the last of the plainsmen-第6节

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ckskin　is　full　of　deer；　wolves；　coyotes；　and　there's　the　wild　horses。　We　couldn't　go　a　hundred　feet　without　crossin'　trails。〃

〃How's　the　hound　you　and　Jim　fetched　in　las'　year？　Has　he　got　a　good　nose？　Here　he　isI　like　his　head。　Come　here；　Bowserwhat's　his　name？〃

〃Jim　named　him　Sounder；　because　he　sure　has　a　voice。　It's　great　to　hear　him　on　a　trail。　Sounder　has　a　nose　that　can't　be　fooled；　an'　he'll　trail　anythin'；　but　I　don't　know　if　he　ever　got　up　a　lion。〃

Sounder　wagged　his　bushy　tail　and　looked　up　affectionately　at　Frank。　He　had　a　fine　head；　great　brown　eyes；　very　long　ears　and　curly　brownish…black　hair。　He　was　not　demonstrative；　looked　rather　askance　at　Jones；　and　avoided　the　other　dogs。

〃That　dog　will　make　a　great　lion…chaser；〃　said　Jones；　decisively；　after　his　study　of　Sounder。　〃He　and　Moze　will　keep　us　busy；　once　they　learn　we　want　lions。〃

〃I　don't　believe　any　dog…trainer　could　teach　them　short　of　six　months；〃　replied　Frank。　〃Sounder　is　no　spring　chicken；　an'　that　black　and　dirty　white　cross　between　a　cayuse　an'　a　barb…wire　fence　is　an　old　dog。　You　can't　teach　old　dogs　new　tricks。〃

Jones　smiled　mysteriously；　a　smile　of　conscious　superiority；　but　said　nothing。

〃We'll　shore　hev　a　storm　to…morrow；〃　said　Jim；　relinquishing　his　pipe　long　enough　to　speak。　He　had　been　silent；　and　now　his　meditative　gaze　was　on　the　west；　through　the　cabin　window；　where　a　dull　afterglow　faded　under　the　heavy　laden　clouds　of　night　and　left　the　horizon　dark。

I　was　very　tired　when　I　lay　down；　but　so　full　of　excitement　that　sleep　did　not　soon　visit　my　eyelids。　The　talk　about　buffalo；　wild…horse　hunters；　lions　and　dogs；　the　prospect　of　hard　riding　and　unusual　adventure；　the　vision　of　Old　Tom　that　had　already　begun　to　haunt　me；　filled　my　mind　with　pictures　and　fancies。　The　other　fellows　dropped　off　to　sleep；　and　quiet　reigned。　Suddenly　a　succession　of　queer；　sharp　barks　came　from　the　plain；　close　to　the　cabin。　Coyotes　were　paying　us　a　call；　and　judging　from　the　chorus　of　yelps　and　howls　from　our　dogs；　it　was　not　a　welcome　visit。　Above　the　medley　rose　one　big；　deep；　full　voice　that　I　knew　at　once　belonged　to　Sounder。　Then　all　was　quiet　again。　Sleep　gradually　benumbed　my　senses。　Vague　phrases　dreamily　drifted　to　and　fro　in　my　mind：　〃Jones's　wild　rangeOld　TomSoundergreat　namegreat　voiceSounder！　Sounder！　Sounder〃

Next　morning　I　could　hardly　crawl　out　of　my　sleeping…bag。　My　bones　ached；　my　muscles　protested　excruciatingly；　my　lips　burned　and　bled；　and　the　cold　I　had　contracted　on　the　desert　clung　to　me。　A　good　brisk　walk　round　the　corrals；　and　then　breakfast；　made　me　feel　better。

〃Of　course　you　can　ride？〃　queried　Frank。

My　answer　was　not　given　from　an　overwhelming　desire　to　be　truthful。　Frank　frowned　a　little；　as　it　wondering　how　a　man　could　have　the　nerve　to　start　out　on　a　jaunt　with　Buffalo　Jones　without　being　a　good　horseman。　To　be　unable　to　stick　on　the　back　of　a　wild　mustang；　or　a　cayuse；　was　an　unpardonable　sin　in　Arizona。　My　frank　admission　was　made　relatively；　with　my　mind　on　what　cowboys　held　as　a　standard　of　horsemanship。

The　mount　Frank　trotted　out　of　the　corral　for　me　was　a　pure　white；　beautiful　mustang；　nervous；　sensitive；　quivering。　I　watched　Frank　put　on　the　saddle；　and　when　he　called　me　I　did　not　fail　to　catch　a　covert　twinkle　in　his　merry　brown　eyes。　Looking　away　toward　Buckskin　Mountain；　which　was　coincidentally　in　the　direction　of　home；　I　said　to　myself：　〃This　may　be　where　you　get　on；　but　most　certainly　it　is　where　you　get　off！〃

Jones　was　already　riding　far　beyond　the　corral；　as　I　could　see　by　a　cloud　of　dust；　and　I　set　off　after　him；　with　the　painful　consciousness　that　I　must　have　looked　to　Frank　and　Jim　much　as　Central　Park　equestrians　had　often　looked　to　me。　Frank　shouted　after　me　that　he　would　catch　up　with　us　out　on　the　range。　I　was　not　in　any　great　hurry　to　overtake　Jones；　but　evidently　my　horse's　inclinations　differed　from　mine；　at　any　rate；　he　made　the　dust　fly；　and　jumped　the　little　sage　bushes。

Jones；　who　had　tarried　to　inspect　one　of　the　poolsformed　of　running　water　from　the　corralsgreeted　me　as　I　came　up　with　this　cheerful　observation。

〃What　in　thunder　did　Frank　give　you　that　white　nag　for？　The　buffalo　hate　white　horsesanything　white。　They're　liable　to　stampede　off　the　range；　or　chase　you　into　the　canyon。〃

I　replied　grimly　that；　as　it　was　certain　something　was　going　to　happen；　the　particular　circumstance　might　as　well　come　off　quickly。

We　rode　over　the　rolling　plain　with　a　cool；　bracing　breeze　in　our　faces。　The　sky　was　dull　and　mottled　with　a　beautiful　cloud　effect　that　presaged　wind。　As　we　trotted　along　Jones　pointed　out　to　me　and　descanted　upon　the　nutritive　value　of　three　different　kinds　of　grass；　one　of　which　he　called　the　Buffalo　Pea；　noteworthy　for　a　beautiful　blue　blossom。　Soon　we　passed　out　of　sight　of　the　cabin；　and　could　see　only　the　billowy　plain；　the　red　tips　of　the　stony　wall；　and　the　black…fringed　crest　of　Buckskin。　After　riding　a　while　we　made　out　some　cattle；　a　few　of　which　were　on　the　range；　browsing　in　the　lee　of　a　ridge。　No　sooner　had　I　marked　them　than　Jones　let　out　another　Comanche　yell。

〃Wolf！〃　he　yelled；　and　spurring　his　big　bay；　he　was　off　like　the　wind。

A　single　glance　showed　me　several　cows　running　as　if　bewildered；　and　near　them　a　big　white　wolf　pulling　down　a　calf。　Another　white　wolf　stood　not　far　off。　My　horse　jumped　as　if　he　had　been　shot；　and　the　realization　darted　upon　me　that　here　was　where　the　certain　something　began。　Spotthe　mustang　had　one　black　spot　in　his　pure　whitesnorted　like　I　imagined　a　blooded　horse　might；　under　dire　insult。　Jones's　bay　had　gotten　about　a　hundred　paces　the　start。　I　lived　to　learn　that　Spot　hated　to　be　left　behind；　moreover；　he　would　not　be　left　behind；　he　was　the　swiftest　horse　on　the　range；　and　proud　of　the　distinction。　I　cast　one　unmentionable　word　on　the　breeze　toward　the　cabin　and　Frank；　then　put　mind　and　muscle　to　the　sore　task　of　remaining　with　Spot。　Jones　was　born　on　a　saddle；　and　had　been　taking　his　meals　in　a　saddle　for　about　sixty…three　years；　and　the　bay　horse　could　run。　Run　is　not　a　felicitous　wordhe　flew。　And　I　was　rendered　mentally　deranged　for　the　moment　to　see　that　hundred　paces　between　the　bay　and　Spot　materially　lessen　at　every　jump。　Spot　lengthened　out；　seemed　to　go　down　near　the　ground；　and　cut　the　air　like　a　high…geared　auto。　If　I　had　not　heard　the　fast　rhythmic　beat　of　his　hoofs；　and　had　not　bounced　high　into　the　air　at　every　jump；　I　would　have　been　sure　I　was　riding　a　bird。　I　tried　to　stop　him。　As　well　might　I　have　tried　to　pull　in　the　Lusitania　with　a　thread。　Spot　was　out　to　overhaul　that　bay；　and　in　spite　of　me；　he　was　doing　it。　The　wind　rushed　into　my　face　and　sang　in　my　ears。　Jones　seemed　the　nucleus　of　a　sort　of　haze；　and　it　grew　larger　and　larger。　Presently　he　became　clearly　defined　in　my　sight；　the　violent　commotion　under　me　subsided；　I　once　more　felt　the　saddle；　and　then　I　realized　that　Spot　had　been　content　to　stop　alongside　of　Jones；　tossing　his　head　and　champing　his　bit。

〃Well；　by　George！　I　didn't　know　you　were　in　the　stretch；〃　cried　my　companion。　〃That　was　a　fine　little　brush。　We　must　have　come　several　miles。　I'd　have　killed　those　wolves　if　I'd　brought　a　gun。　The　big　one　that　had　the　calf　was　a　bold　brute。　He　never　let　go　until　I　was　within　fifty　feet　of　him。　Then　I　almost　rode　him　down。　I　don't　think　the　calf　was　much　hurt。　But　those　blood…thirsty　devils　will　return；　and　like　as　not　get　the　calf。　That's　the　worst　of　cattle　raising。　Now；　take　the　buffalo。　Do　you　suppose　those　wolves　could　have　gotten　a　buffalo　calf　out　from　under　the　mother？　Never。　Neither　could　a　whole　band　of　wolves。　Buffalo　stick　close　together；　and　the　little　ones　do　not　stray。　When　danger　threatens；　the　herd　closes　in　and　faces　it　and　fights。　That　is　what　is　grand　about　the　buffalo　and　what　made　them　once　roam　the　prairies　in　countless；　endless　droves。〃

From　the　highest　elevation　in　that　part　of　the　range　we　viewed　the　surrounding　ridges；　flats　and　hollows；　searching　for　the　buffalo。　At　length　we　spied　a　cloud　of　dust　rising　from　behind　an　undulating　mound；　then　big　black　dots　hove　in　sight。

〃Frank　has　rounded　up　the　herd；　and　is　driving　it　this　way。　We'll　wait；〃　said　Jones。

Though　the　buffalo　appeared　to　be　moving　fast；　a　long　time　elapsed　before　they　reached　the　foot　of　our　outlook。　They　lumbered　along　in　a　compact　mass；　so　dense　that　I　could　not　count　them；　but　I　estimated　the　number　at　seventy…five。　Frank　was　riding　zigzag　behind　them；　swinging　his　lariat　and　yelling。　When　he　espied　us　he　reined　in　his　horse　and　waited。　Then　the　herd　slowed　down；　halted　and　began　browsing。

〃Look　at　the　cattalo　calves；〃　cried　Jones；　in　ecstatic　tones。　〃See　how　shy　they　are；　how　close　they　stick　to　their　mothers。〃

The　little　dark…brown　fellows　were　plainly　frightened。　I　made　several　unsuccessful　attempts　to　photograph　them；　and　gave　it　up　when　Jones　told　me　not　to　ride　too　close　and　that　it　would　be　better　to　wait　till　we　had　them　in　the　corral。

He　took　my　camera　and　instructed　me　to　go　on　ahead；　in　the　rear　of　the　herd。　I　heard　the　click　of　the　instrument　as　he　snapped　a　picture；　and　then　suddenly　heard　him　shout　in　alarm：　〃Look　out！　look　out！　pull　your　horse！〃

Thundering　hoof…beats　pounding　the　earth　accom