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Updated: June 6, 2025
"Pity?" he laughed brutally. "Wher's the pity? Course it was the women. It's always the women. Set men around a bunch of women and ther's always trouble. It's always been, and it always will be. Ther's no pity about it I can see. We're all made that way, and those who set us on this rotten earth meant it so, or it wouldn't be." The Padre's gray eyes surveyed the narrow face before him.
"It's queer," he observed once, when they had covered nearly two miles of the track. "Ther's a great bunch of horsemen been over this. Kind o' seems to me as if ther' was as many horses as steers. They're headin' northeast, too." Jeff's eyes were as close upon the trail as Bud's, only he read with less understanding. "They seem leading out of the valley," he said.
"Why, yes." Bud's eyes were watching Nan as she mounted her pony, carefully held by a solicitous barn-hand. Under other circumstances the man's attention would have afforded him amusement. Just now he was regretting the manager's remark. "Y'see, ther's a deal to fix. Seein' he's president this year, why, I guess it's up to him to kep his ladle busy in the soup."
"I want to tell yeh, young sir, ther' hain't no bugs in this 'ouse. If ther's one thing I'm pertickler 'bout, it's bugs. John sez to me, sez 'e, 'What's the hodds of a bug or two, Hianthy? But I sez to 'im, sez I, 'No bugs fer me, John. I hain't been brought up with bugs, an' bugs I cawn't an' won't 'ave."
"I I must have been crazy," she declared, in an awed voice. Bud laughed, but his eyes were full of a sympathy that had no meaning for the others. "Not crazy, little Nan. Jest good grit. Guess Jeff didn't see the pool waitin' around for him to pick up. Wal, guess ther's a heap o' folk like him. You played right out for a win, an' you won by a head." It was the last day of the Cattle Week.
But it oughtn't to be altogether my fault, because, you know, I don't see them nor have nothing to do with them except when they're on me; and I don't believe I've ever lost one of them OFF of me." "Well, it ain't YOUR fault if you haven't, Silas; you'd a done it if you could, I reckon. And the shirt ain't all that's gone, nuther. Ther's a spoon gone; and THAT ain't all.
Ther's nothin' but trouble about that place now 'bout her. I ain't got over Ike and Pete. Wal, I don't guess we'll get to the rights of that now. They wer' two bright boys. Here are us fellers runnin' this camp fer all we know, all good citizens, mind, an' ther' ain't nothin' amiss. We ke'p the place good an' clean of rackets.
Then the calm broke before his storm of feeling. "Don't tell me ther's trouble around your layout, too," he cried, without waiting for reply. Then he turned on Nan, who was still on the veranda. "Say, Nan, they done it. The rotten swines have done it. They shot 'Jock' up!" "The Highland bull?" Nan gasped. "Yes. That's it." Bud laughed furiously.
Him an' me, an' he's that riled as he don't notion suppin' good thick rum wi' us. Wal, I guess it'll keep, what you boys can't do in. Ther's the pannikin, ther's the keg. Jest help yourselves, lads, when you fancy. I ain't tastin' with bad blood runnin' in this shack." "What, no drink?" cried old Pierre, his face beaming with oily geniality. "Dis no lak ole time, Victor. What's de fuss?
"Momma do hoss-ridin'," replied Jamie, forestalling his sister for once. "Yes," added Vada. "She gone ridin'. An' they'll come an' take us wher' ther's heaps an' heaps o' 'piders, an' an' bugs an' things. He said so sure." "He? Who?" They had reached the hut and Scipio set Jamie on the ground as he put his question.
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