Cattle-Ranch to College Part 29

Nevertheless the serious idea took deep root, and while he did not make any promises he had a half-formed resolve to follow the old ranchman's advice.

All this time the horses jogged along more and more wearily, and requiring more and more urging from the youngster on the driver's seat.

The last ten miles seemed endless; it was all John could do to keep the team going, and even tireless Lightning running alongside moved unsteadily with fatigue.

They were glad enough when the ranch buildings appeared dimly in the fast-deepening gloom. The sixty-mile drive was ended at last. When the wagon entered the ranch yard John almost fell into the arms of one of the men who had come to find out the cause of this unusually late arrival. It was Mr. Baker who told what the wagon contained and the story of Jerry's death.

John dragged himself to a hastily improvised bed, and, dropping down on it, was asleep in a twinkling; the first rest for thirty-six long fatiguing hours.

Late the next day he was awakened to attend Jerry's funeral. It was a very simple ceremony, but the evident sincerity of the mourners' grief made it impressive. He was laid away on a gra.s.sy knoll where several other good men and true had been buried by their comrades. A rude rail fence enclosed the spot--the long resting place of men who had died in the performance of their duty.

For a time things went sadly at the ranch, for John (he did not rejoin the round-up) missed his cow-puncher friend, his good-natured grumbling, his ever-ready helping hand. But gradually the boy's faculty of making firm, loyal friends helped to fill the gap that Jerry's death had made, though no one could ever take his place.

Mr. Baker's talk about school and a future took deep root, and as the boy turned the idea over in his mind it developed into a resolve to try it anyway.

Life had a new meaning now for John, and he found it absorbingly interesting. The work he had to do was a means to an end, and the commonplace, every-day drudgery became simply a cog in the machinery, and therefore not only bearable but interesting.

The boy's success as a breaker of horses kept him much of the time at that work. Since he had broken Lightning all other horses seemed tame to him in comparison. It was part of his work not only to break the horses to the saddle but to care for them generally, brand the colts, and train them for cow-pony work, as well as to guard them by day and night. On these long day rides over the rolling prairie and bleak, fantastically shaped and colored "bad lands" he would take a piece of a book in his pocket, and when an opportunity occurred read it. He read many books this way, tearing out and taking a few pages in his pocket each day. Mr.

Baker was fond of reading, and understood the value of education; he had some books, and the less valuable ones he gave to his protege; these and the few John had been able to pick up from outfits he met and during the infrequent visits to a town formed his text books.

As he thought and read and studied he became more and more convinced that cowboy life was not for him: to know more about the things he had read a few sc.r.a.ps about, to gain a place in the world, to learn something and achieve something was now his firm resolve.

The summer, fall, and early winter went by quickly for the boy. Each season had its own peculiar duties and dangers--the round-up and branding, the driving of the steers to the railroad for the Eastern market (a serious undertaking, involving as it might the loss of valuable cattle through injury and drowning when fording streams), the cutting of hay for the weaker cattle and horses, and occasional hunting trips for fresh meat. And so the year wore round.

On New Year's day John's time was up--the time which he had set to start out to seek his fortune. He had saved more than a year's earnings, so the small capitalist saddled Lightning, bade his friends good-by, and set forth, not without some misgivings, on a new quest: to get knowledge, see the world, and, if it might be, grasp his share of its honors.

CHAPTER XX.

A TRANSFORMATION.

The love of adventure that possesses the soul of most boys was not a characteristic of John Worth. An adventurous life he had always led and thought nothing of it; it was too commonplace to be remarkable to him.

This starting forth in search of knowledge, this seeking of the "dude"

and his ways in his own haunts, was an entirely different matter; it was almost terrifying, and he was half inclined to turn back. To mix with men who wore white "boiled" shirts habitually, who dressed and went down to dinner, and who did all sorts of things strange to the frontier, seemed to John a trying ordeal, and he dreaded it.

He had no definite plan, for he could not quite realize what lay before him. A cowboy merely he would not be; he now felt that there was a larger place that he could fill, and he knew that this could be reached only through education.

A sound body and brain, enough money to last till spring, a good horse to carry him, and a strong resolve to get somewhere were his possessions.

For ten days he and Lightning wandered around from one settlement to another, from town to town; he was enjoying his freedom to the utmost, so much so in fact that none of the towns he pa.s.sed through suited him.

Finally he woke up to the fact that he was avoiding a decision, and he pulled himself up with a round turn.

"Here, John Worth," he said to himself, "you're afraid to begin; any of those towns would have done."

He was in the open when he came to himself, riding along on a good horse, dressed in a complete outfit of cowboy finery, fringed chaps, good, broad-brimmed felt hat, heavy, well-fitting riding gloves, and silver spurs, the envy of every man he met.

For the second time a storm helped to decide his destiny, for as he rode along the sky became overcast and soon the snow began to fall heavily.

"Come, 'Lite,' let's get out of this," he said to his only companion; and heading the pony toward the place where he knew ---- was located, he urged him forward. Just before dark he reached ----, and after finding a stable put up at a neat little hotel near by. Even if he had wished to go on to some other place he could not now, for the storm developed into a regular blizzard, which prevented man or beast from venturing outside the town limits. John soon turned to the hotel keeper, a loquacious individual who believed in his town and could sound its praises as well as any real-estate boomer.

"Schools?" in answer to one of John's inquiries. "Schools? Why, we've got one of the best schools in Montana; higher'n a high school! Schools and churches--we're great on schools and churches."

He took his cue from John's questions; he could discourse just as eloquently about the shady part of the town, its slums, its dives, and dance halls; there was nothing in that town that should not be there and everything that was desirable--at least that was the impression this worthy strove to convey.

"Schools and churches," said John to himself. "That's what Mr. Baker said I must hitch up to."

For several days the blizzard continued, so long in fact that John grew restless and longed for something to do. He had about decided that he did not like this town and thought he would move on as soon as the weather permitted.

One day the landlord was declaiming earnestly on the merits of the town and its inst.i.tutions.

"Now, there's the academy," said he. "Now that academy is----"

"What's an academy?" interrupted John.

"Oh, that's a place where they teach you things."

"What kind of things?" persisted John.

"Reading and arithmetic and geography and--here's Gray, he'll tell you all about it, he goes there. Henry, come here a minute," he shouted.

A young man in overalls, well sprinkled with ashes, and carrying a fire shovel appeared.

The landlord introduced them and told Gray that John was looking for information about the academy. Then he went off, leaving them together.

"Well," said Gray, a slight, dark-haired, bright-eyed, thoughtful fellow, after some preliminary talk, "you begin with arithmetic; then comes algebra, then geometry and trigonometry in mathematics; the languages are Latin, Greek, French, and German."

The mere recital of these things was enough to scare John, who had scarcely heard the names before. When Gray went on to enlarge on the fine course of study the academy afforded, as a loyal student should, his hearer was appalled by the amount of learning necessary even to enter a school, and feared the ranch after all was the place for him.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE DRIVE ... FORDING A STREAM. (_Page 315._)]

"Some of the fellows are good workers," Gray went on, "but some do nothing but talk to the girls."

"Girls!" thought John. "So girls go to school with the boys here." This boy, who had hardly seen a girl, was terrified at the idea of being brought into such close a.s.sociation with them--he was quite sure now the ranch was the place for him.

That night he made up his mind to go back to Mr. Baker and ask for his old job, but the next morning was no better than the preceding ones.

For lack of something better to do, after much persuasion on Gray's part, he went with him to the academy.

The things he saw there were as strange to him as they would be to an Esquimau.

An old-fashioned school of one hundred and fifty students seated at rows of desks, the boys on one side of the room, the girls on the other. The princ.i.p.al sat at one end, surrounded by blackboards. Gray found a seat for John at the back of the room, out of the range of curious eyes, and he sat there and watched and listened--wonderingly.

The cla.s.ses went up and recited one by one or demonstrated mathematical problems on the blackboards. John heard with amazement youngsters answer questions which he could not comprehend at all, and yet he noticed that their faces were care-free and happy, as if they had never known what trouble was. The faces he knew, young and old, bore distinctly the traces of care and hardship. He was intensely interested and enjoyed the whole session keenly.

When noon came, Gray approached, as he thought, to return to the hotel with, him, but to his surprise he was marched up to the princ.i.p.al's desk and introduced to Professor Marston. John was awe-stricken, but the princ.i.p.al knew boys thoroughly, and soon put him at his ease.

"Will you come with us?" asked Mr. Marston after a while.