Chapter 1 of The Range Dwellers by B. M. Bauer. I am something like the old maid you read about, the one who always knows all about babies and just how to bring them up to righteous maturity. I've got a mighty strong conviction that I know heaps that my dad never thought of about the proper training of a healthy male human. I don't suppose I'll ever have a chance to demonstrate my wisdom, but if I do, there are a few things that won't happen to my boy. If I've got a comfortable wad of my own, the boy shall have his fun without any nagging so long as he keeps clean and honest. He shall go to any college he may choose, and right here is where my wisdom will sit up and get busy. If I'm fool enough to let the kid have more money than is healthy for him, and if I go to sleep while he's wising up to the art of making it fade away without leaving anything behind to tell the tale, and learning a lot of habits that aren't doing him any good, I won't come down on him with both feet and tell him all the different brands of fool he's been, and more because the Lord in his mercy laid upon me this burden of an unregenerate son. I shall try and remember that he's the son of his father, and not expect too much of him. It's long odds I shall find points of resemblance aplenty between us, and the more cussedness he develops, the more I shall see myself in him reflected. I don't mean to be hard on dad. He was always good to me, in his way. He's got more things than a son to look after, and as that son is supposed to have a normal allowance of grey matter, and has no physical weakling, he probably took it for granted that the son could look after himself, which the mines and railroads and ranches that represent his millions can't. But it wasn't giving me a square deal. He gave me an allowance and paid my debts besides, and he let me amble through school at my own gate, which wasn't exactly slow, and afterward let me go. If I do say it, I had lived a fairly decent sort of life. I belonged to some good clubs, athletic mostly, and trained regularly, and was called a fair boxer among the amateurs. I could tell to a glass, after a lot of practice, just how much of steam different brands I could take without getting foolish, and I could play poker and win once in a while. I had a steam yacht, and a motor of my own, and it was generally stripped to racing trim, and I wasn't tangled up with any women. Actress worship had never appealed to me. My tastes all went to the sporting side of life, and left women to the fellows with less nerve and more sentiment. So I had lived for twenty-five years, just having the best time a fellow with an unlimited resource can have, if he's healthy. It was then, on my twenty-fifth birthday, that I walked into Dad's private library with a suddenly smile, ready for the good wishes and the check that I was in the habit of getting. I'd been unlucky, and Lord knows I needed it. And what does the dear man do? Instead of one check, he handed me a sheaf of them, each stamped in diverse places by diverse banks. I flipped the ends and looked them over a bit, because I saw that was what he expected of me. What the truth is, Jacks don't interest me much after they've been messed up with red and green stamps. They're about as enticing as a last year's popular song. Dad crossed his legs, matched his fingertips together, and looked at me over his glasses. Many a man knows that attitude and that look, and so many a man has been as uncomfortable as I began to be, and has felt as keen a sense of impending trouble. I began immediately searching my memory for some special brand of devilment that I'd been sampling, but there was nothing doing. I had been losing some at poker lately, and I'd been away to the bad out at Hingleside. Still, I looked him innocently in the eye and wondered what was coming. The last check is worthy of particular attention, he said, dryly. The others are remarkable only for their size and continuity of numbers. But the last one should be framed and hung upon the wall at the foot of your bed, though you would not see it often. I consider it a diploma of your qualification as Master Jackanapes. Dad's vocabulary when he was angry contains some rather stringy words of the old-fashioned type. I looked at the check and began to see light. I had been a bit rollicky that time. It wasn't drawn for very much, that check. I've lost more on one jackpot many a time and thought nothing of it. And, though the events leading up to it were a bit rapid and undignified, perhaps I couldn't see anything to get excited over, as I could see Dad plainly was. For a young man, 25 years old and with brains enough, supposedly, to keep out of the feeble-minded class, his tracks me you indulge in some damn pork pastimes, went on Dad disagreeably. Cracking champagne bottles in front of the cliff house, on a Sunday at that, may be diverting to the bystanders, but it can hardly be called dignified, and I fail to see how it is going to fit a man for any useful business. Business? Lord! Dad never had mentioned a useful business to me before. When I felt my eyelids fly up, this was springing birthday surprises with a vengeance. Driving an automobile on forbidden roads, being arrested and fined, on Sunday at that. Now look here, Dad. I cut in, getting a bit hot under the collar myself. By all the laws of nature, there must have been a time when you were 25 years old to cut a little swath of your own, and seeing you're as big as your offspring, 6 foot 1 and you can't deny it, and fairly husky for a man of your age. I'll bet all you dare that said swath was not of the narrow gauge variety. I've never heard of your teaching a class in any Sunday school, and if you never drove your machine beyond the deadline and cracked champagne bottles on the wheels in front of the cliff house, it's because automobiles weren't invented and cliff house wasn't built. Begging you're pardoned, Dad. I'll bet you were a pretty raw like a young blade yourself. Now Dad is very old fashioned in some of his notions. One of them is that a parent may hand out a roast that will frizzle the foliage for blocks around, and, guilty or innocent, a son must take it, as he'd take cod liver oil. It's nasty, but good for what ails you. He snapped his mouth shut, and being his son and having that habit myself, I recognized the symptoms and judged that things would presently grow interesting. I was betting on a full house. The atmosphere grew tense. I heard a lot of things in the next five minutes that no one but my Dad could say without me trying mighty hard to make him swallow them, and I just sat there and looked at him and took it. I couldn't agree with him that I'd committed a grievous crime. It wasn't much of a lark, as larks go, just an incident at the close of a rather full afternoon, coming around up the beach from Engels side house a few days before, in the yellow peril, my machine. We got to badgering each other about doing things not orthodox. At last, Barney McTague dared me to drive the yellow peril past the deadline, down by the pavilion, and on up the hill to Sutro Baths. Naturally, I couldn't take a dare like that, and went him one better. I told him I'd not only drive to the very top of the hill, but I'd stop at the gift house and crack a bottle of champagne on each wheel of the yellow peril in honor of the occasion. That would make a bottle a piece, for there were four of us alone. It was done to the delight of the usual Sunday crowd of brides, grooms, tourists, and kids. A mounted policeman interviewed us to the further delight of the crowd, and invited us to call upon a certain judge, whom none of us knew. We did so, and Dad was good enough to pay the fine, which, as I said before, was not much. I've had less fun for more money, often. Dad didn't say anything at the time, so I was not looking for the roast I was getting. It appeared, from his viewpoint, that I was about as useless, imbecile, and utterly no account of sun as a man ever had. And if there was anything good in me, it was not invisible except under a strong magnifying glass. He said, among other things, too painful to mention, that he was getting old. That is about fifty-six. And that if I didn't buck up an amount to something soon, he didn't know what was going to become of the business. Then he delivered the knockout blow that he had been working up to. He was going to see what there was in me, he said. He would pay my bills, and, as a birthday gift, he would present me with a through-ticket to Osage in Montana, where he owned a ranch called the Bay State, and a stock saddle, spurs, chaps, and a hundred dollars. After that I must work out my own salvation, or the other thing. If I wanted more money inside a year or two, I would have to work for it, just as if I were an orphan without a dad who writes checks on demand. He said that there was always something to do on the Bay State ranch, which is one of dad's places. I could do as I pleased, he said, but he'd advised me to buckle down and learn something about cattle. It was plain I never would amount to anything in an office. He laid a yard or two of ticket on the table at my elbow, and on top of that I checked for one hundred dollars, payable to one Ellis Carlton. I took up the check and read every word on it twice. Not because I needed to, I was playing for time to think. Then I twisted it up in a taper, held it to the blaze of the fireplace, and lighted a cigarette with it. Dad kept his fingertips together and watched me without any expression whatsoever on his face. I took three deliberate puffs, picked up the ticket, and glanced along down its dirty green length. Dad never moved a muscle, and I remember the clock got to a ticking louder than I'd ever heard it in my life before. I may as well be perfectly honest. That ticket did not appeal to me a little bit. I think he expected to see that go up in smoke also. But though I'm pretty much of a fool at times, I believe there are lucid intervals when I recognize certain objects such as justice. I knew that, in the main, Dad was right. I had been leading a rather reckless existence, and I was getting pretty old for such kid foolishness. He had measured out the dose, and I meant to swallow it without whining, but it was exceeding bitter to the palate. I see the ticket is dated twenty-four hours ahead, I said as calmly as I knew how, which gives me time to have rank and pack a few duds. I hope the outfit you furnish includes a red silk handkerchief and a Colt-44 revolver, and a key to the proper method of slaying acquaintances in the West.  You probably mean a Colt-45, said Dad, with a more convincing calmness than I could show. It shall be provided. As to the key, you will no doubt find that on the ground when you arrive. Very well, I replied, getting up and stretching my arms up as high as I could reach, which was beastly manners, of course, but a safe event for my feelings, which cried out for something or somebody to punch. You've called the turn, and I'll go. It may be many moons here we two meet again, the crime of cracking my own champagne, for I paid for it, you know. On my own automobile wheels may not seem the heinous thing it looks now. See you later, Dad. I walked out with my head high in the air and my spirits rather low, if the truth must be told. Dad was generally kind and wise and generous, but he certainly did break out in unexpected places sometimes. Going to the Bay State Ranch just at that time was not a cheerful prospect. San Francisco and Seattle were just starting a series of ball games that promised to be rather swift, and I'd got a lot up on the result. I hated to go just then, and Montana has the reputation of being rather beastly in early March. I knew that much. I caught a car down to the Olympic, hunted up Barney McTeague, and played poker with him till two o'clock that night. I never once mentioned the trip I was contemplating. Then I went home, ratted up my man, and told him what to pack, and went to bed for a few hours. If there was anything pleasant in my surroundings that I failed to think of as I lay there, it must be very trivial indeed. I even went so far as to regret leaving Elphel Mapleton, whom I cared nothing for. And above all and beneath all, hanging in the background of my mind and dodging forward insistently, in spite of myself, was a deep resentment, a soreness against Dad for the way he had served me. Granted, I was wild, and a useless cumber of civilization. That was only what my environments had made me. Dad had let me run, and he had never kicked on the price of my folly, or tried to pull me up at the start. He had given his time to his mines and his cattle ranches and railroads, and had left his only son to go to the devil if he chose, and at his own pace. Then, because the son had come near making a thorough job of it, he had done this. I felt hardly used and at odds with life during those last few hours in the little old bird. All the next day I went the pace as usual with the gang, and at seven, after the early dinner, caught a downtown car and set off alone to the ferry. I had not seen Dad since I left him in the library, and I did not particularly wish to see him either. Possibly I had some unfilial notion of making him ashamed and sorry. It is even possible that I half expected him to come and apologize, and offered to let things go on in the old way. In that event I was prepared to be chesty. I will look at him coldly and say, you have seen fit to buy me a ticket to Osage, Montana. So be it. To Osage, Montana I am bound. Oh, I had it all fixed. Dad came into the ferry waiting room, just as the passengers were pouring off the boat, and sat down beside me as if nothing had happened. He did not look sad or contrite or ashamed, not at least enough to notice. He glanced at his watch and then handed me a letter. There he began briskly. That is the Perry Potter, the Bay State Foreman. I have wired him that you are on the way. The gate went up at that moment, and he stood up and held out his hand. Sorry I can't go with you, he said. I have an important meeting to attend. Take care of yourself, Ellis Boy. I gripped his hand warmly, though I had intended to give him a dead fish sort of shake. After all, he was my dad, and there were just us two. I picked up my suitcase and started for the gate. I looked back once and saw dad standing there gazing after me, and he did not look particularly brisk. Perhaps, after all, dad cared more than he let on. It's a way the Carlton's have, I have heard. End of Chapter 1 Chapter 2 of The Range Dwellers by B. M. Bauer This Libervox recording is in the public domain. The White Divide If a phrenologist should undertake to read my head, he would undoubtedly find my love of home, if that is what it is called, a sharply defined wilt. I know that I watched the lights of old Frisco slip behind me with as a virulent a case of the deeps as often comes to a man when his digestion is good. It wasn't that I could not bear the thought of hardship. I've taken hunting trips up into the mountains more times than I can remember and ate ungodly messes of my own invention and waited waist deep in snow and slept under the stars and enjoyed nearly every minute. So it wasn't the hardships that I had every reason to expect that got me down. I think it was the feeling that dad had turned me down, that I was in exile and, in his eyes at least, disgraced. It was knowing that he thought me pretty poor truck without giving me a chance to be anything better. I humped over the rail at the stern and watched the waves slap at us viciously like an ill-tempered poodle and felt for all the world like a dog that's been kicked out into the rain. Maybe the medicine was good for me, but it wasn't pleasant. It never occurred to me that night to wonder how dad felt about it, but I've often thought of it since. I had a section to myself so I could sulk undisturbed. Dad was not small at any rate and, though he hadn't let me have his car, he meant me to be decently comfortable. That first night I slept without a break. The second I sat in the smoker till a most unrighteous hour, cultivating the acquaintance of a drummer for a rubber goods outfit. I thought that seeing I was about to mingle with the working classes, I couldn't begin too soon to study them. He was a pretty good sort, too. The rubber goods man left me at Seattle and from there on I was at the tender mercies of my own thoughts and an elderly lady with a startlingly blonde daughter who sat directly opposite me and was frankly disposed to friendliness. I had never given much time to the study of women and so had no alternative but to answer questions and smile fatuously upon the blonde daughter and wonder if I ought to warn the mother that clothes do not make the man and that I was a black sheep and not a desirable acquaintance. Before I had quite settled that point, they left the train. I am afraid I am not distinctly a silverous person. I hummed the doxology after their retreating forms and retired into myself with a feeling that my own society is at times desirable and greatly to be chosen. After that I was shy and nothing happened except on the last evening of the trip. I gave up my soul remaining five dollars in the diner and walked out whistling softly. I was utterly and unequivocally strapped. I went into the smoker to think it over. I knew I had started out with a hundred or so and that I had considered that sufficient to see me through. Plainly it was not sufficient but it is a fact that I looked upon it as a joke and went to sleep grinning idiotically at the thought of me, Ellis Carlton, heir to almost as many men as I was years old without the price of a breakfast in his pocket. It seemed novel and interesting and I rather enjoyed the situation. I wasn't hungry then. Osage Montana failed to rouse any enthusiasm in me when I saw the place next day except that it offered possibilities in the way of eating. At least I fancied it did until I stepped down upon the narrow platform and looked about me. It was two o'clock in the afternoon and I had fasted since dinner the evening before. I was not happy. I began to see where I might have economized a bit and so have gone on eating regularly to the end of the journey. I reflected that stewed terrapin, for instance, might possibly be considered an extravagance under the circumstances and a fellow sentenced to honest toil and exiled to the wilderness should not, it seemed to me then, cause his table to be sprinkled quite so liberally as I had done with tall glasses nor needy tip the porter quite so often or so generously. A dollar looked bigger to me just then than a wheel of the yellow peril. I began to feel unkindly toward the porter. He had looked so abominably well fed and sleek and he had tips that I would be glad to feel in my own pocket again. I stood alone upon the platform and gazed wistfully after the retreating train. Many people have done that before me if one may believe those who write novels and for once in my life I felt a bond of sympathy between us. It's safe betting I did more solid thinking on frenzied finance in the five minutes I stood there watching that train slid off beyond the skyline than I'd done in all my life before. I'd heard, of course, about fellows getting right down to cases but I'd never personally experienced the sensation. I'd always had money or if I hadn't I knew where to go and dad had caught me when I'd all but overdrawn my account at the bank. I was always doing that for dad paid the bills.  It seemed to me it might be a good idea to hunt up the gentleman named Perry Potter whom dad called his foreman. I turned around and caught a tall brown-faced native studying my back with grave interest. He didn't blush when I looked him in the eye but smiled a tired smile and said he reckoned I was the chap he'd been sent to meet. There was no welcome in his voice I noticed. I looked him over critically. Are you the gentleman with the alliterative cock-noman? I asked him eerily hoping he would be puzzled. He was not evidently. Perry Potter, he's at the ranch.  So when he proposed that we hit the trail I followed Meekly in his wake. He did not offer to take my suitcase and I was about to remind him of that oversight when it occurred to me that possibly he was not a servant. He certainly didn't act like one. I carried my own suitcase which was, I have thought since, the only wise move I had made since I left home. A strong but unsightly spring wagon with mud six inches deep on the wheels seemed the goal and we trailed out to it picking up layers of soil as we went. The ground did not look muddy but it was, I have since learned that that particular phase of nature's hypocrisy is called Dobie. I don't admire it myself. I stopped by the wagon and scraped my shoes on the cleanest spoke I could find and swore. My guide untied the horses, gathered up the reins on his side of the wagon. He looked across at me with a gleam of humanity in his eyes, the first I had seen there. It sure beats hell the way it hangs on, he remarked, and from that minute I liked him. It was a first chroma sympathy that had fallen to me for days and you can bet I appreciated it. We got in and he pulled a blanket over our knees and picked up the whip. It wasn't a stylish turnout of farmers driving along the railroad track and rigs like it and I was surprised at Dad for keeping such a layout. Fact is, I didn't think much of Dad anyway, about that time. How far is it to the Bay State Ranch? I asked. 140 mile airline, said he casually. The train was late so I reckon we better stop over till morning. There's a town over the hill and it's nothing a long way. 140 miles from the station? Airline? Sounded to me like a pretty stiff proposition to go up against. Also, how was a fellow gonna put up at a hotel when he hadn't the coin? Would my mysterious guide be shocked to learn that John A. Carlton's son and heir had landed in a strange land without two bits to his name? Jerusalem. I couldn't have paid street car fare downtown. I couldn't even bought a paper on the street. While I was remembering all the things that a millionaire's son can't do if he happens to be without a nickel in his pocket, we pulled up before a place that for the sake of propriety I'm willing to call a hotel. At the time, I remember I had another name for it. In case I might get lost in this strange city I said to my companion as I jumped out. I'd like to know what people call you when they're in a good humor. He grinned down at me. Frosty Miller would hit me alright. He informed me and drove off somewhere down the street. So I went in and asked for a room and got it. This sounds sorted I know but the truth must be told though the artistic sense be shocked. Barred from the track as I was, sent out to grass in disgrace while the little old world kept moving without me to help push, my mind passed up all the things I might naturally be supposed to dwell upon and stuck to three little no-account grievances that I hate to tell about now. They look small for a fact now that they're a way out of sight almost in the past but they were quite big enough of the time to give me a bad hour or two. The biggest one was the state of my appetite. Next and not more than a nose behind was the state of my pockets and the last was had Rankin packed the gray tweed trousers that I had a liking for or had he not. I tried to remember whether I had spoken to him about them and I sat down on the edge of the bed in that little box of a room took my head between my fists and called Rankin several names he sometimes deserved and had frequently heard from my lips I'd have given a good deal to have Rankin at my elbow just then they were not in the suitcase or if they were I had not run across them Rankin had a way of stowing things away so that even he had to do some tall searching and he had another way of filling up my suitcase with truck I had no immediate use for I inked the case toward me, unlocked it and turned it out on the bed to prove Rankin's general incapacity as a valet to a fastidious fellow like me there was a suit I had worn on that memorable excursion to the cliff house I had told Rankin to pitch it into the street for I had discovered Teddy Van Grieve in one almost exactly like it and hello Rankin had certainly overlooked a bet I never caught him at it before that's certain he had a way of coming to my left elbow and in a particularly virtuous tone calling my attention to the fact that I had left several loose bills in my pockets Rankin was that honest I often told him he would land behind the bars as an embezzler someday but Rankin had done it this time for fair tucked away in the pocket of a waistcoat was money real legal lawful tender M-O-N-E-Y I don't suppose the time will ever come when it will look as good to me as it did right then I held those banknotes there were two of them double X's to my face and sniffed them like I had never seen the like before and never expected to again and the funny part was that I forgot all about wanting the gray trousers and all about the faults of Rankin my feet were on bottom again in my head on top I marched downstairs whistling with my hands in my pockets in my chin in the air and told the landlord to serve dinner an hour earlier than usual and to make it a good one he looked at me with a curious mixture of wonder and amusement dinner he drawled calmly has been over for three hours but I guess we can give you some supper any time after five I suppose he looked upon me as the Rankin's kind of tender foot I calculated the time of my torture till I might without embarrassing explanations partake of a much needed repast and went to the door waiting was never my long suit and I had thoughts of getting outside and taking a look around at the second step I changed my mind there was that deceptive mud to reckon with so from the doorway I surveyed all of Montana between me and the skyline and decided that my bets would remain on California the sky was a dull slate tumbled into what looked like rain clouds and depressing to the eye the land was a dull yellowish brown with a purple line of hills off to the south and with untidy snowdrifts crouching in the hollows that was all so far as I could see and if dullness and an unpeopled wilderness make for the reformation of man it struck me that I was in a fair way to become a saint if I stayed here long I had heard the cattle range called picturesque I couldn't see the joke Frosty Miller sat opposite me at table when, in the course of human events I ate again and the way I made the biscuit and ham and boiled potatoes vanish filled him with astonishment if one may judge a man's feelings in his eyes I told him that the ozone of the plains had given me an appetite and he did not contradict me he looked at my plate and then smiled at his own and said nothing which was polite of him did you ever skip two meals and try to make it up on the third I asked him when we went out and he said, sure and rolled a cigarette in those first hours of our acquaintance Frosty was not what I'd call anxious that night I took out the letter addressed to one Perry Potter which dad had given me in which I had not had time to seal in his presence and read it cold bloodedly I don't do such things as a rule but I was getting a suspicion that I was being queered that I'd got to start my exile under a handicap of the contempt of the natives if dad had stacked the deck on me I wanted to know it or perhaps he knew I'd read it all he had written wouldn't hurt the reputation of anyone it was the bearer, Ellis H. Carlton is my son he will probably be with you for some time and will not try to assume any authority or usurp your position as foreman and overseer you will treat him as you do the other boys and if he wants to work pay him the same wages if he earns them it wasn't exactly throwing flowers in the path my young feet should tread but it might have been worse at least he did not give Perry Potter his unbiased opinion of me and it left me with a free hand to warp their judgment somewhat in my favor but if he wants to work pay him the same wages if he earns them whew I might have saved him the trouble of writing that but I'd only known it dad could go too far in this thing I told myself chestily I had come seeing that he insisted upon it but I'd be damned if I'd work for any man with a circus poster name and have him lord it over me I hadn't been brought up to appreciate that kind of joke I meant to earn my living but I did not mean to get out and slave for Perry Potter there must be something respectable for a man in this country besides ranch work in the morning we started off with my trunks in the wagon toward the line of purple hills in the south Frosty Miller told me when I asked him that they were 48 miles away that they marked the Missouri river and that we would stop there overnight that if I remember was about the extent of our conversation that day we smoked cigarettes and Miller made his one by one as he needed them I'd rather suspect our thoughts were a good many miles apart though our shoulders touched when you think of it people may rub elbows and still have an ocean or two between them I don't know where Frosty was all through that long days ride for me I was back in little old Frisco with Barney McTeague and the rest of the crowd and part of the time I was telling Dad what a mess he'd made of bringing up his only son that night we slept in a shack at the river Pochette Crossing was the name it answered to and shared the same bed it was not remarkable for its comfort that bed I think the mattress was stuffed with potatoes it felt that way next morning we were off again over the same bare brown un-peopled wilderness once we saw a badger zigzagging along the side hill and Frosty whipped out a big revolver one of those Colt 45s I suppose and shot it he said in that they played the very devil with the range digging holes for cow punchers to break their necks over I was surprised at Frosty there he had been armed all the time and I never guessed it even when we went to bed the night before I had not glimpsed a weapon he could not be a cowboy I reflected else he would have worn a cartridge belt sagging picturesquely then over one hip and his gun dangling from it he put the gun away and I don't know where somewhere out of sight it went and Frosty turned off the trail and went driving wild across the prairie I asked him why and he said short cut then a wind crept out of the north and with it the snow we were climbing low ridges and dodging into hollows and when the snow spread a white veil over the land I looked at Frosty out of the tail of my eye wondering if he did not wish he had kept to the road trail it is called in the range land if he did he certainly kept it to himself he went on climbing hills and setting the break at the top to slide into a hollow and his face kept it's inscrutable calm what every thought was beyond guessing at when he had watered the horses at a little creek that was already skinned with ice and unwrapped a package of sandwiches on his knee and offered me one I broke loose silence may be golden but even old King Midas got too big a dose of gold once upon a time if one may believe tradition I ain't to butt into a man's meditation I said looking him straight in the eye there's a limit to everything and you've played right up to it you've had time my friend to remember all your sins and planned enough more to keep you puzzling the allotted span you've been given an opportunity to reconstruct the universe and breed a new philosophy of life for heaven's sake say something Frosty eyed me for a minute and the muscles at the corners of his mouth twitched sure he responded cheerfully I'm something like you I hate to break into a man's meditations it looks like snow do you think it's gonna storm I retorted in the same tone it had been snowing great guns for the last three hours we both laughed and frosty unbenton told me a lot about Bay State Ranch and the country around it the information was an eye-opener I wish I had known it when dad was handing out the roast to me I rather think I could have made him cry enough I tagged the information that laid it away for future reference as I got the country mapped out in my mind we were in a huge capital H the eastern line toward which we were angling was a river they call the Midas though I'll never tell you why unless it's a term ironical the western line is another river the Joliet and the crossbar is a range of hills they might almost be called mountains which I had been facing all that morning till the snow came between and shut them off white divide it is called and we were creeping around the end between them and the Midas it seemed queer that there was no way of crossing for the Bay State lies almost in a direct line south from Osage frosty told me and the country we were traversing was rough as a white divide could be and I said so to frosty right here is where I got my first jolt there's a fine pass cut through white divide by old mama nature frosty said in the same sort of tone that man takes when he could say a lot more but refrains then why in heaven's name don't you travel it cause it isn't healthy for ragged H folks to travel that way he said in the same eloquent tone who are the ragged H folks and what's the matter with them I wanted to know for I smelled a mystery he looked at me side long if you didn't look just like the old man he said I think you was a fake the ragged H is a brand your ranch is known by the Bay State outfit and it isn't healthy to travel King's highway cause there's a large size feud between your father and old King how does it happen you ain't wise to the family history dad never unbuzzered himself to me that's why I told him he has labored for 25 years under the impression that I was a kid just able to tattle along he didn't think he needed to tell me things I know we've got a place called the Bay State Ranch somewhere in this part of the world and I have reason to think I'm headed for it that's about the extent of my knowledge of the interest here I never heard of the white divide before or of this particular King I'm thirsting for information well it strikes me you got it coming said Frosty I always had your father sized up as being closed mouth but I didn't think he'd make such a thorough job of it is all that old King has sure got it in for the ragged H state if you'd rather call us that and the ragged H boys don't sit up nights thinking kind and loving thoughts about him either 30 years ago your father and old King started jangling over water rights and I guess they burned powder up plenty King goes lame to this day from a bullet your old man planted in his left leg I dropped the flag and started him off again it's news to me I put in and you can't tell me too much about it well he said your old man was in the right of it he owns all the land along Honey Creek right up to white divide where it heads of course he overlooked a bet there he should have got a cinch on that pass and on the head of the creek but he let her slide and the first he knew old King had come in and staked a claim by a shack right in our end of the pass it camped down to stay your dad wasn't joyful the Bay State had used that pass to trail herds through and as the easiest and shortest trail to the railroad and then old King takes it up strings a five wire fence across it both ends of his place and warrants us off I've heard Potter tell what warm times there were the Bay State was all he had then and he ran it himself very Potter work for him and knows all about it neither old King nor your dad was married and it's a wonder they didn't kill each other off Potter says they sure tried the time King got it in the leg your father and his punters were coming home from a breed dance and they were feeling pretty nifty I guess Potter told me they started out with six bottles and when they got to wipe Divide there wasn't enough left to talk about they cut King's fence into the north end and went right through they all bent for election King and his men boiled out and they mixed good and plenty your father went home with a hole in his shoulder and old King had one in his leg to match and since then it's been war they tried to fight it out in court and King got the best of it there and married and kind of cooled off and pretty soon they both got so much stuff to look after that they didn't have much time to take pot shots of each other and now we're enjoying what you might call arm peace we go around about 60 miles and King's highway is bad medicine King owns the stage line from Osage to Laurel where the base state gets its mail and he owns Kenmore a mining camp in the west half at Divide we can go around by Kenmore if we want to but King's highway knit I chuckled to myself to think all the things I could twit down about if ever he went after me again it struck me that I hadn't been a circumstance so far to what dad must have been in his youth at my worst I've never shot a man End of Chapter 2 Recording by Tom Penn Chapter 3 of The Range Dwellers by B. M. Bauer this LibriVox recording is in the public domain the quarrel renewed that night by a close scratch we made a little place Frosty said was one of the base state lion camps I didn't know what a lion camp was and it wasn't much for style but it looked good to me after riding nearly all day in a snowstorm Frosty cooked dinner and I made the coffee and we didn't have such a bad time of it although the storm held us there for two days we sat by the little cook stove and told yarns and I pumped Frosty just about dry of all he'd ever heard about dad I hadn't intended to write to dad but after hearing all I did I couldn't help handing out a gentle hint that I was on when I'd been at the base state ranch for a week I wrote him a letter that I felt squared by account with him it was so short that I can repeat every word now I said dear dad I am here you sent me out here to reform me I have found the opportunities for unadulterated devil tree a way ahead of Frisco I saw our old neighbor king whom you may possibly remember he still walks with a limp by the way dad it seems to me that when you were about 25 you indulged in some damn poor past times yourself your dutiful son, Ellis dad never answered that letter Montana, as viewed from the base state ranch in March struck me as being an unholy mixture of brown sodden hills and valleys chill winds that never condescended to blow less than a gale and dull scurrying clouds with sometimes a day of sunshine that was right as our own son at home you can't make me believe that our California son bothers with any other country I've been used to a green world I never would go to New York in the winter because I hate the cold and here I was with the cold of New York and with none of the ameliorations in the way of clubs and theaters and the like there were the hills along Midas River shutting off the east and hills to the south that Frosty told me went on for miles and miles and on the north stretched white divide only it was brown and bleak and several other undesirable things when I looked at it I used to wonder at men fighting over it I did a heap of wondering those first few days taken in a lump it wasn't my style and I wasn't particular to keep my opinions a secret for the ranch itself it looked to me like a village of corrals and sheds and stables evidently built with an eye to usefulness and with the idea that harmony of outline is a sin and not to be tolerated the house was put up on the same plan gave shelter to Perry Potter and the cook had a big bare dining room where the men all ate together without napkins or other accessories of civilization and a couple of bedrooms that were colder, if I remember correctly than outdoors I know that the water froze in my picture the first night and that afterwards I performed my ablutions in the kitchen and dipped hot water out of a tank with a blue dipper that first week I spent adjusting myself to the simple life and trying to form an unprejudiced opinion of my companions in exile as for the said companions I stood back and sized up my points good and bad and I have a notion they laid heavy odds against me and had me down in the also-ran bunch I overheard one of them remark when I was coming up from the stables here's the sun and air come let's kill them another one drawn once the use bellies run out I was convinced that they regarded me as a frost the same with Perry Potter a grizzled little man with long, ragged beard and gray eyes that look through you and away beyond I had a feeling that dead had told him to keep an eye on me and report any insipid growth of horse sense I may have wronged him in dead that is how I felt and I didn't like him any better for it he left me alone and I raised the bet and left him alone so hard that I scarcely exchanged three sentences with him in a week the first night he asked after dad's health and I told him the doctor wasn't making regular calls at the house a day or so after he said how do you like the country and I said damn the country and close that conversation I don't remember that we had anymore for a while the cowboys were breaking horses to the saddle most of the time for it was too early for roundup I gathered when I sat on the corral fence and watched the fun I observed that I usually had my rail all to myself and that the rest of the audience roosted somewhere else Frosty Miller talked with me sometimes without appearing to suffer any great pain but Frosty was always the star actor when the curtain rose on a bronco breaking act as for the rest they made it plain that I did not belong to their set sending them my at home cards either we were as haughty with each other as two society matrons when each aspires to be called leader then I blizzard that lasted five days came ripping down over that desolation and everybody stuck close to shelter and amused themselves as they could the cowboys played cards most of the time seven up or pitch or poker they didn't ask me to take a hand though I fancy they were under the impression that I didn't know how to play I never was much for reading it's too slow and tame I'd much rather get out and live the story I like best and there was nothing to read anyway I went rummaging in my trunks and in the bottom of one I came across a punching bag and a set of gloves right there I took off my hat to rankin' and begged his pardon for the unflattering names he'd been in the habit of hearing from me I carried the things down and put up the bag in an empty room at one end of the bunk house and got busy Frosty Miller came first to see what was up and I got him to put on the gloves for a while he knew something of the manly art I discovered and we went at it fast and furious I think I broke up a game in the next room the boys came to the door one by one and stood watching until we had the full dozen for audience before anyone realized what was happening we were playing together real pretty with the chilly shoulder barred in the social ice gone the way of a dew drop in the sun we boxed and wrestled with much scientific discussion of full nelsons and the like and even fenced with sticks I had them going there and could teach them things and they were the willingness pupils a man ever had docile and filled with a deep respect for their teacher who knew all there was to know or if he didn't he never let on before night we had smashed three window panes trimmed several faces down considerably and got pretty well acquainted I found out they weren't so far behind the old gang at home for wanting all there is in the way of fun and I believe they discovered that I was harmless before that storm let up they were dealing cards to me and allowing me to get rid of the rest of the $40 ranking had overlooked I got some of it back I went down and bunked with them because they had a stove and I didn't and it was more sociable perry potter and the cook were welcome to the house I told them except at mealtimes and more than all the rest I could keep out of range of perry potter's eyes I never could get used to that watch will he grow away he had or rid myself of the notion that he was sending to add a daily report on my behavior the next thing when the weather quit sifting snow and turned on the balmy breezes and sunshine I was down in the corrals in my chaps and spurs learning things about horses that I never suspected before when I did something unusually foolish the boys were good enough to remember my boxing and fencing in such little accomplishments and did not withdraw their favor so I went on butting into every new game that came up and taking all bets regardless and actually began to wise up a little and to forget a few of my grievances I was down in the corral one day saddling Shylock so named because he tried to exact a pound of flesh every time I turned my back or in other ways seemed off my guard and when I was looping up the latigo I discovered that the alliterative Mr. Potter was roosting on the fence watching me with those needle-pointed eyes of his I wondered if he was about to repair another report for Dad do you want to be put on the payroll he asked without any preamble when he caught my glance yes if I'm earning wages the laborer is worthy of his hire I believe I retorted loftily the fact was I was strapped again and though one did not need money on the base state ranch it's a good thing to have around he grinned into his coffee well he said you've been pretty busy the last three weeks but I ain't had any orders to hire a boxing master for the boys I don't know as that had rightly come under the head of legitimate expenses boxing masters come high I've heard are you going on roundup sure I answered in an exact copy as near as I could make it of Frosty Miller's intonation I was making Frosty my model those days he said all right your pay starts on the 15th of next month which was April then he got down from the fence and went off and I mounted Shylock and rode away to Laurel after the mail not that I expected any for no one but dad knew where I was and I hadn't heard a word from him though I knew he wrote to Perry Potter or his secretary did every week or so really I don't think a father ought to be so chesty with the only son he's got even if the son is a no account young cub I was standing in the post office door and saloon as well when an old fellow with stubby whiskers and a jaw that looked as though it had been trimmed square with a rule and a limp that made me know at once who he was came in he was standing at the little square window talking to the postmaster and waving his pipe to emphasize what he said when a horse went past the door on the dead run with bridal rains flying a fellow rushed out past us it was his horse and hit old King's elbow a clip as he went by the pipe went about ten feet and landed in a pickle keg I went after it and fished it out for the old fellow not so much because I'm filled with a natural courtesy as because I was curious to know the man that had got the best of dad he thanked me and asked me across the saloon side of the room to drink with him I don't know as I've ever met you before young man he said eyeing me puzzled your face is familiar though been in this country long no I said a little over a month is all well if you ever happen around my way King's Highway they call my place stop and see me will it stay long out here I think so I replied motioning the waiter they call him in Montana to refill our glasses and I'll be glad to call some day when I happen in your neighborhood and if you ever ride over toward the base date be sure to stop well say old King turned the color of a ripe prune every hair and that stubble of beard stood straight out from his chin and he looked as if murder would be a pleasant thing he took the glass and deliberately emptied he on the floor John Carlton's son I might have noted you look enough like him they drink with a son of John Carlton that breeder wolves better not come howling around my door I asked you to come to King's Highway young man and I don't take it back you can come but you'll get the same sort of welcome I give that right there I got my hand on his throttle he was an old man comparatively and I didn't want to hurt him but no man under heaven can call my dad the names he did and I told him so I don't want to dig up the old quarrel King I said, shaking him a bit with one hand just to emphasize my words but you got to speak civilly of dad or by the Lord I'll turn you across my knee and administer a stinging rebuke he tried to squirm loose and to reach behind him with that suggestive movement that breeds trouble among men of the plains but I held his arm so he couldn't move the while I told him a lot of things about true politeness things that I wasn't living up to worth mentioning he yelled at the postmaster to grab me and the fellow tried it I backed into a corner and held old King in front of me as a bullwork with bullet proof and wondered what kind of hornet's nest I got into the waiter and the postmaster were both looking for an opening and I remembered that I was on old King's territory and they were after holding their jobs I don't know how it would have ended I suppose they'd have got me eventually but Perry Potter walked in and it didn't seem to take him all day to savvy the situation he whipped out a gun and leveled it at the enemy and told me to scoot and get on my horse scoot nothing I yelled back what about you in the meantime do you think I'm going to leave them to clean you up he smiled sourly at me I held my own with this bunch of trouble hunters for 30 years he said dryly I guess you ain't got any reason to be alarmed come out of that corner and let him alone I don't to this day know why I did it but I quit hugging old King and the other two fell back and gave me a clear path to the door King was black guarding dead and I couldn't stand for it I explained to Perry Potter as I went by if you're not going I won't and I've got a letter to mail he said calm as if he were in his own corral you went off before I got a chance to give it to you I'll be out in a minute he went and slipped the letter into the mailbox turned his back on the three and walked out as if nothing had happened perhaps he knew that I was watching them and I moved to do things if they offered to touch him but they didn't and we mounted our horses and rode away and Perry Potter never mentioned the affair to me then or after I don't think we spoke on the way to the ranch I was busy wishing I'd been around in that part of the world 30 years before and thinking what a lot of fun I'd missed by not being as old as Dad a quarrel 30 years old is either mighty stale and unprofitable or else like wine it improves with age I meant to ride over to King's Highway someday and see how he would have welcomed Dad 30 years before End of Chapter 3 Recording by Tom Penn Chapter 4 of The Rain's Dwellers by B. M. Bauer This Leaver Vox recording is in the public domain Through King's Highway It was a long time before I was in a position to gratify my curiosity though between the sun and air with nothing to do but amuse himself and a cowboy working for his daily wage there's a great gulf fixed after being put on the payroll I couldn't do just as my fancy prompted I had to get up at an ungodly hour and eat breakfast in about two minutes and saddle a horse in ride's circle with the rest of them which same is exceedingly worrisome to man and beast for the first time since I left school I was under orders and the foreman certainly tried to obey Dad's mandate and treat me just as he would have treated any other stranger I could give it up, of course but I hope never to see today when I can be justly called a quitter first we were rounding up horses saddlers that were to be ridden in the round out proper we were not more than two or three weeks at that though we covered a good deal of country before it was over I knew a lot more than when we started out and had got hard as nails riding on round up beats a gym for putting wire muscles under a man's skin in my opinion we worked all around white divide which was turning a pale dainty green except where the sandstone cliffs stood up in all the shades of yellow and red Montana as viewed on horse round up looks better than in the first bleak days of March and I could gaze upon it without profanity I even got to like tearing over the newborn grass on a good horse with a cowboy or two galloping keen faced and calm beside me it was almost better than slithering along a hard road with a motor car stripped to the running gear when the real thing happened the calf round up and thirty riders in white felt hats chaps spurs a jingle and handkerchief ends flying out in the wind lined up of a morning for orders the blood of me went a jump and my nerves were all tingly with the pure joy of being alive in the top of horses eagles hounds in the leash and with the wind of the planes in my face and the grassland lying all around yelling come on and the metal arcs singing fit to split their throats there's nothing like it and I've tried nearly everything in the way of blood tinklers skimming through the waves a lean to the wind in a racing yacht and even that takes second money when circle riding on round up is entered in the race but this is getting away from my story we were working the country just north of white divide when the foreman started me home with a message for perry potter and I was to get back as soon as possible with the answer now here's where I got gay as I said we were north of white divide and the home ranch was south and to go around either end of that there was an extra 60 miles to cover each way 120 for the round trip directly in the way of the proverbial crow's flight lay king's highway which if I got through would put me at the ranch the first day and back at camp the second and I rather guess that would surprise our worthy foreman not a little I didn't see why it couldn't be done surely old king wouldn't murder a man just for riding through that pass that would be bloody minded indeed and if I failed why I could go around and no one would be wise to the fact that I had tried it I headed straight for the pass which yawned invitingly with two bear peaks for the jaws not over six miles away it was against orders for perry potter had given the boys to understand that they were not to go that way and that they were to leave king the longhold strictly alone but I didn't worry about that when I was fairly in the mouth of the pass I got down and looked at the cinch and then rode boldly forward like a soldier riding up to the cannon's mouth with a smile on his face oh I wasted plenty of admiration on one ellis carlton about that time and rehearsed the bold biting speech I meant to deliver to old king's very door so far it was easy sailing there was a hard beaten road and the hills seemed standing back and holding aside their skirts for a free passing the sun lay warm on their green slopes and one could fairly smell the grass growing and the hollows were worlds of blue flowers with patches here and there a royal purple I stopped and gathered a handful and stuck them in my buttonhole under my headband I don't know when I felt so thoroughly satisfied with said ellis carlton of whom I am over fond of speaking I even mimicked the metal arcs until they watched me with heads tilted not knowing what to make of such an impertinent fellow King's highway was glorious I didn't wonder that dad thought it worth fighting over and as I went on farther and further down this lane made by nature for easy passing I could see what an immense advantage it would be to take herds through that way I could see why the Bay Statemen cursed King when they took the rough trail around the end of white divide after an hour of undisputed riding on this forbidden trail the pass narrowed rather abruptly till it was not more than a furlong in width the hills stretched their heads still higher as if they wanted to see the fun and the shadow of the eastern rim laid clear across the narrow valley and touched the foot of the opposite slope I hope I'm not going to be called nervous if I tell the truth about things when I rode into the shadow I stopped whistling a bad imitation of metal arc notes a bit further and I pulled up looked all around and got off and tightened the cinch a bit more Shylock I always rode him when I could threw his head around and nearly took a chunk out of my arm and in reproving him I forgot for a minute the ticklish game I was playing then I loosened my gun I had learned to carry it inconspicuously under my coat as did the other boys made sure it could be pulled without embarrassing delay and went on around the next turn a five wire fence stretched across the trail with a gate fastened by a chain and padlock I whistled under my breath and eyed the lock with extreme disfavor but I had learned a trick of the cowboys I pulled the wire off a couple of posts at one side of the gate laid them flat on the ground and led Shylock over them then I found a rock pounded the staples back in place and went on only for the tracks one could not notice that any had passed that way still it was a bit ticklish it was King's highway alone and with no idea what lay further on but dad had dared go that way and to fight at the far end and what dad had not been afraid to tackle it did not behoove his son to back down from I made Shylock walk the next half mile with some notion of saving his wind for an emergency run of a sudden I rounded a sharp nose of the hill and came plump on the palace of the king it looked a good deal like the Bay State Ranch big corrals and sheds and stables had a little place for a man to dwell the house though was bigger than ours and looked more comfortable to live in and the thing that struck me most was the head which King displayed for strategy the trail wound between those same sheds and corrals a gauntlet two hundred yards long that one must run or turn back on either side the bluffs rose sheer with the buildings crowding close against their base I didn't wonder frosty called King's highway bad medicine it certainly did look like it I went softly along that trail turning sharp corners around a shed here circling a corral there with my hand within an inch of my gun and my heart within an inch of my teeth and you may laugh all you like no one seemed to be about the sheds were deserted and a few horses dozed in a corral that I passed but human being I saw none it was evident that King did not consider his enemy worth watching I passed the last shed and found myself headed straight for the house I had still to get through his very door yard before I was in any position to crow and beyond the house was another fence nope the gate was not locked Shylock pricked up his ears then laid them back along his neck as if he did not approve the layout either but we ambled right along like a deacon headed for prayer meeting and I tried to look in four different directions at one and the same time for that reason I didn't see her till she stood right in front of me and when I did I stared like an idiot it was a girl and she was coming down a path to the trail with her hands full of flowers for all the world like a duchess novel another minute and I'd have run over her I guess she stomped and looked at me from under lashes so thick and heavy they seemed almost pulling her lid shut and there was something in her eyes that made me go hot and cold like I was coming down with a grip when she spoke my symptoms grew worse did you wish to see father she asked as if she were telling me to leave the place I believe I rallied enough to answer that father would give a good deal to see me then that seemed to shut off our conversation too abruptly to suit me there are occasions when prickly chills have a horrible fascination for a fellow this was one of the times he's not at home I'm sorry to say she returned in the same liquid air voice as before in turn to go back to the house I thanked the lord for that in a whisper and kept pace with her it was plain she hated the sight of me but I counted on her being enough like her dad not to run away may I trouble you for a drink of water I asked in the orthodox tone of humility there is no need to trouble me there is the creek beyond the house you're welcome to all you want thanks I watched the pink curve of her cheek I knew she was dying for a chance to snub me still more maliciously we were at the steps of the veranda now but she would not hurry she seemed to hate even the semblance of running away can you direct me to the bay state ranch I hazarded it was my last card and I let it go with a sigh she pointed a slim gornful finger at the brand on Shylock's shoulder if you are in doubt of the way Mr. Carlton your horse will take you home if you give him his head that put a crimp in me worse than the look of her eyes even I stared at her a minute and then laughed right out the game's yours, Miss King and I take off my hat to you for hitting straight and hard I said a few to send even to the second generation is it a fight to the finish and no quarter asked or given I had her going then she blushed and when I saw the red creep into her cheeks my heart was hardened to repentance I'd have done it again for the pleasure of seeing her that way you are taking a good deal for granted sir, she said in her loftiest tone we kings scarcely consider the Carlton's worthy our weapons you don't eh then why did you begin it I wanted to know if you permit me you started the row before I spoke even I do not permit you clearly my lady could be haughty enough to satisfy the most fastidious well, I sighed I will go my way I'm a lover of peace myself but since you proclaim war war it must be I'm not so un-galant as to oppose a lady's wishes is that gate down there locked figuratively it's always locked against the Carlton's she said but I want to go through it literally I retorted and she just looked at me from under those lashes and never answered well there grows chill in king's highway I shivered mockingly if ever I find you on Bay State soil, Miss King I shall take much pleasure in teaching you the proper way to treat an enemy I shall be greatly diverted no doubt was the scornful reply of her and just then an old lady came to the door and I lifted my hand grandly in a precise military salute and rode away wondering which of us had the best of it the gate wasn't locked and as for taking a drink at the creek I forgot that I was thirsty I jogged along toward home and wondered why Frosty had not told me that King had a daughter also I wondered at her animosity it never occurred to me that her father, unlike my dad had probably harped on the Carlton's until she had come to think we were in league with the old boy himself her dad's game leg would no doubt argue strongly against us and keep the feud green in her heart supposing she had one on the whole I was glad I had traveled King's Highway I had discovered a brand new enemy and so far in my life enemies had been so scarce as to be positive diversion and it was novel and interesting to be so thoroughly hated by a girl no reason to dodge her net I rather congratulated myself on knowing one girl who positively refused to smile on demand she hadn't once I got to wondering that night if she had dimples I meant to find out End of Chapter 4 Recording by Tom Penn Chapter 5 of The Range Dwellers by B. M. Bauer This Liber Vox recording is in the public domain Into the lion's mouth Perry Potter when he had read the foreman's note asked how long since I left camp when I told him that I was there at daylight he looked at me clearly and walked off without a word I didn't say anything either I stayed at the ranch overnight intending to start back the next morning the roundup would be west of where I had left them according to the foreman or wagon boss as he is called logically then I should take the trail that led through Kenmore the mining camp owned by King which lay in the heart of White Divide 10 miles west of King's Highway that I say was the logical route but I wasn't going to take it I wasn't a bit stuck on that huddle of corrals and sheds with the trail winding blindly between and I wasn't in love with the girl or with old King but all the same I meant to go back the way I came just for my own private satisfaction while I was saddling Shylock in the opal-tented sunrise Potter came down and gave me the letter to the wagon boss an answer to the one I had brought here's some chuck the cook put up for ya he remarked handing me a bundle tied up in a flower sack you'll need it for ya get through the camp you're likely to be longer going than you was coming think so I smiled knowingly to myself and left him staring disapprovingly after me I could easily give a straight guess at what he was thinking I jogged along as leisurely as I could without fretting Shylock and once clear of the home field headed straight for King's Highway it wasn't the wisest course I could take perhaps but it was like to prove the most exciting and I never was remarkable for my wisdom it seemed to me that it was necessary to my self-respect to return the way I came and I may as well confess that I hoped Miss King was an early riser as it was I killed what time I could and so spent a couple of hours where one would have sufficed half a mile out from the mouth of the pass I observed a human form crowning the peak of a sharp pointed little beaut that rose up out of the prairie since the form seemed to be in skirts I made for the spot Shylock puffed up the steep slope and at last stopped still and looked back at me and uttered disgust so I took the hint and got off and let him up the rest of the way good morning we meet on neutral ground I greeted when I was close behind her I proposed a truce she jumped a bit and looked very much astonished to see me there so close if it had been some other girl say Ethel Mapleton I would have hated the genuineness of that surprise as it was I could only think she had been very much absorbed not to hear me scrambling up there you're an early bird she said dryly to be so far from home she glanced toward the pass as though she would like to cut and run but hated to give me the satisfaction well I told her within ain complacency you will remember that it's the early bird what a pretty speech she commented and I saw what I'd done and felt myself turn a beautiful purple compare her to a worm but she laughed when she saw how uncomfortable I was and after that I was almost glad I'd said it she did have dimples two of them and the laugh however was no sign of incipient amiability as I very soon discovered she turned her back on me and went imperturbably on with her sketching she was trying to put on paper the lights and shades of white divide and even a desire to be silverless will not permit me to lie and say that she was making any great success of it I don't believe the Lord ever intended her for an artist aren't you giving King's Highway a much wider mouth than it's entitled to I asked mildly after watching her for a minute not be surprised she told me haughtily if you some day wished it still wider there wouldn't be the chance for fighting if it was and I take great pleasure in keeping the feud going I thought you were anxious for a truce she said recklessly shading a slope so that it looked like the peak of a roof I am I retorted shamelessly I'm anxious for anything under the sun that will keep you talking to me no one might call that a flirtatious remark but I plead not guilty I wouldn't know how to flirt even if I wanted to do so she turned her head and looked at me in a way that I could not misunderstand it was plain unvarnished scorn and a ladylike anger and a few other unpleasant things it made me think of a certain star in The Taming of the Shrew Phi Phi unknit that threatening unkind brow and dart not those scornful glances from those eyes to wound thy neighbor and thy enemy I declined with rather a free adaptation to my own need her brow positively refused to unknit have you nothing to do but spout bad quotations from Shakespeare on a hilltop she wanted to know in a particularly disagreeable tone plenty I have yet to win that narrow pass I said hardly today she told me with more than a shade of triumph father is at home and he heard of your trip yesterday if she expected to scare me by that must our feud include your father when I met him a month ago he gave me a cordial invitation to stop if I ever happened this way she lifted those heavy lashes and her eyes plainly spoke unbelief it's a fact I assured her calmly I met him one day in Laurel and was fortunate enough to perform a service which earned his gratitude as I say he invited me to come and see him I told him I'd be glad to have him visit me at the base state ranch and we embraced each other with much fervor indeed I could see that she persisted in doubting my veracity ask your father if we didn't I said much injured she wouldn't though a scrambling behind us made me turn and there was perry potter climbing up to us his eyes sharper than ever and his face so absolutely devoid of expression that it told me a good deal I'll lay all I own he was a good bit astonished at what he saw as for me I could have kicked him back to the bottom of the hill and I probably looked at there was something I forgot to put in that note he said evenly just touching the brim of his hat in acknowledgment of the girl's presence I wrote another one I'd like bellard to get it as soon as you can make camp conveniently his eyes looked through me almost as if I weren't there my desire to kick him grew almost into mania I took the note saw at a glance that it was addressed to me and said all right in a tone quite different from the one I had been using is miss king he gave me another sharp look and went back the way he had come leaving me standing there glaring after him miss king I noticed was sketching for a dear life and her cheeks were crimson when potter had got to the bottom and was riding away I unfolded the note and read don't be a fool for god's sake have some sense and keep away from king's highway I laughed and miss king looked up inquiringly following an impulse I've never yet been able to classify I showed her the note she read it calmly I might say indifferently he is quite right she said coldly I too if I cared enough would advise you to keep away from king's highway but you don't care enough to advise me and so I shall go I said and I had the satisfaction of seeing her teeth come down sharply on her lower lip I waited a minute watching her you're very foolish she said icily and went at her sketching again I waited another minute during that time she succeeded in making the past look weird indeed and I fear some place to enter I got reckless you've spoiled the sketch I said stooping and taking it gently from her give it to me and it shall be a flag of peace with which I shall win my way through unscathed she started to refeed then and her anger was worth facing for the glow it brought to eyes and cheeks and the tremble that came to her lips Mr. Carlton you are perfectly detestable she cried miss king you are perfectly adorable I returned folding the sketch very carefully so that it would slip easily into my pocket with so authentic a map of the enemy's stronghold what need I fear I go but on my honor I shall shortly return she stood with her fingers clasped tightly in front of her and watched me lead Shylock down the butte on the side toward the pass if you're still in doubt of my intentions when I say she watched me I'm making a guess but I felt that she was and it would be hard to disabuse my mind and when I started her fingers had been clinging tightly together at the bottom I turned and waved my hat and I know she saw that for she immediately whirled and took to studying the southern skyline so I left her and galloped straight into the lion's den to use an old simile I passed through the gate and up to the house Shylock pacing easily along as though we both felt assured of a welcome old king met me at his door as I was going by I pulled up and gave him my very curious good morning he looked at me from under shaggy gray eyebrows you've got your gall young man to come this way twice in 24 hours he said grimly you can turn around and go back the way you came in you asked me to call I reminded him mildly you were not at home yesterday so I came again danced uneasily over his shoulder and through the door shut between himself and whoever was within you damn cur he growled you know you ain't no friend of the kings I know you're all mighty unneighborly I said making me a cigarette in the way that cowboys do I asked a young lady your daughter I suppose for a drink of water she told me to go to the creek she said that evidently he approved of his daughter's attitude beryl knows how to deal with the likes of you he muttered relishfully and she hates the Carlton to bed as I do get off my place young man do it quick sure I assented cheerfully and jabbed the spurs into Shylock taking good care that he was headed north instead of south and it's a fact that Dickler says was the situation my first thought was beryl is it mighty pretty name fits her too king wasn't thinking anything so sentimental all wager he yelled to two or three fellows as I shot by them near the first corral round up that dozen how I hate to say the words right out and bring him back here then he sent a bullet zipping past my ear and from the house came a high nasal squawk which I gathered came from the old party I had seen the day before I went clippity-clip round those sheds and corrals till I liked to have snapped my head off I knew Shylock could take first money over any ordinary Kyus and I let him out but for all that I heard them coming and it sounded as if they were about to ride all over me they were so close past the last shed I went streaking it and my heart remembered what it was made for and went to work I don't feel that under the circumstances it's any disgraced on that I was scared I didn't hear any more little singing birds fly past so I straightened up enough to look around and see what was doing in the way of pursuit one glance convinced me that my pursuers weren't going to sleep in their saddles on one of them a little buckskin that was running with his ears laid so flat it looked as if he hadn't any was widening the loop in his rope and yelling things as he spurred after me the others were a length behind and I mentally put them out of the race the gentleman with the business like air was all I wanted to see and I laid low as I could and slapped Shylock along the neck and told him to besture himself he did we skimmed up that trail like a winner on the home stretch and before I had time to think what lay ahead I saw that fence with the high board gate that was padlocked right there I swore abominably but it didn't loosen the gate I looked back and decided that this was no occasion for pulling wires loose and leading my horse over them it was no occasion for anything that required more than a second my friend of the rope was not more than five long jumps behind and he was swaying the loop suggestively over his head I rained Shylock sharply out of the trail saw a place where the fence looked a bit lower than average and put him straight at it with quirk and spurs he would have swung off but I've ridden to hounds and I had seen hudders go over worse places I held him to it without mercy he laid his ears back then and went over and his hind feet caught the top wire and snapped it like thread I heard it hum through the air and I heard those behind me shout as though something unlooked for had happened I turned saw them gather on the other side after me blankly and I waved my hat early and farewell and went on about my business I felt that they would scarcely chase me the whole twelve or fifteen miles of the pass and I was right after I turned the first bend I saw them no more at camp I was recieved with much astonishment particularly when Ballard saw that I had brought an answer to his note you must have rode King's highway he said looking at me much as Perry Potter had done the night before I told him I did and the boys gathered round and wanted to know how I did it I told them about jumping the fence and my conceit got a hard blow there with one accord they made it plain that I had done a very foolish thing range horses they assured me are not much at jumping as a rule and why are fences are their special abhorrence Frosty Miller told me in confidence that he didn't know which was the bigger fool like or me and he hoped I'd never be guilty of another trick like that that rather took the bloom off my adventure and I decided after much thought that I agreed with Frosty King's highway was bad medicine I amended that a bit and accepted Barrel King I did not think she was bad medicine however acid might be her flavor end of chapter five recording by Tom Penn