The Boy from the Ranch | Page 3

part of the herd
entrusted to the Indian, into compact form. Then he came back to his
companion, who was riding along as if he had nothing more to think
about than keeping his cigarette lighted.
"Hu! Heap smart boy!" grunted Low Bull. "Know how make steers
travel."
"I should think you would know how to do it too," said Roy. "You've
always lived on the plains."
"Too much work. Indian no like work. Like sit an' think, an' smoke. No
like work."
"Everybody's got to work in this world, Low Bull."
"Rich man no work. Me like be rich man."
"But the man sure had to work hard to get rich. I s'pose rich men feel
that they can take life easy after they have earned a fortune."
"Indian no like work. Drive cattle too hard. Me quit soon," was all Low
Bull replied.
"Yes, and if you don't quit I think Billy will make you vamoose
anyhow," murmured Roy.

Low Bull rolled another cigarette, and seemed to go to sleep under the
influence of it. Roy had to race off after a couple of straying steers, and
had no further time for talking. When he had brought the cattle back, a
long, shrill cry echoed over the plain. At the sound of it Low Bull
seemed to wake up.
"Billy make camp now," he said. "Soon supper--eat--Low Bull
hungry."
It was the signal for making camp, and, finding themselves no longer
urged forward, the steers stopped, and began to crop the rich grass.
The cowboys, of whom there were several, with joyful shouts, came
riding up to the cook wagon, which had been pulled along in the rear,
but which now came to a halt on the broad, rolling plain. "Smoke"
Tardell started a fire from grease-wood, and began to prepare the
evening meal.
"Set out plenty of grub, Smoke," called one of the cowboys, riding
close up to Tardell, and playfully snatching his big sombrero off.
"Here! You let that be, Bruce Arkdell!" exclaimed the cook. "That's my
new hat, an' I don't want it spoiled!"
"Give me an extra plate of beans, or I'll shoot a hole in it!" threatened
the cowboy, drawing hit heavy revolver, and aiming it at the hat, which
he held in one hand.
"All right. You can have three platesful, but don't you spoil my hat!"
cried the cook, as he received back his sombrero. "I never see such
crazy chaps as them boys be when they're headed for the ranch,"
muttered "Smoke," as he set the coffee pot over the fire.
It did not take long to prepare the meal, and the cowboys crowded
around the "grub wagon" as they called it. Low Bull was among them,
his eyes greedy for food.
"Here, Low Bull," exclaimed Billy Carew, "you go out and ride around

them steers awhile. They ain't quieted down yet, and I don't want no
stampede now. Ride around 'em, and make 'em feel easy."
"After supper," said the Indian.
"No, now!" insisted the foreman.
"Low Bull hungry. Like eat."
"Low Bull is going to stay hungry then, until some of the others have
piled in their grub," declared Billy. "I'll send somebody out to take your
place, as soon as they've eaten. Now vamoose!"
"Low Bull like eat."
"Yes, I know. Low Bull like eat, but no like work. That's what's the
matter with Low Bull," exclaimed Billy with a laugh. "Now git."
The Indian knew there was no use disputing this decision, so, with no
very good grace, he started to ride slowly around the cattle, to keep
them from moving off in a body.
"I'll go out and relieve him in a little while," offered Roy. "I'll soon be
through supper."
"You take your time now, son," advised Billy. "It won't hurt that
redskin to go hungry a while. Maybe he'll be a little sprier after this."
Supper was soon served, and when Roy had eaten his share he prepared
to go out, and relieve Low Bull. He threw the saddle over his pony's
back, and, having tightened the girths, was about to vault into place,
when he and the other cowboys became aware that some one was
riding in great haste toward the temporary camp.
"Somebody's coming," remarked Bruce Arkdell.
"Don't you s'pose we know it," said Billy good naturedly. "We've got
our sight yet."

"Yes, and it's Porter Simms, from the way he gallops," added the cook,
shading his eyes from the setting sun, and peering across the prairies at
the riding man.
"'Tis Porter," confirmed Billy. "Wonder what he wants? Hope nothing's
happened."
Somehow the words sent a slight feeling of fear to Roy's heart. The
man might have bad news for some one in camp.
"Is Roy here?" cried Porter, as soon as he