The stopping of the Limited at the little settlement of Fairfax was sufficient to arouse the curiosity of the dozen or so men who were lounging about the station, and when they saw that such an unusual proceeding was to allow a mere boy to alight, they stared at him with unfeigned interest.
"Must be the son of some big bug," hazarded one of the idlers.
"Or else he was put off for trying to beat his way," declared another, whose surly disposition was evident in his words.
"Can't a person get off here without starting a guessing match?" commented a third.
"Of course," replied the surly man. "But it don't seem natural."
During these remarks Bob was engrossed in gazing at the place he had chosen in which to build his fortune, and the prospect was not reassuring.
About half a mile from the station he couldsee a score or more of houses built in all sorts of shapes, and possessing anything but an attractive appearance. Beyond the settlement and on all sides, the prairies stretched in awesome vastness.
As he surveyed the surroundings, Bob could not restrain a sigh, but quickly checked it as a pleasant-faced, powerfully built man stepped briskly from the cabin which served as station and said cheerily:
"You're Bob Nichols, I suppose. My name is Henry Thomas. Your father wired me to be on the lookout for you. I had to report the train or I'd have come out sooner. What can I do for you?"
Hearing himself addressed as Nichols was a distinct shock to the boy, but to be taken for the son of the vice-president of the railroad completely dumfounded him, and for a moment he was on the point of denying the assumption. Then his promise to adopt the name recurred to him and he decided that Mr. Nichols' failure to disclaim relationship was probably with a purpose, so he just muttered something as though in answer to the first question and said aloud:
"I should be obliged if you would direct me to the hotel. I suppose they will send for my trunk."
"I'll direct you, of course," returned the agent,"and you can't very well miss it because it's the only one in town. But if you don't mind, I'd like to have you put up here with me." Then he added in a low voice: "The Red Indian isn't the sort of place you're used to and I'd feel safer to have you here."
"Oh, all right," laughed Bob. "I shan't be in town very long; that is, if I can find a ranch where they'll take me."
"So you're bound to ranch it, eh? You'll find it pretty tough," commented Thomas.
"That's what I'm here for," answered the boy, smiling. "I guess I can stand it."
"Mebbe you can and mebbe you can't," observed the surly-looking man, who had edged his way to where the agent and Bob were talking and had heard the boy's last remark.
"It all depends on whose ranch you strike. Most cowpunchers don't cotton to tenderfeet. The last one that hit Fairfax stayed just three days and was mighty glad to light out on a freight train."
"Now, Higgins, don't try to scare Mr. Nichols," exclaimed Thomas. "His father's vice-president of the Great Western."
"So you are Si Nichols' son, eh?" inquired Higgins.
"I thought out-West people weren't supposed to ask questions," returned Bob.
"Good boy! That's one on you, Higgins!" chuckled the other loungers gleefully, and the station agent added: "Now leave the boy alone. He's my guest while he's in Fairfax and any trick played on him I shall consider a personal affront to myself."
As the agent uttered these words, he drew himself to his full height and Bob could see that he was a splendid specimen of manhood. And that the others had a wholesome respect for his prowess was evident in the more deferential manner which they adopted toward Bob.
"Oh, if he'syourspecial friend, all right," growled Higgins, but he added under his breath, "I'll have some fun with you, Mr. Tenderfoot, see if I don't."
As he walked with the agent to where his trunk lay beside the track, Bob could not but wonder what his reception would have been had he not made the chance acquaintance of such powerful friends, and he thanked his good fortune that he had done so, for he felt out of place and very lonely in a strange country and among such rough-mannered men.
Divining what was passing through the boy's mind from the seriousness of his face, Thomas said:
"You mustn't take to heart what these men out here say to you, Mr. Nichols. Wresting alivelihood from the prairies has accustomed them to giving and receiving hard knocks, and they don't stop to think how what they say will sound. Just take it good-naturedly and give them back better than they send—if you can."
"I'll try," said the boy. "But please don't call me Mr. Nichols. Just Bob. I like it better."
At this request, Bob rose a hundred per cent. in the estimation of the agent.
"All right. But if I do, you must call me Hal," he replied.
When they had carried the trunk into a little room off the station, Thomas said:
"Can you ride horseback at all, Bob?"
"No."
"That's too bad. You'll have to learn. Everybody rides out here. I've orders to get you the best pony possible and I wanted to know just what kind to get. Most of 'em have some mean trick. But there's one, Firefly they call him, that is as gentle as a lamb. Whether Shorty Simmons will sell him or not, I don't know, but I'll find out."
"Is he fast?" asked Bob, fearing that the pony might be slow and old because he was gentle.
"There's not a horse in Fairfax that can keep up with him. Now this will be your room. It's mine too, but I'll move if you wish."
"If you do, I'll go to the hotel."
"All right, I won't. While you are changing your clothes, I'll ride over to town and see if I can buy Firefly."
The group of loungers was still on the platform when the agent went to the little lean-to beside the station where he kept his horse, saddled and mounted it, and as they saw him ride forth a wicked gleam appeared in Higgins' eyes.
He calculated that Bob would soon emerge from the seclusion of the station, and in such event he recognized his opportunity for carrying out his vow to have some fun with the boy.
Eager to begin Western life, Bob quickly took off his new suit and put on a pair of the corduroy trousers and one of the blue flannel shirts Mr. Nichols had bought him and then proudly placed on his head a sombrero.
Standing before the looking glass, he surveyed the effect, saying to himself as he noted the change the costume made in his appearance:
"I don't believe Mr. Dardus or anyone back in New York would know me now."
But not long did he linger gazing at himself.
The voices of the men on the platform were audible and he decided to join the group in the hope that from some chance remark he might learn of a ranch where he could obtain a job as cowboy. For though he was grateful to the agent, Bob wanted to be independent.
"Now you look more as though you belonged in Fairfax," declared one of the loungers as Bob joined them.
"All except the clothes and hat," grunted Higgins. "Say, you won't have any trouble getting a job if you go just as you are. Any rancher would hire you to scare coyotes away from the home ranch."
This sally at his expense sent a hot flush to Bob's cheeks, but, remembering the agent's advice to give back better than he received, he retorted:
"If there were any such jobs around, I should think they'd pay you double wages!"
"Nowwill you try to get fresh with a tenderfoot?" asked one of the others when their laughter at Bob's sharp rejoinder had subsided.
"I ain't trying to get fresh," returned Higgins. "I'm just feeling the boy out. The sooner he gets used to Fairfax ways, the better."
But Bob's retort evidently inspired in him agreater respect for the boy and he refrained from making any more comments on his personal appearance.
After the interchange of a few general remarks, Bob said:
"I should be very grateful if some of yougentlemenwould tell me of a ranch where I can apply for a job. I'd rather like to get one without Mr. Thomas' assistance."
In this request Higgins saw his chance. About ten miles from the settlement there lived a ranchman who was a man of mystery. Though his grazing ground was good and well-watered, and his pay prompt, he had such a temper that few cowboys would stay with him longer than a month or less, and to him Higgins decided to send Bob.
With this purpose, while the others were evidently trying to think of a suitable place for the boy, he said:
"There's only one I can think of and that's John Ford."
"Ford?" repeated Bob, his memory instantly recalling what the strange man with the scar had said about Sam and John Ford. "Where does he live?"
"Ten miles due west."
"Now, Higgins, you know better than to send this boy out there. Remember what Hal said about playing tricks on him."
Evidently this reminder had an effect upon the schemer, for he answered apologetically:
"Well, he asked about a place and I told him. You know as well as I do that John Ford always wants help."
"Sure we know it. But it ain't no fit place for such a boy."
Something suggested to Bob, however, that he should go to this ranchman, and accordingly he said:
"You needn't think I am so tender. Just because other men can't get along with Mr. Ford is no sign I can't. What is the nearest way to get there?"
"So long as you've got to walk, go straight down the track till you see a building with a red roof, on the left hand side," directed Higgins.
And before the others could protest, Bob uttered a hasty "thank you," and set off along the track at a dog trot.
"You'll get yours, Higgins, when Hal gets back," asserted the man who protested against Bob's being sent to Ford's.
"And you didn't even warn him about the dog," chided another.
At this reminder of the savage wolfhound that John Ford kept to guard his cabin, the idlers grew serious and exchanged uneasy glances.
"Oh, well! Ford'll probably see the boy so longas he comes from the direction of the railroad. Yellow Tom told me he sits by the hour looking toward the track—and he'll call off the brute."
"Providing the beast don't chew the boy up before John sees him," interposed another.
"Now, Tracy, don't always be looking for trouble," growled Higgins. "Life out West ain't no kindergarten. We had to take our knocks. Let the kid get his. Just because his father is rich ain't no reason why we should carry pillows around for him to fall on."
This crude viewpoint, if not satisfying to the consciences of Higgins' companions at least afforded relief, and they fell to wondering what Bob would say to them on his return—for return they expected he would.
In the meantime, the object of their thoughts was hurrying as rapidly as he could over the rough roadbed.
The crisp, bracing air seemed a stimulant to his lungs which had never breathed any but the contaminated air of New York, and he gloried in the fact that he was at last in a land where success did not depend on influence and riches, but where a man "made good" or failed, according to whether he was made of the right stuff or not.
For a time, his mind dwelt upon the insinuations Higgins and the others had made against Ranchman Ford, but the same power that had urged himto seek a job of this man whispered to him that he had nothing to fear. Dismissing all forebodings, therefore, Bob began to wonder if there could be any connection between Ford, the man with the scar and his father. The subject suggested so many possibilities and was, altogether, so vague, that, healthy-minded boy as he was, he decided not to ponder over it longer.
"There's no use building air castles," he told himself. "If Mr. Ford hires me and knows anything about father, I'll find it out in due time. There's one good thing, if I do land the job, Red Top will be ten miles nearer—and I can get away without exciting so much comment as from Fairfax."
From time to time as Bob trudged along, he scanned the plains on both sides of the track.
Thanks to the milestones placed at the side of the roadbed he was able to keep count of the miles he walked. Just after he had passed the eighth stone from Fairfax, Bob was electrified to see a herd of cattle in the distance. Pausing, he gazed at them interestedly, noticing that they were moving steadily instead of grazing. What this meant, he was at a loss to understand until of a sudden he saw three men on horseback emerge from the herd and, with arms waving, ride like mad to the head of the line and gradually change the direction of the cattle away from the track.
No need was there to tell him the riders were cowboys, and Bob thrilled with excitement as he watched their wonderful riding. But he did not wait till they were out of sight. Instead, he quickened his pace, murmuring:
"The sooner I get to Mr. Ford's, the sooner I'll be a cowboy."
The walk on the track was tiresome, however, unaccustomed to such rough traveling as he was, and it was with a sigh of relief that he finally caught sight of a group of buildings, one of which had a red-top roof.
"That must be the place," he exclaimed and, quickly leaving the track, started across the prairie. But Bob found that walking on the ties was easy compared to forcing his way through waist-high grass and stubborn sage-brush.
At last, however, Bob emerged into a clearing and stopped to survey the group of buildings. The one with the red roof faced the track and was built of logs. It was only one story high and about twenty feet long. The other two stood one on each side and were about twice as long but no higher. Back of the building, toward the west, was an enclosure surrounded by a high fence.
Had any one familiar with ranches been with Bob, they could have told him that enclosure was the corral, into which the cowboys turned their ponies when at the ranch, that the long building nearest the corral was the bunkhouse for the cowboys, and that the other long structure was the eating-house and storeroom of the ranch. But it was not long before Bob learned these facts for himself.
To all appearances, there was not a soul in any of the three houses and, as Bob stood gazing at them, trying to discover some sign of life, for hewas loath to take the long tramp back to Fairfax without at least having asked Ranchman Ford for a job, he was suddenly startled to see a huge dog bounding toward him, its lips drawn back disclosing wickedly-long fangs.
Bob's first impulse was to flee, but such tremendous leaps did the creature take that he realized it would be only a few minutes before the dog would overtake him. Then it flashed through his mind that this might be the ranchman's way of "trying out" strangers who came to his door, and the boy determined to stand his ground.
"I'll show them that a 'tenderfoot' has some courage," Bob said, as he braced himself for the impact when the dog should leap upon him.
All the while, he had been steadily looking into the dog's eyes, and just as the creature was upon him the same power that had urged him to come to the Ford ranch seemed to tell him to speak to the animal.
"Steady, boy! Steady! I'm not going to do any harm here," he exclaimed.
Whether in surprise at the boy's unusual procedure in facing him—most callers at the ranch either hastened away or yelled to Ford to call off his dog—or what, the beast hesitated before his last leap that would have brought him on top of Bob and then, beginning to prance playfully, he approached fawningly.
"Good boy! That's the way. We ought to be good friends, you and I. Come here," exclaimed Bob, and as the dog came up, he patted his head caressingly.
The boy's relief was so great at finding the savage beast did not attempt to tear him limb from limb that he failed to notice the door of the red-roofed cabin open and a grizzled head emerge.
But the next instant the presence of the man was called to his attention by a terrific roar:
"Chester!"
Amazed at hearing his name, Bob gazed open-mouthed toward the house.
By this time, the man had come out onto the ground and the boy beheld a tall, spare-boned man, with weather-tanned face, a scrubby beard, and a mass of tousled hair.
The dog, however, paid no heed to the voice, rubbing against Bob and licking his hands.
Again came the bellow.
"Chester! Come here!"
Too alarmed by the imperiousness of the tone to wonder how the secret of his identity could be known by this man of the plains, Bob called:
"Yes, sir. Right away, sir."
But if the hearing of his name had caused Bob surprise, his response created more in the man.
"Oh! It's not you I want!" he yelled. "It's that fool dog! Come here, sir!"
But the dog obeyed no better than before.
A moment the ranchman glared at it, his face terrible in its anger, then dropped his hand to his hip and drew forth a revolver.
Divining his intention, Bob leaped in front of the dog, exclaiming:
"Don't shoot, sir! The dog has done nothing!"
"Done nothing, eh? I suppose you call making friends with a stranger nothing. Stand aside!"
But Bob did not move.
"Just because a dog makes friends with me is no reason for shooting him," he retorted.
A moment the man glowered sullenly from the dog to the boy, then, attracted by something about the latter, came closer and peered eagerly into Bob's face.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
"Bob Nichols."
"Nichols, eh? Then I must have been mistaken," he added in a voice too low for the boy to hear, and a look of disappointment settled on his face as he continued aloud: "Well, what do you want?"
"You are Mr. Ford, I presume?" asked Bob.
"I am; John Ford, owing no man a cent and afraid of nothing, or no one on earth."
Smiling at this unusual introduction, Bob said:
"I came out to ask if you'd give me a job on your ranch, Mr. Ford."
"Know anything about ranching?"
"No, sir. But I can learn."
"Who sent you to me?"
"A Mr. Higgins."
"Ned Higgins, eh? Trying another of his jokes, I suppose. Probably thought the dog would chew you up."
Then for a moment that seemed hours to the anxious boy, the ranchman pondered, finally exclaiming:
"Well, we'll fool Higgins this time. I'll take you on for a try. You're sure game or you wouldn't have stood before that fool dog, the way you did. Come in and we'll talk about wages."
And, as Bob entered the cabin, Ford turned to look at the dog, muttering to himself:
"Strange, mighty strange. I never knew him to make friends with any one before."
Interestedly Bob gazed about him as he entered, for the first time in his life, the home of a ranchman. At the left of the door, a bunk, covered with brilliant-colored blankets—which, had the boy known they were the handiwork of Indians, would have interested him greatly—extended from the wall. Above this crude bed was a rack holding three rifles and several revolvers. On the opposite side of the room were a cupboard and table, while in the rear was another cupboard, and a stove. A rocking and two straight-backed chairs completed the furnishings.
Just what Bob had expected to find in the cabin he could not have told, but its severity and barrenness disappointed him.
"Sit down," grunted the ranchman, motioning Bob to one of the straight-backed chairs while he himself sank into the rocker.
As Bob obeyed, the dog stretched himself at his feet.
Searchingly the ranchman scanned the boy's face, and the silence was becoming embarrassing when Ford broke it by demanding suddenly:
"What did you say your name was?"
"Bob Nichols."
"Where do you come from?"
"New York."
This answer caused the ranchman to sit up straight and again scrutinize the boy's features, as he asked:
"Got any folks?"
"No, sir."
"Live alone in New York?"
"No, sir. With my guardian."
"What made you come out here?"
"I wanted to be a cowboy and make my fortune."
"Cow punching ain't a paved highway to riches."
"But you are rich, aren't you?"
At this leading question, the grizzled man of the plains scowled, a suspicion of Bob's purpose in seeking a job with him flashing into his mind as he replied:
"Mebbe I am and mebbe I ain't. What made you think I was?"
"Mr. Higgins and the other men said you were."
"Huh! them fellows had better mind their ownbusiness," grunted the ranchman; but the ingenuous reply and the open honesty of the boy's face banished his suspicions, and he continued his questioning.
The length to which the catechising extended amazed Bob, in view of what he had been told and had read in regard to not asking questions, and he made his replies as brief as possible, taking good care to give only the most general information about himself.
Perceiving this, Ford finally asked:
"How much wages do you want?"
"I'll leave that to you, Mr. Ford. As I don't know anything about ranching, I don't expect much and I'm willing to trust you to do what is right."
This confidence in his squareness appealed more to the ranchman than anything else Bob could have said or done.
Leading the life of a recluse as he did and assuming a manner of forbidding austerity when forced to meet his fellows, the man had been endowed by them with a reputation for close—if not sharp—dealing, and this trust in him evinced by the boy moved him deeply, and with a voice in which there was a half sob, he returned:
"You won't lose by leaving the matter of wages to me, boy. Don't you worry about that, no matter what Ned Higgins or his cronies tell you."
"I shall not discuss my affairs with outsiders,"replied Bob with seriousness that brought a smile to the plainsman's face.
"Good! Now, let's get down to business. Can you ride?"
"No. But I can learn."
"You'll have to. A man on a ranch who can't ride is about as useless as a rifle without cartridges. Let's see, you'll need a safe pony to learn on. I guess I'll let you try old Sox. He never was mean and he still has some speed. Pick up that saddle there," and he pointed to what is called a Mexican saddle, which has a high pommel and back; "the bridle is tied to it, and we'll go out to the corral. You ought to get so you can do pretty well by night. You've got to, because I need another puncher with my short-horn herd over by Red Top."
The thought that he was to be stationed close to the town that might hold secrets of the greatest importance to himself so excited Bob that his hands trembled as he seized the saddle.
Attributing this action to fear of the broncho, Ford said:
"You sure ain't scared of riding a pony when you faced Chester, are you?"
"No, I'm not."
"Then why are you trembling so?"
"Oh, because I'm so happy at having found a job, I guess," dissembled Bob. And then, in orderto direct the ranchman's attention from himself, he asked:
"Why do you call your dog Chester?"
This question served Bob's purpose better than he could have desired, for it caused the grizzled plainsman to start suddenly.
Instantly recovering himself, however, he countered by demanding sharply:
"What makes you ask that?"
"Because it's such a queer name for a dog."
"Well, he's a queer dog," returned Ford tersely. "Now, come along with that saddle."
As though aware of their purpose, the dog had preceded them from the cabin, but as Ford and Bob stepped forth, he stopped, began to sniff the air and then emitted a long, low growl.
"Somebody's coming," announced the ranchman, pausing and following the direction of the wolfhound's gaze.
Eagerly Bob did the same, and in a few moments beheld a man riding a horse and leading another.
Instantly it flashed to the boy's mind that the horseman was his friend the station agent, who, having learned his destination, had followed, and he exclaimed:
"That's Hal Thomas!"
"What makes you think so?" demanded Ford sharply.
"Because he's a friend of mine and he was trying to buy a horse for me when I started for your ranch."
"Well, you couldn't have a better friend," asserted the ranchman.
During this colloquy the dog had set up a furious barking and snarling, leaping about in evident readiness to spring upon the horseman when he should get well within the clearing.
By this time the two men and boy were near enough to recognize one another, and Bob's surmise was correct, for the rider was none other than Hal Thomas with Firefly.
"Hey, Ford, call off your dog," yelled the agent.
"Ain't my dog!" retorted the ranchman harshly.
"Since when?" inquired Thomas, with difficulty managing the two ponies that were plunging in fright at the antics of the snarling, snapping hound.
"About thirty minutes ago."
"Whose is it, then?"
"This boy here."
"Mine?" exclaimed Bob in amazement.
"Uhuh! I ain't no use for a dog anybody else can handle."
But Bob did not hear the last words. No sooner assured that the savage beast was his, than he called:
"Steady! Chester! Come here, sir!"
Uncertain whether or not to obey, the dog looked from Bob to the horses. But the boy quickly repeated his commands, running toward the hound, and the animal, with a parting snarl at the agent, turned and trotted to the side of his new master, where he took his stand as though waiting to defend him, should it be necessary.
As the ranchman watched this scene, his face was a study, but he soon forgot it in listening to the conversation between Thomas and Bob.
"Do you think it was quite fair to run away while I was trying to find a pony for you?" asked the agent.
"Don't scold, Hal," returned Bob. "I suppose it wasn't quite fair. But I wanted to surprise you by getting a job myself, without anybody's help."
Smiling at the boy's independence, Thomas asked:
"Have you got it?"
Before Bob could answer, the ranchman interposed:
"Looks like it, don't it? First he won my—I mean his—dog, and then he won me. Yes, Hal, Bob's landed and you can tell Ned Higgins from me that if he tries to put up any more jokes on Bob, I'll fix him so he can't speak for a year."
"All right, John," smiled the agent. "But I reckon he won't try any more!"
So significant was the agent's tone that Bob inquired anxiously:
"You didn't do anything to him for sending me to Mr. Ford, did you, Hal?"
"No, not much," returned Thomas grimly. Yet had he told the entire truth he would have said he had administered such a beating to the practical joker, upon learning where he had sent Bob, as Fairfax had never seen given by one man to another.
"Won't you come in?" asked the ranchman.
"No, thanks. Can't stop. Got to get back for a train. Here, Bob, come and mount Firefly. He's yours."
"What, you bought Firefly for this boy?" exclaimed Ford in surprise.
"That's what." Then turning to Bob, he added, "Put your left foot in the stirrup and swing into the saddle. That's the way. Say, John, let Bob ride back a way with me. I want to show him a few things about a pony."
"Oh, do!" chimed in Bob.
"All right, though I was calculating to teach him myself," returned Ford, a light such as the station agent had never before seen in his eyes.
"Can I take Chester?" asked Bob.
"Sure, he's yours!"
"Come, boy," called Bob. Then noticing that Hal wanted to say a word to the ranchman, he exclaimed: "Don't tell him who I am,please." And as the agent hesitated, he added, shrewdly, "Mr. Nichols wouldn't like it."
"All right, if you say not," returned Hal.
And wheeling their ponies, the two rode off across the plains, the dog bounding joyfully along at Bob's side.
Gazing after them, even when they had disappeared from sight, stood John Ford.
As the agent had said, Firefly was so gentle and had such an easy gait that after the first few minutes' fear had passed Bob found he could not only keep in the saddle, but could enjoy the motion of the pony.
Critically Thomas watched him, riding close at his side to be at hand in case of trouble, finally exclaiming in hearty approval:
"You take to a horse like a duck to water, Bob."
"Do you mean that, Hal?"
"I sure do. Now dismount and I'll show you a trick or two." And as soon as the boy was on the ground, he continued: "Some ponies have a mean way of starting just as soon as you put your foot in the stirrups. No matter how nervous your mount is, by drawing the left rein—remember you always handle a saddle horse from the left side—so short that it turns the pony's head, you canmake him circle round and round, instead of running straight ahead, which will give you a chance to swing into the saddle. Now try it."
Without difficulty Bob performed the feat.
"Good," commented his instructor. "We'll both dismount and I'll teach you how to hobble your pony. Whenever you turn a pony loose on the plains, whether in the day time or at night, always hobble him. You never know what may happen when you are 'punching cattle' and oftentimes by having your pony handy it will save you a lot of trouble, to put it mildly."
While he was speaking, Thomas had taken Bob's lariat, which hung from the pommel of his saddle, and drawing the noose small had slipped it over his pony's right hoof.
"There are two ways of hobbling," he continued, "one, to tie the front and hind feet on the same side, the other, to tie both front feet. As ponies are often mighty lively animals, I don't need to tell you the danger or difficulty of trying to put a rope around their hind legs. But tying the front feet is easy. Allow about seven inches of rope, then take a couple of turns around the left fetlock, make a half-hitch and tie the rest of your rope about the pony's neck.
"Always remember to do that. If you don't, some time the rope end may catch between therocks or become tangled in some way and cause trouble.
"When you stop to rest after a hard ride, always unsaddle, whether you unbridle or not, and then wipe the dirt and sweat from where the saddle has been. It rests a pony more than anything you can do.
"At night, when you are on the plains, always use your saddle for a pillow, then no one can steal it from you.
"Those are the main points. Any special tricks you'll pick up from John and the boys.
"Oh, there's one more thing: whenever you dismount for any length of time, pull the reins over the pony's head and either throw them over a post or else let them drag on the ground. I don't know why it is, but it seems to make the pony think he is tied."
The lesson over, Bob and Hal remounted and rode on.
At the request of the latter, the boy related his experience at Ford's ranch. As he did so, the agent looked at him with an expression of mingled amazement and approval, and as the story was finished, exclaimed:
"Bob, you sure are a wonder! How you had the nerve to face that dog on foot, I don't see. Many a man on horseback has been forced to turn and flee. How did you do it?"
"Oh, I don't know. Just looked him in the eye and spoke to him, that's all."
But the explanation did not satisfy the agent.
"I don't understand it," he said. "I fully expected to find you lying in Ford's cabin all chewed up. And here your clothes aren't even torn. I don't understand it. This is the first time Chester has ever made friends with anybody. He only minds Ford because he's afraid of him."
For some time the boy and the man rode in silence, each occupied with his own thoughts.
"Do you know why Mr. Ford calls the dog Chester?" Bob suddenly asked.
"He had to give him some name, I suppose."
"But it's such a queer name, Hal. I asked him and he wouldn't tell me."
A moment the agent was silent, evidently debating something with himself, and finally said:
"I suppose you had better know, Bob, that there's something queer about John Ford. They tell a lot of stories about him, but the one most common is that he's waiting till he gets one hundred thousand dollars before starting on a tour of revenge.
"He told me himself, however, that when he had accumulated that amount he was going to find a man. But more than that he wouldn't say.
"If I were you, I wouldn't ask too many questions."
During the conversation they had covered so much ground that the roofs of Fairfax village were visible in the distance and as he noticed this, the agent drew rein, saying:
"I didn't realize we had come so far. You'd better go back, Bob. Suppose you can find the way?"
"Sure. If I can't Chester will show me, won't you, old boy?"
And in answer, as though he had understood perfectly, the dog started off in the direction of the ranch.
"I reckon you'll be safe with him," commented the agent. "Take care of yourself, Bob. And come over to see me when you can. By the way, has John said where he was going to send you?"
"Yes, over near Red Top, with his short-horns."
"You've certainly made a hit with him, Bob. That's the best and easiest berth on the ranch. Grazing's good and water plenty. You hardly have to move from one week to another. So long." And he gave the boy's hand a hearty grip. "I've wired your father of your safe arrival. When there are any letters, I'll bring them over."
And shaking out his reins, the agent galloped away.
Bob, however, did not hurry on his return tothe ranch, his mind being occupied with trying to find the reason for the grizzled plainsman's evident liking for him and his kindness, so at variance with his usual manner.
But the puzzle was too difficult for him, and he finally abandoned it to dismount and practice the things the agent had taught him.
Such action at first mystified Firefly, but Bob patted and spoke to him, explaining what he was trying to do just as though he were talking to a human being.
"You and Chester and I will have many a long day and night together, so we had better be good friends right away. I've got to learn to hobble and saddle and I want to do it before I return to the ranch."
Evidently satisfied with this explanation, Firefly stood quietly, nibbling at the grass now and again, while the dog sat down and watched operations.
Having finally acquired the knack, Bob remounted and was soon at the ranch, where he turned his pony into the corral and carried his saddle to the cabin.
"Then you've learned enough to turn your pony into the corral, eh?" was Ford's greeting as Bob threw his saddle on the floor.
"Yes, sir. And to hobble and saddle and make my horse whirl when I'm mounting."
"Hal's a good friend to have," commented theranchman. "Did he show you how to throw a rope?"
"Do you mean my lariat?"
"No, I mean rope; that's what we call it on the plains, though it means the same thing."
"No, he didn't."
"Then I will. You'll find some grub in the cupboard. Eat all you want and put the rest back."
"But aren't you going to eat with me?" asked Bob in an injured tone.
"I'd like to. But I ain't eaten with a man since——" then suddenly checking himself he stammered, "well, since twelve year ago."
Eager, indeed, was Bob to ask the reason for this custom, but, remembering Hal's warning, he restrained the question that was on his lips just as the ranchman, evidently determined to end the conversation, went outdoors.
The mention of eating recalled to Bob that it was hours since he had breakfasted, and hastily he explored the cupboard, bringing forth some crisp bacon, biscuits, cookies and pie while from the stove he took the coffee pot, then sat down to a meal that seemed, to his keen appetite, the best he had ever tasted.
As he was finishing, the ranchman came in and, when the food had been put away, took Bob out to teach him how to throw the rope.
For this purpose Ford had driven a four-foot stake into the ground. Making his pupil stand about twenty feet from it, he had him get used to whirling the rope around his head and then told him to drop the noose over the post.
At first Bob failed, but he was soon able to drop the noose over. So much accomplished, the ranchman ordered him to get his pony and try to rope the stake while riding past.
This, however, was more difficult, and Bob made more misses than "ringers."
"You can practice that on the range, Bob. We won't waste any more time here. I want to take you over to the short-horns to-night."
"You mean I'm to go on duty to-night?" asked the boy in delight.
"Exactly. Only there won't be much to do. Just keep awake in case anything happens. I'll have Merry Dick, the best of my boys, stay with you for a day or so."
The ranchman had saddled a big bay broncho when Bob saddled Firefly and, after locking the door of his cabin, they galloped away toward the west.
On the ride the plainsman gave Bob many valuable pointers about what to do if trouble broke out in the herd, and for getting along with the other cowboys.
After an hour or more of riding, they came tothe herd, spread out over a quarter of a mile of plain, and rode round it till they came to where four cowboys were lolling on the grass, smoking.
Looking up lazily at the sight of their boss, when they caught a glimpse of Bob's fresh, young face they evinced a lively interest.
"Boys, this is Bob," said Ford, by way of introduction. "Bob, the homeliest of the lot is Merry Dick; the one next to him to the left is Yellow Tom; next is Shorty Flinn and the last is Crazy Ned.
"Dick, you're to go over on the West station with Bob for three days. Get some grub ready.
"Now, remember, every man Jack of you, Bob is my special friend. If you try any funny business, you'll have to settle with me; and don't forget, cowboys ain't worth near as much as a lean steer."
And without another word, this strange man wheeled his horse and rode away.
Chester had accompanied Bob and Ford to the cowboys' station, and when they saw that the dog showed no signs of returning, Yellow Tom called out:
"Hey, you Ford. Take this cur of yours with you—or I won't stay on the job another minute."
The ranchman, however, either did not hear or pretended not to, and after a minute Bob said:
"Mr. Ford has given Chester to me."
"What?" chorused the cowboys, in amazement.
"I said that Mr. Ford had given Chester to me," replied Bob.
"And you let him?" queried Crazy Ned, staring at the boy as though he must be daft.
"Why not?"
"You're liable to wake up in mincemeat some fine day, that's all," commented Yellow Tom drily.
"Oh, I guess not," answered Bob. "Chester and I are good friends, aren't we, my boy?" anddismounting, he called the dog to him and stroked his head.
A moment the cowboys watched the proceeding in amazement, then Shorty Flinn voiced their feelings by saying:
"Am I dreamin' or is this tenderfoot pattin' that ornery cur?"
"He's pattin' him, all right," returned Merry Dick. "Say, kid, you're a wonder. There ain't no man ever dared touch that dog so long as I've known about him and that's for ten years."
"But can you make him mind?" demanded Yellow Tom.
"Surely."
"Then stop his growlin' at me."
Recognizing this as a test, Bob stroked the dog's head caressingly, saying, in a matter-of-fact tone:
"Stop growling, boy. None of these men are going to harm me."
A moment the dog looked at Bob, then leisurely glanced from one to another of the cowboys—and stopped snarling.
"That beats all," declared Crazy Ned. "Say, kid, you don't need to fear anybody's playin' tricks on you when that brute is with you."
"No, I guess not," smiled Bob. And then in a burst of confidence he added: "But I don't want people to be nice because they are afraid of Chester. If they don't like me for myself, I don't want them to like me at all."
"That's all right, kid. But there's some ornery critturs wearin' the clothes of cowboys, so just take advice of a man who knows and keep the dog with you," said Yellow Tom.
"Yellow's givin' it to you straight," asserted Shorty Flinn. "There's some folks ain't never happy unless they're makin' others onhappy."
Bob took the advice in the spirit it was given and, while Merry Dick was putting together enough food to last them for the three days he was to be with the boy, chatted and joked with them, answering such questions as he saw fit and turning off those he did not care to. And such manliness and good nature did he display that he won the respect of the four cowpunchers, than whom there were no harder characters riding the plains.
At last Merry Dick had stowed the food in his saddle bags, unhobbled and made ready his broncho, and as he waited for Bob to mount, the others began to tease him.
"No tricks, now," said one. "Remember what John said about the comparative value of cowboys and steers. Don't put salt instead of sugar in Bob's coffee."
"Don't worry aboutme," laughed Bob. "WithChester my friend, we're more likely to play tricks on Merry Dick than he is to play any on us."
And amid the shouts of merriment this suggestion produced, the cowboy and his youthful companion galloped away.
"Ain't that Firefly you're ridin'?" asked Merry Dick, after having tried in vain to leave Bob behind by sending his own pony at a mad gallop.
"Y—yes," returned Bob. "Mr. Thomas, the station agent, bought him for me."
"Boughthim?" repeated the cowboy in amazement. "You must be rollin' in money, kid. Simons said he'd never sell for less than two hundred dollars."
Bob had no idea as to the value of horseflesh, so he asked:
"Is that much to pay for a pony?"
"Much? Well, I don't know what you call much, but I do know that you can buy all the ponies you want, good ones at that, for fifty dollars."
This knowledge of the expense to which Mr. Nichols had been put to provide him with a mount, for Bob believed it was he who had ordered the agent so to do, grieved the boy and he became silent, wondering if he should not send back the one hundred dollars present in part payment.
Merry Dick, however, mistook his silence for displeasure and exclaimed:
"I don't mean Firefly ain't a good pony. He's the best within fifty mile, so you didn't get stuck."
In due course of time, they reached a spot where a few trees surrounded a spring, and there the cowboy said they would pitch camp.
With surprise, he watched Bob hobble his pony and then rub him down, observing:
"I reckon you ain't so green as you make out."
Ignoring the left-handed compliment, Bob asked:
"What do I have to do with the cattle?"
"Mighty little, so long as you have the dog with you. He's as good as any cowboy." And then Merry Dick explained that Bob's duties lay in riding around and driving back the cattle that strayed from the herd, especially in the morning, and in case of a stampede, than which there is nothing more dreaded by cowboys, in outrunning the leaders and changing their direction, yelling and waving arms, until the frenzied animals are made to tire themselves out traveling in a circle.
The hours till twilight passed quickly with the stories the cowboy told of experiences he had had and had heard, in both of which he did not hesitate to draw freely on his imagination.
As the sunset bathed the plains in a gloriousred, the two rode out and drove the straggling cattle back to the herd, and then Merry Dick showed Bob how to boil coffee over a bed of coals and fry bacon by holding it on a fork.
As night fell, many sounds reached the boy's ears, but none scared him except the melancholy howl of the coyotes.
Without incident the hours of darkness passed and the two days that Merry Dick was with him, and, on the third, Ford rode over to see how they were getting along.
"He'll do," announced the cowboy, nodding toward Bob.
"Then you can go back to the others," returned his boss, who remained with the boy.
Day followed day with monotonous regularity, and many a time Bob was glad of the dog's company. Several times Thomas came to see him, bringing letters from both Mr. Perkins and Mr. Nichols and taking back Bob's answers, which told of his experiences, gratitude for their assistance, and delight in his new life.
Once a week, Ford came to bring his food, a signal mark of favor, for the ranch cooks supplied the others. And as month after month passed, Bob developed wonderfully. The free, outdoor life made his muscles like steel and the responsibility and solitude matured him, so that instead of the rather timid boy who had steppedfrom the limited that morning, he was a powerful, self-reliant young man.
Realizing this and feeling his desire growing stronger, at the end of the sixth month to learn the truth about his father when Ford paid him, Bob asked if he could ride over to Red Top for a day.
In reply to the ranchman's question as to the reason, he said he wanted to find out about a man.
At this answer, Ford scanned his face closely, but, unable to read its expression, gave his permission, provided he took the dog, saying he would stand Bob's tour of duty.
His heart agog, Bob was on his way early the next morning, the faithful Chester at his side.
The village of Red Top was similar to Fairfax, but being the location of the Land Office was of more importance. As the boy, accompanied by the dog passed along the one street of the town, they attracted much attention, for many of the people recognized Chester.
Drawing rein, Bob dismounted at the store, went inside and asked where he could find out who owned property in the town fifteen years ago.
The interest of the loungers in the boy was no whit lessened by this question and several of them chorused:
"The Land Office, right next door."
Thanking them collectively, Bob went out, leaving the idlers to speculate over his identity and purpose.
But though he found the Land Office without difficulty, he could make neither head nor tail out of the records.
Noticing the perplexity on his face, the clerk, a kindly-faced, gray-haired man, asked him for what he was searching.
"To see if Horace Chester ever owned any property in Red Top."
"I can tell you that without looking," replied the clerk. "He had one of the best ranches in Oklahoma. It was good when he died. But it's worth ten times as much now."
This information set Bob's head in a whirl, and for some minutes he could not speak, but when he did, he asked hesitatingly:
"Was he—was he crazy?"
"Crazy? well, I should say not!" ejaculated the clerk, staring at Bob in wonder.
"Who owns the property now?"
"A. Leon Dardus."
"How'd he get it?"
"By will. There was a long legal battle between Sam and John Ford and Dardus. But Dardus finally won."
"Where is the ranch?"
"Twenty miles south of here. Jim Haskins hires it."
At these surprising answers, Bob's heart seemed to come up in his throat, stifling his speech. But noticing that his questions had aroused the clerk's curiosity, he hurriedly left the office.
Needing time to think, the boy hastened along till he came to a building which served as a saloon, diningroom and gambling den.
Attracted by the food sign, he entered, took a seat near a partition, and ordered some pork and beans.
But before it was brought, he had forgotten about eating. From behind the partition, loud voices were audible and he caught the word "Ford."
Listening intently, he heard a voice say:
"Sure, we can do it! I've got the papers all ready, old Sam Ford's signature and all. Just pass over that two thousand five hundred dollars, and I'll give them to you."
"But suppose Ford fights us in court?" exclaimed another voice.
"He won't do that!" growled a third. "Leave it to me!"
"Now, Bill, there's to be no——"
But before Bob could catch the last word, the waiter came in with his pork and beans and, noticing that the boy was listening with head close to the partition, shouted:
"What you listenin' to? That don't go in Red Top!"
And dropping his dishes, he leaped for Bob, just as the men behind the partition, who had heard the waiter's angry words, struggled to get through the door.
Realizing he was no match for so many, Bob took to his heels, the others in pursuit.
As he dashed from the restaurant, Chester leaped to his feet and, back bristling, jaws distended, faced the pursuers.
"That's Ford's dog!" gasped the waiter. "That fellow must have been one of his men!"
The commotion had attracted the attention of the loungers in the store and as they hurried to the street, the conspirators, pointing to Bob, yelled:
"Stop him! Stop him!"
But Bob, paying no heed, raced to where Firefly stood, vaulted into his saddle and, with the dog at his heels, dashed up the street.
Believing the men who tried to stop Bob must have been robbed, several of those about the store leaped onto their horses and gave chase.
Meantime, the conspirators, balked in their attempt to prevent the boy's escape, held a consultation.
"If that is one of Ford's men, our goose is cooked," snarled one of them.
"Well, it is, right enough. Don't you remember hearing about the kid Ford gave his dog to?"
Too well did they remember, for the story of Bob's call at the ranch had traveled far and wide.
"What's to be done, then?" asked the first speaker.
"Get him!" growled the others.
So well did these men understand one another that no explanation of this remark was necessary, and without more ado they hastened to the stable back of the saloon, ordered their horses, and were soon riding after Bob at top speed.
Anticipating that he would be chased, the boy had urged Firefly into a mad gallop, desirous of getting as long a start as possible. And well it was that he did, for so mettlesome were the horses of the conspirators that, despite the start the loungers had, they quickly overhauled them.
"Which way did he go?" demanded the ringleader, as he rode alongside.
"To Ford's."
"What's wrong? What did he do? How much did he get?" demanded others of the volunteer posse.
But the conspirators were not eager to go into detail, and their leader said:
"This is a private matter. We are obliged to you gentlemen for trying to stop that boy. But we won't trouble you to ride farther. We are quite able to attend to this business ourselves."
Such an abrupt dismissal, however, only piqued the curiosity of the volunteers the more, and noting this the conspirators clapped spurs to their ponies and soon left them behind.
From time to time, as he raced across the plains, Bob had looked back. With satisfaction, he noted that he more than held his own with the pursuers. But when he saw the four men pass the leaders as though the others were standing still, he urged Firefly to greater speed.
Gamely the pony responded, increasing Bob'slead still more, and the boy noted from landmarks that he was only about two miles from his station. Then suddenly Firefly stumbled, hurling Bob over his head.
Picking himself up, the boy, stopping only to ascertain that he himself was not injured, ran back to his pony. But as he saw the horse his heart sank.
Firefly had stepped in a prairie-dog hole and broken his leg.
From his moaning Bob realized the pony was in great pain, and for a moment he stood undecided what to do. Then a hoarse shout of triumph raised by the conspirators reached his ears, and, gritting his teeth, Bob pulled out his revolver, placed it against Firefly's head and pulled the trigger.
Already he had lost precious minutes and, waiting only to make sure he had put his faithful pony out of misery, he once more started toward his station, leaping and bounding through the high grass as best he could.
Not far had he gone, however, before he realized that unless he could make greater speed, his pursuers would soon overtake him.
But the prospect did not daunt him and, as his danger became greater, his brain became clearer.
Apparently without effort, Chester was bounding over the plains. Noting this, an idea flashed into Bob's mind and he called the dog to him.
As he approached, Bob took a firm grip with his right hand in the mass of hair on Chester's shoulders, exclaiming:
"You've got to help me run, boy. Now don't go too fast. Remember, I can't leap the way you do."
And, as though understanding, the dog moderated his gait and together they tore through the grass.
Yet so uneven was the race that Bob would certainly have been captured had not aid come from an unexpected quarter.
So still was the air that the report of Bob's shot had carried to the ears of John Ford who, sensing trouble, was riding slowly toward Red Top to meet the lad.
Shooting not being common on the plains thereabouts, no sooner had he heard the report than he clapped spurs to his horse and dashed in its direction, and not far had he ridden before he caught sight of Bob and Chester and their pursuers.
At a glance, he realized that the boy was in great danger, and grinding his teeth savagely, he rode at him like mad, from time to time shouting to Bob to keep up courage.
But the plucky boy saw and recognized hisemployer long before he heard his reassuring words, and the sight lent him fresh strength.
The pursuers also saw Ford and redoubled their efforts to reach Bob first. But the terrific pace was telling on their mounts and they made little progress.
With a yell of exultation, Ford reached Bob, gave him a hand and lifted him up behind to the saddle, asking:
"What are they after you for?"
"Because I wanted to warn you!" answered Bob, and hurriedly he related all he had overheard and the incidents of the pursuit.
As he listened to the story, the ranchman's face grew terrible to behold. And as it was finished, he sat in silence a moment, then fairly hissed:
"My law is not 'an eye for an eye' or 'a tooth for a tooth.' But four eyes for an eye!"
For an instant only was Bob mystified by this speech.
Swinging his rifle from his back to his shoulder with incredible rapidity, Ford fired four shots in quick succession. And after each shot, one of the conspirator's horses fell.
"So much for Firefly, though I wouldn't take the four for him!" snarled the ranchman. "Now for the men! Oh, no! I'm not going to shoot them," he added, noting the look of horror on Bob's face. "I intend to capture them and handthem over to the law. You're lighter than I am, so you take my pony and ride for the boys. I'll stay here and keep track of those scoundrels. They won't be able to walk far."
Even as he spoke, Ford slipped from the saddle, and Bob taking his place dashed away for the other cowboys.
By good fortune, he found them at the end of their range nearest the scene of trouble, and no urging did they need to ride to their employer's assistance when they had heard Bob's story.
Divining the purpose of the boy's departure, the conspirators had separated and then sought to hide themselves in the long grass. But the ranchman had kept watch of their general direction, and as his boys rode up, ordered them to advance abreast toward the spot where the scoundrels had disappeared.
As they approached, Ford shouted:
"If you men will surrender, we won't hurt you! But if you fire so much as one shot, we'll kindle the prairie and roast you!"
For a moment after this terrible alternative was pronounced there was silence and the conspirators made no move. Then one by one they stood up, glowering with awful hatred at Bob.
"Hands up!" commanded Ford. "That's the way! Now, boys, take their guns and knives, then bind their hands behind their backs and each carryone behind you. We're going to take them to Red Top jail."
While his cowboys were obeying his instructions with no gentle hands, Ford mounted his horse, keeping Bob behind him.
After the troop was under way, the ranchman asked:
"What made you take such a chance for me, boy?"
"Because you were a friend of my father!" replied Bob simply.
"What?" exclaimed Ford, turning so suddenly that he almost unseated the boy.
"My name isn't Bob Nichols, Mr. Ford. It's Bob Chester!"
"Then I wasn't wrong! I wasn't wrong!" murmured the ranchman. And the next moment he was hugging Bob to his breast, sobbing over him and caressing him.
The sight of their stern, unemotional employer weeping like a woman over Bob astounded the cowboys, and eagerly they closed around him, though they were too impressed by the scene to speak.