"Why," sez d.i.c.k, "you ain't makin' two percent profit, an' I was just wonderin' what you stayed here for--if it wasn't for somethin' else beside the filthy looger."

Jabez, he jumps to his feet an' goes all through it again, tellin' all he has took in an' all he has paid out; while d.i.c.k kept attendin' to his pots an' pans the same as if he was stone deaf. Jabez rattled on an ended up with: "An' this here ranch has the best water an' the best range an' the best shelter of any ranch in the state. What do you think of that?"

"Why, I think it all the more reason why it should pay a business profit," drawls d.i.c.k. "Only last week I heard you complainin' somethin'

fierce because you had to put up for a new freight-wagon. The great trouble with you is that you don't have no system. You need a manager, a man who takes an interest in modern progress, a man who sees that the rest o' the men pay a profit. I don't mean a foreman, you got plenty o'

them. I mean a business man. You ain't no business man; you don't like it."

Well, Jabez was stupefied. He'd never had no wage-earner dump advice on him before, an' here was a tramp, as you might say, who started in by telling him that what he really needed was some one to run his business for him. He didn't fly up through. He just rose an' gave d.i.c.k a searchin' look, an' then he meandered up to the house; an' you could tell by the very droop of his shoulders that what he was doin' was thinkin'.

The upshot of it was that when Flappy was hauled out to the ranch the next week, an' as soon as he got so he could tell fire from water, d.i.c.k fitted up an office in the North wing; an' about fifteen minutes afterward we all felt the difference. From that on everything ran like a round-up. d.i.c.k didn't boss none, he just pointed out the best way, an' we did it. All those answers we had told him about calves an'

winter hay an' such-like had simply gone in one ear--an' stuck to the inside of his mental gearing. He discovered that Jabez had been stuck for further orders on most of his supplies, an' had allus managed to win the bottom price whenever it came his turn to make a sale.

Well, d.i.c.k was a perpetual surprise party. You could tell by the color of his skin that he was an indoor man; but he sat a hoss like a cow puncher, an' as soon as he got things runnin' to suit him on our place he got to makin' side trips to the other ranches. He would spend two hours talkin' about the weather; but at the end o' that time, he knew more about a man's outfit than the owner himself. Then he ordered out a lot of stock papers, an' the first thing we knew, we was askin' him questions about things 'at we'd allus supposed we savvied from tail to muzzle. He seemed to like me more'n the rest, an' chose me out to be his ridin' pal an' what he called an A. D. Kong, which was simply the French for messenger boy; but d.i.c.k never unloaded a lot of talk about himself. You wouldn't notice it, but he allus managed to have the other feller do most o' the talkin'.

When winter came he took a trainload o' cattle clear to Chicago an'

brought back twenty bulls--dandies! Big white-faced fellers with pool-table backs an' stocky legs, an' they sure made the other stuff look like the champion scrubs of creation. No one in our parts had ever seen such cattle, an' for the rest of the winter we helt a fair an'

booked enough orders for calves to make a man nervous. Jabez had gone along, an' it must have ganted him consid'able to heave out the wampum for that bunch; but you should have seen him swell up when folks got to talkin' about 'em. He was game though, an' gave d.i.c.k the credit. He thought d.i.c.k was the whole manuver by this time.

Barbie an' d.i.c.k had got over givin' antelope starts every time they met; but they wasn't what you would call friendly by a long ways. d.i.c.k had worn a rough lookin' beard when he first arrived; but afterward he had trimmed it to a point, an' it made him look some like a doctor. His ears were set tight to his head, an' he had a proud nose; but it was his hands an' his eyes that set him apart. His hands were fair size but white, an' they stayed white. They had a nervous way of fussin' around with things whenever he got to thinkin'; but after all, the thing that was the final call was his eyes. They were bright an' set in under heavy brows; but they never seemed tryin' to bend you, like some eyes do, they just seemed so completely sure of what they saw, an' they seemed to have seen so much beforehand, that a feller was tempted to stick to the truth in front of 'em--even when it wasn't altogether convenient. d.i.c.k was the first cold-blooded man I ever liked, an' he was sure cold-blooded at this period.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

HAPPY MAKES A DISCOVERY

Now dogs an' Barbie was allus exceedin' intimate. Dogs just doted on her, an she recipercated full measure; but she had one dog what was only a dog by what they call an act of courtesy. It must 'a' weighed fully two pounds, an' had bushy hair at that. It had a bark to it like one o' these intellectual dolls what can say Ma-maa, Ma-maa, but the critter was as proud o' this bark as though it shook all the buildin's on the place. The blame thing wasn't physically able to inflict much more damage than a mosquito, but it was full as bloodthirsty, an' it had took a keen disregard for Bill Andrews.

Bill Andrews was still the foreman, an' one day he was on his way to the office to make a report to d.i.c.k when this imitation dog came sailin' around the corner an' took a grab at his leg. He had a brand-new pair of pants on, an' they was outside his boots. You know how corduroy tears when the dye has been a bit too progressive. Well, the pup loosened up a piece like a section of pie. Bill Andrews lost his Christian fort.i.tude, give that toy m.u.f.f a kick that landed him fifteen feet--an' Barbie came around the corner, an' d.i.c.k came out of the office at the same time.

The poor little pup was a-layin' on his back yelpin' like a love-sick bob-cat; a white rage came over me an' I pulled out my gun; but before I could use it d.i.c.k had sailed into him without a word. Bill Andrews was too fl.u.s.tered to pull his own gun, so he put up his hands, but it didn't do no good. d.i.c.k caught him under the chin, an' the back of his head struck the ground several moments before his feet arrived. It was a beautiful blow; I never seen a neater. I don't reckon Barbie ever did either; 'cause as soon as she had gathered up the pup she walked up to d.i.c.k an' sez, "I want to thank you for this, an' to say that I am in your debt to the extent of any favor what's in my power." Course d.i.c.k was locoed the same as usual. His face looked like the settin' sun, an'

he couldn't pump out a word to save him. Them two found it mighty hard to overcome the first prejudice they'd felt again each other.

Bill Andrews he set up after a bit, with his hands on the ground, bracin' himself while he was tryin' to recall the history of the few precedin' moments. d.i.c.k looked down at him calmly an' said, "As soon as you have apologized to Miss Judson you may come into the office and we shall transact our business." Then he lifted his hat, whirled on his heel, an 'stalked inside like as if he was a colonel.

Bill Andrews was purty tol'able low-spirited; but he handed out as affectin' an excuse as he could dream up, and as soon as Barbie had spoke her piece he slouched into the office purty consid'able cargoed up with conflictin' emotions. I'd ruther shoot a man an' not kill him, than to be the cause of makin' him look ridiculous before a woman--that is, a revengeful sneak like what Bill Andrews was.

As soon as he an' d.i.c.k got through with their talk, an' it was a purty tol'able lengthy confab at that, Bill Andrews went to the boss an'

tendered in his resignation. Cast Steel accepted it mighty hearty, 'cause Barbie had just been callin' on him; an' that very mornin' d.i.c.k made Pete Hanson foreman.

Next night the office safe was opened an' fifteen hundred dollars was took. Every one thought right away of Bill Andrews, an' the ol' man sent us out in pairs to scour the country. The' wasn't much scourin' to be done, how-ever, 'cause we found Bill Andrews on the next ranch, an'

they was ready to swear 'at he hadn't left it all night. The' wasn't no one else that any one felt like suspectin'. Jabez wasn't the man to weep over upsettin' a can o' condensed, an' purty soon the theft was forgot an' everything was runnin' along as smooth as forty quarts o'

joint-oil.

The ol' man kept dependin' more an' more on d.i.c.k, until finally d.i.c.k got to signin' checks, orderin' all the supplies, an' takin' full charge; while Jabez spent most of his time taggin' around after Barbie.

They was like a couple o' young children; but Barbie wasn't quite so high-headed with d.i.c.k after the dog affair, an' they got to ridin'

together quite a bit themselves. Barbie was just as good friends with me as ever; but I could see--any one could see--that Jabez was willin'

to call d.i.c.k a son-in-law just the minute that Barbie was.

By the time he had been there a year d.i.c.k was the big head chief, an'

the ranch was boomin' along like a river steamboat. He allus got the best of everything in the way of supplies, an' every laddie-buck in the West knew of it; so 'at a Diamond Dot puncher didn't throw up his job just for exercise. The' was a swarm o' white-faced calves, an' about half of 'em wore other fellers' brands, which was a receipt for a lot of fancy money, so 'at Jabez was as well satisfied as the men; an' even Barbie had come to own up that d.i.c.k was the fittin'est man in those parts. I could read every thought in her head, an' it hurt me to think that at last I had dropped back to second fiddle; but I could see that d.i.c.k had had chances that I hadn't had, an'--an' I allus aim to play fair, so I took to ridin' alone an' workin' harder than I was used to.

She could strum a guitar till you'd be willin' to swear it was the heavenly harps of the Cel.u.s.tial Choir; an' she an' d.i.c.k used to loaf around in the moonlight makin' melody 'at was worth goin' a good long ways to hear. They sure made a tasty couple, an' all the boys used to like to see 'em together. In fact, the whole Diamond Dot was as match-makey as a quiltin' bee.

One moonlight night I'd been up to ol' Monody's grave, an' I came walkin' back about half-past nine. It was more'n twelve years since Ol'

Monody had pa.s.sed over, but it didn't seem that long. Just as I turned a corner; I heard a laugh that seemed to float to me from a long ways back in the past. It was Jim Jimison's laugh, an' as I came around the corner of the house there he stood with his back to me, talkin' to Barbie. "Well, for the Gee Whizz!" I cried. He turned, an' it was d.i.c.k.

We looked into each other's eyes a moment, an' then I forced a laugh an' went on to the stallion stable, where I sat down to puzzle it out.

It wasn't very long before d.i.c.k came to me an' held out his hand. I took it, an' we gave an old-time grip. "I was wonderin' how long it would be before you saw through me," he sez.

I got the moon in his face an' looked at him a long time. Of course a dozen years and the beard made a lot of difference, but not near all.

When I'd left him, he was only a boy, a boy all the way through,--looks, words, actions; while now he was a man an' a sizey one at that. It ain't years alone that make any such change. I knew in a minute that Jim had been through something that was mighty near too narrow to get through. "Well," sez I, "what's the story?"

"You put me on my feet, Happy," sez he, "an' after you left I just kept on goin'. I tended to my stuff, an' I improved it an' I took on new ranges, an' I made it go, I sure made it go. Then the Exporters Cattle Company got after me. My range was needed to fill a gap between two o'

their ranges, an' they tried to make me sell.

"I didn't want to sell, I was makin' money an' I was layin' it up; and I wasn't ready to stop workin' at my age, so I fought back. I didn't stand any show. There's a bunch o' these big companies that are all the same, under different names, an' they fought me on the ground an' on the railroads, an' at the stock yards; they tried to turn my men again me; they had my stuff run onto their range, an' then tried to prevent my gettin' it back. I didn't mind their open warfare; but their underhanded ways drove me wild. One o' their agents used to dog me around every time I'd go to town. He'd grin an' ask me if I wasn't ready to sell out YET. I finally closed out the cattle, an' started to raise only horses. One night my three thorough-bred stallions had their throats cut, an' then next time I went to town he came in when I was eatin' my supper, grinnin' as usual, an' asked me if I thought raisin'

hosses would pay.

"I knew what his game was an' tried my best to hold in, but I couldn't help tellin' him that I didn't suppose it would pay quite so well as hirin' out to murder hosses would. This was enough for him; he called me everything he could lay tongue to, and when I rose to my feet he pulled his gun. The other men in the room were beginnin' to sneer at me, but I knew the consequences, and started to leave. He grabbed me by the shoulder an' whirled me around. 'Git down on your knees,' he sez, 'an' 'pologize to me.'

"That was my limit. My cup was nearly full of coffee, an' I dashed the coffee in his face, hoping to get hold of his gun. But he jumped back an' fired. He missed me, an' I hit him in the center of the forehead with the coffee cup. It was big an' heavy, and it--killed him. This was just what the bunch wanted; but in spite of their precautions I got away, came north, and got into another business; but that didn't suit either; so here I am, with the worst gang in this country achin' to get track o' me."

"How long ago was this, Jim?" sez I.

"Call me d.i.c.k," sez he. "It was about four years ago now. I leased my land for more'n enough to pay taxes, but I suppose it will all blow up sometime, an' they'll get me in the end."

"I don't suppose the' 's any way to go back an' square it, is there?"

sez I.

"h.e.l.l, no!" he sez, bitter as death. "They own Texas."

"Haven't you any friends there who would swear it was self-defense?"

sez I.

"I've got plenty of friends there--that's how I got away; but they don't dare to fight that cattle crowd in the open," sez he.

"Looks purty bad," sez I.

"It's rotten bad!" sez he. "But this is business all right. Whenever I hear any one talk about the morals of business it drives me wild. The'

ain't any morals in business. The best it ever is, is straight gamblin'--I say the BEST it ever is, is straight gamblin'"--Jim's voice was gritty with wrath--"while at the worst," he went on, "it stoops to murder, wholesale and retail, it ruins homes, it manufactures thieves an' perjurers an'--"

"You remind me of a feller named Fergoson," sez I. "He said that at the best, business was stealin'."

"I like him," sez Jim, or I suppose I better say d.i.c.k. "I like him. You couldn't fool him with a lot o' pleasant names for things. He dealt in the spirit of a deed. I like him."

It wasn't much peculiar that I hadn't recognized the boy. As he talked, I could see the caged tiger glarin' out through his eyes, an' I knew that something wild would happen if the bars ever broke.