Cowboys -- Fiction; Montana -- Fiction; Ranch life -- Fiction; Western stories
The horse hurried forward at a shuffling trot and thrust his hot
muzzle into the delicious coolness. Happy Jack slipped off and, lying
flat on his stomach, up-stream from the horse, drank deep and long,
then stood up, wiped his face and considered the necessity of
crossing. Just at this point the river was not so wide as in others,
and for that reason the current flowed swiftly past. Not too swiftly,
however, if one took certain precautions. Happy Jack measured mentally
the strength of the current and the proper amount of caution which it
would be expedient to use, and began his preparations; for the sun was
sliding down hill toward the western skyline, and he wished very much
to reach the wagons in time for supper, if he could.
Standing in the shade of the coulee wall, he undressed deliberately,
folding each garment methodically as he took it off. When the pile was
complete to socks and boots, he rolled it into a compact bundle and
tied it firmly upon his saddle. Stranger, his horse, was a good
swimmer, and always swam high out of water. He hoped the things would
not get very wet; still, the current was strong, and his
characteristic pessimism suggested that they would be soaked to the
last thread. So, naked as our first ancestor, he urged his horse into
the stream, and when it was too deep for kicking--Stranger was ever
uncertain and not to be trusted too far--he caught him firmly by the
tail and felt the current grip them both. The feel of the water was
glorious after so long a ride in the hot sun, and Happy Jack reveled
in the cool swash of it up his shoulders to the back of his neck, as
Stranger swam out and across to the sloping, green bank on the home
side. When his feet struck bottom, Happy Jack should have waded
also--but the water was so deliciously cool, slapping high up on his
shoulders like that; he still floated luxuriously, towed by
Stranger--until Stranger, his footing secure, glanced back at Happy
sliding behind like a big, red fish, snorted and plunged up and on to
dry land.
Happy Jack struck his feet down to bottom, stumbled and let go his
hold of the tail, and Stranger, feeling the weight loosen suddenly,
gave another plunge and went careering up the bank, snorting back at
Happy Jack. Happy swore, waded out and made threats, but Stranger,
seeing himself pursued by a strange figure whose only resemblance to
his master lay in voice and profanity, fled in terror before him.
Happy Jack, crippling painfully on the stones, fled fruitlessly after,
still shouting threats. Then, as Stranger, galloping wildly,
disappeared over a ridge, he stood and stared stupidly at the place
where the horse had last been seen. For the moment his mind refused to
grasp all the horror of his position; he stepped gingerly over the hot
sand and rocks, sought the shelter of a bit of overhanging bank, and
sat dazedly down upon a rock too warm for comfort. He shifted uneasily
to the sand beside, found that still hotter, and returned to the rock.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account