"No, I saw a dude feller one time that had been to school all his life"—John spoke contemptuously—"and I'd rather punch cows all my days than be like him."
"Why? He might have been a poor specimen. My son would have been a lawyer if he had lived, and I would a great deal rather have him one than a cow-puncher."
John shook his head, unconvinced. A vision came to him of streets walled in on each side by buildings so that every thoroughfare was a cañon and every room a prison. The joy of wild freedom, fraught though it was with danger and hard work, tingled in his veins.
HERDS WERE POURING IN FROM EVERY DIRECTION. ([Page 283.])
"You know if you stay on the range," continued Mr. Baker, "it's only a question of time when you'll be stiffened and broken down, or else, what may be better, you'll be caught as Jerry was. If you keep on punching cows all your life nothing will be left behind showing that you've been in the world but a pine plank set in the ground."
For a time John's thoughts were as busy as his hands. A new idea had been presented to him—his future. What would he do with it? He loved the wild, free life he was now leading, and up to this time he had never thought of working for something higher and more lasting. Mr. Baker had stirred a part of him that had long lain dormant—ambition. His plans heretofore had seldom carried him further than a few days or weeks, his sole care was to do his duty and keep his job; but now he had a new care—his future.
The horses jogged along steadily over the rough country, their driver getting every bit of speed out of them that would allow them to last the journey through. Most of the time Lightning went alongside the wheel horse contentedly. With particular perversity, however, as the team was passing through a narrow place, where there was barely enough room to pass, Lightning began a spirited altercation with his side partner. He shied off from him, pushed him, and bit at him till he in turn retaliated. For a time John had his hands full, but "Lite," in his efforts to kick holes in the unoffending side of the wheel horse, got tangled in the harness, and so stopped the whole business. His master extricated him with difficulty, and "Lite," instead of getting the punishment he so richly deserved, was petted instead, whereupon he became very good indeed and rubbed his nose affectionately against John's sleeve, as much as to say: "I'm sorry. I'll never do it again."
"It seems to me," said Mr. Baker, after they had got started again, "that a fellow that could tame such a wicked brute as that horse was a few months ago could master anything, books or anything else."