Cow-Country | Page 7

answered. He heard someone
whom he recognized as Frank Davis, but by this time he was so angry
that he would not say a word, though he was tempted to ask Frank to
take him up on his horse and let him ride to camp. He heard others-and
once the beat of hoofs came quite close. But there was a wide streak of
Scotch stubbornness in Buddy--along with several other Scotch
streaks--and he continued his stumbling progress, dragging the snake
by the tail, his other hand holding fast the horned toad.
His heart jumped up and almost choked him when first saw the three
twinkles on the ground which knew were not stars but camp-fires.
Quite unexpectedly he trudged into the firelight where Step- and-a-Half
was stirring delectable things in the iron pots and stopping every
minute or so to stare anxiously into the gloom. Buddy stood blinking
and sniffing, his eyes fixed upon the Dutch ovens.
"I'm HUNGRY!" he announced accusingly, gripping the toad that had
begun to squirm at the heat and light. I kilt a snake an' I'm HUNGRY!"
"Good gorry!" swore Step-and-a-Half, and whipped out his six-shooter
and fired three shots into the air.
Footsteps came scurrying. Buddy's mother swept him into her arms,
laughing with a little whimpering sound of tears in the laughter. Buddy
wriggled protestingly in her arms.
"L'kout! Y' all SKUCSH 'im! I got a HAWN-toe; wight here." He
patted his chest gloatingly. "An' I got a snake. I kilt 'im. An' I'm
HUNGRY."
Mother of Buddy though she was, Lassie set him down hurriedly and
surveyed her man-child from a little distance.
"Buddy! Drop that snake instantly'"
Buddy obeyed, but he planted a foot close to his kill and pouted his lips.
"'S my snake. I kilt 'im," He said firmly. He pulled the horned toad
from his waist-front and held it tightly in his two hands. "An's my
hawn-toe. I ketche'd'm. 'Way ova dere," he added, tilting his tow head
toward the darkness behind him.
Bob Birnie rode up at a gallop, pulled up his horse in the edge of the
fire glow and dismounted hastily.
Bob Birnie never needed more than one glance to furnish him the
details of a scene. He saw the very small boy confronting his mother
with a dead snake, a horned toad and a stubborn set to his lips. He saw

that the mother looked rather helpless before the combination--and his
brown mustache hid a smile. He walked up and looked his first-born
over.
"Buddy," He demanded sternly, "where have you been?"
"Out dere. Kilt a snake. Ants was trailing a herd. I got a HAWN-toe.
An' I'm hungry!"
"You know better than to leave the wagon, young man. Didn't you
know we had to get out and hunt you, and mother was scared the
wolves might eat you? Didn't you hear us calling you? Why didn't you
answer?"
Buddy looked up from under his baby eyebrows at his father, who
seemed very tall and very terrible. But his bare foot touched the dead
snake and he took comfort. "I was comin'," he said. "I WASN'T los'. I
bringed my snake and my hawn-toe. An'
dey--WASN'T--any--woluffs!" The last word came muffled, buried in
his mother's skirts.

CHAPTER TWO
: THE TRAIL HERD
Day after day the trail herd plodded slowly to the north, following the
buffalo trails that would lead to water, and the crude map of one who
had taken a herd north and had returned with a tale of vast plains and
no rivals. Always through the day the dust cloud hung over the backs of
the cattle, settled into the clothes of those who followed, grimed the
pink aprons of Buddy and his small sister Dulcie so that they were no
longer pink. Whenever a stream was reached, mother searched patiently
for clear water and an untrampled bit of bank where she might do the
family washing, leaving Ezra to mind the children. But even so the
crust and the wear and tear of travel remained to harass her fastidious
soul.
Buddy remembered that drive as he could not remember the
comfortable ranch house of his earlier babyhood. To him afterward it
seemed that life began with the great herd of cattle. He came to know
just how low the sun must slide from the top of the sky before the
"point" would spread out with noses to the ground, pausing wherever a
mouthful of grass was to be found. When these leaders of the herd

stopped, the cattle would scatter and begin feeding. If there was water
they would crowd the banks of the stream or pool, pushing and
prodding one another with their great, sharp horns. Later, when the sun
was gone and dusk crept out of nowhere, the cowboys