Dorothy on a Ranch

One thing was evident to them all – the sharpshooter’s ready tongue had suffered no hurt from the unhappy incident of the day before.

Dorothy ran to put her hand in his, exclaiming:

“How dreadful of me! I had forgotten that darling thing. Actually forgotten. How could I when she came from Jim?”

Away she sped toward the Barracks, her white frock and scarlet ribbons making a pretty spot of color on the wide shaven lawn; but practical Alfaretta remarked:

“If that ain’t just like Dolly Doodles! Make her think she’s neglected somebody and off she flies, forgettin’ things better worth rememberin’! The idea! She’ll go right to cleanin’ that calico filly, Zaraza, an’ never think a mite about her clean clothes. Not till she gets ’em dirty – then nothing’ll do but she must put on fresh. White frocks ain’t so easy did up, either, so I’ll go get our high aprons, that Mrs. Calvert had made for us to dust the house in, at Paradise. We’ve got quite a lot of ’em and, girls, if you’d like, I’ll bring a couple for you, too.”

“You dear, thoughtful little caretaker! I’ll be ever so obliged for the loan till I can make one for myself,” answered Helena gratefully, giving her mate a smile that made Alfy happy.

Eager to see their horses but not so pleased with the idea of grooming them, the lads sauntered toward the stables and corral, Leslie intimating that he thought “a quarter judiciously applied would be better than soiling himself by stable-work.”

Neither Herbert nor Monty knew Leslie well enough yet to understand this shirking of what they anticipated as a delightful task. Herbert had always been used to horses, and to fine ones. He loved his own Bucephalus, “back home,” as a dear friend, and looked forward to equal enjoyment in his new Blackamoor. With a little laugh he glanced at his young host and remarked:

“If I could help it I would never let another hand than mine touch that superb animal your father gave me. I hardly realize it yet, that it is truly my own. Why, I mean to train him to hurdles and high jumps, and when I go back east, this autumn, I’ll get myself proposed for the Highland Valley Hunt and – elected, if I can. I say, this is just a glorious chance to learn what I couldn’t at home, where houses are thick and farmers so stubborn they will object to one’s riding to hounds across their property. Howev – ”

Monty interrupted, rather jealously:

“Oh! Quit that riding-to-hounds talk! I don’t know a thing about horses – except a saw-horse, that my mother insisted I should work on to reduce my – ”

“‘Too, too solid flesh!’” broke in Leslie, laughing now and eager to watch the inexperienced “fat boy” make his first attempt at grooming a spirited beast.

But they were apt to break in thus upon each other’s remarks and no offence taken, and they were soon at the stables, where the girls were already assembled. One glance at his sister, covered from neck to foot by a brown gingham apron, reminded the fastidious Herbert that he was not fixed for dirty work, and he promptly begged a set of overalls from the nearest workman. The other lads followed his example, discarding jackets and vests, and beginning on their new tasks with a zeal that was almost too eager.

Even Leslie had done the same, willing for once to try this new game and see if there was any fun in it, as Herbert seemed to think. But his fingers shrank from handling the curry comb and brushes, absolutely new and clean though they were, and the best he accomplished was a roughening of Cæsar’s coat which disgusted him as well as the horse. At last, with a remark that “looking on was good enough for him,” he tossed his brushes aside and signalled an attendant to finish the task so badly begun. To his amazement, the hostler declined:

“Sorry, Master Leslie, but the Boss’s express orders was – have you do it yourself.”

Leslie’s eyes flashed. This was insubordination, indeed! Wasn’t he master at San Leon, now? Then Captain Lem drew near, to pick up the brush and explain in a matter-of-fact way:

“Best never rub anything – nor anybody – the wrong way, lad! This sorrel, here, ’d be sp’iled in next to no time if his hair ain’t smoothed the way natur’ meant it should lie. There. That’s how. See how it shines? And just look at Herbert and his black! By the great horned spoon! Them two is cronies a’ready – hand-in-glove, pals! And let me say right here an’ now; there ain’t no comfortabler love nowhere in this world than that ’twixt a horse and his owner – if the last has got sense. Now pitch in, sonny, and don’t let nobody get ahead of you on that line. No, siree! What’d the Boss say?” Then turning toward Monty, valiantly struggling with this new business, he inquired in real kindness: “Want me to lend a hand, youngster?”

Poor Monty would have given many “quarters” to say “yes.” But he was too plucky. His face was streaming with perspiration, he had worried the chestnut, Juan, till the creature threatened to kick, and he ached from head to foot. But he had glanced across to that open space where four girls were making a frolic of this “horrible mess” and manliness held him to his duty. But he couldn’t refrain from a snappy:

“No, I don’t! And how long at a time does a fellow keep at it? How tell whether a horse is groomed or isn’t?”

“Ginger! Do you know when your shirt’s buttoned or when it ain’t? Just look at Herbert’s piece o’ work an’ do accordin’. But keep cool, Monty. Don’t get r’iled an’ don’t rile your nag. You’ll do all right – you’ve got the makin’ of a horseman in ye!”

Thus encouraged, Montmorency Vavasour-Stark renewed his efforts, though with less force and better judgment. There is always a right and a wrong way to everything and the worried lad had, at last, fallen upon the right. He “would be a horseman!” Hurray! That opinion from such a source was worth lots!

Well, that first lesson was over at last. Seven tired youngsters stripped off aprons and overalls and proceeded to mount the horses they had groomed and most of them were happy. It had been worth while, after all, to get thus familiar with the animals; and the girls, at least, remembered that their hosts had spoken of how beneficial it would be for their beloved son to be with such creatures as much as possible. Like the rifle practice, it was all for Leslie and Leslie’s health; and they would have been willing enough to help this good work along, even if they had not got all the fun out of it for themselves, which they did.

They rode “off bounds,” that morning; following Captain Lem, with a couple of trained horsemen riding at their rear. Perhaps of all the company, Herbert and Molly were happiest. They were as much at home in the saddle as any cowboy of them all, and their high spirits spread to their mates, so that even they regretted the order that the leader gave:

“Right about, face! Rifle practice – nine o’clock, sharp!”

They hadn’t a minute to lose; yet when the “awkward squad” repaired to the Barracks only the four girls answered to roll call. The lads came straggling up, later, their heads close together, an air of profound mischief and mystery about them, and Dorothy heard the words “Bear Hunt” escape from one of them.

Her heart sank. Leslie was, indeed, coming to take the place he had declined in the “ranks,” rather going with the crowd than be left out alone; but there was something in his manner that Dolly did not like. Were the three boys planning to steal off by themselves, despite Captain Lemuel’s warnings?

CHAPTER XIII

THE HEN OF WUN SING

But whatever wild schemes were hatching in the heads of the three lads nothing seemed to come of them.

Days followed one another in such peaceful routine that Dorothy felt ashamed of her fears, as well as ashamed of her composure regarding Jim Barlow. The longer he was absent the less they spoke of him. That he was alive, somewhere, all were sure, and that he would return sometime or “when he gets good and ready,” as Alfaretta coolly observed.

“He seemed like a very odd chap, the little I saw of him,” said Leslie, and did not regret the stranger’s absence.

Herbert was loyal and insisted that “Jim was a royal chap – once he shook off his awkward shyness a bit. Why, the yarns Jim Barlow could spin about woodsy things and habits of wild creatures would make you sit right up and take notice. Oh, Jim’s all right – only bashful.”

“That’s so. Why, that fellow, don’t you know, that fellow really plans to go sometime, to Africa, or some other place and live with monkeys just to hear them talk. He – ”

“He might have stayed right here with us – or you, Monty dear,” said Molly, sweetly.

Monty merely frowned at her but continued:

“There is a man did that. True. Went into the woods and lived in a cage – ”

“All that trouble and expense for nothing,” again remarked Molly; and this time Monty changed the subject, asking:

“Have you heard about Wun Sing and his hen?”

“Oh! never mind hens. What do you say, folks? Suppose we get old Lem to go with us into the mountains yonder and look for Jim?” said Herbert.

“You needn’t do that. You’d not find him. He’s hidden himself on purpose, I believe, and only sent back Netty to let us know he was alive and well. Even Molly thinks that,” said Helena; “and I, for one don’t care to hunt up boys who don’t want to be found. I think Jim’s shyness is at the bottom of the matter. It’s kindness to let him alone and – ”

Dolly looked serious and shook her head while Monty again demanded:

“Have you heard about Wun Sing’s hen?”

“I wonder what he’s going to give us for supper! I’m nearly starved. There never was such a place for appetites – eating doesn’t stop that hollow, all-gone feeling a bit!” calmly stated Alfy, with a tragic air.

“Alfy, you little pig! It isn’t more than an hour since we finished dinner,” reproved Molly, laughing.

“Well, I can’t help that. I wish ’twas supper-time. Let’s go in the kitchen and ask for a piece – like the children home do, bless ’em!”

“I say, you better not! Wun Sing’s hen – ”

“Monty – quit! Let’s all go ask for a ‘piece’!” cried Leslie, throwing his arm around the “fat boy’s” shoulder and forcing him along with the others.

Herbert pulled out a jew’s-harp – procured nobody knew where – and headed the procession with a vain attempt to render “Yankee Doodle” so that it could be recognized for itself. Then all fell into line, with the laughter and nonsense natural to a company of care free “youngsters” as they were now known all over the premises.

But as they passed a room just beyond Leslie’s own, he poked his head through the window, to demand of Mateo, lying within:

“Any better, boy?”