Bat Wing Bowles Part 16

"Yes," answered Bowles serenely; "they hazed me for a day or two. You seem to have a great many admirers out here, Miss Lee."

Dixie May's eyes flashed at the evident implication, and she had a retort on her lips, but something in his manner restrained her.

"How can I help it if the boys get foolish?" she demanded severely. "And you don't want to let your Eastern ideas deceive you--it's the custom of the country out here."

"Yes, indeed," purled Bowles; "and a very pretty custom, too. Have you just come back from Chula Vista?"

"Yes, I have!" snapped Dixie. "But you don't need to get so superior about it! I guess I can do what I please, can't I?"

"Why, certainly," a.s.sented Bowles.

"Well, then, what do you want to get so supercilious for?" raged Dixie.

"I don't know, there's something about the way you talk that fairly maddens me! I've a good mind to tell the boys who you are, and have them run you out of the country! Why didn't you take that letter I wrote you?"

She was angry now, and her voice was pitched high for a scolding, but Bowles showed no signs of fear.

"The letter you wrote was addressed to Samuel Houghton," he said; "and that is not my name."

"Well, what is your name, then?" demanded Dixie. "Bowles?"

For a moment Bowles gazed at her, and there was a pained look in his eyes--what if his beloved should turn out to be a scold?

"Why do you ask?" he inquired; and so gently did he say it that she faltered, as if ashamed.

"Well," she said, "I guess it isn't any of my business, _is_ it? I don't know what I'm doing here, anyway. If there's any one thing that makes Mother furious, it's to see me hanging around the bunk-house. She thinks I----"

She rose suddenly, and shook out her skirt, but Bowles did not protest.

"You don't seem to care whether I go or not?" she pouted.

"Quite the contrary, I a.s.sure you, Miss Lee," declared Bowles earnestly.

"But I'm not on my own ground now, and--well, I don't wish to take advantage of your hospitality."

"No," said Dixie with gentle irony, "nothing like that! You want to be careful how you treat these Arizona girls--they're liable to misunderstand your motives!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'YOU WANT TO BE CAREFUL HOW YOU TREAT THESE ARIZONA GIRLS!'"]

Bowles' eyes lighted up with a merry twinkle, but he preserved his poker face.

"Oh, I hope not!" he said; and then both of them smiled very knowingly.

"The reason I wanted to get your name," observed Dixie, sitting down and smoothing out her skirt again, "was in case you got hurt or killed. Who am I going to write to in case you go out like Dunbar? Houghton? Bowles?

Or who-all? You know, I feel kind of responsible for you, considering the way you got out here, and----"

"Oh, don't think of that!" protested Bowles, coming over and sitting near her. "If I get hurt, the boys will take care of me; and if I get killed--well, it won't matter then what you do."

"Well, don't get killed," urged Dixie kindly. "And if you get hurt, Mother and I will nurse you back to health and strength."

"Oh, will you?" cried Bowles. "I'll remember that, you may be sure! But, speaking of names, has there been any one in Chula Vista inquiring for Samuel Houghton?"

"Now, you see!" exclaimed Dixie Lee triumphantly. "If you'd opened that letter I had for you, you'd have found out about it. As it is, you'll just have to keep on guessing--I'm mad!"

"I'm sorry," said Bowles. "The reason I asked was, Brig and I are planning to make a little trip somewhere, and if I thought there was any one searching for me I'd----"

"Oh, you don't need to run away!" explained Dixie hurriedly. "I'll tell you when to skip--but you don't know what you missed by not reading that letter I wrote you!"

"Well, direct the next one to Bowles, then!" he pleaded. "But, no joking, I wish you wouldn't call attention to that other name--it's likely to get me into difficulties."

"What kind of difficulties?" inquired Dixie Lee demurely; but Bowles only shook his head.

"I'm very sorry I can't tell you," he said; "but it means a great deal to me."

"Maybe I can help you," she suggested.

"Yes, indeed, you can!" a.s.sured Bowles, drawing nearer and smiling his naive smile. "Just don't tell anybody what you know, and let me have a chance. I've always been shut off from the world, you know--I've never had a chance. Just let me fight my way and see if I'm not a man. I know I'm new, and there are lots of things that come hard for me; but give me a chance to stay and maybe I'll win out. You don't know, Miss Lee, how much I treasure those stories you told me--when we were coming West on the train, you know. Don't you know, I think you have more of the feeling, more of the fine spirit of the West, than any one I have met.

These cowboys seem so barren, some way; they seem to take it as a matter of course. And they all stay away from me--except Brigham. I don't get many stories now."

He paused and Dixie May eyed him curiously. He was not the same man who had traveled with her on the train. A month had made a difference with him. But there was still the boyish innocence that she liked.

"You mean stories about outlaws and Indians?" she said. "Hunting and trapping, and all that?"

"Yes!" nodded Bowles, glancing over at her appealingly. "Where does that old trapper, Bill Jump, live? You know--the one you were telling about!"

"Oh, Bill? He lives up here on the Black Mesa--anywhere between here and the New Mexico line--and he sure is one of the grandest liars that ever breathed, too. I remember one time----"

Bowles settled himself inside the doorway and drank in the magical tale.

It was as if the Old West rose up before him, blotting out the barbed-wire fences and the lonely homes of the nesters and bringing back the age of romance that he sought. He questioned her eagerly, still watching her with his boyish, admiring eyes, and Dixie plunged into another. The sun, which was getting low, swung lower and a door slammed up at the big house. Then a reproachful voice came floating down, and Dixie jumped up from her seat.

"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed. "There's Maw--seems like I never get any peace! But, anyway, this old bear with the trap on his foot picked up Bill's gun and threw the chamber open, then he looked up into the tree where Bill was hanging and crooked his finger--like that! And Bill Jump said he knowed it jest as if that ol' b'ar spoke--he was signaling him to throw him down a cartridge, so he could put Bill out of his misery!

Or that was what Bill said. But, say, I've got to be running--come up to the house to-night and let me tell you the rest of it! Oh, pshaw, we know what your motives are! Come along anyhow! And bring Brig with you!

All right--good-by!"

She gave him a dizzy smile over her shoulder as she fled, and Bowles blinked his eyes to find the world so fair.

CHAPTER XVI

THE STRAW-BOSS

It is the philosophy of the poseurs in pessimism that for every happy moment we have in life we pay at a later date a greater price. Of course, any one who ever took a kid to the circus knows better, but there are times when the doctrine seems to hold. When Bowles returned to the round-up, the news of his perfidy had preceded him--he had taken advantage of his position and spent the evening at the big house!

Thereupon the hotheads lowered upon him malignantly, and Hardy Atkins hunted up his high-life bottle.

The accepted function of carbon bisulphide in the great Southwest is to kill off prairie-dogs. A tablespoonful poured on a cow-chip and rolled down a dog hole will asphyxiate the entire family. The same amount poured on a man's horse will make the man think he has been shot with a pack-saddle, and that was what happened to Bowles. When he became too wary for the bottle, they resorted to other means, and finally he detected the bronco-twister with a loaded syringe in his hand.

"Now, that will do, Mr. Atkins," he observed with some asperity. "It's all right for you boys to haze me a little, but my horses are getting spoiled and I'll have to ask you to stop."