Ted Strong in Montana Part 65

"What's your present label?" asked Ted.

"Ther cognomen what I packs with me now is sure fantastical. I'm known on ther Western free range as 'The Woofer.'"

"'The Woofer'? That's a strange name."

"It ain't my real name, which is 'Tennessee Al.'"

"How did you come to be named 'The Woofer'?"

"Well, it's jest a piece o' foolishness," said the cow-puncher, laughing at the recollection of it.

"Tell us about it."

"Well, it was this away: About two year ago last Chrismus I wuz punchin'

cows over on Coburn's ranch. Chrismus Eve ther boys got some cagy, an'

we all decided ter go inter Cut Bank, ther tradin' town some ten mile away, an' cellybrate. It wuz a bad night, with ther wind blowin' out o'

ther nor'west, an' ther promise o' a bliz.

"Wallace Coburn balks some at ther boys leavin' ther cattle, fer he sees thet thar's some danger o' their driftin' in ther night. But yer don't can up a lot o' cow-punchers Chrismus Eve when they wants ter go, so finally he grunts out that we kin go, an' off we starts.

"'Fleshy' Wheeler, so called because he wa'n't no bigger round nor a lemonade straw, kep' a saloon in Cut Bank, an' thar wuz ter be a day.

Well, we-all went ter ther dance, which progressed beautiful, when one o' ther boys come in an' announces that a big herd o' cattle had drifted through ther town while we wuz trippin' ther light fantastic toe, and that one o' ther critters had fallen inter ther town well.

"Naturally, ther town people objected ter havin' range cow mixed in with their drinkin' water, an' hinted strong that it wuz up ter us cow-punchers ter git it out, at ther same time emphasizin' their invitation with a lot o' s.h.i.+ny six-shooters.

"Well, we goes inter caucus, an' decided thet ther cow belongs ter ther Coburn outfit, an' that we're too humane ter let a pore critter stay in a well Chrismus Eve, when joy an' peace an' merriment is reignin'

everywhere.

"Now, as you-all knows, when a cow is hauled out o' a bog or a well she don't feel no grat.i.tood, she jest gits mad plumb through an' h'ists her tail, an' runs fer ther fust thing she sees afoot, with her horns ready fer immediate business.

"Before we goes out ter git ther cow outer ther well, we tells Fleshy ter stand guard at the door, an' when ther cow charges, ter let us in, then slam ther door in ther cow's face. He agrees.

"We ropes ther cow, an' altogether pulls her out an' puts her on terry firmy. Then we hits it up fer ther house, with ther cow as mad as a woman scorned, an' only two jumps behind me, what is ther last man ter git under way.

"Ther boys. .h.i.ts ther house, an' Fleshy lets 'em in, but me, bein' some feet behind, he doesn't see, at least, that's ther way he explains ter me later, an' he slams ther door in my face jest ez ther cow arrives.

"My only chance is ter keep runnin', an' I starts around ther house, hopin' that when I gits ter ther door ag'in Fleshy will have discovered his mistake, an' have it open hospitablelike fer me, but cold feet fer ther cow.

"But, no, ther door is closed an' bolted, an' I start on another lap around ther house with Mrs. Cow a-snortin' an' a-blowin' in my immediate vicinity, an' comin' fast. Every time I hit ther ground with my hoofs I grunted 'woof.' I wuz gittin' winded, what with runnin' an' yellin', so thet I wuz gruntin' 'woof' most all ther time.

"Inside, all wuz merriment, an' me runnin' fer my life, fer ther cow wuz most industrious, an' didn't know what it wuz ter git tired.

"Well, ter make a long tale short, I kept runnin' an' gruntin' 'woof' at every jump, ther sweat runnin' down an' freezin' on my clothes, until mornin', when ther cow gits tired an' goes away. Then ther boys comes out an' finds me, an' says they're mighty surprised ter see me, havin'

conclooded that I'd gone home.

"'We hear somethin' goin' "woof" all night, an' thought it wuz ther cow,' says Fleshy, 'an' we didn't dast open ther door fer fear she'd want ter come in, an' as there wuz ladies there, it wouldn't do. Wuz that you what was woofin' all night?'

"After that I wuzn't nothin' ter them boys but 'The Woofer.'"

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

SINGING BIRD'S SECRET.

The boys laughed at the story, for Woofer, as they began to call him immediately, told it in a most comical manner. They all took to him immensely, and regarded him as quite an acquisition to the camp.

Dinner was announced by McCall, the cook, and Woofer certainly did justice to it, being, as Bud remarked in an aside to Hallie, "holler all the way down to his toes." He confessed that he had had nothing to eat but a little mud, which he had absorbed when he got a drink at a water hole, since the noon of the day before.

Ted had been thinking about the man. It would do no harm to have another puncher in the outfit, and would relieve the night guard, which at times was a little overworked.

"Say, Woofer, you won't take a reward for bringing in our strays, how would you like a job with this outfit?" he said.

"I don't want you to think I'm workin' ther grub line," said the cow-puncher quickly.

When a cow-puncher is said to be working the grub line, he is known as a thriftless cowman who cannot hold a job long anywhere, and who travels from ranch to ranch, staying only long enough at each to get fed up, then pa.s.sing on with a few dollars in his pocket, to repeat the operation elsewhere.

"Certainly not," answered Ted. "If I believed that I wouldn't offer you the job."

"All right," said Woofer. "This outfit looks good to me, an' I'll jine, an' go ter work instanter."

"You're on the pay roll, then."

Woofer proved quickly that he knew the business thoroughly, and when, the next morning, the herd got under way, he took the left point, with Bud on the right, and headed the herd into the north.

For several days life on the trail was monotonous. Whenever Ted could be spared from the herd he and Stella and Hallie Croffut, and sometimes Ben or Kit, took long rides off the trail with their rifles, after a p.r.o.nghorn or black-tail deer, and frequently they had venison for supper.

The life was most fascinating to Hallie, who enjoyed every minute of it, and had seemingly forgotten the unpleasant features of her start with the party.

Singing Bird rode in the wagon, with Mrs. Graham, waiting on that lady in the capacity of maid. Stella had undertaken to teach her the duty of maid, and the girl soon did for Mrs. Graham what had taken a great deal of Stella's time.

The Indian girl was devoted to Stella, and whenever she was near, followed the pretty white girl with eyes in which shone devotion and affection.

She had made herself so useful, and was so self-effacing that every one wondered how they had ever been able to get along without her.

Stella had conceived a real affection for her, she was so gentle and sweet of manner.

They had long talks together in the evenings, sitting away from the fire, the Indian girl telling her white friend all about the life led by the Indians, their wrongs at the hands of the white men, their religious beliefs, their songs, and their folklore.

And, more important than all, she taught Stella the language of the Blackfeet and the Sioux. Stella was a good scholar, and it was surprising how rapidly she picked up the Indian tongues. Later she was to feel grat.i.tude to the Indian girl for this knowledge.

For several days Stella had noticed that Singing Bird was uneasy and apparently unhappy, and it worried her.

She spoke to Ted about it, and he was of the opinion that the Indian girl was getting homesick, that her wild nature was a.s.serting itself, and that she was experiencing a longing to be among her own people again, and free from the conventions of civilized life.

Stella did not think so, and determined to speak to Singing Bird about it at the first good opportunity.