Bert Wilson in the Rockies, Page 2

  CHAPTER II

  The Ranch in the Rockies

  With a great roar and rattle and clangor of bells, the train drew up atthe little station where the boys were to descend. Their long railjourney of nearly three thousand miles was over, but they still had aforty-mile drive before they would reach the ranch.

  For a half hour previous they had been gathering their traps together andsaying good-by to their friends on the train. These last included all ofthe travelers, who, since the capture of the robbers, had insisted onmaking heroes of the boys. In vain they had protested that the thankswere out of all proportion to the service rendered. The passengersthemselves knew better. And it was amid a chorus of the friendliestfarewells and good wishes that they had stepped to the rude platform ofthe station.

  "Not much of a metropolis about this," said Tom as they looked around.

  "Hardly," agreed Dick. "The principal thing here is space. You can crossthe street without the help of a traffic cop."

  "And only one street to cross, at that," added Bert.

  It was the typical small town of the Western plains. The one crookedstreet parallel with the track stretched on either side of the stationfor perhaps half a mile, lined with houses at irregular intervals. Therewas no pretence of a sidewalk and even fences were conspicuous by theirabsence. The business part of the town consisted of a general store thatserved also as a post office, a blacksmith shop and three saloons, to oneof which a dance hall was attached. Business seemed brisk in these,judging from the many mustangs that were tied to rails outside, patientlywaiting for their masters who were "tanking up" within and accumulatingtheir daily quota of "nose paint." A Mexican in a tattered serape wassitting on the steps of the store rolling a cigarette, while an Indian,huddled in a greasy blanket and evidently much the worse for fire water,sat crouched against the shack that served as baggage-room at the leftend of the station.

  Down the platform came hustling a big burly form that they recognized inan instant.

  "Mr. Melton," they cried in chorus as they rushed with extended hands tomeet him.

  "Sure thing," he responded, his face beaming with delight at their heartygreeting. "Did you think I'd send one of my men to meet you? Not on yourlife. Nothing less than a broken leg would have kept me from coming togive you the first welcome to old Montana. Came down yesterday so thatthe horses could have a good rest before starting back again. Come rightalong now and tumble into the buckboard. One of my men will look afteryour duds and bring them along later."

  All talking at once, they came to the farther end of the platform, wherea big mountain wagon was waiting. It was drawn by a pair of wiry mustangsthat champed impatiently at the bit.

  "Not very pretty to look at," said Melton, "but they're holy terrors whenit comes to traveling. Jump in."

  They all piled in and Melton gathered up the reins. He chirped to thehorses and they started off at a rate that justified all he had said asto their speed. But he held them in check and subdued them to a trotthat, while moderate in appearance, ate up the miles amazingly.

  "Pure grit and iron, those little sinners," he commented. "But they'vegot a long way to go, and we're sure even at this rate to get home inplenty of time for supper. Now, tell me all about yourselves."

  Which they proceeded to do in detail, not neglecting the attemptedhold-up on the train. He listened with the keenest interest.

  "So you got the best of 'Red' Thompson and 'Shag' Leary," he exclaimed inastonishment. "The toughest nuts we've had to crack in this section foryears. A good many people will breathe easier now that they're trapped.They're 'bad men' through and through, and if their pistol butts had anotch on them for every man they've killed, they'd look like saws. Andwith nothing but a paperweight and bare fists," he chuckled. "They suremust feel sore. What was done with them?"

  "Oh, the conductor handed them over to the sheriff at one of thestations," answered Bert. "I suppose they'll be tried before long."

  "Maybe," said Melton a little dubiously. "My own private hunch, though,is that Judge Lynch will invite them to a little necktie party. They'velived a heap sight too long already, and there won't be much formalitywasted on them.

  "You boys sure have the nerve," he went on. "You got away with it allright, but you took an awful chance."

  "Yes," quoted Dick:

  'An inch to the left or an inch to the right, And we wouldn't be maundering here to-night.'"

  "Those born to be hung will never be shot," laughed Tom. "I guess thatexplains our escape so far."

  "It beats the Dutch the faculty you fellows have of getting into scrapesand out again," commented Melton. "I believe you'd smell a scrap a mileaway. You'd rather fight than eat."

  "You won't think so when you see what we'll do to that supper of yoursto-night," retorted Tom. "Gee, but this air does give you an appetite."

  "The one thing above all others that Tom doesn't need," chaffed Dick."But he's right, just the same. The way I feel I could make a wolf looklike thirty cents."

  "You can't scare me with that kind of talk," challenged Melton. "Let outyour belts to the last notch and I'll guarantee they'll be tight when youget up from the table."

  "That listens good," said Tom. "I'm perfectly willing you should call mybluff."

  With jest and laughter the afternoon wore on and the shadows cast by thedeclining sun began to lengthen. After their long confinement on thetrain, the boys felt as though they had been released from prison. Theyhad been so accustomed to a free, unfettered life that they had chafed atthe three days' detention, where the only chance they had to stretchtheir limbs had been afforded by the few minutes wait at stations. Nowthey enjoyed to the full the sense of release that came to them in theirnew surroundings. The West, as seen from a car window, was a vastlydifferent thing when viewed from the seat of a buckboard going at aspanking gait over the limitless plains.

  For that they were limitless was the impression conveyed by the unbrokenskyline that seemed to be a thousand miles away. Only in the northwestdid mountains loom. They had never before had such an impression of theimmensity of space. It seemed as though the whole expanse had beencreated for them, and them alone. For many miles they saw no human figureexcept that of a solitary cowboy, who passed them at a gallop on his wayto the town. The country was slightly rolling and richly grassed,affording pasturage for thousands of cattle that roamed over it at will,almost as free as though in a wild state, except at the time of theround-up. They crossed numerous small rivers, none so deep that theycould not be forded, although in one case the water flowed over the bodyof the wagon.

  "That's the Little Big Horn River," said Melton as they drew out on theother side. "Perhaps you fellows remember something that happened here agood many years ago."

  "What," cried Bert. "You don't mean the Custer Massacre?"

  "That's what," returned Melton. "Right over there where the river bendswas the place where Sitting Bull was encamped when Custer led the chargeon that June morning. I've got to breathe the horses for twenty minutesor so, and, if you like, we'll look over the field."

  If they would like! The boys thrilled at the thought. They had read againand again of that gallant and hopeless fight, where a thousand Americancavalrymen led by Custer, the idol of the army, had attacked ninethousand Indians, and fighting against these fearful odds had been wipedout to the last man. In all the nation's history no one, except perhapsPhil Sheridan and Stonewall Jackson, had so appealed to the imaginationof the country's youth as Custer, the reckless, yellow-haired leader ina hundred fights, the hero of Cedar Creek and Waynesboro and Five Forks,the Chevalier Bayard of modern times, "without fear and withoutreproach," who met his death at last as he would have wished to meet it,in that mad glorious dash that has made his name immortal, going down ashe had lived with his face to the foe. To these ardent young patriots theplace was holy ground, and their pulses leaped and their hearts swelledas Melton pointed out the features of the field and narrated some of theincidents of that awful, but magnificent,
fight. It was with intensereluctance that, warned by the gathering shadows, they tore themselvesaway.

  "Can't wait any longer now," said Melton as they retraced their steps tothe place where the horses were browsing; "but some day soon we'll comedown here early and spend the whole day. It won't be any too long to geta clear idea of the fight and all that led up to it."

  The mustangs, refreshed by the rest, and feeling too that they were onthe last stretch of their journey, needed no urging, and Melton gave themtheir head.

  "Must be pretty near your place now, I suppose," said Tom.

  "Well, yes," answered Melton, with a twinkle in his eyes; "been travelingon my lands for the last eight miles. House not more than five milesahead."

  The boys gasped. It was something new to them to hear one speak ascarelessly of miles as a farmer back East would speak of acres. Now theywere getting some idea of what was meant when one spoke of the "boundlessWest."

  "Got to have room to stretch my arms without hitting anything," went onMelton. "Of course, I don't use much of it for farming. Just raise enoughto take care of the table and the stock. But for grazing there ain't anybetter pasture for cattle in the whole State of Montana."

  "Then all the cattle we've seen grazing by thousands for the last fewmiles belong to you?" asked Dick, as soon as he had recovered from hissurprise.

  "Sure thing," returned their host, "and they're only a few of them. Itwould take a cowboy the better part of a day to start at one end of theranch and circle around it. And there's plenty of ranches in the Statebigger than mine."

  Now the going was steadily uphill and the horses subsided to a walk. Theywere in the foothills of the Rockies. In the gathering dusk they couldsee ahead of them the mighty peaks in the background rising to a heightof many thousand feet. Higher and higher they went, until they were asmuch as six hundred feet above sea level. If they had had no other proofthey would have found it in the increasing rarity of the air and theslightly greater difficulty in breathing.

  "You'll soon get used to that," said Melton. "After a day or two youwon't notice any difference. I could of course have built on a lowerlevel, and in some ways that would have been an advantage. But when Isettled here I made up my mind that I wanted air that was washed cleanby the mountain breezes, and I planted my stakes according."

  Soon they reached a broad, level plateau, and, a little way off, couldsee the lights coming from a low-lying group of buildings. Several dogscame rushing down with barks of welcome, and a couple of men loungingnear one of the corrals removed the bars of a huge gate, from which thepath led up to the largest of the buildings. It was a rambling structureonly two stories in height, but covering a vast extent of ground andsuggestive of homely comfort and hospitality. A broad veranda extendedalong three sides of the house, and in front a well-kept flower gardenbordered the path that led to the door.

  As they approached, heralded by the noisy greeting of the dogs, the doorwas thrown wide open and Mrs. Melton appeared in the flood of light thatstreamed from within.

  She was a pleasant-faced, motherly-looking woman, and she welcomed theboys with open arms. There was no mistaking the warmth and sincerity ofher greeting. They felt at home at once and in a few minutes werechatting and laughing as easily as though they had known her for years.Perhaps the memory of her own two boys, dead long since, but who wouldhave been just about the age of the newcomers had they lived, added tothe hearty cordiality with which she took them under her wing.

  "We oughtn't to need any introduction at all," she beamed, "because Mr.Melton has done nothing but talk about you ever since he came back fromthat last trip to Mexico. I wouldn't dare to tell you all he said, forfear of making you conceited. I really think the last trip he made Eastwas more to see you than anything else. He said he was going on business,but I have my own opinion about that."

  "Well, if it hadn't been for him we wouldn't have been there to see,"said Bert warmly. "The vultures would have had us long ago, if he hadn'trisked his own life to help us out of trouble."

  "Nothing at all, nothing at all," deprecated Melton. "You gave me achance for a lovely scrap, just when I was beginning to wonder whetherI'd forgotten how to fight. I've felt ten years younger ever since."

  "You don't need to get any younger," retorted his wife in affectionatereproach. "You're just as much of a boy as you ever were. I declare," shelaughed, turning to her guests; "I ought to call him Peter Pan. He'llnever grow up."

  "Well, he's a pretty husky youngster," grinned Tom, looking admiringly athis host's two hundred and forty pounds of bone and muscle.

  But now Mrs. Melton's housewifely instincts asserted themselves, and sheshooed the boys off to their rooms to rid themselves of the dust of thejourney, while she bustled round to get supper on the table.

  A few minutes later and they were gathered at supper in thebrightly-lighted, well-furnished dining-room of the ranch. It was a jollyparty, where every one radiated happiness and good nature. There was nota particle of stiffness or pretence in that wholesome environment. Thedelight of their hosts in having them there found an echo in the heartsof the boys, and they were soon on as genial and friendly a footing asthough they had known them all their lives.

  And that supper! To the hungry boys, with their naturally keen appetitesstill further sharpened by the long ride, it seemed a feast fit for theGods. The table fairly groaned beneath the weight of good things placedupon it. Crisp trout freshly taken from the mountain brook, a deliciousroast flanked by snowy mounds of potatoes and vegetables just pluckedfrom the garden patch, luscious berries warm with the sun, deluged withrich cream, and pastries "such as mother used to make" offered achallenge to the boys that they gleefully accepted. They ate likefamished wolves, while Mrs. Melton bridled with pride at the tribute paidto her cooking; and, when at last they had fairly cleared the board, theysat back with a sigh of content at duty well performed.

  "How about those belts?" laughed Melton, as he lighted his pipe.

  "Tight as a drum," Tom answered for all. "You called my bluff, allright."

  "Sallie certainly knows how to cook," said Mr. Melton, patting his wife'shand.

  "You mustn't give me all the credit," smiled Mrs. Melton, smoothing outher apron. "That Chinese cook you brought back with you the last time youwent to Helena is certainly a treasure. I don't know how I'd get alongnow without him."

  "That reminds me," said Melton, with a quick glance at his wife. "Justsend him in here for a minute, will you?"

  She went into the kitchen and a moment later returned, followed by aChinaman, who shuffled along in his heelless slippers.

  The boys glanced at him indifferently for a moment. Then a startledrecognition leaped into their eyes.

  "Wah Lee," they cried in chorus, jumping to their feet.

  "That same old yellow sinner," confirmed Melton complacently.

  The Chinaman himself was shocked for a moment out of his Orientalstolidity. A delighted smile spread over his face and he broke into anexcited jargon of "pidgin English," of which the refrain was:

  "Velly glad slee. Wah Lee velly glad slee."

  Then in a burst of grateful memory he threw himself to the floor andtried to put their feet upon his head, as a token that he was their slavefor life. But they jerked him upright in a torrent of eager questioning.

  "You old rascal."

  "How did you ever get here?"

  "I thought you were back in China by this time."

  But Wah Lee's smile was more expansive than his vocabulary was extensive.

  "Him tell," he said, pointing to Mr. Melton.

  "I thought it would be a surprise party," that worthy chuckled as herefilled his pipe. "So I didn't tell you anything about it nor did I tellthe Chink that you were coming. It was a surprise, all right," and hechuckled again.

  "It won't take very long to explain," he went on when his pipe wasdrawing well. "You remember that after you got back from your tripto the Canal you gave him money enough to go West and start a littlelaundry busin
ess wherever he might choose to settle down. It seems hedrifted out to Helena, where there's quite a colony of Chinks, andstarted in to wash and iron. As nearly as I can understand his gibberish,he was doing pretty well, too, until he got mixed up in one of thosesecret society feuds that play hob among those fellows. It seems that hebelonged to the On Leong clan and the Hip Son Tong got after him. Theysent on to 'Frisco for some highbinders--those professional killers, youknow--and Wah Lee got wind of the fact that he was one of the victimsmarked for slaughter. Naturally, he was in a fearful stew about it, andjust when things were at their worst I happened to be in Helena onbusiness and ran across him. Of course, I'd never have known him, for allChinks look alike to me, but he recognized me in a minute and begged meby all his gods to help him out. He knew it wouldn't do any good to gofrom one city to another, because they'd get him sure, and his onlychance was to be smuggled off into some country place where they mightlose track of him. It seemed rather hard lines for the old fellow, andthough I didn't care much to mix up in the rescue stunt, I didn't havethe heart to turn him down. So he sold out his shop to one of his ownsociety, and I brought him out at night. I didn't know just what I'd dowith him, but it turns out that he is a dandy cook, and Mrs. Meltoninsists that my running across him was a rare streak of luck."

  "It certainly was for him, anyway," said Bert. "I'd hate to have anythinghappen to the old boy. He had a pretty rough deal in Mexico."

  "He did, for a fact," agreed Melton reminiscently, "and he hasn't gottenover it yet. A little while ago one of my men brought in a snake that hehad killed on his way back from town. The boys were looking at it whenthe Chink happened to come along, and one of them, in a joke, threw it athim. You never saw a fellow so scared. I thought for a minute he wasgoing to throw a fit."

  "I don't wonder," said Dick soberly.

  For he, as well as Wah Lee, would never look upon one of those hideousreptiles without a shudder. As clearly as though it were yesterday, hesaw again that morning in the Mexican hills, when, tied to a tree, he hadlooked upon the monster rattlesnake that was to torture him, and prayedthat he might have courage to die without disgracing his manhood. WahLee, his companion in captivity, had been brought out first, thrown flaton the ground and fastened securely to stakes. Just out of reach, arattlesnake, with a buckskin thong passed through its tail, was tied to astake. Tortured by rage and pain, the reptile struck at the Chinaman'sface, but couldn't quite make the distance. Then water was poured on thethong and it began to stretch. With each spring the awful fangs camenearer, and it was only a question of minutes before they would beembedded in the victim's flesh. Then, from the woods, Melton's bowieknife had whizzed, slicing the snake's head from his body, and the nextinstant in a rain of bullets the rescuing party had burst into theclearing.

  Later on, they had found Wah Lee on their hands, and at his earnestentreaties had taken him with them to Panama. There he had foundemployment in the house of a wealthy Japanese landholder, and by themerest chance had been able to convey to Bert a hint of the conspiracy todestroy the Canal. The plot had been frustrated by Bert's daring exploit,and on the return of the party to America Wah Lee had again accompaniedthem. When they had provided for him and sent him West they never thoughtthat again their paths would cross. Yet here he was, as bland and smilingas ever, on this remote ranch in the Rocky Mountains. The world was onlya small place, after all.

  For a long time after he had trotted away again to his duties in thekitchen they sat discussing the exciting events that his reappearance hadbrought back to their minds. Then, at last, Melton arose and shook theashes from his pipe.

  "I reckon you youngsters are about ready to turn in," he said. "You'vehad a long ride and it's getting pretty late. We'll have plenty of timeto chin before the summer's over. For I give you fair warning," he addedwith his genial smile, "I've got you roped now and I ain't going to letyou go in a hurry."

  He took them up to their rooms, cool, spacious and provided with everycomfort. There with a cordial good-night he left them.

  Their windows faced toward the north and commanded a magnificent view ofthe mountains. Tall, solemn, majestic, they towered upward in wild andrugged beauty. The moon had risen and the distant peaks were flooded withlight. It was a scene to delight the soul of an artist and the boyslingered under the spell.

  "Just such a night as when we crouched in the shadow of that big rock inthe Mexican forest," murmured Bert. "Do you remember, Tom?"

  "Yes," answered Tom; "but I don't think the moon will ever again see usin such a desperate fix as we were in that night."

  Which showed that Tom had not the gift of prophecy.