Just as the sun lighted the tops of the mountains, the Chinaman rang a large bell that hung on a high pole near the well, to call the cow-boys to breakfast, and as its peals rang out on the morning air it was answered by the barking of what seemed to be dozens of coyotes, although, in reality, there was perhaps not half that number; a peculiarity of their bark being that it seems to double itself and to sound as if coming from twice as many throats as it really does. Billy did not like to hear the coyotes, for their dismal cries made him feel both lonesome and homesick.
Immediately after breakfast the cow-boys rode off to look after the cattle and as soon as Billy saw them depart he gave a sigh of relief, for when they were around they were always plaguing him and throwing lassos or cracking their whips at him.
“Now, while the Chinaman is busy with his dishes and the cow-boys are away, is my time to explore the premises and find out what things look like around here,” thought Billy and, seeing an open door, he walked through and found himself in a long, low room barren of carpet or furniture, unless two tiers of bunks, a wooden chair or two, a washstand with a tin basin on it, and a cracked looking-glass, could be called furniture.
This room was in great disorder. Boots were lying around everywhere; some in the bunks, others sticking out from under them, and still others strewn about in general confusion all over the floor; and where there were no boots there were clay and corn-cob pipes with half-empty tobacco bags beneath them. None of these things surprised Billy, but what did puzzle him was that between the windows there were a lot of holes in the walls which were filled with old rags loosely poked in, while guns of all sizes and descriptions hung on the walls or were stacked in the corners of the room.
“This looks like a fort,” thought Billy, “but I fail to see who there is to fight around here.” But, even as he thought this, he remembered that Indians lived in this territory, and cold chills ran down his spine, for although he was only a goat, he had often heard of the unparalleled cruelty of the Apache Indian dwelling in this part of the country and he at once realized why this house had been built with holes in its walls and why all the guns were there. In case of a siege, the cow-boys barricaded the windows and doors and stuck the barrels of their guns into these holes, and then they were prepared to resist an attack and to defend themselves.
Besides the room in which Billy stood, the house contained a sitting-room, dining-room, kitchen, and a small room that was kept shut up except when occupied by the owner during his yearly visits to the ranch.
When Billy had reached this point in his explorations, he heard the Chinaman calling, “Bee-lee, Bee-lee, Bee-lee.”
“I suppose that means me, so since he makes my name sound so much like Bee, I will carry out the notion and make a bee-line for him,” said Billy.
“Where-ee you been, Bee-lee?” said the Chinaman when he saw Billy running toward him. “Come-ee long-ee in a here-ee; I have-ee something good-ee for-ee you-ee,” and he gave Billy a piece of Johnnie-cake that had been scorched in the baking-and which he did not want the ranchman to see because of the wasted meal.
