Bob Chester's Grit; Or, From Ranch to RichesWebster, Frank V.
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Bob Chester's Grit; Or, From Ranch to Riches
Webster, Frank V.
Ranch life -- Juvenile fiction
"Just as soon as I heard 'em going I lit out in the opposite direction,
and hoofed it back to Sam's."
CHAPTER X
BOB DOES A KIND ACT
As the stranger recounted this exciting adventure, Bob's eyes grew
larger and larger, and his mouth gaped in wonder. Many a time had he
read in story-books of similar attacks by Indians, but the thought that
he was actually gazing at a man who had been through such an ordeal
seemed too delightful to be true. And so reverentially admiring was his
manner toward his travelling companion that the other couldn't but smile
good-naturedly.
"Where did you say that place was?" inquired Bob, after a silence of
many minutes, as he retold to himself the story of the scar and pictured
the scene before his mind's eye.
"Fairfax."
"What part of the state is that?"
"It's about the middle, as east and west goes, but nearer the northern
than the southern border."
"Are there--are there any ranches near Fairfax now, do you suppose?"
"I reckon so, though it's more than seven years since I came East."
"Aren't you ever going back there?" inquired Bob, in a tone which said
plainly that it was beyond his understanding how a man could give up
life on a ranch and settle down to the very ordinary, prosaic life of
the East.
For a moment the man looked at Bob searchingly, and then replied:
"I reckon that it's better for my health here in the East."
But the significance of this remark was lost on Bob. For a few minutes
he was silent, the expression on his face, however, indicating that he
was thinking earnestly, and at last the cause of his deliberation was
explained in his question:
"Do you think there are any Indians around Fairfax now?"
"Not the kind there was in the early days when I was out there. The
government has tried to make them like white people, and now the Injuns
that you would find are either lazy, or they have deteriorated into
half-breeds. Once in a while some of the bucks go on a rampage, but not
very often."
"I think I'll go to Fairfax," announced Bob after another period of
deliberation. "You don't know any one out there with whom you think I
could get in to work, do you?"
"No, I can't say as I do, and besides a recommendation from me wouldn't
help you any. But I think so long as you have no particular section of
the state in mind, that Fairfax would be as good as any."
Bob lost no time in taking advantage of the opportunity afforded by his
companion for asking him about the customs of the cowboys and life on a
ranch in general, and many were the valuable pointers the stranger gave
him, some of which Bob afterwards remembered, but more of which he
forgot.
Between Bob's inquiries and the stories which his travelling companion
narrated, the morning passed quickly, and what had loomed before the boy
as long and dreary hours, seemed but a minute, so entertaining was the
stranger.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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