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Updated: May 15, 2025
"No," answered Wilbur quickly, scenting a story, "I never even heard of him. Who was he?" "This same Joe," began the range-rider, "is a tow-haired specimen whose manly form decorates the streets of this here metropolis of Sumber that you've been admirin'. He has the name of bein' the most agile proposition on a trigger that ever shot the spots off a ten o' clubs.
"Yes," answered Wilbur, "Bob-Cat Bob told me all about the death of his father during the sheep and cattle war. He told me when we were riding up to the ranch, from the station at Sumber." "I have thought," said Rifle-Eye, "that perhaps it ain't quite the right thing to keep Ben here, up in the woods. But I tried sendin' him to school. It wasn't no manner of use.
At last, cocking its eye, it gave a turn of its tail, and off it went like a shot, followed by our roars of laughter. "Tend on it, Jack Shark find dat we not going to make dinner for him dis day!" cried Sam Coal, "so he tink better go look out sumber else." Such were the trifling incidents which afforded us amusement and assisted to keep up our spirits.
When, a few days later, Wilbur found himself standing on the platform of the little station at Sumber, with the cactus-clad Mohave desert about him and the slopes of the Sierra Nevada beyond, he first truly realized that his new life was beginning.
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