The Boy from the Ranch; Or, Roy Bradner's City Experiences

E-text prepared by Al Haines


Billy Carew, foreman of the Triple O ranch, addressed these remarks to a rather ugly-looking Indian, who was riding a pony that seemed much too small for him. The Indian, who was employed as a cowboy, was letting his steed amble slowly along, paying little attention to the work of rounding up the cattle.
Come now, Low Bull, get a move on, advised the foreman. Make believe you're hunting palefaces, he added, and then, speaking in a lower tone he said: this is the last time I'll ever hire a lazy Indian to help round-up.
What's the matter, Billy? asked a tall, well-built lad, riding up to the foreman.
Matter? Everything's the matter. Here I foolishly go and give Low Bull charge of the left wing of rounding up these steers, and he's so lazy and good-for-nothing that he'll let half of 'em get away 'fore we get back to the ranch. Get a move on you now! he called to the Indian, and, seeing that the foreman was very much in earnest, Low Bull urged his pony to a gallop, and began to get the straggling steers into some kind of shape.
Can't I help you, Billy? asked the boy.
Since he is to figure largely in this story I shall give you a brief description of him. Roy Bradner was the only son of James Bradner, who owned a large ranch, near the town of Painted Stone, in Colorado. The boy's mother was dead, and he had lived with his father on the ranch ever since he was a baby.
Spending much of his time in the open air, Roy had become almost as strong and sturdy as a man, and in some respects he could do the work of one.
He was quite expert in managing horses, even steeds that had never known a saddle, and at throwing the lariat, or lasso, few on the ranch could beat him. He was a good shot with the revolver and rifle, and, in short, was a typical western boy.
Can't I help you, Billy? the lad asked again, as he saw the foreman had not appeared to hear his question.