Sometimes there might be ten men at a camp, and only two on the pay-roll. These extra men were called “chuck-line riders.” Probably eight months in the year they all had employment. At many camps they were welcome, as they would turn to and help do anything that was wanted done.
After a hard freeze it would be necessary to cut the ice, so that the cattle could water. A reasonable number of guests were no drawback at a time like this, as the chuck-line men would be the most active in opening the ice with axes. The cattle belonging to those who kept open house never got so far away that some one didn’t recognize the brand and turn them back towards their own pasture. It was possible to cast bread upon the waters, even on the range.
The new order of things was received with many protests. Late in the fall three worthies of the range formed a combine, and laid careful plans of action, in case they should get let out of a winter’s job.
“I’ve been on the range a good while,” said Baugh, the leader of this trio, “but hereafter I’ll not ride my horses down, turning back the brand of any hidebound cattle company.”
“That won’t save you from getting hit with a cheque for your time when the snow begins to drift,” commented Stubb.
“When we make our grand tour of the State this winter,” remarked Arab Ab, “we’ll get that cheque of Baugh’s cashed, together with our own.
One thing sure, we won’t fret about it; still we might think that riding a chuck-line would beat footing it in a granger country, broke.”
“Oh, we won’t go broke,” said Baugh, who was the leader in the idea that they would go to Kansas for the winter, and come back in the spring when men are wanted.
So when the beef season had ended, the calves had all been branded up and everything made snug for the winter, the foreman said to the boys at breakfast one morning, “Well, lads, I’ve kept you on the pay-roll as long as there has been anything to do, but this morning I’ll have to give you your time. These recent orders of mine are sweeping, for they cut me down to one man, and we are to do our own cooking. I’m sorry that any of you that care to can’t spend the winter with us.
It’s there that my orders are very distasteful to me, for I know what it is to ride a chuck-line myself. You all know that it’s no waste of affection by this company that keeps even two of us on the pay-roll.”
While the foreman was looking up accounts and making out the time of each, Baugh asked him, “When is the wagon going in after the winter’s supplies?”
“In a day or two,” answered the foreman. “Why?”
“Why, Stubby, Arab, and myself want to leave our saddles and private horses here with you until spring. We’re going up in the State for the winter, and will wait and go in with the wagon.”
“That will be all right,” said the foreman. “You’ll find things right side up when you come after them, and a job if I can give it to you.”
“Don’t you think it’s poor policy,” asked Stubb of the foreman, as the latter handed him his time, “to refuse the men a roof and the bite they eat in winter?”
“You may ask that question at headquarters, when you get your time cheque cashed. I’ve learned not to think contrary to my employers; not in the mouth of winter, anyhow.”
“Oh, we don’t care,” said Baugh; “we’re going to take in the State for a change of scenery. We’ll have a good time and plenty of fun on the side.”
The first snow-squall of the season came that night, and the wagon could not go in for several days. When the weather moderated the three bade the foreman a hearty good-by and boarded the wagon for town, forty miles away. This little village was a supply point for the range country to the south, and lacked that diversity of entertainment that the trio desired. So to a larger town westward, a county seat, they hastened by rail. This hamlet they took in by sections. There were the games running to suit their tastes, the variety theatre with its painted girls, and handbills announced that on the 24th of December and Christmas Day there would be horse races. To do justice to all this melted their money fast.
Their gay round of pleasure had no check until the last day of the races. Heretofore they had held their own in the games, and the first day of the races they had even picked several winners. But grief was in store for Baugh the leader, Baugh the brains of the trio. He had named the winners so easily the day before, that now his confidence knew no bounds. His opinion was supreme on a running horse, though he cautioned the others not to risk their judgment—in fact, they had better follow him. “I’m going to back that sorrel gelding, that won yesterday in the free-for-all to-day,” said he to Stubb and Arab, “and if you boys go in with me, we’ll make a killing.”
“You can lose your money on a horse race too quick to suit me,”
replied Stubb. “I prefer to stick to poker; but you go ahead and win all you can, for spring is a long ways off yet.”
“My observation of you as a poker player, my dear Stubby, is that you generally play the first hand to win and all the rest to get even.”
They used up considerable time scoring for the free-for-all running race Christmas Day, during which delay Baugh not only got all his money bet, but his watch and a new overcoat. The race went off with the usual dash, when there were no more bets in sight; and when it ended Baugh buttoned up the top button of his coat, pulled his hat down over his eyes, and walked back from the race track in a meditative state of mind, to meet Stubb and Arab Ab.
“When I gamble and lose I never howl,” said Baugh to his friends, “but I do love a run for my money, though I didn’t have any more chance to-day than a rabbit. I’ll take my hat off to the man that got it, however, and charge it up to my tuition account.”
“You big chump, you! if you hadn’t bet your overcoat it wouldn’t be so bad. What possessed you to bet it?” asked Stubb, half reprovingly.
“Oh, hell, I’ll not need it. It’s not going to be a very cold winter, nohow,” replied Baugh, as he threw up one eye toward the warm sun.
“We need exercise. Let’s walk back to town. Now, this is a little unexpected, but what have I got you boy’s for, if you can’t help a friend in trouble. There’s one good thing—I’ve got my board paid three weeks in advance; paid it this morning out of yesterday’s winnings. Lucky, ain’t I?”
“Yes, you’re powerful lucky. You’re alive, ain’t you?” said Stubb, rubbing salt into his wounds.
“Now, my dear Stubby, don’t get gay with the leading lady; you may get in a bad box some day and need me.”
This turn of affairs was looked upon by Stubb and Arab as quite a joke on their leader. But it was no warning to them, and they continued to play their favorite games, Stubb at poker, while Arab gave his attention to monte. Things ran along for a few weeks in this manner, Baugh never wanting for a dollar or the necessary liquids that cheer the despondent. Finally they were forced to take an inventory of their cash and similar assets. The result was suggestive that they would have to return to the chuck-line, or unearth some other resource. The condition of their finances lacked little of the red-ink line.
Baugh, who had been silent during this pow-wow, finally said, “My board will have to be provided for in a few days, but I have an idea, struck it to-day, and if she works, we’ll pull through to grass like four time winners.”
“What is it?” asked the other two, in a chorus.
“There’s a little German on a back street here, who owns a bar-room with a hotel attached. He has a mania to run for office; in fact, there’s several candidates announced already. Now, the convention don’t meet until May, which is in our favor. If my game succeeds, we will be back at work before that time. That will let us out easy.”