Buck Peters, ranchman : $b being the story of what happened when Buck Peters, Hopalong Cassidy, and their Bar-20 associates went to MontanaMulford, Clarence Edward
General
Buck Peters, ranchman : $b being the story of what happened when Buck Peters, Hopalong Cassidy, and their Bar-20 associates went to Montana
Mulford, Clarence Edward
Cassidy, Hopalong (Fictitious character) -- Fiction; Montana -- Fiction; Ranch life -- Fiction; Western stories
At first One-Eye was greatly amused. He liked Dave well enough but he
hated Dave’s conceit—and to be present at his companion’s discomfiture
was very gratifying. But gradually One-Eye grew restless unto
peevishness and a vast contempt settled upon him, edging his temper with
a keenness rare to him. He had been trying to get one dozen imitation
cows to cross an ordinarily wide river, and neither coldness nor unusual
depth had any bearing on the matter. As he wondered how long he had
been engaged in watching Dave’s blunders and jerked out the brass watch
to see, his voice rumbled and boomed with a jarring timbre and
suddenness that make Dave jump.
"What th’ h—l d’ you think yo’re doin’?" demanded One-Eye.
"’Allamanleft’ an’ ’Ladies chain’ is all right for a dance, but it ’s
some foolish out here. An’ somebody ’s goin’ to lope along this way an’
see us, if you don’t quit makin’ a jackass out er yo’rself."
Stung to the quick, Dave wheeled to face his critic, his pent-up rage
almost hysterical. He had held it in, choked it back, and forced
himself to be calm, but now—his purpose was never disclosed, for at the
instant he wheeled, the watchful cattle leaped through the opening he
had made and headed for the hills, their heads down and tails up. Dave
hesitated, glancing from One-Eye to the cattle and back again, his face
white and pinched. One-Eye’s anger melted under his impelling sense of
the ridiculous and, slapping his thigh a resounding smack, he burst into
roars of laughter, until he was bent in his saddle like a man drunk or
sorely wounded.
"This yer ’s a circus," he finally managed to cry. "Don’t get mad, Dave:
we ’ll make ’em cross this time or they ’ll float down like logs. Come
on."
When they rounded up the bunch and started it toward the river again the
cows were surprisingly docile and the two drivers exchanged wondering
glances. At the river edge the dozen hesitated for a moment while they
nosed the water and at One-Eye’s wondering command, pushed into the
stream, scrambled out on the farther bank, and walked slowly into the
brush. Dave’s hypnotized senses were all in his eyes and he barely
heard his companion speak.
One-Eye prefaced his remarks with a fluent burst of profanity, and
cogitated aloud: "Cows is worse than wimmin! They _is_! Of all th’
crazy hens what ever a man drove, them dozen mangy critters has got ’em
all roped an’ tied! What in h—l do you _think_ of ’em?"
"I ain’t thinkin’, One-Eye," softly replied Dave. "I ’m prayin’ for
strength an’ fortitude. I figgers I can drop th’ last six from where I
’m sittin’, an’ it’s some temptation!"
One-Eye ironed out his grin. "I’m some tempted myself, Dave. There ’s
things in a cowman’s life to drive him plumb loco. I ’ve been part loco
more ’n once. Mum? You bet I ’ll keep mum. You don’t reckon I ’m
hankerin’ for to collect no cold lead, do you?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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