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Well, Terry Neil, for that was my father's name, began to feel his heart growin' light and his purse heavy; an' he took a bit iv a farm in Squire Phalim's ground, just undher the ould castle, an' a pleasant little spot it was; an' day an' mornin', poor crathurs not able to put a foot to the ground, with broken arms and broken legs, id be comin' ramblin' in from all quarters to have their bones spliced up.
If I catch you around, well, I won't use no fists!" And without waiting for an answer he turned and left the room. The owner of the Quarter Circle KT then hunted lip the marshal of Eagle Butte. "Tom," he said, "I reckon you'll be looking some for th' Ramblin' Kid, after what happened last night, won't you?"
The Ramblin' Kid looked at the broken rope the end fastened around the throat of Old Blue had whipped back and was lying far beyond the cowboy's reach. The piece half-hitched to the saddle horn was too short for another throw. Old Blue was doomed. Carolyn June saw him sinking gradually, surely, into the sand. It seemed ages. His eyes appealed with dumb pathos to the group on the bank.
So this was the Ramblin' Kid, Carolyn June thought. Someway she had pictured him a blue-eyed, yellow-haired sort of composite Skinny Rawlins, Chuck, Bert Lilly, Charley Saunders all in one and with the face of a boy in the teens! He was different. She wondered, and almost laughed at the absurd thought, if he was bow-legged.
"Dorsey was there," Chuck said with another grin, "he'd just finished entering Thunderbolt for the big race when th' Ramblin' Kid and me got to the registering office. I bet him two hundred dollars. He was bragging a good deal " Old Heck's eyes flashed and the mirth left them.
Skinny pawed around until there wasn't a whole egg left in the box. At the first crunch Leon laughed hilariously. "I knowed you'd lose!" he cackled. "Giff me the money!" "You win, Leon!" the Ramblin' Kid laughed, handing over the wager. "Skinny wasn't as delicate on his feet as he thought he was!" "Thunderation, that's funny!"
Here and there a morning shopper was passing along the street. At the post-office there was quite a crowd. Skinny carried the shirt, wrapped in the soggy, rain-soaked newspaper. As he and the Ramblin' Kid came near the dingy, general merchandise establishment kept by the squint-eyed Jew from whom Parker had bought the unfortunate garment a sudden look of cunning gleamed in the eyes of Skinny.
The marshal had heard of Sabota's effort to have the young cowboy drugged the day of the race and also the immediate cause for the fight. "Oh, I don't know as I will," he said, "unless the Greek makes some charge or other. I don't imagine he'll do that" "I know blamed well he won't!" Old Heck interrupted. "But how about th' Ramblin' Kid putting his gun in your ribs resisting an officer and so on?"
If I do she can ride th' maverick When you an' her go on your honeymoon " "What's a honeymoon?" Skinny queried innocently. "It's what two people take when they first get married; go off somewhere by themselves like they was locoed to find out how bad they got stung!" the Ramblin' Kid laughingly answered.
Before Skinny and Old Heck left the pool-room the former managed to get a bet of five hundred dollars with Sabota. The next afternoon the Ramblin' Kid rode into Eagle Butte on Captain Jack. By his side he led the Gold Dust maverick. The noise and confusion in the streets filled the mare with nervousness and she crowded closely against the little roan stallion.
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