[CHAPTER XI]
THE CHINOOK WIND
During the days of Whitey's convalescence Injun and Bill Jordan were unremitting in their attendance upon him and in their efforts to make things pleasant. Whitey had had a very narrow escape, but thanks to the squaw and to Injun, their quick and effective methods, and to his own good constitution, it was only a few days before he felt almost entirely recovered and the ill-effects had nearly disappeared. Whitey realized that it takes some time to many to become a "real Westerner," and that there are many "dont's" as well as "do's" in the program of life in the foot-hills of the Rockies.
As Bill Jordan sat by Whitey's chair on the piazza, he told the boy many things—not as a teacher instructing a pupil—but as stories that should suggest a course of conduct to be followed when certain exigencies presented themselves. One of the cardinal principles that Bill laid down was that a boy, or a man, must keep his eyes open at all times. Bill maintained, and it is probably true, that any boy of good, common sense is far safer on the ranch and its environs than he would be on Broadway or the streets of any big city; but he must keep his eyes open and learn to read the signs. Nature has signs that are just as plain and legible as the signs that mark the traffic and guide the citizen in his daily life. A careful person doesn't disregard these signs and rules of conduct in the city; and the careful plainsman or mountaineer should not disregard those that should guide and regulate him in the Great Out-doors.
"Ever hear of a Chinook wind?" asked Bill, as he and Injun and Whitey sat on the broad piazza of the ranch-house, when Whitey was able to be up. Injun said nothing, but his face showed that he knew all about the Chinook wind.
"Well," continued Bill, addressing Whitey, "it's a warm wind thet's liable to come any time durin' the winter months; but it usually comes along 'bout February er March. The snow all melts an' the sun shines an' the grass begins to sprout an' the stock commences to feed an' wander away from the home corrals. Now this here Mister Chinook Wind'd be a wonderful thing if he was on the level—which he ain't. Not by no means! He's a shore-enough villain, an' could play the villain's part in any story an' live up to it! He come mighty near finishin' me an' some others once!" And Bill stopped and rolled a cigarette, though it was plain that the two boys were all eagerness to hear the story.
"It was like this," said Bill, blowing out a big whiff of smoke; "Old Man Holloway lived about eighty mile from Bismarck—had lived there fer ten years er more, an' should hev knowed better—an' he had some business that ought of bin did 'long in the winter; but the winter hed bin a hard one an' he didn't hev a Chinaman's chance o' gettin' up to town. 'Long towards spring, comes Mr. Chinook Wind an' got in his fine work."
Bill paused, and Whitey asked, "What did the wind do?"
"Well," said Bill, slowly, "it's a funny thing 'bout a Chinook wind—it's fooled the people in the West since the beginnin' of time, an' 't seem 's though it's goin' right on an' fool 'em till the end o' time! Must be it's his balmy, soft-soapy ways! You couldn't never ask fer no nicer weather 'n we had fer some days, that spring, an' Old Man Holloway concluded he'd strike out fer Bismarck—never give the weather a thought 't all. He was so sure thet he didn't even hesitate 'bout takin' his ten-year-old boy, Jim, 'long with him; an' y' kin gamble thet if he'd sensed any danger he wouldn't of took Jim—'cause there was just two things thet Jim's father loved—and Jim was both of 'em!