not want
you, but they need you.”
“Yes,” he muttered to
himself, “they need me, or, someone better.”
A great pity for the lad filled his
heart and overflowed from his eyes.
The boy caught the look. With
a gay laugh he cried, “I would drink to your
very good health, sir!” his high, clear voice
penetrating the din and bringing the crowd to silence.
“But why carry so grave a face at such a joyous
moment?” He lifted his glass over his head and
bowed low to Shock.
Arrested by his words, the crowd turned
their eyes toward the man that stood in the door,
waiting in silence for his reply.
A quick flush rose to Shock’s
face, but without moving his eyes from the gay, laughing
face of the boy, he said in a clear, steady voice,
“I thank you, sir, for your courtesy, and I
ask your pardon if my face was grave. I was thinking
of your mother.”
As if someone had stricken him the
boy swayed over his horse’s neck, but in a moment
recovering himself he sat up straight, and lifting
high his glass, he said reverently, as if he had been
toasting the Queen: “Gentlemen, my mother!
God bless her!”
“God bless her!” echoed the men.
Drinking off the glass he dismounted
and, followed by the cheers of the crowd, led his
horse out of the room and down the steps, and rode
away.
Meantime Shock went in search of the
doctor. In a corner of the International bar
he found him in a drunken sleep. After vain efforts
to wake him, without more ado Shock lifted him in his
arms, carried him out to the buckboard and drove away,
followed by the jibes and compliments of the astonished
crowd.
But what to do with him was the question.
There was no room for himself, much less for his charge,
in any of the hotels or stopping places.
“May as well begin now,”
Shock said to himself, and drove out to a little bluff
of poplars at the river bank near the town, and prepared
to camp.
He disposed of the doctor by laying
him in the back of his buckboard, covered with the
buffalo. He unhitched and tethered the pony, and,
according to his crude notions of what a camp should
be, began to make his preparations. With very
considerable difficulty, he first of all started a
fire.
“Hello! Rather chilly for campin’
out yit?”
He looked up and saw Ike.
“I guess you aint lived much
out of doors,” continued his visitor, glancing
at the apology for a fire, and noticing the absence
of everything in camp-making that distinguishes the
experienced camper.
“No, this is my first camp,”
said Shock. “But I suppose every man must
make a beginning.”
“Yes,” agreed Ike, “when
he’s got to. But I have a lingerin’
suspicion that you’d be better inside to-night.
It aint goin’ to be pleasant.”
“Oh, I’ll be all right,” replied
Shock cheerfully.
“I have a small tent, a couple
of coats, a pair of blankets, and my pony has got
his oats.”
“Yes,” drawled Ike, regarding
the cayuse with contemptuous eyes, “he’s
all right. You can’t kill them fellers.
But, as I remarked, you’d be better inside.”
He walked around the buckboard and
his eyes fell upon the doctor.
“What the ”
Ike checked himself, either out of deference to Shock’s
profession or more likely from sheer amazement.
He turned down the buffalo, gazed
at the sleeping figure with long and grave interest,
then lifting his head he remarked with impressive
solemnity, “Well, I be chawed and swallered!
You have got him, eh? Now, how did you do
it?”
“Well,” said Shock, “it
was not difficult. I found him asleep in the
International. I carried him out, and there he
is.”
“Say,” said Ike, looking
at Shock with dawning admiration in his eyes, “you’re
a bird! Is there anythin’ else you want
in that town? Guess not, else it would be here.
The General said you’d kidnap him, and he was
right. Now, what you goin’ to do when he
comes to? There aint much shelter in this bluff,
and when he wakes he’ll need someone to set up
with him, sure. He’s a terror, a dog-goned
terror!”
“Oh, we’ll manage,”
said Shock lightly. “I mean to start early
in the morning.”
“Before he gets up, eh?
As I remarked before, you’re a bird!”
For some moments Ike hung about the
camp, poking the fire, evidently somewhat disturbed
in his mind. Finally he said in a hesitating tone,
“It aint much to offer any man, but my shack
kin hold two men as well as one, and I guess three
could squeeze in, specially if the third is in the
condition he’s in,” nodding toward the
doctor. “We kin lay him on the floor.
Of course, it aint done up with no picters and hangin’s,
but it keeps out the breeze, and there aint no bugs,
you bet.”
Shock’s experience of Western
shacks had not been sufficiently varied and extensive
to enable him to appreciate to the full this last
commendation of Ike’s.
Ike’s hesitation in making the offer determined
Shock.
“Thank you very much,”
he said cordially. “I shall be delighted
to go with you.”
“All right, let’s git,”
said Ike, proceeding to hitch up the pony, while Shock
gathered his stuff together. In a few minutes
they were ready to start.
“Guess he’ll ride comfortable
where he is,” said Ike. “You can’t
kill a drunk man. Strange, aint it?”
It was growing dusk as they drove
through the town, but the streets, the hotel stoops,
and bars were filled with men in various stages of
intoxication. As they caught sight of Ike and
recognised his companion, they indulged themselves
in various facetious remarks.
“Hello, Ike. Goin’ to meetin’?”
“No,” retorted Ike shortly. “Goin’
to school fer manners. Want to come?”
“Ikey’s got religion. Caught on to
the fire-escape you bet.”
“No, he’s goin’ to learn that rasslin’
trick.”
“Ikey’s showin’ the stranger the
town. He’s on for a bust, you bet.”
“Blank lot of jay birds,”
said Ike grimly, in a low tone. “I’ll
see’em later. You’d think they’d
never seen a stranger before.”
“That is all for me, I suppose, Ike,”
said Shock apologetically.
“Don’t you worry.
It won’t give me any grey hair.” Ike
emphasised his indifference by tilting his hat till
it struck on the extreme back of his head, and lounging
back in his seat with his feet on the dashboard.
“They all seen you givin’
me that h’ist this afternoon,” he continued,
“and they can’t get over that we aint fightin’.
And,” he added, hitting the hub of the wheel
with a stream of tobacco juice, “it is a rather
remarkable reminiscence.”
Ike had a fondness for words not usually
current among the cowboys, and in consequence his
English was more or less reminiscent, and often phonetic
rather than etymological.
Ike’s shack stood at the further
side of the town. Upon entering Shock discovered
that it needed no apology for its appearance.
The board walls were adorned with illustrations from
magazines and papers, miscellaneous and without taint
of prejudice, the Sunday Magazine and the Police Gazette
having places of equal honour. On the wall, too,
were nailed heads of mountain sheep and goats, of wapiti
and other deer, proclaiming Ike a hunter.
Everything in the shack was conspicuously
clean, from the pots, pans, and cooking utensils,
which hung on a row of nails behind the stove, to
the dish-cloth, which was spread carefully to dry over
the dishpan. Had Shock’s experience of
bachelors’ shacks and bachelors’ dishes
been larger, he would have been more profoundly impressed
with that cooking outfit, and especially with the
dish-cloth. As it was, the dishcloth gave Shock
a sense of security and comfort.
Depositing the doctor upon a buffalo
skin on the floor in the corner, with a pillow under
his head, they proceeded to their duties, Ike to prepare
the evening meal, and Shock to unpack his stuff, wondering
all the while how this cowboy had come to hunt him
up and treat him with such generous hospitality.
This mystery was explained as they
sat about the fire after the tea-dishes had been most
carefully washed and set away, Ike smoking and Shock
musing.
“That old skunk rather turned
you down, I guess,” remarked Ike, after a long
silence; “that old Macfarren, I mean,”
in answer to Shock’s look of enquiry.
“I was surprised, I confess,”
replied Shock. “You see, I was led to believe
that he was waiting for me, and I was depending upon
him. Now, I really do not know what to think.”
“Movin’ out, perhaps?”
said Ike, casting a sharp look at him from out of
his half-closed eyes.
“What? Leave this post,
do you mean?” said Shock, his indignant surprise
showing in his tone. “No, sir. At least,
not till my chief says so.”
A gleam shot out from under Ike’s lowered eyelids.
“The old fellow’ll make
it hot for you, if you don’t move. Guess
he expects you to move,” said Ike quietly.
“Move!” cried Shock again,
stirred at the remembrance of Macfarren’s treatment
that afternoon. “Would you?”
“See him blanked first,” said Ike quietly.
“So will I,” said Shock
emphatically. “I mean,” correcting
himself hastily, “see him saved first.”
“Eh? Oh well,
guess he needs some. He needs manners, anyhow.
He’ll worry you, I guess. You see, he surmises
he’s the entire bunch, but a man’s opinion
of himself don’t really affect the size of his
hat band.”
Shock felt the opportunity to be golden
for the gathering of information about men and things
in the country where his work was to be done.
He felt that to see life through the eyes of a man
like Ike, who represented a large and potent element
in the community, would be valuable indeed.
It was difficult to make Ike talk,
but by careful suggestions, rather than by questioning,
Ike was finally led to talk, and Shock began to catch
glimpses of a world quite new to him, and altogether
wonderful. He made the astounding discovery that
things that had all his life formed the basis of his
thinking were to Ike and his fellows not so much unimportant
as irrelevant; and as for the great spiritual verities
which lay at the root of all Shock’s mental and,
indeed, physical activities, furnishing motive and
determining direction, these to Ike were quite remote
from all practical living. What had God to do
with rounding up cattle, or broncho-busting,
or horse-trading? True, the elemental virtues
of justice, truth, charity, and loyalty were as potent
over Ike as over Shock, but their moral standards were
so widely different that these very virtues could
hardly be classified in the same categories.
Truth was sacred, but lying was one thing and horse-swapping
another, and if a man was “white to the back”
what more would you ask, even though at poker he could
clean you out of your whole outfit? Hitherto,
a man who paid no respect to the decencies of religion
Shock had regarded as “a heathen man and a publican,”
but with Ike religion, with all its great credos,
with all its customs, had simply no bearing.
Shock had not talked long with Ike until he began to
feel that he must readjust not only his whole system
of theology, but even his moral standards, and he
began to wonder how the few sermons and addresses
he had garnered from his ministry in the city wards
would do for Ike and his people. He was making
the discovery that climate changes the complexion,
not only of men, but of habits of thought and action.
As Shock was finding his way to new
adjustments and new standards he was incidentally
finding his way into a new feeling of brotherhood as
well. The lines of cleavage which had hitherto
determined his interests and affinities were being
obliterated. The fictitious and accidental were
fading out under this new atmosphere, and the great
lines of sheer humanity were coming to stand out with
startling clearness. Up to this time creed and
class had largely determined both his interest and
his responsibility, but now, apart from class and
creed, men became interesting, and for men he began
to feel responsibility. He realised as never
before that a man was the great asset of the universe not
his clothes, material, social or religious.
It was this new feeling of interest
and responsibility that made him ask, “Who was
that lad that rode the winning horse to-day?”
“That chap?” replied Ike.
“He’s my boss. The Kid, they call
him.”
Men of laconic speech say much by
tone and gesture, and often by silence. In Ike’s
tone Shock read contempt, admiration, pity.
“A rancher?” he enquired.
“Well, he’s got a ranch,
and horses and cattle on it, like the rest of ’em.
But ranchin’ ” Ike’s silence
was more than sufficient.
“Well,” said Shock, with
admiring emphasis, “he seems to be able to ride,
anyway.”
“Ride! I should surmise!
Ride! That kid could ride anythin’ from
a he-goat to a rampagin’, highpottopotamus.
Why, look here!” Ike waged enthusiastic.
“He’s been two years in this country, and
he’s got us all licked good and quiet.
Why, he could give points to any cattle-man in Alberta.”
“Well, what’s the matter with him?”
“Money!” said Ike wrathfully.
“Some blamed fool uncle at home he’s
got no parents, I understand keeps a-sendin’
him money. Consequently, every remittance he
cuts things loose, with everyone in sight a-helpin’
him.”
“What a shame!” cried
Shock. “He has a nice face. I just
like to look at him.”
“That’s right!”
answered Ike, with no waning of his enthusiasm.
“He’s white but he’s
soft. Makes me so blank mad! He don’t
know they’re playin’ him, and makin’
him pay for the game. The only question is, will
he hold out longer’n his money.”
“Why! hasn’t he any friends
here who would remonstrate with him?”
“Remonstrate! Remonstrate!”
Ike rolled the word under his tongue as if it felt
good. “You try to remonstrate, and see him
look at you, and then smile, till you feel like a
cluckin’ hen that has lost her nest. Not
any for me, thank you. But it’s a blank
pity! He’s a white kiddie, he is.”
“And that friend of his who
was riding with him who is he?”
“Harricomb Captain
Hal Harricomb, they call him. Good sort of fellow,
too, but lazy and considerable money.
Goin’ at a pretty good lick. Wife pulls
him up, I guess. Good thing for him, too.
Lives up by the General’s old gent,
you know, sat by when you set me down out yonder.
Mighty slick, too. Wasn’t on to you, though.”
“No,” Shock hastened to
say, “it was a fluke of course. General
Brady, you mean. Yes, he was very kind, indeed.”
“Oh, the General’s a gentleman,
you bet! Horse ranch. Not very big, but
makes it go.”
“Could not a man like the General,
now, help that young fellow what is his
name?”
“His name? Well, he goes
by ‘The Kid.’ His name’s Stanton,
I think. Yes, Stanton Vic Stanton.
Though he never gets it.”
“Well, could not the General help him?”
repeated Shock.
“Help The Kid? Not he,
nor anyone else. When a horse with blood in him
gets a-goin’, why, he’s got to go till
his wind gives out, unless you throw him right down,
and that’s resky. You’ve got to wait
his time. Then’s your chance. And
that reminds me,” said Ike, rising and knocking
the lashes out of his pipe, “that I’ve
got a job on hand. There’ll be doin’s
to-night there after the happy time is over.”
Shock looked mystified.
“They’ll get the ladies off, you know,
and then the fun’ll begin.”
“Fun?”
Ike winked a long, significant wink.
“Yes. Lit’rary Society, you know.
A little game in the back room.”
“And are you going to play, Ike?”
“Not to-night, thank you.
I aint no saint, but I aint a blank fool altogether,
and to-night I got to keep level. To-day’s
the boss’s remittance day. He’s got
his cheque, I’ve heard, and they’re goin’
to roll him.”
“Roll him?”
“Yes, clean him out. So I surmise it’d
be wise for me to be on hand.”
“Why, what have you got to do with it, Ike?”
Ike paused for a few moments, while
he filled his pipe, preparatory to going out.
“Well, that’s what I don’t
right know. It aint any of my own business.
Course he’s my boss, but it aint that. Somehow,
that Kiddie has got a hitch onto my innards, and I
can’t let him get away. He’s got such
a blank slick way with him that he makes you feel
like doin’ the things you hate to do. Why,
when he smiles at you the sun begins to shine.
That’s so. Why, you saw that race this afternoon?”
“Yes, the last heat.”
“Well, did you observe Slipper come in?”
“Well, yes, I did. And
I could not understand why Slipper was not running.
Why didn’t you run him, Ike?”
“Why?” said Ike, “that’s
what I don’t know. There aint nothin’
on four legs with horsehide on in these here Territories
that can make Slipper take dust, but then well,
I knowed he had money on the Swallow. But I guess
I must be goin’.”
“But what are you going to do?”
“Oh, I’ll fall down somewheres
and go to sleep. You see lots of things when
you’re asleep, providin’ you know how to
accomplish it.”
“Shall I go with you?” asked Shock.
Ike regarded him curiously.
“Guess you wouldn’t care
to be mixed up in this kind of thing. But blame
it, if I don’t think you’d stay with it
if it was in your line, which it aint.”
“But suppose you get into difficulty.”
“Well,” said Ike, smiling
a slow smile, “when I want you I’ll send
for you,” and with that he passed out into the
night.