The Ridin' Kid from Powder River Part 67

"Nothin' this time, Miss Bailey. I--I done tore a book--and jest want to fix it."

When Bill returned to the bunk-house with the "sticking-plaster," Pete and Andy both said they were sorry for the occurrence, but Bill was mighty suspicious of their sincerity. They were silent while Bill laboriously patched up the book and settled himself to take up the reins where he had dropped them. The heroine had just taken her seat beside the driver--when-- "It's a darned shame!" said a voice, Pete's voice.

"It sure is--and Bill jest learnin' to read. He might 'a' spelled out a whole page afore mornin'."

"I wa'n't meanin' Bill," a.s.serted Pete.

"Oh, you won't bother Bill none. He can't hear you. His off ear is full of mud. Go on and say anything you like about him."

Bill slowly laid down his book, stepped to his bunk, and drew his six-shooter from its holster. He marched back to the table and laid the gun quite handy to him, and resumed his chair.

Bill Haskins was long-suffering--but both Andy and Pete realized that it was high time to turn their bright particular talents in some other direction. So they undressed and turned in. They had been asleep an hour or two before Bill closed his book regretfully, picked up his gun, and walked to his bunk. He stood for a moment gazing at Andy, and then turned to gaze at Pete. Then he shook his head--and a slow smile lighted his weathered face. For despite defunct mountain lions, bent nails, and other sundries, Bill Haskins liked Andy and Pete--and he knew if it came to a test of friends.h.i.+p that either of them would stand by him to the last dollar, or the last shot even, as he would have gladly done to help them.

CHAPTER XLVI

THE RIDIN' KID FROM POWDER RIVER

The first thing Pete did when he arrived in Tucson was to purchase a suit as near like that which he had seen Andover wear as possible.

Pete's Stetson was discarded for a soft felt of ordinary dimensions.

He bought shoes, socks, and some underwear, which the storekeeper a.s.sured him was the latest thing, but which Pete said "looked more like chicken-wire than honest-to-Gosh cloth," and fortified by his new and inconspicuous apparel, he called on the princ.i.p.al of the high school and told him just why he had come to Tucson. "And I'd sure look queer settin' in with all the kids," Pete concluded. "If there's any way of my ketchin' up to my size, why, I reckon I kin pay."

The princ.i.p.al thought it might be arranged. For instance, he would be glad to give Pete--he said Mr. Annersley--an introduction to an instructor, a young Eastern scholar, who could possibly spare three or four evenings a week for private lessons. Progress would depend entirely upon Pete's efforts. Many young men had studied that way--some of them even without instruction. Henry Clay, for instance, and Lincoln. And was Mr. Annersley thinking of continuing with his studies and entering college, or did he merely wish to become conversant with the fundamentals?

"If I kin git so I can throw and hog-tie some of them fundamentals without losin' my rope, I reckon I'll be doin' all I set out to do.

No--I guess I'd never make a top-hand, ridin' for you. But my rope is tied to the horn--and I sure aim to stay with whatever I git my loop on."

"I get your drift--and I admire your purpose. Incidentally and speaking from a distinctly impersonal--er--viewpoint" (no doubt a high-school princ.i.p.al may speak from a viewpoint, or even sit on one if he cares to), "your colloquialisms are delightful--and sufficiently forceful to leave no doubt as to your sincerity of purpose."

"Meanin' you sabe what I'm gittin' at, eh?"

The princ.i.p.al nodded and smiled.

"I thought that was what you was tryin' to say. Well, professor--"

"Dr. Wheeler, if you please."

"All right, Doc. But I didn't know you was a doc too."

"Doctor of letters, merely."

Pete suspected that he was being joked with, but the princ.i.p.al's manner was quite serious. "If you will give me your address, I will drop a line to Mr. Forbes," said the princ.i.p.al.

Pete gave his name and address. As Princ.i.p.al Wheeler wrote them down in his notebook he glanced up at Pete curiously. "You don't happen to be the young man--er--similarity of names--who was mixed up in that shooting affair in El Paso? Name seemed familiar. No doubt a coincidence."

"It wa'n't no coincidence--it was a forty-five," stated Pete.

The princ.i.p.al stared at Pete as though he half-expected to see him pull a gun and demand an education instanter. But Pete's smile helped the princ.i.p.al to pull himself together. "Most extraordinary!" he exclaimed. "I believe the courts exonerated you?"

"That ain't all they did to me," Pete a.s.sured him. "Nope. You got that wrong. But I reckon they would 'a' done it--if I hadn't 'a' hired that there lawyer from El Paso. He sure exonerated a couple o'

thousand out o' me. And the judge turned me loose."

"Most extraordinary!"

"It was that lawyer that told me I ought to git a education," exclaimed Pete.

"Of course! Of course! I had forgotten it for the moment. Well, here is Mr. Forbes's address. I think you will find him at his room almost any evening."

"I'll be there!"

"Very good! I suppose you are aware that it is illegal to carry concealed weapons inside the city limits?"

"I get you, Doc, but I ain't packin' a gun, nohow."

As the weeks went by and the winter sun swung farther south, Mr.

Forbes, the young Eastern scholar, and Pete began to understand each other. Pete, who had at first considered the young Easterner affected, and rather effeminate, slowly realized that he was mistaken. Forbes was a sincere and manly fellow, who had taken his share of hard knocks and who suffered ill health uncomplainingly--an exile of his chosen environment, with little money and scarce a companion to share his loneliness.

As for Forbes, he envied Pete his abundant health and vigor and admired his unspoiled enthusiasm. Pete's humor, which somehow suggested to Forbes the startling and inexplicable antics of a healthy colt, melted Forbes's diffidence, and they became friends and finally chums. Pete really learned as much through this intimacy as he did from his books: perhaps more. It was at Pete's suggestion that Forbes took to riding a horse, and they spent many afternoons on the desert, drifting slowly along while they discussed different phases of life.

These discussions frequently led to argument, sincere on Pete's part, who never realized that Forbes's chief delight in life was to get Pete started, that he might enjoy Pete's picturesque ill.u.s.tration of the point, which, more often than not, was shrewdly sharp and convincing.

No amount of argument, no matter how fortified by theory and example, could make Pete change his att.i.tude toward life; but he eventually came to see life from a different angle, his vision broadening to a wider perspective as they climbed together, Forbes loitering on familiar ground that Pete might not lose the trail and find himself entangled in some unessential thicket by the way.

Forbes was not looking well. His thin face was pinched; his eyes were listless. Pete thought that Forbes stayed indoors too much. "Why don't you go get a cayuse and ride?" he suggested.

"Never was on a horse in my life."

"Uh-huh. Well, you been off one too long."

"I'd like to. But I can't afford it."

"I don't mean to buy a horse--jest hire one, from the livery. I was thinkin' of gettin' out on the dry-spot myself. I'm plumb sick of town."

"You would have to teach me."

"Shucks! There's nothin' to learn. All you got to do is to fork your cayuse and ride. I'd sure be glad to go with you."

"That's nice of you. Well, say to-morrow afternoon, then. But what about horses?"

"We got a session to-morrow. What's the matter with this afternoon?

The sun's s.h.i.+nin', and there ain't much wind, and I can smell the ole desert, a-sizzlin'. Come on!"

They were in Forbes's room. The Easterner laid his book aside and glanced down at his shoes. "I haven't a riding-costume."

"Well, you can get one for a dollar and four-bits--copper-riveted, and sure easy and comfortable. I'll lend you a pair of boots."

"All right. I'll try it once, at least."