Two Boys in Wyoming | Page 6

went up-stairs again to the room of Fred Greenwood, who hastily closed the door. The next instant they were hugging each other, and dancing about as if their senses had forsaken them; and indeed it may be said that for a brief while such was the fact.
"Fred," said the happy Jack, when there was a lull in the excitement, "we must fix upon a name for ourselves."
"I thought our parents attended to that a good many years ago."
"You know what I mean; we need some title that will distinguish us from all other young gentlemen of our acquaintance. How does 'W. R.' strike you?"
"'W. R.'? What does that mean?"
"The 'Wyoming Rangers;' that sounds rather high-toned."
Fred shook his head.
"We are not going West to reduce the aboriginal population; I hope we shall have no trouble with the red men. When we get among the people who have always lived there, such a title will make us ridiculous, for it smacks of conceit; it assumes too much."
"Suppose you suggest something?"
"Let's call ourselves the 'V. W. W.'; that surely will be appropriate."
"What do those letters mean?"
"The 'Verdant Wanderers of Wyoming;' that is precisely what we shall be."
Jack Dudley laughed, and at first protested, but finally agreed to accept the title as fitting and appropriate, and it was so ordered.
CHAPTER II.
RIDING NORTHWARD.
And so it came about that on a sharp, crisp day early in the month of October, two sturdy youths left the Union Pacific train at Fort Steele, which is situated in a broad depression between two divisions of the Wind River Mountains, themselves forming a part of the vast Rocky Mountain chain, which, under different names, stretches along the western portion of the two continents from the Arctic Ocean on the north to the extreme southern end of South America.
Like the sensible youths they were, Jack Dudley and Fred Greenwood had made the fullest preparation possible for the experience which was destined to prove tenfold more eventful than either anticipated. Mr. Dudley, in accordance with his promise, had presented each with a fine repeating Winchester rifle, an excellent revolver, an abundant supply of cartridges, and various knick-knacks which the hunter is sure to find are more in the nature of necessities than luxuries.
They had tough corduroy suits, a material which, as everyone knows, wears like leather, though it is unpopular in the West because of its unpleasant odor when wet. From the knees downward the lower part of the legs were protected by strong leathern leggings, and the shoes were made for wear rather than display. The coats were rather short and gathered at the waists by a belt, while beneath the garment it was intended to wear the cartridge-belt. The revolver rested in a sheath, instead of being thrust into a trouser's-pocket at the hip, while their hats suggested the sombrero pattern, so popular among cowboys and cattlemen. The brim was broad and stiff, so that it was not liable to bother their vision when the wind was blowing, and it could be depended upon to protect the eyes and face from the sun and rain. Their whole outfit, in short, was strong, comfortable and serviceable.
The two were generously furnished with money, while Mr. Dudley arranged with a banker at Laramie City to furnish the boys with whatever funds they might need through accident or robbery. They were going into a region where there were many lawless characters, and everything was done to provide against all possible contingencies.
Their extra clothing and articles were contained in a couple of valises, which were put off the train upon the lonely platform at Fort Steele. But while this marked the farthest distance they could travel by rail, a long ride still confronted them before reaching the ranch, which was almost half-way between the railroad and the Big Horn Mountains to the northeast. Several streams had to be crossed, the country in many places was rough, and there was no stage line to help them. All this, however, had been discounted before the boys left the city of Chicago, and what they encountered was only what was expected, and only that for which they were prepared.
Word having been sent in advance of their expected arrival, the first act of the youths was to look around for the man or men who were to meet and conduct them to the ranch. A few people were moving about the long, low platform, several in the uniform of United States infantry and cavalry, while a couple of Indians in blankets, untidy and sullen, surveyed them with scowls. Few passengers were in the habit of leaving the train at this point, so that some curiosity on the part of the loungers was natural. Perhaps the agent at the station suspected them of being runaways whose heads had been turned