suddenly.
"Get married pronto."
Jim whistled. "Heavens! I hope you haven't picked out a Western girl for me."
"Nope. But I'm hopin' you didn't leave no Eastern girl behind."
"Luckily I didn't, Uncle."
"Wal, that's somethin'. You won't find these Western girls special sweet on a tenderfoot. But you're not bad-lookin'. You shore have prospects, an' if you try you might win one of them."
"Whew! Uncle, that's a sticker. I'm afraid I'll have to jump the traces on that one."
"Jim, I'm onreasonable," said Traft, wistfully. "But I'd shore like to hear the laughter of children round this ranch-house before I die."
Chapter SIX
A week elapsed before the Diamond outfit came in from the range.
Jim made the most of that reprieve. He was up at dawn and did not go to bed till late. He went at Ring Locke like a youngster who could not swim in a swift current and was going to hold on or die. But Locke seemed only kind and aloof. He answered some questions; he never vouchsafed any range lore. Jim was sharp enough to find out, however, that Locke had a keen eye for him, and this gave him some grain of comfort.
Apparently his uncle never saw him unless he bumped right into him. Jim refused to take all or any of the wonderful horses that were his to own and ride. He rode or tried to ride all the mustangs and bronchos about the ranch. At first he kept account of the times he got thrown, but he gave this up. He certainly did know, however, that he had many bruises and sprains and bumps. Moreover, he grew so saddle-sore that it was agony for him to struggle up on a horse.
During this wait he learned every nook and cranny of the ranch, and there were a thousand acres and more, including the timber. He could not avoid coming into occasional contact with other of his uncle's cowboy outfits.
And these instances were painful to Jim.
He found also, on numerous trips into town, where it was impossible to keep from meeting people, that he was an object of very great interest to everybody, especially the girls and young women. Jim, remembering his uncle's wishes, and being far from a hater of the opposite sex, at the outset made himself most agreeable. Presently he confined himself merely to politeness. The interest he had observed did not extend as far as personal propinquity.
One morning he had returned from a disastrous determination to stick on the back of a mustang, and had again taken up a dirty job at the barn, when a farmhand approached him with a message: "Boss says the Diamond outfit is in waitin' fer you."
Jim let them wait awhile, until he got himself thoroughly dirty and tired and cross. Then he limped round to the bunkhouses. His uncle did not appear to be among the bunch of cowboys at the last house. No doubt he had beat a hasty retreat.
"I'll bet the old devil is snickering," muttered Jim.
He approached the young men, and before he got even close he saw they constituted a remarkable group. They had a singular similarity, and yet upon near scrutiny they were not at all alike.
"How do, boys!" he said, bluntly, as he halted before them. "So you're the Diamond outfit I'm to boss?... Well, I'm not a damn bit gladder to meet you than you are to meet me."
Most of them greeted him with a word or nod. Jim found that he had not exactly spoken the truth, for he certainly sustained thrills when he looked these cowboys over. There did not appear to be one as old as he was, nor, for that matter, as big, though several were as tall.
Lithe-bodied, long of limb and bow-legged, with small round hips and wide shoulders, lean and sharp of face, bronzed and sunburnt, with expressionless eyes like gimlets, they certainly belonged to a striking and unique class.
"Who was your last foreman?" asked Jim.
After quite a long silence one of them replied, "Jud Blue."
"Is he here with you now?"
"Reckon no one has noticed him."
"Where is he?"
"Wal, if he's where he ought to be he's in hell," came the laconic reply.
"How so?" flashed Jim.
"Jud was
"Get married pronto."
Jim whistled. "Heavens! I hope you haven't picked out a Western girl for me."
"Nope. But I'm hopin' you didn't leave no Eastern girl behind."
"Luckily I didn't, Uncle."
"Wal, that's somethin'. You won't find these Western girls special sweet on a tenderfoot. But you're not bad-lookin'. You shore have prospects, an' if you try you might win one of them."
"Whew! Uncle, that's a sticker. I'm afraid I'll have to jump the traces on that one."
"Jim, I'm onreasonable," said Traft, wistfully. "But I'd shore like to hear the laughter of children round this ranch-house before I die."
Chapter SIX
A week elapsed before the Diamond outfit came in from the range.
Jim made the most of that reprieve. He was up at dawn and did not go to bed till late. He went at Ring Locke like a youngster who could not swim in a swift current and was going to hold on or die. But Locke seemed only kind and aloof. He answered some questions; he never vouchsafed any range lore. Jim was sharp enough to find out, however, that Locke had a keen eye for him, and this gave him some grain of comfort.
Apparently his uncle never saw him unless he bumped right into him. Jim refused to take all or any of the wonderful horses that were his to own and ride. He rode or tried to ride all the mustangs and bronchos about the ranch. At first he kept account of the times he got thrown, but he gave this up. He certainly did know, however, that he had many bruises and sprains and bumps. Moreover, he grew so saddle-sore that it was agony for him to struggle up on a horse.
During this wait he learned every nook and cranny of the ranch, and there were a thousand acres and more, including the timber. He could not avoid coming into occasional contact with other of his uncle's cowboy outfits.
And these instances were painful to Jim.
He found also, on numerous trips into town, where it was impossible to keep from meeting people, that he was an object of very great interest to everybody, especially the girls and young women. Jim, remembering his uncle's wishes, and being far from a hater of the opposite sex, at the outset made himself most agreeable. Presently he confined himself merely to politeness. The interest he had observed did not extend as far as personal propinquity.
One morning he had returned from a disastrous determination to stick on the back of a mustang, and had again taken up a dirty job at the barn, when a farmhand approached him with a message: "Boss says the Diamond outfit is in waitin' fer you."
Jim let them wait awhile, until he got himself thoroughly dirty and tired and cross. Then he limped round to the bunkhouses. His uncle did not appear to be among the bunch of cowboys at the last house. No doubt he had beat a hasty retreat.
"I'll bet the old devil is snickering," muttered Jim.
He approached the young men, and before he got even close he saw they constituted a remarkable group. They had a singular similarity, and yet upon near scrutiny they were not at all alike.
"How do, boys!" he said, bluntly, as he halted before them. "So you're the Diamond outfit I'm to boss?... Well, I'm not a damn bit gladder to meet you than you are to meet me."
Most of them greeted him with a word or nod. Jim found that he had not exactly spoken the truth, for he certainly sustained thrills when he looked these cowboys over. There did not appear to be one as old as he was, nor, for that matter, as big, though several were as tall.
Lithe-bodied, long of limb and bow-legged, with small round hips and wide shoulders, lean and sharp of face, bronzed and sunburnt, with expressionless eyes like gimlets, they certainly belonged to a striking and unique class.
"Who was your last foreman?" asked Jim.
After quite a long silence one of them replied, "Jud Blue."
"Is he here with you now?"
"Reckon no one has noticed him."
"Where is he?"
"Wal, if he's where he ought to be he's in hell," came the laconic reply.
"How so?" flashed Jim.
"Jud was
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