Adventure Magazine, March 1916 — page 144: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

142 she, and pounced on the flat parcel before Loudon could reply. She smiled and glowed and held the rib- bon under her olive chin, exclaimed over it and thanked Loudon all in a breath. Her father beamed upon her. He loved this handsome girl of his. “Come out on the porch, Tom,” said Kate, ‘when you’re through with father. Mr. Blakely’s here. Thank you again for bringing my ribbon.” Kate swished away, and Mr. Saltoun’s beaming expression vanished also. Mr. Saltoun was not especially keen. He rarely saw anything save the obvious, but for several weeks he had been under the im- pression that Kate and this tall, lean puncher with the gray eyes were too friendly. And here was Kate, while entertaining the 88 manager, inviting Loudon to join her on the porch. Mr. Saltoun was ambitious for his daughter. He had not the remotest intention of receiving into his family a forty-dollar-a-month cowhand. He would have relished firing Loudon. But the latter was a valuable man. He was the best rider and roper in the outfit. Good cow- boys do not drift in on the heels of every vagrant breeze. se Mr. Saltoun resolved to keep an eye on Loudon and arrange matters so that Kate and the puncher should meet seldom, if at all. He knew better than to speak to his daughter. That would precipitate matters. By long experience Mr. Saltoun had learned that opposition always stiffened Kate’s determination. From babyhood her father had spoiled her. Consequently the Kate of twenty-three was hopelessly in- tractable. Mr. Saltoun drummed on the desk-top with a pencil. Loudon shifted his feet. He had mumbled a non-committal reply to Kate’s invitation. Not for a great deal would he have joined the pair on the porch. But Mr. Saltoun did not know that. “Chuck tells me,” said Mr. Saltoun sud- denly, ‘that he jerked five cows out o’ that - mud-hole on Pack-saddle Creek near Box Hill. Yeah, that one. Tomorrow I want ye to ride along the Pack-saddle an’ take a look at them other two holes between Box Hill an’ Fishtail Cooley. If ye see any cows driftin’ west, head ’em east. When that —— barb-wire comes—if it ever does, an’ I ordered it a month ago—you an’ Chuck can Adventure , fence them three mud-holes. Better get an early start, Tom.” “All right,” said Loudon, and made an unhurried withdrawal—by way of the kitchen. Once in the open air Loudon smiled a slow smile. He had correctly divined the tenor of his employer’s thoughts. Before he reached the bunk-house Loudon had resolved to propose to Kate Saltoun within forty- eight hours. CHAPTER ITI SHOTS ON PACK-SADDLE “T woke up one mornin’ on the old Chisolm trail, Rope in my hand an’ a cow by the tail. Crippled my hoss, I don’t know how, _ Ropin’ at the horns of a 2-U cow.”’ S° SANG Loudon, carrying saddle and bridle to the corral in the blue light of. dawn. Chuck Morgan was before him at the corral, and wrestling with a fractious gray pony. “Whoa! ye son of sin!” yelled Morgan, wrenching the pony’s ear. ‘Stand still, or [ll sure cave in your slats!” “Kick him again,’ advised Loudon, flicking the end of his rope across the back of a yellow beast with a black mane and tail. The yellow horse stopped trotting in- stantly. He was rope-broke. It was un- necessary to “fasten,” thanks to Loudon’s training. “They say ye oughtn’t to exercise right after eatin’, continued Loudon genially. “‘An’ yo’re mussin’ up this nice corral, too, Chuck.” “T’ll muss up this nice little gray devil!” gasped Chuck. ‘When I git on him I'll sure plow the hide offen him. —— his soul! He’s half mule.” “He takes ye for a relative!” called Jim- my, who had come up unobserved. ‘“Rela- tives never do git along nohow!”’ Jimmy fled, pursued by pebbles. The panting and outraged Chuck returned to his task of passing the rear cinch. Still swearing, he joined Loudon at the gate. The two rode away together. “That sorrel o’ Blakely’s,’ observed Chuck, his fingers busy with paper and to- bacco, “is sure as pretty as a little red wagon.” | “Yeah,” mumbled Loudon. “T was noticin’ him this mornin’,” - Eomichbooks (G8)