The Song of the Wolf Part 11

Bobbie's manner was not quite so genial and complaisant to his sister when they were again alone: "See here, sis, what the devil--!"

"For shame, Bobbie!" she said, with laughing remonstrance, stopping further utterance with her soft palm. "Swearing isn't at all becoming to small boys. You are contracting very bad local habits." But she vouchsafed him no explanation whatever, merely rumpling his hair over his eyes and kissing him on the tip of his nose.

The day of their departure Dougla.s.s accompanied them as far as Tin Cup, where they would take the stage for Alpine. He was all cordiality to Carter and deference to Grace, showing at his best all throughout the pleasant ride. As she laid her hand in his at parting her eyes were full of wistful entreaty:

"Be good to Buffo and my roan, and very, very good to yourself! I am coming back in the spring and so will say _auf wiedersehen_, not good-by. You will write me occasionally? It will be manna to me until I can get back to 'G.o.d's country' again!"

His face brightened approvingly; "I like that! It is 'G.o.d's country,'

surely, even though abandoned for a s.p.a.ce by its brightest angel. Come back to us soon!"

"That was very sweet of you, and I am going to take it at full face value," she said, steadily. "That is the first compliment you have ever paid me and I am commensurably proud. But do you know"--her lips were very close to his ear--"it seems funny somehow! I had rather--oh, dear!

I really can't help it!--but couldn't you manage to swear at me a little, Ken!" Her face was a vivid scarlet and she laughed a little hysterically. Before he had recovered from his astonishment she was in the arms of Abbie, who, attended by Red, had just driven up in the buckboard with the luggage.

She persistently avoided his eyes as she shook hands with Red. "Mr.

McVey," she said, laughingly, "we have so over-burdened Mr. Dougla.s.s with responsibility for innumerable things that he won't have time to take care of himself; will you kindly look after him for us?"

Red's jaws closed spasmodically at the appeal underlying her forced levity; his grasp tightened ever so little but of other sign he was guiltless. Then he turned and looked at Dougla.s.s with preternatural gravity:

"I'm sh.o.r.e honahed, Miss Grace, with yuah commission! Yuh leave it to me! I'll see he gits he's milk regulah an' goes to hes leetle baid at seven every night. On yuah return I'll hand him oveh to you all wropped up in cotton bats, tied with pink ribbon like thet about yuah naick, thet is, purvidin' I kin rustle thu ribbon."

His meaning was unmistakable, and though blushing at his audacity, Grace took up the gage. Deliberately unclasping the tiny golden heart, which held the narrow band in place, she made a dainty little roll of the silk, fastened the end with the jewel and laid it in Red's bronze paw.

Dougla.s.s, watching the little by-play with a curious interest, wondered at the quiver in that iron fist which could hold the weight of a heavy Colt's .45 with never a tremor.

Among the mail handed him later by old Hank was an official-looking doc.u.ment dated Denver. It was from the office of the State Registrar of brands and was almost laconic in its brevity:

"The brand O-O (left side); earmarks, square crop right, underbit left; is registered in the name of Bartholomew Coogan. He claims residence at Gunnison, and range in Gunnison County from Texas Creek to Quartz Creek.

Date of record May 1st, 1898."

He reread the letter three times with exceeding care, his eyes narrowing to mere slits, then thrust it into an inner pocket. He was very thoughtful on the homeward ride, his preoccupied air at the supper table emboldening Punk to irreverent levity:

"These yeah partin's are sh.o.r.e deespiritin' things!" he observed, lugubriously, to n.o.body in particular. "I don't wonder none thet gloom has settled in one great gob oveh thu achin' souls of this yeah outfit.

Why, I'm so sad, mahself, thet I kin hawdly eat pie!" Nevertheless he cast avaricious glances at Dougla.s.s's portion of that comestible and later took advantage of his abstraction to filch the savory morsel.

"Yuh'll be sum sadder if yuh don't keep yuah hooks on yuah side of the table!" warned Red, sinisterly, as he successfully repelled a similar a.s.sault on his own reserves. "Yuh moon-faced pie-eater, what yuh got to be sad about 'ceptin' thet yuh are alive?"

"Why," said Woolly, with well-feigned sympathy, "don't yuh know thet Punk's hed a great sorrer? He's been yirrigatin' the hull dum ranch with hes tears ontil yuh-ve gotter wear gum butes to git around in! Why, he's weeped so hawd thet hes years has got washed clean for oncet!"

Holy chortled in blasphemous delight as Woolly went on: "Punk's been lef stranded on thu shoals o' woe. He's stah o' happiness is sot 'an' thu mune o' he's desiah won't rise no moah! Thu light has gone outen he's young life an' he's tooken to writin' potery an' herdin' by hisself. He was tooken thet way early this mawnin' an' hes mizzery hes been suthin'

scand'lous. He's made up a leetle pome all outen hes own haid thet would make a Ute cry. Speak it for us, Punk, won't yuh!"

Punk sighed dolorously and rested his head on his bowed arms. Then he raised it again and with a comical imitation of Dougla.s.s's abstraction looked into vacancy. Holy was gurgling ecstatically, his delight finding vent in a yell of irrepressible joy as Punk fumbled twistingly with his bare upper lip in emulation of Dougla.s.s's impatient twirls of his mustache.

His wandering thoughts recalled by that raucous guffaw, Dougla.s.s glared with cold disfavor at the twain, somehow realizing that he was more or less concerned in their horse-play. "What's the matter with you d.a.m.n fools?" he asked, incautiously.

Punk looked at him in anguished protestation, shook his head in hopeless despondency and wailed:

"Oh! Gawd--haow _kin_ I stand it? Haow kin I?"

Woolly looked at Dougla.s.s reproachfully. "To be sworn at in thet heartless way, an' him so young and gentle!" He put his arm sympathetically about Punk's shoulders; Red's eyes were twinkling in antic.i.p.ation.

"Thar! thar! ole man! Don't yuh take it so hawd."

Punk laid his head wearily on Woolly's breast. Then as Holy and Red almost cried in their hilarity, he clasped his hands and crooned with heart-rending pathos:

"'Tis sweet tu love-- But oh! haow bitter To hev yuh gyurl Git up an' flit-ter!"

Dougla.s.s swore softly under his breath; then he looked meaningly at Red and touched his throat carelessly. Red sobered instantly and felt of something in the breast pocket of his shirt. His own fences were a trifle shaky and the temper of this particular colt was proverbially short and uncertain. He rose and went over to the water pail on the bench behind Woolly as if to get a drink, turning with a world of compa.s.sion in his eyes as Punk gasped faintly and sank back in Woolly's arms.

Instantly he was beside the twain, a huge dipper full of water in his hand. "Don't let him faint! don't yuh now, Woolly!" he yelled, in mock consternation. "Heah, put this on hes pore brow!" and he deliberately poured a quart of ice water down Punk's neck. The effect was as remarkable as it was instantaneous.

Punk's head flew up spasmodically, catching Woolly's nose with a force that tilted that worthy's chair backwards and sent them to the floor locked in each other's arms. Tangled up with their chairs, the impact was attended with such a series of excruciating bruises that both men lashed out retaliatingly and in a second they were fighting like wolves.

Holy, leaning up against the wall for support, was convulsed with ecstasy: "Bite him in thu flank, Woolly! Pull hes ha'r out, Punk! Oh!

Gawd! Let me die now!"

In the midst of the amenities entered Abbie with eyes aflame, a mopstick in her hand. Without hesitation, she impartially belabored both the combatants, calling frantically on Dougla.s.s and Red for aid. When their combined efforts had finally pried the two men apart she turned witheringly upon Dougla.s.s and lashed him with her scorn.

"A fine boss yuh be to let these coyotes tear each other to pieces! Ef yuh cain't manage men any bettah than thet yuh bettah take yuh lettle pen an' write potery fer a livin'. Maybe yuh'd git yuh name in thu papehs that way!" Then she stopped suddenly, the flood of invective dying on her tongue. The man's face was a livid gray, the teeth showing blue through the thin white lips. She quailed before the unlovable smile that distorted his mouth as he bowed ironically to her and went silently out.

"What hev I done wrong, now?" she muttered, speculatively. "He seemed touched on thu raw!" Her thrust had been a random one and entirely without malice or specific reference; Abbie merely had a wholesome contempt for rhymes and rhymsters in general and had inadvertently exercised that contempt in lieu of other more opprobious taunt. But this Dougla.s.s did not know; he leaped, instead, to a different and altogether unworthy conclusion, one that sickened him to the depths of his strong being and ultimately brought much unnecessary pain to another heart.

And yet, as he walked into the bunkhouse a few minutes later, no one looking at the outward impa.s.siveness of that calm face would have even the remotest suspicion of the h.e.l.l of resentful anger and outraged vanity burning in his heart. His lip even twitched with indulgent amus.e.m.e.nt as he watched Woolly and Punk solicitously binding up each other's wounds, each with a studiously exaggerated commiseration of the other's disfiguration.

"Gawd! Woolly, but yuh sh.o.r.e was playin' in luck when my haid hit yuh beak 'stead o' my fist!" Punk said, comfortingly, wiping that ensanguined member with a bit of wet burlap. Woolly grinned acquiescently:

"Thet's so, Punk, thet's so! It were sh.o.r.e consid'rit o' yuh to jab me with the softest thing yuh had. Ef yuh'll put a leetle skunk-oil on thet chawed year o' yourn I guess it'll grow out again', er I kin eat off thu otheh one to match it. Honest, son, I didn't aim to chaw off more'n a foot, but my jaw slipped."

"Thet must hev been when I swatted yuh against thu table laig," said Punk, regretfully. "Yuh know Ken has giv ordahs to kill everything with thu lumpy jaw, an' yuh mug is sh.o.r.e a heap outer place. Does yuh teeths track all right, old man?" The anxiety in his voice was very touching.

"They've kissed an' made up," explained Holy to Dougla.s.s, with blood-curdling expletiveness. "Ain't they jest thu two mos' lovin'

waddies yuh eveh see?"

"When you two fellows get done monkeying with each other," said Dougla.s.s, impatiently, "I have something to tell you." Something in his tone enlisted their immediate attention. Red looked at him inquisitively.

"It was only a bit of harmless hoss-play," he mumbled, apologetically.

"They didn't mean nuthin'." Dougla.s.s nodded indifferently. He had already forgotten the incident in the consideration of more serious things.

He took out of his pocket the letter he had that day received from Denver. "It's from the brand Registrar's office," he said, shortly. "I guess it clears up the mystery about that O Bar O brand." He read it with slow deliberation and at the mention of Coogan's name they exchanged meaning glances. Red whistled significantly. "Big Bart, eh!"

The others said never a word.

Dougla.s.s meditatively took out of his vest pocket a broad-leaded indelible pencil with which he traced upon the margin of a newspaper the characters which composed the Carter brand: "C--." As the others watched him in silence he retraced them, closing up the ends of the first character and adding another after the second. As amended the brand was "O-O." There was no need of comment, for every man knew what his action implied.

In the midst of an impressive silence he rolled and lighted a cigarette; then he rose and strolled over to the fireplace, resting his arm on the mantel shelf. Red waited expectantly but there was visible discomfort in the uneasy demeanor of the other three men.

"Boys," said Dougla.s.s, slowly but with incisive distinctness. "When I took charge here I was under the impression that the O Bar O brand was owned by a man in Middle Park named Wistar, a friend of Mr. Carter's. I was even so a.s.sured by two of the men most trusted by Mr. Carter--I think you know to whom I refer--as well as by Mr. Carter himself, who was evidently misinformed. I have reason to believe that every man of this outfit, except McVey, knew differently, but I have no intention of asking any embarra.s.sing questions. I want to say, however, that I am satisfied that since I came to the C Bar none of our old cattle have been absorbed by the O Bar O.

"But our tally sheets for the three previous years show a strange discrepancy with our present bunch; we are shy about five hundred head of cows, and our increase has fallen off unaccountably. And in this year's round-up I noticed a great many motherless calves and yearlings in the O Bar O brand. As a matter of curiosity I took a chance and killed a few of them, and here are the hides." He walked over to his bunk and took from underneath it three partly dried skins which he spread flesh side uppermost on the floor. To their experienced eyes it was plainly evident that the animals had been rebranded, the differently healed scars showing very plainly that the brands were originally C-- afterwards altered to O-O.

"Every man in this room knows what this means; and every man also is aware that Mr. Matlock and Mr. Coogan always have been on terms of closest intimacy, it being the general impression that they are partners in several enterprises. Now, boys, I respect a man who keeps his own counsel at all times, and I am aware that when a fellow wants to know anything he is expected to find it out for himself. Well, I have been finding out enough to warrant my keeping you men on this job. I am sure that you are all right. But the fellows I let out this fall won't come back. I am going to see that there are a few more C Bar calves on the range this year, and a few less...o...b..r O's. If I had been reasonably sure of my premises before, the thing would have been straightened up long ago; but as I am going to acquire the O Bar O brand myself in a few days, it won't make any difference, as we will vent the brand and put the cattle under it back where they belong, in the C Bar."