CHAPTER III.

SLIM AND SLATS.

Mr. Robert Lakewood was a well-to-do manufacturer, and, having entire confidence in his boys, both as to their moral character and their ability to take care of themselves, he, shortly after his arrival the following day, made no objection to the proposed trip.

"I have known Mr. Leeds by reputation for some years and have met him once or twice," he said, "and if he is willing for you to go, I think it will be a wonderful experience for you."

It turned out that, as soon as the owner of the ranch learned that they really wished to go and that their father was willing, he was most enthusiastic and declared that he would at once write to his foreman and tell him that they were coming and that they were to have the full run of the ranch.

"You'll like Jeb," he told them. "There's a real he-man for you and what he don't know about the cattle business simply doesn't exist."

* * * * * * * *

"Some folks shore has all the luck."

"Meaning what, Slim?"

"Slim" Jones, a man who, in his high-heeled boots, stood all of five feet three inches and weighed fully a hundred and eighty pounds, glanced quickly up at his companion, a tall, lanky individual, who responded to the name of Slats.

"Meaning jest what I said, that's what. Here I've got to hitch up and drive all the way inter Cold Springs ter meet them eastern dudes an' all you gotter do is ter stay here an' mend fence."

"Slats" Magee laughed as he drew himself up to his full six feet four.

"You poor child," he drawled. "You shore do seem ter have it rubbed in ter ye fer a fact. But, as the preacher said, 'it's never so bad but it might be worse,' so cheer up, ol' timer, an' put the best fut first."

"Easy 'nough ter give advise when ye're on the safe end," Slim growled as he got up from the nail keg on which he had been sitting.

"Tell you what'll I'll do jest ter show there's no hard feelings. I'll flip a coin ter see who goes and stays ter mend fence."

"Yer mean it?"

Slim looked slightly incredulous as he felt in his pocket.

"Shore thing, but no whining if yer lose."

Slim had pulled a half-dollar from his pocket and as he rested it on his thumb-nail preparatory to snapping it into the air, he said:

"Never a whine. How yer want it?"

"Heads I stay, tails you go."

"Righto, here she goes," and he spun the coin high in the air. "Tails it is," he announced disgustedly an instant later. "Didn't I tell yer as how some folks has all the luck. I hain't a whinin' now, I'm only makin' a statement o' fact."

"It's shore too bad," Slats consoled him. "But you'll enjoy the trip if yer only make up yer mind to it." And he started off toward the corral while the mournful loser, with a deep sigh of disgust, turned toward the huge barn.

"Much obliged jest the same fer givin' me a chance," he called back over his shoulder.

"Don't mention it, ol' timer," the other shouted back.

It was some two hours later when Slim Jones driving along the rough and dusty road on the way to the town, suddenly drew rein and, as the bronchos came to a willing stop, he muttered "heads I stay, tails you go." Several times he repeated the phrase, each time a little louder until the last time he was almost shouting.

"Why, if it hadda come heads I'd a had ter go jest the same," he declared. "The onnery slab-sided, red-haired skunk. If he tells the boys I'll never hear the last of it. I'll stretch his onery hide on ter the barn door fer that, I will, sure's my name's Slim Jones." Then, after a moment's thought, he continued his soliloquy. "If I warn't more'n half-way there I'd turn back and make him go." For several moments he sat in deep thought and finally a slight grin began to spread over his broad features and, picking up the rein, he muttered:

"Well, if he don't tell no one mebby I'll only shoot him full o' holes."

The ultimate destiny of Slats Magee having been settled to his satisfaction, Slim tightened the reins and clucked to the drowsing bronchos whereupon they started off with a sudden jump which all but jerked him over backward.

"Hey, thar," he shouted, "don't ye know enough ter start up without yanking the bottom out o' all creation when I step on the gas?"

Evidently mistaking his question for a command the bronchos stopped so suddenly that it was only by the merest chance that Slim saved himself from pitching over the dashboard.

"What the Sam Hill's got infer yer onery hides?" he shouted as he drew himself back onto the seat. "Seem's how ye think I got no right ter give orders, but I'll larn ye if ye go ter cuttin' up any more didoes. Now yer better start up easy like 'f ye want ter keep yer skins on whole."

As if sensing that the driver meant business the bronchoes started off again this time breaking into a swift trot which seemed to suit Slim, for he settled back in his seat with a sigh of relief. An hour later the buckboard swung into the main street of the sleepy little town of Cold Springs and on toward the station at the farther side.

"Yep, train's on time. Be here in 'bout twenty minutes more or less," the station agent old him as he paused by the open window.

But it was nearly an hour before the train pulled in and Slim, pacing up and down the platform nearly had, what he called, the fidjets before the whistle was heard far down the line. But nearly all things come to an end sooner or later and he brightened up as he saw two boys, the only passengers to alight, swing off the rear steps as the train came to a standstill.

A large trunk was dropped from the baggage car to the platform and in a moment the train had disappeared around a curve just beyond the town.

"Guess them's my freight, all right," Slim muttered to himself as he stepped toward them. "You the fellers what's goin' out ter the Lazy S?" he asked pausing a few feet away.

"Yes, sir, that's where we want to go," Bob replied.

"Well I come in ter git ye."

"Then you must be Mr. Jones."

"Hey?"

"I said you must be Mr. Jones," Bob repeated.

"Don't know the gent. He may be----" then Slim stopped short and turned as red as his thick coating of tan would allow. "Now you mention it, my name is Jones," he said slowly. "Yer see," he grinned, "that's the first time I've been called anything 'cept Slim fer so long that hanged if fer a minute, I didn't remember what my proper handle is, but it's Jones, all right."

"My name is Robert Lakewood and this is my brother John, but our friends call us Bob and Jack," Bob explained.

"But how'd you know my handle?" Slim demanded.

"Why, Mr. Leeds told us about you," Bob replied.

"An' me not bein' hard ter describe I reckon yer had not much trouble in recognizing me. Yer see, I'm the only fat man on the ranch an' that's why they call me Slim. But I reckon we'd better be hittin' the trail or we won't get back afore dark. You wait right here till I get the team an' we'll pull freight. Yer see, I had ter hitch the bronks a piece down the street 'cause they ain't used ter the cars, but I'll be right back."

"Reckon we'll like that fellow," Bob said as soon as Slim was out of hearing.

"I do already," Jack agreed. "But he's sure a character, all right. Do you suppose he can ride a horse?"

"If they've got one strong enough," Bob laughed.

"Anyhow, there's not much danger of his feet dragging on the ground," Jack declared.

Meanwhile Slim was talking to himself as he strode down the street to where he had hitched the bronchoes. "Them fellers don't seem as bad's I expected. Mebby we can make real men out 'o 'em 'f they stay long enough."

The boys were sitting on the trunk when he drove up a few minutes later and almost before he had brought the bronchoes to a stand they had it on the back of the buckboard.

"They don't have ter be waited on, that's sure," Slim thought as he proceeded to rope the trunk fast and his opinion of them went up several points.

"How long will it take to drive out to the ranch," Bob asked.

"'Bout three hours."

"How about getting something to eat before we start?"

"Might get a plate o' beans down ter Jake's, but we'll have ter hurry."

Jake's was anything but an inviting place to eat to the boys, accustomed to cleanliness, and their first impulse was to tell their guide that they were not so hungry after all but, fearful least they might offend him or at least create an unfavorable impression in his mind, they said nothing. To their great surprise, however, the food was good, very good, in fact, and both declared that the beans were the best they had ever eaten. Perhaps a keen appetite was, in part at least, responsible for their decision.

The boys could see that Slim was in a great hurry to get started, so they made as quick a meal as their appetites would permit and soon they were whirling out of town in a cloud of dust, Bob on the seat with the driver, while Jack was perched somewhat precariously on top of the trunk behind.

"We'll change seats every few miles," Bob had promised him when he had insisted that he had just as soon ride there as on the seat.

For the first few miles hardly a word was spoken. Slim had made up his mind that he was not going to take a fancy to "the Eastern dudes," and he hated, above all things, to have to change his opinion. So he had answered "yes" and "no" to their questions and tried his best to be disagreeable. But it was contrary to his nature and little by little he forgot his predetermined role and, as Jack told Bob a little later, began to thaw out. So by the time they were half-way home they were talking freely and Slim had been obliged to acknowledge to himself that they didn't seem so bad after all. Not that he had given over his determination to have nothing more to do with them than he could help, unless it was to make their existence at the ranch so uncomfortable that they would cut short their visit as soon as it could be brought about.

"Are there many rattlesnakes out here?" Bob asked after they had been a little over two hours on the road.

"Some."

"Big ones?"

"Some."

It had just occurred to Slim that he was not living up to his resolve seeing that he had been taking the lead in the conversation for the past few minutes and so he again began to answer in single words.

"How about Indians?" Jack asked.

"Some."

"Are they civilized?"

"Some."

"Some what?" Bob broke in.

In spite of himself a grin appeared on Slim's good natured face and the ice began to thaw again.

"Some Indians and they're some civilized."

"Do you ever shoot them?" Jack asked.

Slim turned his head with a sudden jerk. He had the notion that the boy was trying to kid him, but Jack's face was perfectly sober.

"Wal-l," he drawled, "yer know they're under the protection of the government an' they fine us two bits apiece for every one we shoot and that makes it some expensive as a sport so we don't shoot more'n about a dozen or so a day."

"I guess you didn't get me," Jack laughed. "I meant snakes, not Indians."

"Oh, snakes. Why bless yer soul, just day afore yesterday we shipped three barrels o' snake oil fer the second time in a week and there's about a spoonful ter a snake."

Slim's face was perfectly straight as he made the statement and Bob gave Jack a sly wink as a signal to swallow the story.

"They must be rather thick," he said soberly. "It's a wonder we haven't seen any along the road."

"Wal-l, yer see, it's a little late in the day fer 'em ter be out now. They mostly come out long 'bout nine o'clock in the mornin' and get back inter their holes afore the dew begins ter fall. Yer see, the dew gets their rattles wet and when they're wet they kinder stick together and don't work very well, in fact, yer can't hear 'em much more'n a mile away unless they're good an' dry."

"And how far can you hear them when they're in good working order?" Bob asked.

Slim looked at him a moment before answering. He was not quite sure that he was getting away with the yarn, but there was nothing in the boy's face to indicate that he was not taking it all in good faith, so he answered:

"Wal-l, o' course, it depends some on the way the wind's blowing. I had a pet snake last summer an' we used him ter call the boys home ter dinner an' sometimes they'd be all of five mile away, but o' course, him bein' a pet, we couldn't make him rattle very hard, 'cause they do that only when they're good an' mad."

"My but it must be pretty dangerous around here," Jack suggested.

"All depends on how quick yer are at dodging 'em. Yer know they can't jump more'n 'about twenty feet."

"But I always thought that a rattlesnake could only jump about its own length," Bob said. "You don't mean that they grow twenty feet long, do you?"

"Twenty feet ain't nothin'."

"How long was the biggest one you ever saw?" Jack asked.

"Wal-l, I can't exactly say as ter that, but it was some more'n twenty feet, 'cause he was going inter his hole an' I only saw the last thirty feet or so."

Bob winked at his brother again and Jack said without a trace of doubt in his voice:

"That must have been some snake."

For a few moments there was silence, then Bob, thinking it would be a good plan to change the subject, said:

"Is the soil rich out here?"

"Soil rich! I 'spect we've 'bout the richest soil in th' world out here. All yer have ter do is ter stick something in the ground and it'll grow, all right. Yer can raise anything out here, that is, most anything 'cept pumpkins."

"And what's the matter with them?" Jack asked soberly.

"Wal-l, yer see, the soil's so rich that the vines grow so almighty fast that it wears the pumpkins all out draggin' 'em over the ground."

"That's too bad," Jack declared, "but can't they hitch an anchor or something of the sort to them and slow up their speed a bit?"

Slim gave Jack a searching glance as he asked the question. He was still a trifle uncertain as to just how far he was getting away with his yarns. But the glance evidently reassured him, for he went on:

"Wal-l, I dunno. One fellow tried hitchin' one of 'em to a tree with a lariat rope but, laws sakes, it didn't do no good. Busted the rope like it was a burnt thread an' he give it up."

During the last half hour they had been climbing a long hill and now, as they reached its top, a scene of surpassing beauty stretched out before them. A broad expanse entirely hemmed in by lofty hills reached for miles, beginning, as it seemed, almost at their feet.

"Thar's the Lazy S," Slim announced, pointing toward a set of buildings located near the center of the basin.

"It's sure pretty," Jack declared "How big is the ranch?"

"'Bout ten thousand acres more or less ter the ranch itself, but the cattle range a lot farther'n that."

"Some farm," Bob muttered.

The bronchos had been inclined to lag coming up the long hill but now, as though they realized that home was near and supper waiting for them, seemed imbued with new life and Slim had his hands full to hold them as they swept down the mountain and around sharp curves at a pace which, more than once, made the boys catch their breath. Bob especially, who at the time was riding on the trunk, was obliged to cling on with both hands to the back of the seat. Several times he was on the point of asking if they were not going faster than was safe, but the thought that the cowboy would think that he was frightened, restrained him and he gritted his teeth and hung on. But he breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the bottom and swung out onto the plain.

It was about an hour later when they drove into the yard of the ranch house, a long one-story building with a broad porch reaching across the entire front. A tall gaunt man, his lean face tanned to the color of brown leather, rose from the low chair, as they drove up.

"Just in time for supper," he greeted them as he stepped from the porch and reached out a hand to each of them.

"This is Mr. Stebbins?" Bob asked as he grasped the hand.

"At your service," the man smiled, "though I'm better known as Jeb around these parts."

"We're very glad to know you and we want to thank you for sending the buckboard over for us," Bob assured him as he jumped to the ground.

"Oh, that's all right. Slim needed a vacation, anyway, and I don't suppose there's much about the country here that you don't know now," he grinned as he cast a searching glance toward the cowboy who was standing at the broncho's heads. "Slim sure does like to talk about the country and he's all right, unless he lets his imagination get away with him then you want to look out. Hope you haven't been stretching things, Slim," he added.

The cowboy turned his face away as he bent over ostensibly to examine one of the broncho's feet and muttered something in a tone too low for them to catch.

"I see," Jeb smiled as he began unroping the trunk, "you want to discount everything he's told you about five hundred percent and you'll probably get things about right."

"Supper's getting cold, Dad."

The boys looked up to see a girl about their own age standing in the doorway and, as Bob later confided to Jack, she was a sight for sore eyes. Her face, tanned a rich olive, bore a most engaging smile and her regular clean-cut features gave her a beauty which somehow seemed out of place in the rough setting. She wore a simple gingham dress, but it was spotlessly clean and fresh.

"This is my daughter, Sue," Mr. Stebbins introduced her.

Both boys felt the blood rushing to their faces as they acknowledged the introduction, but the girl greeted them with a grace which at once put them at their ease.

"The pump's out back and as soon's you've washed up we'll have supper," Jeb told them as he led the way into the house. "Musn't keep Charlie waiting," he cautioned them. "He's the chief cook and bottle washer here and if we don't humor him he's apt to get sulky and then it shows in his cooking."

Charlie, they learned a little later, was a Chinaman of uncertain age, who had been on the ranch for many years and they were not long in finding that what he did not know about cooking was, as Jack declared, mighty hard to discover. Whatever else they did at the ranch it was evident that they did not stint themselves on food, either as to quantity or quality and, as the long ride had given them a keen appetite, they did full justice to the meal.

"Now, Sue, you'll have just about time before dark to show the boys around the place," Jeb said as he pushed back his chair.

"Righto," she agreed as she led the way from the room. "How long was Slim's rattlesnake to-day?" she laughed a moment later.

"Well, he didn't set any definite length to it," Bob smiled. "He said he only saw the last thirty feet of it as it was going into a hole."

"Thirty feet! Was that all? Slim must be losing his grip. Did he spring the pumpkins on you?"

"Yes, he told us they were the only things they couldn't raise out here," Jack smiled.

"Slim's really a dear," she told them, "but he does love to tell big stories. You mustn't believe only about half what he says, and you want to look out for Slats Magee. He's a dear, too, but he loves to play jokes on folks, especially strangers, and some times he goes a bit too far. Those two boys are a pair and you mustn't be a bit surprised at anything they do. Most of the time they're scrapping together, although they really think the world of each other. But they'd never in the world acknowledge it. You won't be here long before Slim will tell you what a terrible desperado Slats is and, from what Slats'll tell you about Slim, you'd think he had committed every crime known to the law, murder included."

By this time they had reached the immense barn, larger by many times than they had supposed a barn could be, and they were intensely interested as their guide led them from one part to another.

"How many horses do you keep?" Bob asked.

"About forty, I guess. They're out back in the corral. We'll go out there after a bit, but first I must take you over to the shack and introduce you to the boys."

"How many are there?" Jack asked.

"Just an even dozen."

Several of the "boys" were pitching horse shoes while the others were watching the game and it was evident that an exciting match was in progress, for they did not see them until they were standing close behind.

"Boys, I want you to meet Bob and Jack Lakewood," Sue said suddenly, and the way the cowboys snatched off their hats proved to the boys that their fair guide was held in high esteem by them.

"This is Slats Magee, and Slim you've already met. And this is Reds," indicating a tall, rangy individual whose bright red hair was a constant source of fun to his fellows. "There's no use of mentioning last names, as they never use them and I doubt if all of them know what they are themselves," she explained as she continued.

"And this is Spike, and Stubby and Bleary and Shorty and Fats," indicating a man well over six feet and so slender that Jack later declared that he could qualify as the living skeleton in a circus.

"And this is Big Foot and Freckles and Runt and last, but by no means least, Grumpy.

"He isn't really grumpy, you know, he only looks that way."

The "boys" acknowledged the introduction with good grace, but both Bob and Jack were aware of a feeling of hostility in the air which, however, they were unable to define. It was as though somehow they did not quite belong but were being accepted as a necessary evil.

"Now, we'll go look at the horses before it gets dark," Sue said, and the game of horse shoes was at once resumed. "You mustn't mind if the boys are a bit slow about warming up to you," the girl said. "You see, they're naturally suspicious of strangers, as we don't see very many out here, but as soon as they get acquainted they'll be all right and you'll find them as good a bunch as you ever met. Do you ride?"

"Some," Bob replied. "They teach cavalry at the military college we attended last year."

"That's fine. I'm crazy about riding and we'll have one before breakfast to-morrow morning if it suits you."

"Couldn't be better," Jack assured her.

Bob and Jack both loved horses and were fairly good judges of horse flesh, and they were agreeably surprised when they saw the beautiful animals in the corral.

"What beauties," both declared in the same breath.

"We think they're pretty good," the girl said and at the sound of her voice a splendid bay mare separated herself from the rest and trotted toward her.

"This is my mare and her name is Lady," she told them as she pulled a big lump of sugar from her pocket. "Lady always expects sugar whenever she sees me," she explained.

"And I'll bet she gets it," Jack laughed.

"That's right, isn't it, Lady?" And by a gentle neigh Lady declared that it was.