Bunch Grass Part 56

"By Jing! I'm proud o' both. The county's comin' along fine, and so'm I, Bud. It's a fact, sonny, that I'm held in high esteem as an officer. Why, my boss said to me this very day: 'Jeff,' says he, 'yer makin' a record.'"

"What sort o' record?"

Jeff flushed slightly. He was not in the habit of "tooting his own horn," as he would have put it, but the boy's face invited confidence.

"A record for dooin' my duty," he answered slowly. "'Tain't as easy as you might think for."

"No?"

"Not by no means. Ye see, Bud, in a new country 'tisn't only the real bad eggs that worries us. The community can deal with them. No, no, it's the good fellers gone wrong, the straight 'uns grown crooked, who keep us stirrin'. And, sometimes, when a friend, a neighbour, flies the track, an officer is kind o' tempted to look the other way. See?"

"And you don't look the other way?"

Jeff's strong chin stuck out, and his eyes sparkled "You bet I don't."

The boy eyed him attentively. The qualities conspicuous in the pioneer--energy, fort.i.tude, grit, patience--shone finely out of Jeff's eyes.

"I like you, Jeff," said the boy, almost shyly.

"Shake," said Jeff. "I like you, Bud."

The two shook hands solemnly.

"Although I am a city boy," said Bud.

"But it beats me what yer doing--here?"

"Just camping. Dad's a botanist and an entomologist."

"Is that so?" Jeff's face shone. The presence of these strangers in the wild foothills was adequately explained. Then he laughed, showing strong, even teeth. "I'd like to meet your dad first-rate, and, Bud, I'd like even better to meet your sister."

He punched the boy in the ribs, chuckling to himself. The boy laughed too, freshly and frankly.

"Something like you, I reckon," said Jeff, "only cleaner and----"

"I'm as clean as they make 'em," Bud declared angrily.

"Keep your hair on, sonny. I'll allow yer as clean as they make boys, mebbee cleaner, but we're speaking o' girls. Have ye got her picture?"

"Whose picture?"

"Your sister's."

"Well, I declare! How do you know I've got a sister?"

"I know it," said Jeff. "Call it instinct. Didn't I tell ye that in my business I've got to jest naturally know things? I jump, Bud, where the ordinary citizen might, so ter speak, crawl."

The boy laughed gaily. Then he ran off, returning in a minute with a small leather case. Out of this he took a cabinet photograph, which he handed to Jeff. That gentleman became excited at once.

"I knew it--I knew it!" he exclaimed. "She's a--_peach_! Bud, I'm mighty glad ye showed me this. Jee--whiz! Yes, and like you, only ten thousand times better-lookin'. What's her name, Bud?"

"You don't want to know her name."

"I want to--the worst kind. My! Look at that cunning little curl! And her shape! You know nothing o' that yet, Bud, but I tell ye, sir, yer sister is put up just right according to my notions. Not too tall.

Them strung-out, trained-to-a-hair, high-falutin girls never did fetch me. I like 'em round, and soft, and innocent. What's her name, sonny?"

"Sarah."

"Sairy! Bud, I don't believe that. Sairy! I never did cotton to Sairy.

Yer pullin' my leg, ye young scallywag. The nerve! No--ye don't."

Jeff had stretched out a long, lean arm, and seized the boy by the shoulder in a grasp which tightened cruelly.

"Oh--oh!"

"Tell me her right name, ye little cuss, or I'll squeeze ye into pulp."

"Lemmee go! Dad calls her Sadie."

Jeff released the shoulder, grinning.

"Sadie--that's a heap better. I--I could love to--to distraction a girl o' the name o' Sadie."

"If Sadie were here----" Bud had removed himself to a respectful distance, and was now glaring at Jeff, and rubbing his bruised shoulder.

"I wish she was, I wish she was. You were saying, Bud----"

"I was saying that if Sadie were here, she'd fix you mighty quick."

"Would she? G.o.d bless her!" He stared sentimentally at the photograph.

"Yes, she would. She'd let you know that a girl may be round--an'

soft--an' innocent--and a holy terror, too, when a big, blundering galoot of a dep'ty-sheriff talks o' loving somebody to whom he's never been introduced, and never likely to be, neither."

Jeff looked up in amazement.

"Why, Bud; why, sonny--ye're real mad! Why, you silly little whipper- snapper, ye don't think I'd talk that way if the young lady was around. Great Scot! Look ye here! Now--now I ain't goin' to hurt ye any. Come nearer. Ye won't? Well, then, don't! But, strictly between ourselves, I'll tell ye something, although it's agen myself. If your sister was here, right now, I--I'm so doggoned bashful--I wouldn't have a word to say--that's a fact."

"I wish she were here," said Bud, savagely.

"Now, Bud; that's a real nasty one. Ye don't mean that. Did I hurt yer shoulder, sonny?"

"Hurt it? I'll bet it's black and blue most already."

"I'll bet it ain't. Pull down your shirt, an' let's see. Black and blue? You air a little liar."

Bud slowly pulled up the sleeve of his faded blue jumper. Hand and wrist were burnt brown by the sun, but above, the flesh was white and soft. Just below the elbow flamed the red and purple marks left by Jeff's fingers.