Part 17 (1/2)
”Don't let him get his head down! Gol-ding it! Don't you!”
screamed Mr. Upton in wild excitement.
Red threw the bridle over the horn of the saddle. ”Go it, you devil!” cried he. And they went. Six feet straight in the air, first pa.s.s. The crowd scattered, as requested. They hurried at that. Red gave the brute the benefit of his two hundred and a half as they touched earth, and his opponent grunted when he felt the jar of it. They rocketted and ricochetted; they were here, they were there, they were everywhere, the buckskin squealing like a pig, and fighting with every ounce of the strength that lay in his steel strung legs; the dust rose in clouds; Red's hat flew in no time; he was yelling like a maniac, and the crowd was yelling like more maniacs. Now and then a glimpse of the rider's face could be caught, transported with joy of the struggle; then the dust would roll up and hide everything. No one was more pleased at the spectacle than the blacksmith. He was capering in the middle of the road, waving a hand-hammer and shouting ”Hold him _down_! Hold him DOWN! Why do you let him jump up like that? If _I_ was on that horse I'd show you! Aw, there it is again--Stop him! _Stop_ him!”
At this point the buckskin made three enormous leaps for the blacksmith, as though he had understood. The smith cast dignity to the winds and went over the nearest fence in the style that little boys, when coasting, call ”stomach-whopper”--or words to that effect--and took his next breath two minutes later. He might have saved the labour, as the horse wheeled on one foot, and pulled fairly for the picket fence opposite. Red regretted the absence of herders as the sharp pickets loomed near. It was no time for regrets. The horse was over with but little damage--a slight scratch, enough to rouse his temper, however, for he whaled away with both hind feet, and parts of the fence landed a hundred feet off. Then a dash through an ancient grape arbor, and they were lost to view of the road. Some reckless small boys scampered after, but the majority preferred to trace the progress of the conflict by the aboriginal ”Yerwhoops” that came from somewhere in behind the old houses.
”There they go!” piped up a shrill voice of the small-boy brigade.
”Right through Mis' Davisses hen coops!--you _ought_ to see them hens FLY!” The triumphant glee is beyond the reach of words.
Simultaneous squawking verified the remark, as well as a feminine voice, urging a violent protest, cut short by a scream of terror, and the slam of a door. The inhabitants of ”Mis' Davisses” house instantly appeared through the front door, seeking the street.
To show the erraticalness of fate, no sooner had they reached the road, than Red's mount cleared the parapet of the bridge in a single leap--a beautiful leap--and came down upon them in the road.
All got out of the way but a three-year-old, forgotten in the excitement. Upon this small lad, fallen flat in the road, bore the powerful man and horse. Then there were frantic cries of warning.
Fifty feet between the youngster and those mangling hoofs--twenty--five! the crowd gasped--they were blotted together!
Not so. A mighty hand had s.n.a.t.c.hed the boy away in that instant of time. He was safe and very indignant in a howling, huddled heap in the ditch by the roadside, but alas, for horse and rider! The buckskin was not used to such feats, and when Red's weight was thrown to the side for the reach he missed his stride, struck his feet together, and down they went, while the foot-deep dust sprang into the air like an explosion.
Miss Mattie rushed to the scene of the accident, followed by everybody. Young Lettis, equally frightened, was close beside her.
”Oh, Will! Are you killed?” she cried.
And then a voice devoid of any signs of weakness, but loaded to the breaking point with wrath, told in such language as had never been heard in Fairfield that the owner was still much alive.
”Run away, Mattie! Run away and let me cuss!” shrieked Red. Miss Mattie collapsed into the arms of Lettis.
The dust settled enough so that the anxious villagers could see horse and man; the former resting easily, as if he had had enough athletics for one day, and the latter sitting in the road. Neither showed any intention of rising.
”What's the matter, Mr. Saunders, are you hurt?” inquired the fussy post-mistress.
”Please go 'way, ma'am,” said Red, waving his arm.
”I'm sure you're hurt--I'm perfectly sure you're hurt,” she persisted, holding her ground. ”Now, do tell us what can possibly be the matter with you?”
”Very well,” returned the exasperated cow-puncher, ”I will. My pants, ma'am, have suffered in this turn-up, and they're now in a condition to make my appearance in polite society difficult, if not impossible; now please go 'way and somebody fetch me a horse blanket.”
It is regrettable that the discomfiture of the post-mistress was received with undisguised hilarity. The blanket was produced, and Red stalked off in Indian dignity, marred by a limp in his left leg, for he had come upon Mother Earth with a force which made itself felt through all that foot of soft dust.
”Bring that durn-fool horse along,” he called over his shoulder.
Buckskin rose and followed his owner. There was no light in his eye now; he looked thoughtful. He, too, limped, and there was a trickle of blood down his nose. Verily it had been a hard fought field.
As both men were anxious to see the lay of the land as soon as possible. Red took his place in the waggon that day, after the damages were repaired, content to wait until his leg was less sore for horseback riding.
There followed a busy two weeks for them. Mr. Demilt had some money he wished to put into the enterprise, but his most valuable a.s.sistance was, of course, his thorough knowledge of the resources of the country.
They found an admirable site for the mill, in an old stone barn, which had stood the ravages of desolation almost unimpaired. Red's mining experience told him that the creek could easily be flumed to the barn, and as that was the only objection of the others to this location, they wrote the owner of the property for a price. They were astonished when they received the figures. It had come by inheritance to a man to whom it was a white elephant of the most exasperating sort, and he was glad to get rid of it for almost a song. They were a jubilant three at the news. It saved the cost of building a mill, and including that, the price was as low per acre as any land they could have obtained. Red closed the bargain instantly.
Lettis' part of the business was chiefly to arrange for the disposal of their product, and when he explained to his partners what he could reasonably hope to do in that line, the affair lost its last tint of unreality, and became a good proposition, for Lettis had an excellent business acquaintance, who would be glad to deal with the straightforward young fellow.
The night after the signing of the deeds, Red said to Miss Mattie, ”We ought to have a stockholders' dinner to-morrow night, Mattie.