The Cow Puncher | Page 2

row of posts, and his right hand lay on the grip of his revolver.
Again his sharp yell broke the silence and the horse dashed forward as
though shot from a gun. Down the road they went until within a rod of
the first bottle; then there was a flash in the sunlight, and to the clatter
of the horse's hoofs came the crack-crack of the revolver. Two bottles
shivered to fragments, but four remained intact, and the boy rode back,
muttering and disappointed.
He reasoned with his horse as he rode. "'Taint no use, you ol' slop-eye;
a fellow can't get the bede if he ain't got the fillin'; cooked meals an'

decent chuck. I could plug 'em six out o' six--you know that, you ol'
flop-ears; don't you argue about it, neither--when I'm right inside my
belt I smash 'em six out o' six, but I ain't right, an' you know it. You
don't know nothin' about it; you never had a father, leastways, you
never had to be responsible for one. . . . Well, it's comin' to a finish--a
damn lame finish, you know that. You know--"
But he had reloaded his revolver and set up two more bottles. This time
he broke four, and was better pleased with himself. As he rode back his
soliloquy was broken by a strange sound from beyond the belt of trees.
The horse pricked up his ears, and the boy turned in the saddle to listen.
"Jumpin' crickets, what's loose?" he ejaculated. He knew every sound
of the foothill country, but this was strange to him. A kind of snort, a
sort of hiss; mechanical in its regularity, startling in its strangeness, it
came across the valley with the unbroken rhythm of a watch-tick.
"Well, I guess it won't eat us," he ventured at last. "We'll just run it
down and perhaps poke a hole in it." So saying, he cantered along the
road which skirted the spruce trees, crossed the little stream and swung
up the hill on the farther side.
He was half way up when a turn in the road brought him into sudden
sight of the strange visitor. It was the first he had seen, but he knew it at
once, for the fame of the automobile, then in its single-cylinder stage,
had already spread into the farthest ranching country. The horse was
less well informed. Whether or not in that moment he recognized the
great rival of his race must be left to some analyst of horse character,
but he bucked and kicked in rage and terror. But the boy was conscious
not so much of the horse as of two bright eyes turned on him in frank
and surprised admiration.
"What horsemanship!" she exclaimed, but the words had scarce left her
lips when they were followed by a cry of alarm. For the car had taken a
sudden turn from the road and plunged into a growth of young poplars
that fringed the hillside. The oldish man at the wheel gave it a violent
wrench, but left his motor in gear, and the car half slid, half plowed its
way into semi-vertical position among the young trees. The two

occupants were thrown from their seat; the girl fell clear, but her father
was less fortunate.
In an instant the boy had flung himself from his horse, dropping the
reins to the ground, and the animal, although snorting and shivering,
had no thought of disgracing his training by breaking his parole. With
quick, ungainly strides the boy brought himself to the upturned
machine. It was curious that he should appear to such disadvantage on
his feet. In the saddle he was grace personified.
For a moment he looked somewhat stupidly upon the wreck. Had it
been a horse or a steer he would have known the procedure, but this
experience was new to his life. Besides, there were strangers here. He
had no fear of strangers when they wore schaps and coloured
handkerchiefs, but a girl in a brown sweater and an oldish man with a
white collar were creatures to be approached with caution. The oldish
man was lying on the ground, with a leg pinned under the car, and
Brown Sweater raised his head against her knee and pressed his cheeks
with small white fingers and looked at the boy with bright grey eyes
and said, "Well, aren't you going to do anything?"
That brought him back. "Sure," he said, springing to her side. "Whada
ye' want me to do?"
"I am afraid my leg is broken," said the man, speaking calmly
notwithstanding his pain. "Can you get the jack out of the tool box and
raise the car?"
The girl pointed to the box, and in a moment he had the jack in