Oh, You Tex! | Page 7

an athlete. He
was the champion boxer of the small town where he had gone to school.
Since he had returned to the West, he had put on flesh and muscle. But
he had dissipated a good deal too, and no man not in the pink of
condition had any right to stand up to tough Jack Roberts.
While the fight lasted, there was rapid action. Roberts hit harder and
cleaner, but the other was the better boxer. He lunged and sidestepped
cleverly, showing good foot-work and a nice judgment of distance. For
several minutes he peppered the line-rider with neat hits. Jack bored in
for more. He drove a straight left home and closed one of his
opponent's eyes. He smashed through the defense of his foe with a
power that would not be denied.
"Keep a-comin', Ford. You shore have got him goin' south,"
encouraged Gurley.
But the man he called Ford knew it was not true. His breath was
coming raggedly. His arms were heavy as though weighted with lead.
The science upon which he had prided himself was of no use against
this man of steel. Already his head was singing so that he saw hazily.
The finish came quickly. The cowboy saw his chance, feinted with his
left and sent a heavy body blow to the heart. The knees of the other
sagged. He sank down and did not try to rise again.
Presently his companions helped him to his feet. "He--he took me by
surprise," explained the beaten man with a faint attempt at bluster.
"I'll bet I did," assented Jack cheerfully. "An' I'm liable to surprise you
again if you call me a liar a second time."
"You've said about enough, my friend," snarled the man who had been
spoken to as Dinsmore. "You get away with this because the fight was
on the square, but don't push yore luck too far."
The three men passed out of the front door. Roberts turned to the

barkeeper.
"I reckon the heavy-set one is Pete Dinsmore. The cock-eyed guy must
be Steve Gurley. But who is the young fellow I had the mixup with?"
The man behind the bar gave information promptly. "He's Rutherford
Wadley--son of the man who signs yore pay-checks. Say, I heard Buck
Nelson needs a mule-skinner, in case you're lookin' for a job."
Jack felt a sudden sinking of the heart. He had as good as told the son
of his boss that he was a rustler, and on top of that he had given him a
first-class lacing. The air-castles he had been building came tumbling
down with a crash. He had already dreamed himself from a trail
foreman to the majordomo of the A T O ranch. Instead of which he was
a line-rider out of a job.
"Where can I find Nelson?" he asked with a grin that found no echo in
his heart. "Lead me to him."
CHAPTER IV
TEX GRANDSTANDS
Clint Wadley, massive and powerful, slouched back in his chair with
one leg thrown over an arm of it. He puffed at a corncob pipe, and
through the smoke watched narrowly with keen eyes from under heavy
grizzled brows a young man standing on the porch steps.
"So now you know what I expect, young fellow," he said brusquely.
"Take it or leave it; but if you take it, go through."
Arthur Ridley smiled. "Thanks, I'll take it."
The boy was not so much at ease as his manner suggested. He knew
that the owner of the A T O was an exacting master. The old cattleman
was game himself. Even now he would fight at the drop of the hat if
necessary. In the phrase which he had just used, he would "go through"
anything he undertook. Men who had bucked blizzards with him in the

old days admitted that Clint would do to take along. But Ridley's awe
of him was due less to his roughness and to the big place he filled in the
life of the Panhandle than to the fact that he was the father of his
daughter. It was essential to Arthur's plans that he stand well with the
old-timer.
Though he did not happen to know it, young Ridley was a favorite of
the cattle king. He had been wished on him by an old friend, but there
was something friendly and genial about the boy that won a place for
him. His smile was modest and disarming, and his frank face was better
than any letter of recommendation.
But though Wadley was prepared to like him, his mind held its
reservations. The boy had come from the East, and the standards of that
section are not those of the West. The East asks of a man good family,
pleasant manners,