"Can't say," Dan told him. "If we have any luck--but there's no sense in guessin'."
"Yorky'll be tickled to death over this trip," Sudden remarked. "How'd he get on with his new mount this mornin'?" They had not had their usual jaunt.
"Well, he got on, an' off in quicker time," the foreman twinkled. "Shore, it's a good little hoss, no vice in him, just a mite fresh. The boy warn't hurt, 'cept in his feelin's mebbe, an' he comes up smilin'. `That's first t'row to you, partner,' he sez. `Let's roll 'em agin.' He climbs on, an' gits piled, which makes him scratch his head some. But he's game. `Third time lucky,' he grins, an' by cripes, it was; we seen daylight between him an' the saddle pretty offen, but he hung on, an' it was the hoss got tired first. When the fun was over, Slow asked which o' the names Yorky'd called the animile he was goin' to choose. 'I'm namin' him "Dancer"--he's so damn lively on his toes,' the kid sez."
Sudden laughed. "Yorky's all right; he's goin' to bring good luck to the Circle Dot, mark my words. Yu do well to take him with us, Dan."
In the morning Dover journeyed again to Rainbow, and to the youngster's extreme satisfaction, took Yorky with him. Arrived there, they separated, the rancher to deal with various business matters, and Yorky to do as he pleased. His first visit was to the post office, where he mailed a letter, with many furtive glances around to make sure he was not observed. Then he went to finish his "shoppin'." This actually meant displaying himself in all his glory to young Evans, who was now assisting his father in the store. Yorky hung about outside the place until he saw that the boy was alone, and then, hat pulled over his eyes, and regretful that he had not brought his rifle, he swaggered in.
"Got any feed for a Winchester forty-four?" he enquired, making his voice as gruff as he could.
"Yessir," the youth behind the counter replied, diving into a drawer.
Yorky choked down a chuckle; he was not recognized. Casually he examined the packet of cartridges, tossed down a bill, and received his change. The young salesman noticed that the customer did not appear to be wearing a pistol, and, anxious to do business, ventured to ask solicitously:
"C'd I int'rest you in a second-hand six-shooter, sir?" yorky squirmed with delight--this was better than his dreams. "Dunno as I care fer other folks' leavin's," he replied carelessly. "I'll take a peep at her."
The gun was reached from a shelf and the customer revolved the cylinder, cocked and pressed the trigger, tried the grin, and hefted the weapon as he had seen cowboys do when examining a new one.
"What yer askin'?"
"Twenty dollars--the price is on the ticket."--- Yorky was aware of the fact. "I'd say fifteen's a-plenty," he said disparagingly.
"I'll see if Dad will take that," the salesman replied, and disappeared into the rear of the shop.
Yorky looked disconcerted; he had been showing off, and much as he would have liked to possess the weapon, had nointention of buying it. He was seeking a means of backing out without loss of dignity when Dover came in, and brought an inspiration.
"Say, Boss, c'n you let me have an advance?" he asked anxiously. "I've offered fifteen bucks fer that gun an' I'm shy th' coin."
Dan picked up the six-shooter. "She's good an' cheap at the figure," he said. "Here's the necessary."
"Thanks a lot, Boss," Yorky replied with great relief. "I didn't want ter eat dirt afore this kid. He don't know me; ain't it a scream?"
The "kid" returned and, after a very respectful greeting to the owner of the Circle Dot, addressed his other customer: "I can accept yore offer, sir. Will you be needin' any cartridges?"
"Them I got will do--she's a forty-four, same as my rifle," Yorky said, and paid over the price. "Yer needn't to wrap her up, an' yer can't int'rest me no more, neither."
He thrust the gun under his belt, pushed his hat back, and stood rocking on his heels. Goggle-eyed, the beefy boy on the other side of the counter gawped at him, remembered and suffered. The ragged, sick little tramp he had fought and beaten--as he maintained--had now beaten him, by becoming what he would have given his ears to be--a cowboy. He could strut into the store, and he--Evans--would have to serve and be polite to him; only a lad could plumb the bitterness of this. His job, of which he had been so proud, became as dust and ashes in his mouth. And then, unable to bear those triumphant eyes any longer, he bolted.
"I guess that levels up some with him," Yorky said. "I'll be outside."
"The durn li'l monkey," Dover muttered. "Fancy him thinkin' up a game like that."
The store-keeper came in, and his orders given, the rancher rejoined the boy. A little way along the street they met Fox-well, who stopped, his beady eyes alight with malice.
"'Lo, Dover, gittin' ready to quit the Circle Dot," was his greeting.
Dan suppressed a start. "Any reason why I should?" he asked.
"Well, everybody knows yore of man was up to his neck in debt, an' it's said now that the bank won't give you no more rope," came the insolent answer.
"Lies," Dan replied airily. "Big, fat lies which no respectable representative o' the Law should be passin' on. Lemme see, Sheriff, how long have you managed to hold office?"
The officer's not too acute intellect missed the innuendo. "Goin' on four year," he said, even rather pridefully.
"Yeah, I remember; it was you who found the murdered man on the Cloudy trail--the man who had neither money nor papers on him, not even a letter addressed to someone else, huh?"
The sheriff's gaze shifted uneasily. "That's so; the fella what downed him took everythin'."
"I don't doubt it." Again the implication passed unobserved. "A month or two later you were elected by a small margin, one provided--so some folks said--by the Wagon-wheel outfit because you had done Trenton a considerable service."
"What are you drivin' at?" Foxwell cried, his face crimson.
"Lies, Sheriff, big, fat lies like I was tellin' you about," Dan retorted, and then, "God Almighty!"
They were standing a few yards from the Parlour Saloon. On the opposite sidewalk, Miss Trenton had apparently made up her mind to brave the terrors of the rutted and hoof-torn strip which was Rainbow's only thoroughfare; just past this point, the street took one of its uncertain turns. She was halfway across when, with a stertorous bellow, six wild steers, enveloped in a cloud of dust, charged down upon her. The girl saw the cruel branching horns, fierce eyes, and lolling tongues, and made a despairing effort to hurry. But this only led to disaster; her feet slipped in the powdery sand and she fell to her knees right in the path of the infuriated animals, behind whom now appeared a perspiring horseman, shouting and gesticulating.
Leaving the pop-eyed sheriff, Dover sprinted along the sidewalk, dragged out his revolver, and fired at the leader, a little in front of the herd. The brute hesitated, stumbled and went down, only a yard from where the girl lay. The fall of the foremost halted the others, but Dan knew it would be only momentary. Jumping into the road, he floundered to the spot, and raised the now senseless form. A man on foot has no terrors for range cattle, and the sight of him put them inmotion again. By a superhuman effort, he regained the sidewalk with his burden; a grazed arm and a ripped shirtsleeve from a slashing, needle-pointed horn was the only damage.
"Close work, boy," Bowdyr said. He had come out to see what the noise was about. "Bring her into my place."
"Ain't hurt, is she?" the sheriff enquired anxiously.
"I guess not." Dan replied. "If you wanta do Zeb another service, go an' ask that butcher's lout what he means by bringin' cows through the town an' drivin' 'em into a frenzy with his fool yellin'; must be mad or drunk." He caught the saloon-keeper's enigmatic expression, and added, "Might 'a' killed the pair of us." The sheriff went; he did not enjoy the company of Mister Dover in this mood.