We all smoked two or three pipes of tobacco and then Lem said he was getting sleepy, whereupon we all followed him into the ranch and went to bed. I don’t suppose that Bob slumbered a wink that night, but I slept as soundly as though such men as Coyote Bill had not been within a hundred miles of us; and yet he came back that same night and stole the rest of his bedding. A little further examination showed us that Mr. Davenport’s favorite riding horse was also missing, and then we knew that if we ever caught him again salt would not save him. The man had been guilty of stealing horses, and that was enough to hang him. When I had made these observations I went back to tell them to Mr. Davenport.
“Of course the man is plucky,” said he, “and it is going to get him into serious trouble some day. Now, I want you boys to come here and sign as witnesses to my signature. I take my solemn oath that I wrote this myself,” he added, placing his forefinger upon his sign manual, “and that everything in this will is just what I want it to be. Now, boys, place your own signatures there. Now, Bob, you sign right there as witness to their signatures. There, I guess it is all right. If anything happens to me, get this pocket-book into your hands as soon as possible.”
There was one thing that occurred to me right there, although I did not say anything about it. Mr. Davenport seemed to be thoroughly convinced that something was going to happen to him during his ride to Trinity, and since he knew it, why didn’t he give his pocket-book up to someone else? That, it seemed to me, would be the surest way, for everybody who knew anything about the matter would know right where the will ought to be found in case anything “happened” to the invalid. I thought the matter over while I was getting ready for breakfast, and concluded that Bob or somebody else would certainly see some misfortune on account of that pocket-book. It stuck close to me, and somehow I couldn’t get rid of it.
I pass over the next few days, during which nothing transpired that is worthy of notice. We did nothing but talk about Coyote Bill, and wondered where he had gone now and where we should be likely to meet him again, for there were none of us who didn’t expect to see him once more. He wasn’t the man to give up twenty thousand dollars because one attempt to secure it had failed. And then what would he say to me? I had been guilty of treachery to him, and that was a fact.
On the morning of the fourth day, after we had packed our wagon with water and provisions, and got all ready for the start, the cattle from the lower counties made their appearance. I tell you I never saw so many head of stock before in my life. They covered the hills to the right and left as far as the eye could reach, and as to how deep they were I don’t know. If a man had all those cattle in good trim, he would have nothing to do but sit in his rocking-chair and sell them. I wondered how many of them would live to reach Trinity. Not one in ten, I was satisfied. They flocked into our water-holes, and in five minutes there wasn’t water enough left to wet your tongue with. The strongest fences that could have been made would not have delayed them a minute. Presently the leader of the movement appeared in sight, and came up to the porch on which we were sitting. His name was Chisholm, and he seemed the very personification of good nature. He looked at us boys because he hadn’t seen us before, and greeted us in his hearty Western fashion.
“How-dy!” said he. “Are you all ready to start? I hope you’ve got a little mite of water laid by for us, for we haven’t had a drink in so long that we don’t know how it tastes.”
“Oh, yes! we’ve got a drink for you,” said Mr. Davenport. “Go into that building right there and you will find two barrels. Fill up your keg with them.”
“By George! you are the right sort,” said Mr. Chisholm. “I was afraid some of our beeves would drink it all up before we got here and not give us any.”
“Have you lost many cattle coming here?” asked Mr. Davenport.
“Well, sir, the road is just lined with them,” answered Mr. Chisholm, getting off his horse and slipping his bridle over its head. “If you follow the dead beeves, you can go straight to my ranch. Nobody ever heard of such weather as this before. It doesn’t look like rain in this part of the country.”