The Flying U Ranch | Page 6

left to Miguel the barren triumph of the last word.
He did not gain in popularity as the days passed. They tilted noses at
his beautiful riding gear, and would have died rather than speak of it in
his presence. They never gossiped with him of horses or men or the
lands he knew. They were ready to snub him at a moment's notice--and
it did not lessen their dislike of him that he failed to yield them an
opportunity. It is to be hoped that he found his thoughts sufficient
entertainment, since he was left to them as much as is humanly possible
when half a dozen men eat and sleep and work together. It annoyed
them exceedingly that Miguel did not seem to know that they held him
at a distance; they objected to his manner of smoking cigarettes and
staring off at the skyline as if he were alone and content with his
dreams. When he did talk they listened with an air of weary tolerance.
When he did not talk they ignored his presence, and when he was

absent they criticized him mercilessly.
They let him ride unwarned into an adobe patch one day--at least, Big
Medicine, Pink, Cal Emmett and Irish did, for they were with him--and
laughed surreptitiously together while he wallowed there and came out
afoot, his horse floundering behind him, mud to the ears, both of them.
"Pretty soft going, along there, ain't it?" Pink commiserated deceitfully.
"It is, kinda," Miguel responded evenly, scraping the adobe off Banjo
with a flat rock. And the subject was closed.
"Well, it's some relief to the eyes to have the shine taken off him,
anyway," Pink observed a little guiltily afterward.
"I betche he ain't goin' to forget that, though," Happy Jack warned
when he saw the caked mud on Miguel's Angora chaps and silver spurs,
and the condition of his saddle. "Yuh better watch out and not turn your
backs on him in the dark, none uh you guys. I betche he packs a knife.
Them kind always does."
"Haw-haw-haw!" bellowed Big Medicine uproariously. "I'd love to see
him git out an' try to use it, by cripes!"
"I wish Andy was here," Pink sighed. "Andy'd take the starch outa him,
all right."
"Wouldn't he be pickings for old Andy, though? Gee!" Cal looked
around at them, with his wide, baby-blue eyes, and laughed. "Let's
kinda jolly him along, boys, till Andy gets back. It sure would be great
to watch 'em. I'll bet he can jar the eternal calm outa that Native Son.
That's what grinds me worse than his throwin' on so much dog; he's so
blamed satisfied with himself! You snub him, and he looks at yuh as if
you was his hired man-- and then forgets all about yuh. He come outa
that 'doby like he'd been swimmin' a river on a bet, and had made good
and was a hee-ro right before the ladies. Kinda 'Oh, that's nothing to
what I could do if it was worth while,' way he had with him."

"It wouldn't matter so much if he wasn't all front," Pink complained.
"You'll notice that's always the way, though. The fellow all fussed up
with silver and braided leather can't get out and do anything. I
remember up on Milk river--" Pink trailed off into absorbing
reminiscence, which, however, is too lengthy to repeat here.
"Say, Mig-u-ell's down at the stable, sweatin from every pore trying to
get his saddle clean, by golly!" Slim reported cheerfully, just as Pink
was relighting the cigarette which had gone out during the big scene of
his story. "He was cussin' in Spanish, when I walked up to him--but he
shut up when he seen me and got that peaceful look uh hisn on his face.
I wonder, by golly--"
"Oh, shut up and go awn," Irish commanded bluntly, and looked at
Pink. "Did he call it off, then? Or did you have to wade in--"
"Naw; he was like this here Native Son--all front. He could look
sudden death, all right; he had black eyes like Mig-u-ell-- but all a
fellow had to do was go after him, and he'd back up so blamed quick--"
Slim listened that far, saw that he had interrupted a tale evidently more
interesting than anything he could say, and went off, muttering to
himself.
CHAPTER II.
"When Greek Meets Greek"
The next morning, which was Sunday, the machinations of Big
Medicine took Pink down to the creek behind the bunk-house. "What's
hurtin' yuh?" he asked curiously, when he came to where Big Medicine
stood in the fringe of willows, choking between his spasms of mirth.
"Haw-haw-haw!" roared Big Medicine; and, seizing Pink's arm in a
gorilla-like grip, he pointed down the bank.
Miguel, seated upon