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Updated: May 24, 2025
Bob Worther wrote the epitaph with a pencil on a bit of wood: "Here lies the gloomiest pony that ever was. The gloomier he was the better he went and the better Jack Wingfield liked him;" which was Bob's way of interpreting Jack's instructions.
"With the unlimited authority I have in bestowing titles," said Jack, "I have a mind to make you an Emir. But it's a pity that you haven't a camel squatting under your date-tree and placidly chewing his cud." "A tempting thought!" declared the Doge unctuously. "Bob Worther could ride him on the tours of inspection. I think the jounce would be almost as good a flesh-reducer as pedestrianism."
He was speaking with the authority of an expert in trail fashions, who would consider Jack in very bad form if he refused. "Why, yes, Firio, yes; it is so long since we have been on the trail!" And he went into the bedroom to make the change. "I've never seen him quite so dumb quiet!" said Worther. Jack certainly had been quiet, ominously quiet and self-contained.
Sir Chaps" the Doge hesitated for an instant, with a baffling, unspoken inquiry in his eyes "Sir Chaps, I like your companionship and your mastery of persiflage. Jim Galway, who is secretary of the association, will look after details of the permit and Bob Worther will turn the water on your land, and the whole town will assist you with advice! Luck, Sir Chaps, in your new vocation!"
"Fellow-citizens, if there's anything in the direct primary I feel sure of the nomination!" said Jack drily. "You're already elected!" shouted Bob Worther. Around at the other side of the station Jack found Firio waiting his turn in patient isolation, with P.D., Wrath of God, and Jag Ear. "Sí! sí!" called Firio triumphantly to all the sceptics who had told him that Jack would not return.
"Not what I would call enlightening," said Bob Worther. "That was his way of expressing it; but to do him justice, he showed what a good rancher he was by his attention to the details that had to be cared for," Jim added. "He's like the spirit of the winds, I guess," put in Mrs. Galway. "Something comes a-calling him or a-driving him, I don't know which.
"That is both courteous and merciful; and you are very insistent, Leddy," Jack returned, and walked on. "Just as sweet as honey, just as cool as ice, and just as sunny as June!" whispered Bob Worther to the man next him. Again Jack was before the opening in the Ewold hedge, with its glimpse of the spacious living-room.
It was the greeting of Bob Worther, the inspector of ditches, who was the only man abroad at that hour. Jack looked up with an effort to be genial and found Bob closely studying his features in a stare. "What's the matter, Bob?" he asked. "Has my complexion turned green over night or my nose slipped around to my ear?" "I was trying to make out if you do look like him!" Bob declared. "Like whom?
No Jack singing out "Hello!" on the main street! No Jack looking up from work to ask boyishly: "Am I learning? Oh, I'll be the boss rancher yet!" No Jack springing all sorts of conceits, not of broad humor, but the kind that sort of set a "twinkling in your insides," as Bob Worther expressed it! No Jack inspiring a feeling deeper than twinkles on his sad days!
We got two of them before dark! Then I was wounded and couldn't see to shoot. And I came for help. And you will be in time! He's in a good position!" "I think you are lying!" said Galway. "He couldn't help it!" said Bob Worther. "How how would I have his horse if he weren't willing?" protested Prather, frantically. "By stealing it, in keeping with your character!" "Yes!
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