BAT WING BOWLES.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LII, Issue 15948, 19 June 1915, Page 3 (Supplement)

BAT WING BOWLES.

A " I: BY r DANE COOLIDGE, . ■ V: f ' ;• , :'• ■ : Author of "Hidden Water" and "The -v Texican.", '■»«,

(COPYRIGHT.)

[ - CHAPTER V.—(Continued.) IA general scramble for plates and cups I followed; then a raid on the ovens and 1 coffee-pots and kettles; and inside of three I minutes 20 men were crouching on the ! ground, each one supplied with beans, biscuits and beef—the finest tho range produced. They ate and camo back for moro, and Bowles tried to follow their example, but breakfast at home had been served at a later hour, and it had not been served on the ground either. However, ho ate what ho could and drank a pint of coffee that made him as bravo as a lion. It was veiil range coffee, that had set on the grounds overnight and been boiled for an hour in the morning. It was strong, and made him forget the cold, but just as ho was beginning to feel like a man again silenco fell on tho crowd, and Henry Lee appeared.

In his riding-boots, and with a woodenhandled old Colt's in his simps, Mr. Lee was a different creature from the little man that Bowles had whipsawed on tho previous evening. He was a dominating man, and as he stood by the fire for a minute and waited for 'enough light to rope by Mr. Bowles began to have his regrets. It is one thing to bully-rag a man on his front steps and quite another to vide bronks on a cold morning. The memory of a man named Dunbar came over him, and lie wondered if lie had died in the morning, when his bones were brittle and cold. He remembered other things, including Di?:'; Lee,.but without any positive inspiration; and lie took a sneaking pleasure at last in the fact that Mr. Lee appeared to have forgotten all about him.

But Henry Leo was not the man to let an Eastern tenderfoot run it over him, and just as he called for horses and started over toward the corral he said to Hardy Atkins:

" Oh, Hardy, ' catch up that Dunbar horse and put this gentleman's saddle on him, will you?" He waved his hand toward Bowles, whose heart had just missed a beat, and pulled on a trim little glove.' "What—Dunbar!" gasped the broncotwister, startled out of his palm. "Yes," returned Lee quietly. "The gentleman claims he can ride."

"Who— demanded Atkins. pointing incredulously at the willowy Bowles.

"Yes—him!" answered the cattleman firmly. " And after what he ' said to me last evening he's either got to ride Dunbar or own himself a coward— all.'/

" Oh,'' responded the twister, relieved by the alternative; and with a wink at Buck and the rest of the crowd he went rollicking out to the corral. By the usual sort of telepathy Hardy Atkins had. come to hatb and despise " Bowles. quite as heartily as Bowles had learned to hate him, and the prospect of putting tlio Easterner up against Dunbar made his feet bounce off the ground. First lie roped out his own mount and saddled him-by the 'gate; then, as the Blower men caught their horses and prepared for the work of the day, he leaned against the bars and pointed out the man-killer to Bowles, meanwhile edging in his little talk.

, "See that brown over there?" ho' queried, as Bowles stared breathlessly but over the sea of tossing heads. " No, here he is —that wall-eyed divil with his hip knocked down—he got that when ho rared over and killed Dunbar. Can't you see 'im? Right over that bald-faced forrel! Yes, that hawse that limps behind !"

At that moment some impetuous cowboy roped at his mount and the round corral became a raging maelstrom of rushing horses, thundering about in a circle and throwing the dirt twenty feet high; but as a counter movement checked' the charge and the wind blew the. dust away, the lanky form of tho horse that killed Dunbar loomed up on the edge of the herd. He was a big, raw-boned brute, .coloured a _ sunburned, dusty brown, and a limp in his off hind leg gave him a slinking,' stealthy air but what impressed Bowles the most was the sinister look in his eyes. If ever a horse was a congenital criminal, Dunbar was tho animal. His head was long an/d bony and bulging around the cars, and his eves were sunk deep, like a rattlesnake's. and with a rattlesnake's baleful glare. But there was more than a snaky wildness in them : the wicked creature seemed to be meditating upon his awful .past, and scheming greater crimes, until his haggard, watchful eyes were «et in a fixed, brooding stare. He was a bad horse, old Dunbar, and Atkins was fchero to play him up. "You want to be careful not to hurt that hawse," he warned, as Bowles caught his breath and started. "The 'boss expects to git a thousand dollars fer him at the Cheyenne Bough-Riding Contest next summer. ■ Now that old Steamboat is rode, and Teddy Roosevelt is busted, they's big money hangin' up fer a bad hawse. Got to have one, you know. It's fer the championship of the world, and if they don't git another mankiller they ' can't have no contest. I would've tried him myself, but ho's too valuable. How do you ride—with yore

killed jif he throws himself/ oyer back. You ain't down here fer a Wild , West show, are ye? - Uh-huh, jest thought you might be—knowed you wasn't a puncher. Well, we'll saddle him tip 1 fer you now— if .you say so!" ;

He lingered, significantly on the last words, and Henry Lee, who was standing, near, half smiled: but there must have been some sporting blood back in the Bowles family somewhere, for Mr. Bowles merely murmured : \

"If you will, '"'please and got his saddle. * •

So there was nothing for Atkins to do but go'in arid try to catch Dunbar. The bronco-twister shook out his rope, glanced at the boss, glanced at him again, and dropped Reluctantly into the corral. Hardy Atkins would rather have taken a whipping than put a saddle on Dunbar: but he was up against it now, so lie lashed his loop out on' the ground and advanced to make his throw. One by one the horses that had gathered about Dunbar ran off to tho right or left, and as the old man-killer made his dash to escape the long rope shot out with a lightning swiftness and settled < around his neck. The twister passed the rope ■behind him, sat back on it and dug his high heels into the ground; but the jerk was too much for his hand-grip, and before anyone could tail on behind lie let go and*turned the horse loose.

Then, as the great ' whirlpool of frightened .horses went charging wound the corral, Buck Buchanan, the man with the bull-moose voice, hopped down and rushed to the centre. Someone threw an extra ropo to Hardy Atkins, and once moro they closed in on the outlaw. But the horse that killed Dunbar was better than the two of them, and soon he had a second rope to trail. A third and a fourth man leaped in to join tho conflict; and as they, roped and ran and fought with Dunbar the remuda went crazy with excitement and threatened to break down the fence.

"fui up them bars!" yelled Hardy Atkins, as a beautiful, dappled black made a balk to "leap oVer the gate. "Now all on this rope, boys—snub him to that post— hell!" Tho pistol-like report of 'grass rope parting filled out the vest of the sentence. Then the bronco-twister came limping over to the gate where Bowles and Henry Lee were Bitting, shaking the blood from a freshly barked knuckle.

"We can't hold the blankety-blank," he announced, gazing defiantly at the boss. "And whats tho use, anyhow?" he demanded petulantly. "They ain't a bronk in tho romuda that can't throw this Englishman a mile! Of course, if you want us to take a day to do it—" "Well, catch Wa-ha-lote, then!" snapped Mr. Lee. And be quick about it! I've got something else to do, Mr. Bowles," ho observed tartly, "besides saddle up man-killers for a man that can't sit a trotting horse!"

This was evidently an allusion to Mr. Bowles' way of putting the English on a jog-trot; but Bowles was too much interested to resent it. He was watching Hardy Atkins advancing'on the dappled black.that had tried to jump the bars.

''Oh," he, cried enthusiastically, "is that the horse you mean ? Oh, isn't he a beautiful creature! It's so kind of you to make the change!"

"Ye-es!" drawled Mr. Lee; and all the cowboys smiled. Next to Dunbar, Wa-ha-loto was the champion scrapper of the Bat Wing. There had been a day when )io was gentle, but ever since a drunken Texas cowboy had ridden him with tho spurs his views of life had changed, He had dbcidcd that no decent, self-respecting horse would stand for such treatment and, after piling a few adventurous broncobusters, had settled down to a life of ease and plenty. The finest looking horse in the remuda, by all odds, was old YVa-ha-lote, the Water-dog. He was fat and shiny, and carried his tail straight up lilco a banner; the yellow dapples, like the spots on a salamander's black hide— whence his Mexican name, Wa-ha-lote— were bright and plain in the sunlight; ana ho held his head up high as he ramped around the corral,

The sun had come up over the San Ramon Mountains while Hardy Atkins was wrestling with Dunbar it .soared still higher while the boys caught Wa-ha-lote. But caught he was, and saddled, for the horse never lived that a bunch of Texas punchers cannot tie. It was hot work, with skinned knuckles, and rope-burned hands to pay for it; but tho hour of revenge was at hand, and they called for Bowles. A wild 'look was in every eye, and heaven only knows what would have happened had he refused; but the hot sun and excitement had aroused Mr. Bowles from his calm, and ho answered like a bridegroom. Perhaps a flash of white up by the big h'ous& added impetus to his feet; but, be that as it may, ho slipped blithely through the bars and hurried out to his mount.

"Oh, what a beautiful horse!" he cried, standing back to admire his lines. "Do you need that blinder on his eyes?" "What I say!" commented Atkins, ambiguously. " Now you pilo on him and take this .quirt, and when I push the blind up von boiler and throw into 'im. Are you ready ?" "Just a moment!" murmured Bowles, and for the space of half a minute he stood patting old Water-dog's neck where he stood there, grim and waiting, his iron legs set liko posts and every muscfo aquiver. I ' "All right," ho said. "Release him!" " Releaso him it'is!" shouted Atkins, with brutal exulting. "Let 'im go, boys; and—yee-pah!" •' ; , He raised the blind with a single, jerk, leaped back, and warped Wa-ha-lote over the rump with a coil of rope. Other men did as much, or more; and Bowles did not forget to holler.

"Get up, old fellow!" he shouted. As the lashes fell, Wa-ha-lote made one mighty plunge—and stopped. Then, as the crowd scattered, he shook out his mane and charged straight at the high, pole gate. A shout went up, , and a cry of warning,i and as the cowboys who draped the bars, scrambled down to escape the crash Bowles was , seen to lean forward; he struck with his quirt, and Wa-ha-loto valuted the bars like a hunter. But even then he was not satisfied. Two panel gates stood" between him ; and the open, and he took them both like a bird; then the dust rose up in his wake, and the Bat Wing outfit stood goggle-eyed and blasphemous.

"W'y, the blankety-blank!" crooned Hardy Atkins. "Too skeered to pitch!" lamented Buck.

"You hit 'im too hard!" shouted Happy Jack. "But that feller kin ride!" put in Brigham stoutly. " Aw. listen to the Mormon-faced dastard!" raved Hardy Atkins, and as the conversation rose mountain high tile white dresses up on the hill fluttered back inside tho house. But when Bowles came riding back on Wa-ha-lote not even tho outraged Hardy could deny that the Bat Wing had a new hand. *

CHAPTER VI. THE HOUND-UP. It is an old saying that there is no combination or percentage known that can beat bull luck. Bowles was lucky, but lie didn't know how lucky lie was, never having seen a real bronk pitch. After Wa-ha-lote had had his run fie changed his mind again and decided to be good, and when Bowles galloped him back to the ranch he was as, gentle as a dog and top horso in the remuda. Even when Bowles started to rise to the trot the Water-dog was no more than badly puzzled.

By this time the outfit was pouring out the gate on their way to the belated round-up, and" all except the principals had decided to take it. as a joke. To be sure, they had lost an hour's daylight, and broken ft few throw-ropes, but the time was not absolutely lost., Bowles would soon draw a bronk that would pitch, and then—oh, you English dude! They greeted him kindly, then with the rough good nature you read so much about, and as Bowles loosened' up they saw he was an easy mark. "Say pardner," said one, "you sure can jump the fences! Where'd you learn that —back at Coney Island?"

"Coney Island nothin'l" retorted another. W'y, Joe, you show your ignorance ! This gentleman is from England— can't you see him ride?" " Well, I knowed all along he was goin' to ride Wa-ha-lote," observed a third, oracularly. " I could tell by the way he

walked up to him. How's he goin', stranger— a pretty good buggy horse, wouldn't ho!' "Yes, indeed!" beamed Bowles. "That is, I presume he would. He is one of the best-gaited animals I ever rode. A perfect riding horse! Really, I can't remember when I've enjoyed such a glorious gallop!" They crowded around him then in an anxious, attentive cluster, still jabbing their horses with the spurs to keep up with Henry Lee, but salting away his naive remarks for future reference.

Henry Lee was Just making soma little gathers near the. home ranch while he waited for his neighbours to send in their stray men for the big round-up, and as the conversation rattled on in the rear he headed straight for a range of hills to the south. An hour of hard riding followed, and then, as they began to encounter cattle, ho told off men by ones and twos to drive them in to the cutting ground. Hardy Atkins took another bunch of men and rode for a distant point, and soon the whole outfit was strung out in a great circle that closed in slowly upon a lonely windmill that stood at the base of the hills. ~

As no one gave him orders, Bowles tagged along for a while and then threw in with Brigham, hoping to imbibe some much-needed information about the cow business from him, but a slow, brooding silence had come over that son of the desert and he confined his remarks to few words.

" Don't crowd the cattle," he said, "and don't chase 'em. They's nothin' to it—jest watch the other hands."

He mogged along glumly then, spitting tobacco and looking wise whenever Bowles made effusive remarks, and soon the spirit of the wide places took hold of the impressionable Easterner and taught him to be still. The sun was shining gloriously now, and the air was like new wine; he had conquered Wa-ha-lote, and won a job on the ranch, yet, even as the hot blood coursed in his veins and his heart leaped" for joy, the solemn silence" of burly Brigbam exhorted him to peace. Nay, more than that—it set up uneasy questionings in his mind and made him ponder upon what he had said. Perhaps ho had spoken foolishly in the first flush of his victory; he might even have laid himself open'to future gibes and jests, branding himself for a tenderfoot with every word he said. Yes, indeed; perhaps lie had. At any rate, tlx© first words ho heard as they nearcd the cutting-grounds were indicative of the fact.

"Hey, Bill," roared Buck Buchanan, wafting his bull voice across tho herd. "Release that Bar X cow!"

" Beg pahdon?" replied Bill, holding his hand behind his ear; and then there was a rumble of Homeric laughter that left Bowles hot with shame. Hey, Buck!" echoed Happy Jack, reining his horse out to turn back an ambling steer,• ai\d .while • all' hands,

stirrups; tied?/ No? Well, I. reckon you're right.—likely to get caught and supposed to lie English, he bobbed higher and higher at every jump until he, fell face forward on his horse's neck, and the cowboys whooped for joy. Bowles was able to laugh at 1, this joke, and he tried ti> do it graciously; . but the sudden wave of good maimers and faultless grammar which swept over the crowd left him heated and mad clear through. Any dreams he might have cherished of becoming the little tin hero of the cow country were'' shattered beyond repair, lie saw the American cowboy as really is—a very frail and human creature', who scorns all things new and foreign, and particularly objects. to Eastern tenderfeet who try to beat him at his own game. If Bowles had been piled in the dirt by his first mount and come limping forth with a grin, ho would have won a corralful of friends by his grit; as .was, he had ridden Wa-ha-lote, a horse supposed to be a sank outlaw, and the cowboys were quick"to resent it. Even the loyal Brigham had turned against him, looking on with a cynical smile, as lie saw him mocked; and as for Henry Lee, lie could not even get near him. Scorn and anger and - a patrician aloofness swept over Bowies' countenance by turns, aud then he took Brigham's unspoken counsel and let the heathen rage. It was hard on his pride, but lie schooled himself, to endure it; and as cant pliraso after cant phrase came back at him and lie realised how loosely .he had talked he decided in the future to keep his mouth shut. So far. at least, he had caught the great spirit of tho West.

But now Tor the first time there was spread out before his eyes the shifting' drama of the cow country,, and he could not resist it's appeal. On the edge, of a great plain and within sight of jagged rock-ribbed mountains be beheld the herd of lowing' cattle, the reinuda of spare horses, the dashing cowboys, the firo with its healing irons, and all the changing scenes ' that go to make up a Western branding. For a spell the herd stood still while mothers sought out their calves and restless bulls plowed in and out; then when the clamour and blatting had lulled, and all hands had got a drink and made a change of horses, a pair of ropers rode Into tlio herd, marking down each cow and calf and making sure they were mother and offspring. At last, when Henry Ice and his neighbours' stray men /rere satisfied,, the ropers shook out their loops, crowded in on some unbranded calf and» flipped the noose over its head* Like automatons the quick-stepping little cutting ponies whirled and started for the fire, dragging the calves behind them by neck or legs or feet. Any way the rope fell was good enough for the cowboys, and the ponies came in on the lope. Behind tlie calf pranced its frantic mother, head down and smelling its hido, and a pair of cowboys stationed for that purpose rode in and turned her back.

Then the flankers rushed out and caught the rope, and the strong member seized tho calf by its neck and flank and with an upward boost of the knees raised its feet from the ground and threw it flat on its side. One held up its head, the other tho hind legs, and in a flash the earmarkers and hot-Iron men were upon it, to give it a brand for life.

"Bat Wing!" called the dragger-up, giving Ciio mother's brand. There was a blat, a puff of white smoke, and the calf was turned back to his "mammy." That was tlio pi-ocess, very simple to the cowboy and entirely devoid of any suggestion of pain; but to Bowles it seemed rather brutal, and he went .back to, help hold the herd. '

As one roper after the other pursued his calf through the throng, or chased it over tile plain while he made wild and ineffectual throws, the great herd milled and raovecl and shifted like a thing of life. At a distance of a hundred feet or more apart, a circle of careless punchers sat their mounts, nominally engaged in holding the herd but mostly loafing on the job or talking it over in pairs. To Bowles it seemed that they were very negligent indeed, letting cows walk out which could have been turned back by the flip of a rope, and then spurring furiously after them as. they made a break for the hills. If a calf which the ropers had failed to catch came dashing by, one guard, or even two, might leave his place to join in a mad pursuit, meanwhile leaving Bowles and Wa-ha-lote to patrol the entire flank of the herd. To be sure, he liked to do it; but thcyr system seemed very poor to 'him, though lie did not venture to say so.

Meanwhile, with futile pursuits and monotonous waits, the branding dragged slowly along, and suddenly Bowles realised ho was hungry. He looked at his watch and saw that it was nearly noon, but. he could perceive no symptoms of dinner. He regretted now the insufficient, ! breakfast which he had eaten, remembering with a shade of envy the primitive appetite which had enabled the others to bolt beefsteaks like ravening wolves ; also, he resolved to put a biscuit in his pocket the next time lie rode out on tho circle. But this availed him nothing in his extremity, and as the others sought to assuage their pangs with brown paper cigarettes he almost -regretted the freak of nicety which had kept him from learning to smoke. It was noon now— hours since breakfast— just as he was about to make some guarded inquiries of Brigham Hie work of branding ceased. The brand erg, their faces grimed and sweaty and their hands caked with blood, pulled on their heavy simps and came riding up to the herd; but not to cry: '* Release" them!"

(To -« Continued on Saturday Next.)