Overland Red. Henry Herbert Knibbs

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СКАЧАТЬ nutty, Collie. She ain't the kind to sneak off after sayin' she's comin' back. I know a hoss and a real woman when I see 'em. I was raised in the West, myself."

      The boy Collie was young, sensitive, and he had not been "raised in the West." He frowned. "Yes, you was raised in the West, and what you got to show for it?"

      "Well, hear the kid!" exclaimed Overland. "Out of the mouth of babes and saplings! What have I got to show? What have I—! Wha—? Oh, you go chase a snake! I know a good hoss and a good woman when I see 'em, and I seen both together this morning."

      "But what do she want with us bos?" asked the boy.

      "S-s-h-h! Why, she's interested in me romantic past, of course. Ain't I the 'cute little gopher when it comes to the ladies? Fan me, Collie, and slow music and a beer for one. I'm some lady's-man, sister!"

      "You're a bo, the same as me," said the boy.

      "S-s-h-h! For the love of Pete, don't you handle that word 'bo' so careless. It's loaded. It has a jarrin' effect on ears unattenuated—er—meanin' ears that ain't keyed up to it, as the pote says. She's comin' back. Fold your napkin. Don't look so blame hungry! Ain't you got any style?"

      "She's the prettiest girl I ever seen," said the boy, hastily swallowing his share of the hot, insipid coffee.

      "Pretty?" whispered Overland, as Louise approached. "She's thoroughbred. Did you see them eyes? Afraid of nothin', and smilin' at what might dast to scare her. Not foolish, either. She's wise. And she's kind and laughin', and not ashamed to talk to us. That's thoroughbred."

      Round the rock came Louise, the neat package of sandwiches in one hand. In the other was the tobacco and cigarette-papers. "I'm going to have my luncheon," she said. "If you won't object, I'll take a sandwich. There, I have mine. The rest are for you."

      "We had our breakfast," said Overland quickly, "when you was talkin' to your pony."

      Louise glanced at the empty tomato-can. "Well, I'll excuse you for not waiting for me, but I shall not excuse you from having luncheon with me. I made these sandwiches myself. Have one. They're really good."

      "Oh!" groaned Overland, grimacing. "If I could curry up my language smooth, like that, I—I guess I'd get deaf listenin' to myself talk. You said that speech like takin' two turns round the bandstand tryin' to catch yourself, and then climbin' a post and steppin' on your own shoulders so you could see the parade down the street. Do you get that?" And he sighed heavily. "Say! These here sandwiches is great!"

      "Will you have one?" asked Louise, gracefully proffering the olives.

      "Seein' it's you. Thanks. I always take two. The second one for a chaser to kill the taste of the first. It's the only way to eat 'em—if you know where to stop. They do taste like somethin' you done and are sorry for afterwards, don't they?"

      "Were you ever sorry for anything?" asked the boy, feeling a little piqued that he had been left out of the conversation.

      "I was raised in the West, myself," growled the tramp, scowling. "But that's a good pony you got, Miss. That your saddle too?"

      "Yes."

      "You rope any?"

      "A little. How did you know?"

      "Rawhide cover to the saddle-horn is wore with a rope," said Overland, helping himself to a second sandwich.

      Then the tramp and the girl, oblivious to everything else, discussed rawhide riatas as compared with the regular three-strand stock rope, or lariat—center-fire, three quarter, and double rigs, swell forks and old Visalia trees, spade bits and "U" curbs—neither willing, even lightly, to admit the other's superiority of chosen rig.

      The boy Collie listened intently and a trifle jealously. Overland Red and the girl had found a common ground of interest that excluded him utterly. The boy itched for an excuse to make the girl speak to him, even look at him.

      The sandwiches gone, Louise proffered Overland tobacco and papers. Actual tears stood in the ex-cowboy's eyes. "Smoke! Me?" he exclaimed. "I was dyin' for it. I'd do time for you!"

      Then in that boyish spirit that never quite leaves the range-rider, Overland Red took the tobacco and papers and cleverly rolled a cigarette with one hand. In the other he held his battered felt hat. His eyes had a far-away look as he reached forward and lighted his cigarette at the fire. "I was settin' on a crazy bronc', holdin' his head up so he couldn't go to buckin'—outside a little old adobe down in Yuma, Arizona, then," he explained, glancing at the girl. "Did you ever drift away complete, like that, jest from some little old trick to make you dream?"

CHAPTER IV

       Table of Contents

"ANY ROAD, AT ANY TIME, FOR ANYWHERE"

       Table of Contents

      The boy Collie took the empty tomato-can and went for water with which to put out the fire.

      Louise and Overland Red gazed silently at the youthful figure crossing the meadow. The same thought was in both their hearts—that the boy's chance in life was still ahead of him. Something of this was in the girl's level gray eyes as she asked, "Why did you come up here, so far from the town and the railroad?"

      "We generally don't," replied Overland Red. "We ain't broke. Collie's got some money. We got out of grub from comin' up here. We come up to see the scenery. I ain't kiddin'; we sure did! 'Course, speakin' in general, a free lunch looks better to me any day than the Yosemite—but that's because I need the lunch. You got to be fed up to it to enjoy scenery. Now, on the road we're lookin' at lots of it every day, but we ain't seein' much. But give me a good feed and turn me loose in the Big Show Pasture where the Bridal Veil is weepin' jealous of the Cathedral Spires, and the Big Trees is too big to be jealous of anything, where Adam would 'a' felt old the day he was born—jest take off my hobbles and turn me out to graze there, and feed, and say, lady, I scorn the idea of doin' anything but decomposin' my feelin's and smokin' and writin' po'try. I been there! There's where I writ the song called 'Beat It, Bo.' Mebby you heard of it."

      "No, I should like to hear it."

      The fire steamed and spluttered as Collie extinguished it. Overland Red handed the tobacco and papers to him.

      "About comin' up this here trail?" he resumed as the boy stretched beside them on the warm earth. "Well, Miss, it was four years ago that I picked up Collie here at Albuquerque. His pa died sudden and left the kid to find out what a hard map this ole world is. We been across, from Frisco to New York, twice since then, and from Seattle to San Diego on the side, and 'most everywhere in California, it bein' my native State and the best of the lot. You see, Collie, he's gettin' what you might call a liberated education, full of big ideas—no dinky stuff. Yes, I picked him up at Albuquerque, a half-starved, skinny little cuss that was cryin' and beggin' me to get him out of there."

      "Albuquerque?" queried Louise.

      "Uhuh. Later, comin' acrost the Mojave, we got thrun off a freight by mistake for a couple of sewin'-machines that we СКАЧАТЬ