The Happy Family | Page 9

of Andy
Green had gone afar.)
"All right. Just as you say, and not as I care a darn," Andy retorted, and
went back to where his own mount stood tail to the wind. He did not in
the least mind the rebuff; he really felt all the indifference his manner
portrayed--perhaps even more. He had offered help where help was
needed, and that ended it for him. It never occurred to him that Blink
might feel jealous over Andy's hard-earned reputation as a "tamer of
wild ones," or mistake his good nature for patronage.
Five minutes later, when Chip looked around comprehensively at the
lot of them in various degrees of readiness; saw that Blink was still
fighting silently for mastery of the sorrel and told Andy to go over and
help him get saddled, Andy said nothing of having had his services
refused, but went. This time, Blink also said nothing, but accepted in
ungracious surrender the assistance thus thrust upon him. For on the
range-land, unless one is in a mind to roll his bed and ride away, one
does not question when the leader commands. Andy's attitude was still
that of indifference; he really thought very little about Blink or his
opinions, and the rapid blinking of the pale lashes was quite lost upon
him.
They rode, eighteen ill-natured, uncomfortable cowboys, tumultuously
away from the camp, where canvas bulged and swayed, and loose
corners cracked like pistol shots, over the hill where even the short,
prairie grass crouched and flattened itself against the sod; where stray
pebbles, loosened by the ungentle tread of pitching hoofs, skidded
twice as far as in calm weather. The gray sky bent threateningly above
them, wind-torn into flying scud but never showing a hint of blue. Later

there might be rain, sleet, snow--or sunshine, as nature might
whimsically direct; but for the present she seemed content with only
the chill wind that blew the very heart out of a man.
Whenever Chip pulled up to turn off a couple of riders that they might
search a bit of rough country, his voice was sharp with the general
discomfort. When men rode away at his command, it was with brows
drawn together and vengeful heels digging the short-ribs of horses in
quite as unlovely a mood as themselves.
Out at the end of the "circle," Chip divided the remainder of his men
into two groups for the homeward drive. One group he himself led. The
other owned Weary as temporary commander and galloped off to the
left, skirting close to the foothills of the Bear Paws. In that group rode
Pink and Happy Jack, Slim, Andy Green and Blink the silent.
"I betche we get a blizzard out uh this," gloomed Happy Jack, pulling
his coat collar up another fraction of an inch. "And the way Chip's
headed us, we got to cross that big flat going back in the thick of it;
chances is, we'll git lost."
No one made reply to this; it seemed scarcely worth while. Every man
of them rode humped away from the wind, his head drawn down as
close to his shoulders as might be. Conversation under those conditions
was not likely to become brisk.
"A fellow that'll punch cows for a living," Happy Jack asserted
venomously after a minute, "had ought to be shut up somewheres. He
sure ain't responsible. I betche next summer don't see me at it."
"Aw, shut up. We know you're feeble-minded, without you blatting it
by the hour," snapped Pink, showing never a dimple.
Happy Jack tugged again at his collar and made remarks, to which no
one paid the slightest attention. They rode in amongst the hills and
narrow ridges dividing "draws" as narrow, where range cattle would
seek shelter from the cutting blast that raked the open. Then, just as
they began to realize that the wind was not quite such a raging torment,
came a new phase of nature's unpleasant humor.
It was not a blizzard that descended upon them, though when it came
rolling down from the hilltops it much resembled one. The wind had
changed and brought fog, cold, suffocating, impenetrable. Yet such was
the mood of them that no one said anything about it. Weary had been
about to turn off a couple of men, but did not. What was the use, since

they could not see twenty yards?
For a time they rode aimlessly, Weary in the lead. Then, when it grew
no better but worse, he pulled up, just where a high bank shut off the
wind and a tangle of brush barred the way in front.
"We may as well camp right here till things loosen up a little," he said.
"There's no use playing blind-man's-buff any longer. We'll have some
fire, for