Jack the Young Cowboy: An Eastern Boy's Experiance on a Western Round-up

by George Bird Grinnell

"Of course," said Mason, "I'll be on the lookout, and if Claib tries any of his tricks on me, I'll have to be just a little bit quicker than he is; but I've no quarrel with Claib, and don't want any."

Soon after they reached town Mr. Sturgis looked up Claib, and had quite a talk with him. He was apparently fully recovered from his injuries, but the weeks that he had spent under a roof had bleached away his outdoor color and he looked pale and thin.

"I tell you, Mr. Sturgis," said Claib, "I've no very good feelings toward Jack Mason, for he picked a quarrel with me, and hurt me just for meanness."

"In one way, I suppose that's true," answered Mr. Sturgis; "but, on the other hand, it's only fair for you to remember that you shot Rufe Mason without any particular provocation or quarrel, and it's natural that Jack should remember what you had done to his brother."

"Well," admitted Claib, "that's so. I never ought to have shot Rufe, and I wouldn't have done it, only I was drunk and quarrelsome. I expect it was natural for Jack Mason to want to get even with me. I've had time during the last two months to do a whole lot of thinking, and I'll say this, that if Jack Mason is willing to wipe it out, I'll say the same and shake hands with him on it."

"I'm mighty glad to hear you say that, Claib," said Mr. Sturgis; "and I'll be glad to see you two shake hands. You're both good men, and I'd be sorry to see either killed. I feel sure that Mason is willing to call it square, if you will. The next time you see Mason, go up to him, man fashion, and tell him how you feel. I'm sure you'll find him ready to make peace."

Early that day people from the neighboring ranches—men, women and children—began to gather for the coming dance, and the town showed unusual excitement. Women, young girls and children passed along the streets, going from one store to another, tasting the delights of the shopping tours that came to them so infrequently. In more than one of the saloons were heard sounds of the fiddles to be played by the musicians for the dance; but the master of ceremonies, dreading lest these musicians should become too tipsy during the day to furnish the music in the evening, had appointed a trustworthy person to go about with each one and see that he did not drink.

Soon after dark, wagons began to drive up to the schoolhouse and to unload their freight of laughing, chattering people, excited by the prospect of the dance; and a little later the frequent pounding of quick galloping hoofs told that the cowboys were gathering. Before long the rail to which the horses were tied was crowded from end to end, while their riders gathered on either side of the door, squatted on the ground and smoked their pipes and cigarettes and discussed the events of the range—the calf crop, the incidents of the round-ups, and the piece of beef.

Presently from within the building came the sound of music, and a number of the men rose to their feet, threw away their cigarettes and, with rasping shaps and clinking spurs, entered the door. In the little anteroom, each man paused to divest himself of spurs, shaps, belt and six-shooter—all these things being tied together and placed in a corner of the room.