“That is what I told him. Do you suppose father said a word to him about going into partnership with me?”
“No,” said Thompson emphatically. “I will tell you what is a fact, Carl. I love the ranch, I love every horse and cow on it, but if you take that man into business with you, you can get another foreman.”
“You need not worry yourself. I have no intention of doing it.”
The next morning the cowboys were all up at four o’clock to see the journey begun. If good wishes could have anything to do with them, they would certainly get back in as fine order as they were when they started. Claude’s trunk had been thrown into the wagon without much regard to consequences, much to that young gentleman’s disgust, and in ten minutes more the ranch was out of sight. They stopped that night at the fort, and if we were to say that everybody was glad to see Carl we should be touching the matter very lightly. Everybody had something to say about the loss of his father, and the kind words brought tears to Carl’s eyes. He got away from the officers and went to see the commandant of the fort. He wanted to get a position for himself as bad as Claude did. The colonel just listened to him until he found out what he had come there for, and then got up and shook him by the hand.
“Of course I have got a position for you,” said he. “You want to hurry back from St. Louis and get here as soon as possible. I will have business for you every day.”
Thompson was not at all pleased to hear this. Of course he would be given charge of the ranch during his employer’s absence, but that did not suit him. He wanted Carl around so that he could take orders from him, and the place would be lonely without him. Claude, too, looked glum when he heard of it.
“You seem to find something to do without going out of your own country,” said he with evident disgust, “and I have got to go to St. Louis, and probably will not find anything there to suit me.”
Carl did not know what reply to make to this, so he said nothing. The next day they started on again, and in four days arrived at Standing Rock Agency. They made arrangements with the teamsters to keep their mules until they came back, and then Carl found the quartermaster, of whom they obtained a permit to go down to Fort Scully on his boat. It was a small boat, built to run when the water in the river was shallow, and the time they had in getting down to their journey’s end filled Carl with impatience. There seemed to be a bar in every bend, and the boat was kept busy “sparring off” to enable her to continue on her way; but at length Fort Scully was sighted and the boat made her landing.
“I don’t expect we will be here when you come back,” said the captain, to whom Carl had gone for some information on the subject. “We shall probably be up at Standing Rock Agency; but if we are not here, you can wait.”
This was bad news for Carl, who wanted to get through with the trip and get back to his ranch without loss of time. He found another boat that was going to St. Louis, and on her he took passage, and after a pleasant journey—there was not as much “sparring off” to do on this boat as there was on the quartermaster’s—they reached their destination. Thompson now had some fault to find with the men, and women, too, whom he met on this journey. A good many of them gazed in surprise at his long hair, his wide sombrero and the clothing he wore, and he came to Carl and complained about it.