A YOUNG MAN FROM TEXAS

Golden Bay Argus, Volume XII, Issue 46, 14 April 1910, Page 2

A YOUNG MAN FROM TEXAS

By Ashmore Russan.-

Between the humdrum and poky, hamlet of Slugham-cum-Dormington, down in Wessex, and the one-time Mexican city of San Antonio, in Texas, with its famous Alamo, hoary missions, and Grand Plaza shaded with orange trees, odorous with roses, there flows a great deal of water, swelters a considerable expanse of Sandy plain, sprinkled with meaquite bushes, and reeks a tolerably sized area of Bad-lands and mangrove swamp, with various other samples of "God's own country," otherwise the great and puissant and asbertive United State ; while as regards the outlook on life of the two places, or, rather, of the folk who live in them, the gulf between passes thought. As an individual it affected Jack Gray thus : At San Antonio, or to give it its more familiar local name, Santone, he was a hero, a great man, acclaimed by young men and maidens, old men and children, not to mention wives and widows. In his honour insulators by the score had been shot from telegraph posts, brazen throats had screamed themselves hoarse, sashes of all colours of the rainbow had been waved frantically, and the town itself had been painted red at least twice. In Slughan-cum-Dormington, down in Wessex, he was just nobody at all rather less, if that .were possible, seeing that he was the unassuming son of a more unassuming mother, who lived alone in a little house in Slugham Park, and looked to Sluggain Hall for the few rays of sunshine which penetrated her rather drab life. And as he never spoke of his fame in that great cattle centre, Santone, and only occasionally hinted at things out of the common in quite a casual way, it was natural, perhaps, that his old-time neighbours did not look upon him as anything out of the common.

Yet he had twice won the blueriband of the Cattle States in open competition. In the corral- a rena, mounted on his cow-pony, before ten thousand spectators, he had twice faced the fiercest long-horned Texan steer that could be found, and "roped " and thrown the animal, and tied it up scientifically in respectively one minute twelve and a half seconds less time than his nearest competitors. He was reputed the btest shot with rifle and revolver, and the best rider in the Lone Star State, and because of a certain modesty, very uncommon round about Santone, he was, perhaps, the most popular member of the "cow-punch-ing " fraternity. But they knew nothing of all this at Slugham. Few, indeed, were aware that he had been a cow-boy, and .was now a ranbher, home for two purposes—to visit his mother, and, if possible, take Nellie Wraysbury, his "sweetheart when a boy " back with him to Texas. When questioned by old acquaintances, as he sometimes w a s, about his life in the West, he would say as little as he chose ; but Nell, whose blue eyes had drawn him from the land of steers and mesquite bushes—eyes which had’ not their match in all the vast State of the Lone Star—also wanted to know things which was very, natural* "But what did you do in your spare thne, ‘Jack ? " Trust a woman for desiring th a t particular information. "I know what you did when at work. I read lots of stories and books about Texas while you were away. You rounded up cattle with corralß, branded them with irons, and let them go ; kept your herds from mixing up with other people’s ; when one wateringplace had been trampled into a mudhole, you chivvied them to a nother; but what did you do when you were not at work ? u At which, and many similar questions, the long-limbed, sun-tanned young man from Texas would answer in a casual way : "Oh, just played till I was tired, and went to sleep," or something to the same effect.

But such replies did not content Miss Wraysbury, so her bantering inquiries now and then .drew a brief account of some escapade with the “boys " in San 'Antonio, with all the lurid parts omitted, of course, and as such escapades usually took place on fete days, there would be a casual mention of the sport which of all others was held in the highest estimation by the “boys ” in question. Little bits of the episodes found their way to the incredulous ears of Tom Wraj’sbury, Nell's brother, who objected! to be outshone by anybody. Tom listened to these modest yams and did not believe them. They were told too casually, with too great an air of detachment, to carry conviction.

So it was that Slugham-cum-Dor-mington at first quite indifferent, came to look upon the really modest hero of Santone, as a braggart and a duffer, which was rather worse than considering him of no account. Furthermore, and this was worsq still, he became a sort of chaffingblock, for the slow wits of the hamlet with the soporific double-barrel-led name. Generally Grey laughed at the clumsy attempts to take a rise out of him, but when Rathbone joined the ranks of the jokers it was different, for that young gentleman was not only a rival, but, being very well to' do was persona grata in the Wr a ysbury household. “I say, Gray," he said, one day, with a cunning grin on his broad and rather red face, “you’ve been in Texas, haven’t you ? Did you ever see a Texas steer, a sort of combined mountain lion, mad mustang, and devil incarnate, don't you know ? ” The question was quite gratuitous. Dlck Rathbone knew perfectly well that Grey had been a cow-boy, and must have had to do with hundreds if not thousands, of Texas steers. But at the back of his rather thick head he had a notion, which, if carried into effect, might possibly rid him of a dangerous rival. * “Oh, yes," said Gray, indifferently, “I've seen a few."

“I suppose you never saw? a roping contest ? I've just been reading about 'em, don't you know/*

Rathbone may or may not Shave just been reading about roping contests, but he had certainly been talking to Tom Wr a ysbury. Quite ignorant of what his rival was driving at, Grey again replied indiffei-ently : "Yes, I’ve seen several." r "I suppose, being a tenderfoot, you never took part in one ? ” This was an insult, and was so intended. Jack Grey’s tenderfoot days had! been long left behind. "Yes,” he rejoined, rather curtly this time ; "in several." Rathbone turned to the young lady.

"Singular, isn’t it, Miss Nellie,” said he, "how these fellows who’ve been abroad have always done all there is to do, but when they get home they're no better at things than other people ? " "If you mean that Jack hasn’t done what he says he has done. I don’t a g rec with you," rejoined Miss Nellie with a wrathful flash of her blue eyes.

The tone and flash should have been sufficient warning, but Rathbone was too thick-skinned to take the hint. Besides, he had a purpose in view.

"Well, I'd like to see him rope a Texas steer. I know something about it if I haven’t been in Texas."

"That’s odd," said Grey quietly

Rathbone began to bluster. "Do you mean I don’t ? Now, look here. We’ve got a bull in our park. He isn’t a wild-cat quite ; but he has to have the paddock to himself. It’s all fenced in with high rails. I'm going to open the gate to-morrow, and let him out into the open. I'd like to see you. round him up and put him back again. Ho isn’t a Texas steer, you know, so the job ought to be easy enough. If you’re afraid," he added, "you can come and see me do it.”

"I'll think about it," Was the rejoinder. As a master of fact, Grey did not think about it at all, never would have thought about it, but for something that happened!. Nor did it occur to him that his rival was flattering himself that he had) hit upon a way of getting rid of him effectually ; that, in short, the bull would kill him. That would have been too absurd. Not that such accidents never happened in Texas. He had seen many. But nothing of the kind had h a ppened to him. And when a man was filled or maimed, it was generally his own fault. Tom Wraysbury it was who brought the challenge back to his memory. - Boy-like, he considered his news rather good fun. "Here's a lark, Jack, and a,— chance for you," he cried, as soon aB he had got his breath, for the boy had been running fast. "Dick .Rathbone let out that bull he was talking about, and now he’s up a tree." "Well, let him stay there.”

"But he can't much longer. He's been stuck there about thr§e hours now. The bull went for him as soon as the gate was open. It was a near go, I can tell you. He was only just in time. As he was shinning up the brute got him by the leg. But that's not all. The gamekeeper and two or three of the labourers went to rescue him, and now they’re up trees, and nobody dare go near. The bull's quite mad bellowing like thunder, and raging about from one tree to another, stamping and tossing up the turf with his horns, and playing old Harry. Isn’t it a lark ! "

“Don’t know. It's none of my business," was the curt rejoinder. “But his mother sent me for you. Dick shouted to her and asked her. And Nell told me you could do anything with bulls. You can’t, of course ; but she's quite distracted.” “Who, Nell?" This sharply. “Mrs. Rathbone. Old Rathbone won't have the bull shot. The beast cost a hundred guineas. And there they are, standing about a quarter of a mile away, waiting for Dick to faint and fall out of the tree. If he does, he's a dead man. He stopped shouting an hour ago. Are you coming ? " “I think not. Rathbone knows all about cattle. He told me so. I don’t pretend to know so very much myself, but I’m sure of this—when the pull gets thirsty he'll go off for a drink, and if he's real nasty he'll be thirsty all the sooner. “There’s a pool under the trees, and he won't have to go away for a drink. Well, I’m off. I told Nell and Mrs. Rathbone it was no good my coming—that you are just a humbug, and no more dare face that bull than Nell herself. So long Mr. Bull-puncher from Texas. After this Nell'll let a fellow say what he thinks about you without snapping a fellow's nose off." With which parting shot Tom Wraysbury ran back to the park to see the end of the fun.

Grey pondered, and his thoughts in expressions more f a miliar to Santone than Slugham. “I guess Rathbone's got a mean cuss. Out West he’d get filled as full of holes in a week as a township o’ prairie dogs, and serve him right; but if Nell’s taking a hand in the game, I reckon I'd better get a move on, and perhaps—well, perhaps—” In five minutes he i was at the Hall, whioh was the home of the Wraysburys accosting a stable-boy. “I want the horse I've been riding,” he said. “Look sharp ! " Then to himself, “He's a lot too clunsy on his legs, but he can gallop, a nd he’ll stand a pull all right." Next, from the saddle-room he got all the girths he could lay hands on, and from a hay-waggon a long rope, to which he quickly attached an iron ring, making a running noose. The boy rushed the horse out of the stable ready saddled and bridled, but Gray had the girths unfastened in a moment, and as quickly ran the loose end of his make-shift lariat through both stirrup leathers, and over the saddle bow, so that the strain would be on the saddle, not on the leathers, making it taut and fast. Then he double-girthed the horse, joined a second pair of girths together, and fixed them round and oyer the saddle and through the loop of the rope, stuffing a few odds and ends of cord into his pockets, he mounted and rode to the adjacent park where Mr. Rathbone pastured his prize cattle. The attendance of spectators was tipst exactor uj* tq> Santonty, but very

W*®* hair the population of the hamlet was hanging on the safe side of the p a r k fence a s he crossed from the drive at a thundering gallop, swinging the coiled rope round his head and yelling lustily to attract the bull’s attention.

"By Jove ! " cried Tom Wraysbury who was perched up near his sister on the rails of the paddock from which the hull had been allowed to "he’s come after all. Who’d have believed it ? Looks like the real thing, too." } "He is the real thing ! " said Miss Nellie, her eyes shining, andl her elitecks flushing with excitement. But the bull, a rather shaggy Hereford, with horns nearly as long as the average Texan’s, had not been educated to fear whirling rope and shouting horseman. He ceased to paw. and toss up the turf, stared fixedly at the intruder for a few seconds, then lowered his head, and, witfe a thunderous bellow, charged straight. With his rider’s consent the untrained horse wheeled in one movement, and with the bull after him galloped as he had never done before..

Now was the time for the fugb tives to clamber down from the trees and run for safety to the nearest railings, which the gamekeeper and the labourers hastened to do. Rathbone also came down from! his tree slowly and, teetdy just as tha bull apparently concluded that hunt* ing a pretty fast horse was folly so halted and faced about. He saw the laggard, who, had fallen and risen to his feet, and was now limping painfully towards the and in- 1 stantly charged after*him. j But 'Grey had pulled up quickly > and wheeled, and now ensued a race such as Slugham certainly never saw before. The furious bull galloped head down and Jong curved horns inclined, the better to gore and toss his victim while at a distance behind , about 1 equal to that which separated the bull from the frantic, jjimping j Rathbone, Grey, swinging Jus lariat ! now for the throw, urged his horse to hie utmost speed. But would he overtake the maddened bull beforo the mangled body of his rival went 1 hurtling through the air ? The onlookers were afraid he would not. ; Men shouted; women screamed in sickening fear. "Run, Maister Richard ! Run, Dick, run ! He’s close behind. Oh, Richard ! Run ! "

But with a hole in his right c a lf in which a man might have inserted a finger, Dick Rathbone could not run, scarcely could hobble. He glanced back despairingly over his shoulder, saw close behind him the red eyes a nd wide spume-covered nostrils of the bull, but not the horseman racing up on the savage animal’s left flank, and with a scream, of terror pitched forward a nd lay, on his face j'ust as the noose of the rope dropped cleanly over the bull’s head.

With a mighty effort that nearly, broke his amazed horse’s jaws, Grey„' stopped dead, and wrenched the animal back onjbis haunches the better to stand the strain. It c a me. Rope and saddle and untrained horse alike withstood the* tremendous shock, but the bull was thrown heavily and lay still, more than half-stunned, within three feet of the fainting Rathbone. Instantly Grey galloped up and dismounted, and within as near re* cord time as was possible with odds and ends of cord in lieu of strips of prepared hide, he had tied the bruto up securely. , s Compared with the thunderous ap* plause of San Antonio the cheer that followed the feat was weak as regards sound, but it was from the heart. ! j

Rathbone was carried home on a hurdle, but not before he had confessed that he had worked the bull up to madness with a shot-gun, fired at . a long distance, and a red hanaker- ■ chief, before opening the paddock ' gate.

As for the young man from Texas, he left the park . with his horse's; bridle-reins over one arm, and Nellie Wraysbusy on the other. And when some weeks afterwards, the young lady, Miss Nellie no longer, sailed from England with her husband for the Lone Star State, not even tiie most inveterate gossip and scandalmonger in the parish of SJugham-eum-Dormington had a word to say against it. Which of itself was something of a marvel.—“ Yes or. No."