THE RIGHT OF WAY.

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 29, Issue 33, 1 May 1917, Page 7

THE RIGHT OF WAY.

COMPLETE SHORT STORY

The president of the Great SouthWestern Railway Company tapped impatiently on the table. The other members of the board Ktept a constrained silence, and the second vicepresident, in charge of extension, gazed longingly at a plebeian sign of “Beer” across the street and seven storeys below. It was at him the president was directing his remarks. “It is ridiculous,’’ he said, “that we should be blocked by the obstinacy of one man in our endeavour to build this branch line. A casual observer would certainly, suppose that the executive department of the comjPany had sufficient brains to overcome such an obstacle as this. The situation is simple enough. Here is our road and here are the mountains in which the new finds have been made. To develop them, machinery must be hauled. That means a branch line. One man owns all the land — mesa and foot-hills —between the railroad and the mines. We must cross his ranch, but he declines to sell a right of way. He is a pioneer and bull-headed. Pie says the country was getting along without railroads when he came here, and that it can get along without them still. We must overcome his objections—but bow ? We offer to pay him well for all damage done, and he replies by suggesting that our construction gang should bring along one carload of coffins. He is certainly a contrary individual. Have I stated the case correctly ?” “You have,” said the second vicepresident, removing his igaze from the sign below to the map on the table, "with one exception. Colonel Snortally is not an individual, he is a community, and more ; he is a corporation, because he owns forty thousand acres. of landi; he is a political party, because he employs more cowboys than you can ordinarily get together at a country dance ; he is a law-giver, because of his wealth and the taxes he pays ; he is a law enforcer so far as he sees fit, because he can shoot straight and’ has men with him who can do likewise ; he is society, because his daughter, whom I have had 1 the pleasure of meeting, is the most beautiful- young lady in the Territory. What can a poor, ordinary railroad company do against such combination ? We cannot condemn until we can get a right of way from the Board of Supervisors, and he is the county government.” The president mopped his brow. His gaze wandered across the street and down seven storeys to a sign. He arose and picked up his silk hat. “All right,” he said. “We must get across that ranch some way.”

A cloud of dust was coming down the road. Theophilus Smith carefully watched it for a moment, and then turned Bucyrus among the boulders by the roadside. Bucyrus was his mule. Just ahead of the dust-cloud appeared a frantic horse, tearing wildly down the road towards him. Now and then he could catch glimpses of a swaying buckboard and. a young lady clinging to the seat. Theophilus who was a careful young man, put his briarwood pipe in the inside pocket of his jacket, drew his sombrero down tightly upon his head, and then disinterestedly watched the approaching runaway. As the dust-cloud and its contents passed, Bucyrus wheeled, and they, too, went flying down the road. Through sand and over boulders they went, horse, buckboard, mule, and dust.

“Excuse me, miss,” said Theophilus, as he came alongside and reached for the bit of the runaway horse ; “pleasant day, is it not?” He gripped the bridle hard, pulled sideways and backward', and Bucyrus cheerfully sat down to the occasion and slid. There was more dust, and then they stopped. Theophilus rubbed some of the dust from his eyes and raised his sombrero to the girl in the buckboard. She lobked at him with wide-open blue eyes.

“I am very sorry,” he said, politely, “to stop you so rudely merely to ask you a question ; but will you kindly pardon me and inform me where, Colonel Snortally lives?” The young lady’s lips quivered, and, instead of replying, she burst into tears. Then, recovering from her embarrassment and fright, she drew a deep breath and smiled faintly, and, as the colour came back to her pale cheeks, she answered : “I am the colonel’s daughter, and I will gladly show you the way to our home.”

Theophilus spoke a few words to the still restless horse, handed the reins up to the young lady, and led Bucyrus to '"the rear of the buckboard, to which he tied him. “I suppose,” said the colonel’s daughter as they started up the road, “that I should thank you for saving my life and my father’s best buckboard. Really, I thank you very much. If you will stop at the house for dinner, I will try and show my gratitude with some tortillas and frijoles of my own cooking.”

“The debt of gratitude is on my side, not yours,” Theophilus answered. “I am in search of work as a cowboy, and I cannot but hope that your acquaintance is an auspicious omen.”

“Cowboys don’t talk like that, she said, a little sharply, eyeing him in surprise. “You’re not fitted for a ranch man. Cattlemen don’t ride mules. Papa says there is only one .animal more ridiculous, stupid, and idiotic than a mule, and that is the man who rides one.”

“But your father doesn’t know old

Bucyrus.” “Nor his owner,” she rejoined, with a laugh.

They stopped in front of a long, low, ranch-house, with deep-set windows and doors. x lvy circled the, windows and climbed to the caves. A few firs, some tall blue gums, and a dozen palms stood in the front yard. The house was set far back, and the verandah that surrounded it was half hidden in the green of orange trees. A stream from the mountains ran through the orchard in the rear, its course marked by a line of cottonwoods and willows, that broke the monotony of ; the otherwise treeless mesa. On the other side of the creek and at some distance from the house, were the corrals and Stables of the house.

The young lady stepped lightly to the ground. “I will call papa,” she said.

A few minutes later a tall man, heavy set, with a face like the full moon in harvest time, Jiis scanty locks somewhat grizzled with the first snowfall of the winter of life, came swinging down the walk with great strides. “How air ye ?” ho shouted before reaching the gate. “Glory tells me ye ketchcd that son o’ Satan thar jest in time. I’m mighty glad to meet ye, mister.” He seized Theophilus’s hand, and Theophilus tried to look pleased. “Jack !” shouted Colonel Snortally. A dusty cowboy with a sombrero on the back of his head sauntered around the corner of the house. "Take that boss out beyond thar V shoot him. Come in Mister—er” “Smith.”

“Dinner’ll he ready by’n-hy. Whar’d that beast come from ?” he added, pointing to Bucyrus.

“He’s my mule,” answered Theophilus.

"You don’t say so S’posed you know’d better ’n that. Tviules ain’t no place on this ranch. Can’t ye find a greaser to give him to ?’’ "Bucyrus is no common mule,” his owner said calmly ; "he knows more than any horse you ever saw. And he can run, too.” This last remark amused the colonel so mightily that he sat down on the porch step and laughed heartily. A mule that could run ! "I never yet clapped eyes on a mule that could ketch a yearling calf in a fair race. Must be a slow kentry you grow’d •up in, young man.” The colonel wiped his eyes and. chuckled. "Well, if I stay," said the defender of mules, determinedly, "I’ll show you one mule that can run.” “Stay ! Of course ye’ll stay if ye wanter,” said Colonel Snortally, cordially, “Ye kin hev your pick o' jobs, an’ if ye must make a holy show o’ that mule, we’ll pervide the necessary accessories.”

Theophilus stayed. He was handy with the lariat, rode a horse like a j native and a mule a great deal bet-1 ter. He evidently understood all the marks and deeps of the bovine char- | acter, and very shortly won that for j himself which he could not for his , mule—the colonel’s respect. When old | Bucyrus would head off a skilful I stampeder, Colonel Snortally would grumble something about “fools rushin’ in,” and when he would dodge a belligerent steer he would growl something about a ‘‘fool for luck.” On the subject of mules the Colonel and Theophilus continued to disagree. They argued the question continually. The colonel pointed out the bad qualities of the mule ; Theophilus grew eloquent over the animal’s virtues. Glory smiled, hut took no part in the discussion which resulted in the famous race at Crag’s Corner —a race that is still m'emorable all. over the Poncho Basin country. The colonel brought out a longlegged mustang that .he had purchased across the border the year before. This mustang was a sad deceiver, and had lightened the pocket of many a cowboy who had backed a home animal against the imported stock. A light-weight Mexican rode him. A few minutes later Bucyrus ambled forth, wearing that surprised look of a mule when he is but halfawakened from a sweet dream of peace with plenty of barley hay in it. All the inhabitants of the Basin were on hand to see the race, and even old man Johnson stopped his sheep-shearing and came from over the range with all hands to enjoy the holiday. At the start the mustangl ran clean away from Bucyrus, and at the quarter there was room , enough for a threshing-machine between them. The crowd laughed and cheered, and the colonel issued a general invitation to free drinks for all present after the race, for the colonel was very fond of his own opinion.

For some reason Glory did not smile. But when the animals reached the half, there was a change. Bucyrus seemed to remember that he was neither asleep nor working for the Government. He began to run. At the last quarter there was silence, for the crowd was holding its breath. While the mustang and Bucyrus were coming down the home-stretch the colonel’s countenance was interesting, and when Bucyrus passed under the wire something more than an ear ahead, the colonel arose and made his way through the silence to Crag’s Palace of Delight and faintly asked for a stimulant.

That night Theophilus showed a frightful lack of good taste. He ostentatiously reviewed the merits of the mule family, and of Bucyrus in particular. The colonel sat in fiery silence and chewed the cud of hitter reflection, but finally, when Theophilus wound up by declaring that Bacyrus could outrun the Overland Limited from Crag’s Corner to the moun-tain-road crossing, a distance of a litt’e over a mile, Colonel Snortally arose in his wrath and swore.

“I’ll bet ye anything ye want that y.er wall-eyed apology for a boss can’t do anything of the kind.” “Will you bet my pick of a hundred unimproved acres on your ranch

asamsi uucyrus mat ne can't '!” ttu young man quietly asked. “Sartinly,” said the colonel, who deep down in his heart hid a liking for Bucyrus.

“All right,” said Theophilus ; ‘‘U you say so, we will settle it to-mor-row —going west.” The colonel said so, and went to bed. By the light of the stars that nighi a man rode hurriedly down to Crag’ 6 Corner, the nearest railroad station, and before dawn rode as hurriedl] back to the ranch again. .

The next day was another day ol excitement in the Basin. The rumour of the novel race spread quickly. That is why, Ike Williams beard, waj up in Rocky Gulch, that Colonel Snortally had bet his forty-thousand-acre ranch against a heard of mules that a certain swift animal of that kind could not beat the Overland Limited in a ten-mile race.

The waggon-road ran for miles along the railroad track, so Bacyrus was not handicapped. fThe race was an even one up to the last fifty yards, when Bucyrus, by a tremendous spurt, shot ahead and passed the crossing with twenty feet of daylight between himself and the engine. But there were wiseacres in the Basin who shake their heads when telling of that wonderful race, and hint that the driver was half asleep. Colonel Snortally was a good loser and he cheerfully invited Theophilus out the next day to choose hia hundred acres. He was not the less cheerful because Theophilus the night before had made him a present of Bacyrus. Theophilus proved an amazing chooser. He took a narrow strip ol land running from the corner up to Warder’s Canyon, at the foot of the mountains. To the colonel’s jesting about his choice, he said something about it making a good racs-track.

About a week later Theophilus was enjoying one evening a quiet afterdinner smoke on the verandah. He was at peace with the world, when Colonel Snortally came up the walk. The colonel’s face was like the sun shining red through a thunder-cloud. He was too much agitated to apeak for a minute, but when ho did begin to talk his words were to the point. Prom his expressions one might gather that he was perturbed by the fact that Theophilus had sold a certain hundred acres of land as a right of way to the Great South-Western Railway Company. Colonel Snortally finished up by declaring his intention of removing from the scene a stranger who had taken him in, And therewith drew his revolver.

There was a rustle of a dress, a 1 low cry, and Glory v/as sobbing, with her face on Theophilus’s shoulder. "Don’t do it, colonel, unless you feel compelled to,” said Theophilus, rising with one arm about Glory, "and unless you want to make Glory a widow. Wo were married two days ago.” Colonel Snortally.’s face grew white and the revolver slipped from his grasp. Glory was the dearest of all to him. * u • • The president of the Great SouthWestern Railway Company looked ’across the street and down seven storeys to a certain plebeian sign. Then he a' oso and picked up his cane and silk hat. "Well,” he said, “we won after all. That was cleverly done cleverly done.” “Yes,” said the second vice-presi-dent ; "but the attacking force lost heavily. For the young man from my office who managed the affair has married the colonel’s daughter, made peace with the colonel, and at the last report was laying out a town at the terminus of our projected branch and selling corner lots.” THE END.