Adventure Magazine, Mid-September 1917 — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

26 haybellies forty times a day. You'll get yore pie at supper—maybe. “Say, the old man’s in a sweat for yuh. He come driftin’ in here, he did, the good- natured old cuss, an’ ‘Ain’t Chuck got back yet?’ says he. Yuh might think I kept yuh in the oven or somethin’. Clumb up on the corral stockade then, he did, an’ kept a-lookin’ an’ a-lookin’ down the trail for yuh. After a while he give her up an’ trotted back to the house cussin’ an’ cussin’. [I learned four new words just lis- tenin’. Yuh’d better go up to the house.” “T will when I’ve had a drink,” said Chuck, knowing that Jimmy kept, for his own use, a bucket of cool water behind the door. “Give us a pie, yuh miser,” he went on, between gulps. “Anybody’d think they belonged to yuh, by the way yuh hang on to ’em.” “Anybody’d think that water belonged to yuh by the way yo’re sloppin’ it all over the floor!’ roared James. “‘Why don’t yuh get a drink at the windmill?”’ “Cause I’d rather have you pack it for me, dearie,’”’ replied Chuck, and flirted half a dipperful down the cook’s neck. “TI do believe yuh forgot to wash yore face this mornin’.”’ : He dodged through the doorway, fol- lowed by two sticks of stove-wood and the lid-lifter. At a safe distance he paused, stuck his thumbs in his ears, and twiddled his fingers antler-wise at the incensed cook, who stood in the doorway shaking his fists and promising to get even if it took him a million years. Laughing, Chuck proceeded with the mail to the ranch-house. Looking through the office window he saw Mr. Saltoun sit- ting hunched over the desk, his chin sup- ported on his two fists. When Chuck en- tered he did not look up. Chuck, recog- nizing the signs of deep thought, laid the few letters on the corner of the table, then sat down and rolled a cigaret. Suddenly Mr. Saltoun smote the table a severe blow with his fist. “There!”’ he exclaimed. “I knowed I’d get it if I thought long enough. Why didn’t yuh come home sooner, Chuck?” he added, sliding round in his chair. ‘“I’d have got it a sight quicker if I’d had somebody to talk it over with. What kept yuh, anyway?” ‘“‘T had business,’’ was Chuck’s answer. “Oh, I suppose so! Business! Lally- gaggin’ at Moccasin Spring I’ll bet!” Adventure ‘Well, if that ain’t business, what is?”’ “Don’t yuh sit there grinnin’ at me thataway! I ain’t a-goin’ to have my boys takin’ up with no nesters. Yuh’ll be herdin’ sheep next.” “Vuh was talkin’ about somethin’ yuh got just now,” suggested Chuck, anxious to change the subject, although he was aware that Mr. Saltoun, by the totally un- expected twinkle in his eyes, was taking a lenient view of his offense. Surprised and grateful, for Mr. Saltoun was not one to condone a fault, Chuck grinned engagingly and leaned forward to hear better. Mr. Saltoun placed his hands on his knees and smiled after the fashion of the cat who contemplates a meal of fine, fat canary. “TI got a scheme for foxin’ Cutnose Can- ter,” said he. ““Yeah?”’ ‘Yuh know the Buffler Flats?” Chuck nodded. He knew the Buffalo Flats, that great expanse of rolling country lying between Soogan Creek and the big bend of the Lazy. There was the finest grazing on the Bar-S range. ‘There ain’t so many cows on the Flats,” continued Mr. Saltoun. ‘‘We’ve been kind o’ savin’ it for Winter. But before the week’s up there’ll be a likely herd grazin’ there. Mister Cutnose’ll hear of it an’ come pouncin’ down, him an’ his friends, all spraddled out with their mouths open, an’ then we'll grab ’em.”’ Mr. Saltoun leaned back in his chair. His expansive smile expressed faith and hope, but not charity. One could see that he was mentally hugging himself. Chuck looked at the floor. Mr. Saltoun’s eyebrows drew together. ‘“What’s the matter with that scheme?” he demanded. “Oh, nothin’,” said Chuck, with an elabo- rate yawn, “but Cutnose may be wantin’ to take his cows from the northern part 0’ the range, nearer Farewell, yuh know.” “Aw ——!” barked Mr. Saltoun, with the irritation of one who sees his pet plan de- cried. ‘Yuh don’t know what yo’re talkin’ about, Chuck Morgan! Do yuh s’pose for one minute that I’d ’a’ gone an’ wrastled my brains around an’ thought up that scheme if it wasn’t a good one? Huh? Now don’t go pilin’ on no wet blankets. Them cows are goin’ to be drifted down there to the Buffler Flats an’ yo’re a-goin’ to drift em.” Comiclsoo CO