Part 19 (1/2)
Larkin grinned.
”Two thousand of 'em,” he volunteered. There was no comment.
”These gents know,” went on Bissell, after a short pause, ”that yuh were two days with them rustlers and that yuh can tell who they are if yuh will. Now will yuh tell us how you got in with 'em in the first place?”
Bud began at the time of the crossing of the Big Horn and with much detail described how he had outwitted the Bar T punchers with the hundred sheep under Pedro, while the rest of the flock went placidly north. His manner of address was good, he talked straightforwardly, and with conviction and, best of all, had a broad sense of humor that vastly amused these cowmen.
Sympathetic though they were with Bissell's cause, Larkin's story of how a despised sheepman had outwitted the cattle-king brought grins and chuckles.
”I allow yuh better steer clear o' them sheep, Bissell,” suggested one man drolly. ”First thing yuh know this feller'll tell yuh he's bought the Bar T away from yuh without yore knowin' it. Better look up yore land grant to-night.”
By this time Bissell had become a caldron of seething rage. His hand actually itched to grab his gun and teach Larkin a lesson. But his position as chairman of the gathering prevented this, although he knew that plains gossip was being made with every word spoken. Among the cowmen about him were some whose ill success or smaller ranches had made them jealous, and, in his mind, he could see them retailing with much relish what a fool Larkin had made of him. He knew he would meet with reminders of this trial during the rest of his life.
However, he stuck to his guns.
”Now what we want to know, young feller, is this: the names an'
descriptions of them rustlers.”
”I will give them to you gladly and will supply men to help run them down at my own expense if you will let the rest of my sheep come north on your range. Not only that, but I will not ask any damages for the animals you have already killed. Now, men,” Larkin added, turning to the others and with a determined ring in his voice, ”I want peace. This fighting is cutting our own throats and we are losing money by the hour.
”The range is free, as all of you know; there is a law against fencing it, and that means that no grangers can settle here and make it pay--the animals would eat all their unfenced farm truck. I have a ranch in Montana with about three thousand sheep on it. I tried to buy more there, but couldn't.
”Therefore, I had to come down south and 'walk' them north. Now I don't like to fight anybody, chiefly because it costs too much; but in a case like this, when I find a dog in the manger”--he looked directly at Bissell--”I make it a principle to kick that dog out of the manger and use it.
”I am just as much of an American as any of you, and Americans never had a habit of letting other people walk all over them. Now you men can do anything with me you want--I can't prevent you. But I can warn you that if I am judged in any way it will be the worst job the cowmen of Wyoming ever did.
”Understand, this isn't a threat, it's just a statement. Because I refuse to turn in and help that man, who has done his best to ruin me, he wants me to suffer the same penalty as a criminal. Now I leave it to you. Has he much of a case?”
Bud, who had risen in the fervor of his speech, sat down and looked at his hearers. Never in his life had he pleaded for anything, but in this moment necessity had made him eloquent. He had hardly taken his seat when Mike Stelton strolled over and sat down on the gra.s.s.
For a few minutes there was silence as the men, slow of thought, revolved what Larkin had said. Bissell, ill-concealing his impatience, awaited their comments anxiously. At last Billy Speaker remarked:
”I can't see your bellyache at all, Bissell. It seems to me you've acted pretty ornery.”
”I have, eh?” roared Beef, stung by this cool opinion. ”Would yuh let sheep go up yore range? Tell me that, would yuh?”
”I allow I might manage,” was the contemptuous retort. ”They're close feeders on the march, an' don't spread out noways far.”
Bissell choked with fury, but subsided when another man spoke.
”I figure we're missin' the point, fellers,” he said. ”This here a.s.sociation of our'n was made for the purpose of doin' just what Bissell has been tryin' to do--that is, keep the range clear for the cows. We don't care what it is that threatens, whether it's sheep, or wolves, or rustlers, or prairie fires. This a.s.sociation is supposed to pertect the cows.
”Now I 'low that Mr. Larkin has had his troubles right enough, but that's his fault. You warned him in time. I'm plumb regretful he's lost his sheep, but that don't let him out of tellin' us where them rustlers are.
It's a pretty mean cuss that'll cost us thousands of dollars a year just for spite or because he can't drive a hard bargain.
”Up on my place I've lost a hundred calves already, but I'd be mighty glad to lose a hundred more if I could see the dirty dogs that stole 'em kickin' from a tree-limb. An' I'm in favor of a tree-limb for anybody who won't tell.”
”Yore sh.o.r.e gettin' some long-winded, Luby,” remarked a tall man who smoked a pipe, ”an' likewise yore angry pa.s.sions has run away with yore sense. Yuh can't string a man up because he won't talk; 'cause if yuh do we'll sick the deputy sheriff on yuh an' mebbe you'll go to jail.”
The speaker rolled a droll, twinkling eye at Bissell and the whole gathering burst into a great guffaw at his expense. This was all the more effective since Bissell had decorated the outside of his vest with the nickel-plated star of his authority.