The Boy from the Ranch Part 8

He was at once suspicious.

"No, thank you," he said. "I never play cards, for love or money."

Something seemed to annoy at least three of the men, and they looked at Mr. Baker.

"Why I thought you said--" began Tupper, winking at the man who had first made Roy's acquaintance.

"Dry up!" exclaimed Hynard. "That's all right," he added quickly to the boy. "We don't want any one to play against his will. It's all right. We only thought maybe you'd like to pa.s.s away the time. I dare say Baker will stick in the game now."

"Oh, yes, I'll stay to oblige you, but I don't care for it," and pretending to suppress a yawn, Mr. Baker again took his seat at the small card table. A little later Roy left the apartment, going back to his place in the parlor car.

"I don't like those three men," he said to himself. "I believe they are professional gamblers. Mr. Baker seems nice, but I wouldn't trust the others."

As for the four men whom Roy had left, they seemed to lose all interest in their game, after the boy from the ranch was out of sight.

"Humph!" exclaimed Hynard. "That didn't work, did it?"

"No more than Isaac's attempt last night to get--" began Tupper, but Sutton silenced him with a gesture.

"Hus.h.!.+ Not so loud!" he said. "Some one may hear you."

"Leave it to me," said Mr. Baker. "I think I can get him into something else soon. You fellows lay low until I give you the tip."

The rest of that morning Roy saw nothing of the men whose acquaintance he had made. He got into conversation with several other pa.s.sengers, some of whom were interesting characters. One man, who had traveled extensively, pointed out, along the way, the various scenes of note, telling Roy something about them.

It was after dinner when Mr. Phelan Baker, followed by his three friends, entered the parlor car. They took seats near where Roy had chanced to rest.

"Traveling is rather dull, isn't it?' began Mr. Baker.

"I don't find it so," replied Roy.

"No, that's because it's your first journey. Wait until you have crossed the continent a dozen times, and you'll begin to wish you'd never seen it."

"It seems to me there is always something of interest," said the boy.

"Probably there is, if your eyesight is good, and you can see it. I'm getting along in years, and I can't see objects as well as I once could."

"I suppose you must have pretty good eyesight, haven't you?" asked Sutton, abruptly taking part in the conversation. Roy and the four men were all alone in one end of the car, the other pa.s.sengers, with but few exceptions, having gotten off at various stations.

"Well, I reckon I don't need gla.s.ses to see the brand on a steer,"

replied Roy.

"That's so, and I guess you have to be pretty quick to distinguish the different branding marks, don't you?"

"You do when you're cutting out a bunch of cattle after a round-up.

They keep moving around so it's hard to tell which are yours, and which belong to another ranch."

"What did I tell you?" asked Sutton in triumph of Hynard, who sat next to him.

"Well, you're right," admitted the other.

Roy looked a little surprised at this conversation. Mr. Baker explained.

"My two friends here were having a little dispute about eyesight," he said. "Mr. Sutton said you had the best eyesight of any one he ever saw, and were quick to notice anything. He said you had to be to work on a cattle range."

"And Mr. Hynard said he believed he had as good eyesight as you," put in Tupper.

"I told him he hadn't, and we agreed to ask you," went on Sutton.

"That's all right. His saying so doesn't prove it," remarked Hynard, in a somewhat surly tone.

"Of course not, but it doesn't take much to see that he has better eyesight than you, and is quicker with it. He has to be to use a la.s.so, don't you, Mr. Bradner?"

"Well, it does take a pretty quick eye and hand to get a steer when he's on the run," admitted Roy.

"And you can do it, I'll bet. Hynard, you're not in it with this lad."

"I believe I am!"

"Now don't get excited," advised Mr. Baker, in soothing tones. "We can easily settle this matter."

"How? We haven't got a la.s.so here, nor a wild steer," said Hynard.

"Anyhow I don't claim I can throw a lariat as well as he can. I only said I had as quick eyesight."

"Well, we can prove that," went on Mr. Baker.

"How?"

"Easy money. Let's see. This windowsill will do."

From his pocket Mr. Baker produced three halves of English walnut sh.e.l.ls, and a small black ball, about the size of a buck shot. It seemed to be made of rubber.

"Here's a little trick that will prove any one's eyesight," he said.

"The eye doctors in New York use it to test any person who needs gla.s.ses. A doctor friend of mine gave me this."

"How do you work it?" asked Hynard, seemingly much interested.

"This way. I place these three sh.e.l.ls on the windowsill, so. Then I put the little ball under one. Watch me closely. I move it quite fast, first putting it under one sh.e.l.l, then the other. Now, I stop and, Hynard, tell me which sh.e.l.l it's under! I don't believe you can, I think my young friend can do so."

"All right," agreed Hynard.

"Which sh.e.l.l is the ball under?" asked Mr. Baker, drawing back, and leaving the three sh.e.l.ls in a row; they all looked alike, yet Roy was sure the ball was under the middle one.

"It's under there!" exclaimed Hynard, putting his finger on the end sh.e.l.l nearest Roy.

"Is it?" asked Mr. Baker with a laugh, as he raised it up, and showed nothing beneath. "Now let Mr. Bradner try."

"I think it's there," spoke the boy, indicating the middle sh.e.l.l.