Injun and Whitey to the Rescue

early morning. One of the boys and all the horses were hungry, but the other boy had little desire for food. Whitey had been up against some rou

them in the corral, and made their way to the ranch house. Bill Jordan and John Big Moose were in the living-room. Bill was getting the big Indian to help him with

oys entered the room. "You two seem to have

tey," said Bill "You been

y of the adventure, from the boys' awakening to their finding

an' Ham's bein' crooks," Bill

s terrible for them to die

housand dollars in gold in that there car, an' they was six fellers went along to pertect it. Not detectives, or nothin', just fellers that was hired, an' was dyin' for excitement. I reck'n some o' t

ested. "Why didn't they shoot t

s what thinks o' holdin' up a train," said Bill. "They'd stol

He went away with Injun, and tried to eat. And he tried, too, to forget the horror of

an and four of the cowboys were there, to say nothing of Slim, the cook. Slim had another griev

k and yarns of the cowboys, for, "boys" they were called, whether they we

had been praised and blamed with equal frankness, and now he was glad to see that the subject was to

give me a braided

een in the West, you probably have seen a mounted cowboy carrying one of these thin but strong rope

good," suggeste

ck declared. "It's got any other ki

ith one?" Jim Walker

d, "but I seen othe

it," said Shorty. "We don't

"Say, you all never heard me tell

old about places so far away that we has t' take 'em as

ke up just as good ones yourselves,"

trangely," said Bill. "Ge

start at al

ill means," ex

harlie Bassett. "You fellers that ai

known that every story of Buck's met with this sort of reception,

t queer me, I will tell about this here

ty. An' every one knows that there ain't on easier brand to cover up than a lazy I. It was got up by old man Innes, what own

did not hear this reflection on

them bunches begins t' seem more like herds, an' somethin' had t'

Jim. "That's a fine

him an' 'bout seven punchers, includin' me, got th' job. 'Course, we had some idea of where them steers wa

they's no use tellin' you of all th' figurin', an' trailin', an' hard rid

" correct

ded Shorty. "Buck don't know w

o you," re

n' t' do with braided linen r

ic-like re-brandin' some of our calves so's Lazy I'd read Circle W. 'Course, they wa'n't but one thing t' do with them fellers, an' we perceeds to do it. But unfortu

isher, who always was handy with his memory, happens t' think of a canyon 'bout three mile away, with a bridge over it. Sort o' like

feller named Red Mike wins-- or loses, rather-as he gets number one. The noose of one of these commo

eaks, an' Mike goes cavortin' down that swift stream, at th' rate of 'bout thirty miles an hour,

at. He wouldn't even risk bein' honest. Well, Sure Thing watches perceedin's with a good deal of inte

an' he sez, 'Lem, have you got a

says Le

ays Sure Thing. 'Ye see what happened t' Mike, an' I d

ast word, "with all your advertisin' for braided linen rope

Bull, who had been lying near Whitey, rose to a sitting posture, his

laughin' at Buck's story yet. He's sure got a s

him, but Bill was his especial admirer, and loved to dwell

fter that jamboree las' night I f

havin' Bull down t' th' Junction las' we

Jim answered.

t take a minute, an' you got all 'te

m yawned; "but cut loo

Junction for feed, an' I takes Bull along. You know how he lik

im. "We know how smart that dog is, without you

etch his legs. So I ties a halter t' his collar an' starts out. I isn't exactly leadin' Bull, he's sort o' leadin' me, for you all know how strong he is. But we sure needs t

udy natur' a bit, before we turns back. An' thinkin' it's safe t' do so, I lets go o' Bull's halter. An' while I'm studyin' a

at has that pack o' wolf-hounds that he hunts with. Fox-huntin' he calls it, though what he mostly chases is coyotes. Ain'

out a bulldog or a lecture on them fore

pens if he meets up with them hounds. So I follers, swift's I can, spillin' some language to Bull-prayers, an' warnin's an' such. But before I ge

there's Bull, right in th' middle of th' pack. Now all th' tails is waggin', an' that looks purty good, till I comes t' think that Bull always wags his tail before he go

d'ye want

' hounds. 'We're goin' to ch

,' say

o' 'em leaps over a fence, an'

to th' road. He leaps again, an' comes back th' same way, but at th' third jump he goes through a wider place in th' rails, an'

almost strangers, an' his hind legs is too short, an' th' rest of him's too heavy for all of 'em. But Bull keeps goin', industr'ous. A

ll ain't one to let no hounds see him quit, an' he plows along, till at last he gets t' them hills an' is lost t' sight

long like he has flatirons tied t' his feet. An' he's all decorated with real estate, an' burrs, an' everythin' loose what would stick to him. An' when he gets to where I sits,

hat in tarnati

owly the men began to take off their clothes, with the idea of turning in.