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At work the cow-puncher is not of the drinking, carousing, fight-hunting type; nor again is he of the daring romantic school. He is a Western man of the plains. True, after loading up his cattle and getting "paid off," he may spend his vacation with less dignity and quiet than a bank clerk. But after a year of hard work with coarse fare he must have some relaxation. He takes what he finds.
Sothern," chuckled the cow-puncher, kicking his friends gayly under the table. "You can see I never sold HIM any, Miss Messiter," came back Soapy, sorrowfully. All this was Greek to the young lady from Kalamazoo. How was she to know that Mr.
It can never be known what the cow-puncher was going to say next; for Uncle Hughey stepped up with a glass of water which he had left Wood to bring, and asking for a turn, most graciously received it. She danced away from a situation where she began to feel herself getting the worst of it. One moment the Virginian stared at his lady as she lightly circulated, and then he went out to the barrel.
The Countess knows and have Slim bring something to carry him home on. And RIDE!" Weary was gone before she had finished, and he certainly "rode." "You'll have another crippled cow-puncher on yer hands, first thing yuh know," grumbled the Old Man, anxiously, as he watched Weary race recklessly down the hill. The Little Doctor did not answer. She scarcely heard him.
"What good would that do me, with your dearly-beloved friend, Roger Eliot, choosing his favorites for the team? Besides, I don't think I'd care to play if I could with a bunch that had a cow-puncher for a slab artist." "You've got a grudge against Grant. You don't like him." "Great discernment," laughed Rackliff, with a hollow cough that sent little puffs of smoke belching from his lips.
There was a mile of north-and-south fence to be built, and he set at once to work digging post holes well on the inside of his line. He had worked two hours when he saw a horseman loping easily toward him from the west. The horseman was apparently a cow-puncher. He was tall, dark and hard-featured.
Upon his rapid return journey loaded down with spoils, Peg Brace, a cow-puncher in the "Bar O" gang, rode recklessly alongside his speeding wheels for the greater portion of the distance, apparently in most jovial humor, and so unusually inquisitive as to make Mr. Lane, as he later expressed it, "plum tired."
Twenty years before, Frenchy McAllister had changed his identity from a happy-go-lucky, devil-may-care cow-puncher and became a machine. The grief that had torn his soul was not of the kind which seeks its outlet in tears and wailing; it had turned and struck inward, and now his deliberate ferocity was icy and devilish.
Some subtle instinct in him differentiated between these hurried shots and those born of the casual exuberance of the cow-puncher at play. He had a reason for taking an interest in it an interest that was more than casual.
"She'd ought to wear knickerbockers," murmured the Virginian. "She'd look a heap better 'n some o' them college students. And she'll set on potatoes, yu' say?" "She thinks she can hatch out anything. I've found her with onions, and last Tuesday I caught her on two balls of soap." In the afternoon the tall cow-puncher and I rode out to get an antelope.
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