The morning was fresh and glorious, as mornings always are in California at that season of the year, the air was exhilarating—every breath of it seemed to infuse new life into him—and Guy was elated with the prospect of a pleasant journey and an interview with the buffalo hunter, who was the very man he most wished to see. He could have looked forward to a day of uninterrupted enjoyment but for one thing, and that was the presence of the buck-jumper. It had a depressing effect upon him. He did not see why the ranchman should give him that horse to ride when he had so nearly dashed his brains out the night before.
“Come in an’ get some coffee an’ slapjacks,” said Mr. Wilson, at the same time tossing Guy a piece of a gunny sack on which to wipe his hands and face.
The boy’s appetite having come back to him by this time, he made a hearty breakfast, and while he was eating it, listened to his employer’s advice and instructions concerning the journey he was about to undertake.
“Zeke is forty miles away, as I told you,” said the ranchman, “an’ as your trail, part of the way, leads over the mountains, you won’t be able to travel very fast; but the ole clay-bank is a right smart walker, an’ if you have no bad luck you had oughter be in Zeke’s camp by four this arternoon. About midday you’ll cross Deer Run, an’ thar the mar’ will want to stop an’ pick about a bit, an’ while she’s doin’ it, you can set down under a tree an’ eat your dinner. You’ll see plenty of antelope thar, an’ you’ll have no sort of trouble in knockin’ over one fur your dinner, if you know how to hunt ’em; but fur fear you don’t. I’ve put a leetle something in your game-bag. You’d best kill an antelope, howsomever, if you get the chance, ’cause mebbe it’ll help you to make friends with Zeke.”
“How shall I know him when I see him?” asked Guy.
“Know him!” said the ranchman. “The mar’ll know him, an’ he’ll know the mar. The fust question he’ll ask you will be, ‘You got any tobacker in that thar pack-saddle?’ When you see a man who says that to you, tell him ‘hallo.’ ’cause that’s Zeke. He’ll be a leetle trifle cross an’ ugly at fust, ’cause he’s been outen tobacker now three or four days; but a chaw or two will set him all right, an’ you’ll find him a mighty palaverin’ sort o’ feller. I want you back by to-morrer night so that you can take your fust lesson in the store on Sunday.”
“I should be much more eager to undertake the journey if I had a gentler horse to ride,” said Guy.
“A gentler hoss!” repeated the ranchman, opening his eyes in amazement. “It can’t be found on this farm nor in Californy nuther, a gentler hoss than that thar hoss can’t. Why, a baby could ride him.”
“But I am out of practice, you know,” said Guy meekly.
“Yes, I seed that; but you won’t have no trouble while the ole clay-bank is with him. He’ll go along like an old cow.”