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338 THE
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CHAPTER I.
A Pair of Tenderfeet.
"Lot's toss up to decide, Penn," said
Mayfield, my confidant and partner in
iortune, as we drove down the old Paradise
Pike on the afternoon of a day in
early autumn.
"Agreed," said I, without a moment's
hesitation; "tails we'll stay; heads we'll
go, and let luck take the blame."
The fates were committed to our exile.
The worn luck shilling which Mayfield
produced from his pocket plunked head
up on the cart seat between us. I clapped
my companion on the shoulder, and
he answered with a shout of approval.
Together we pumped up a considerable
show of enthusiasm over the answer given
us by the oracle. I say "oracle" ad
viseuiy, ior even now 1 can see tne utile
liberty-capped goddess on that old shilling
turning her face shyly away from me,
as I watched the coin settle "head up."
We were two Tennessee striplings
whose rustic, narrowed horizon had
made us the prey of the usual stock of
vagrant fancies and adventure dreams.
Having been balked, as we felt, by fortune,
we resolved to give up the unprofitable
routine of farm life on White's
Creek and answer the call of the wild.
Ranch life in the far West offered extraordinary
attractions, and, so far as we
could gather, unlimited opportunities for
growing rich. The distinction in our
minds between a cowboy and a cattle
king was much confused, as were our
ideas of things in general.
A romantic-looking frontiersman, wearing
a high-crowned, tinsel-banded hat,
wide leather pantaloons and spurs, and
speaking a border dialect brocaded with
sundry soft-sounding Spanish words, had
recently been in our district and had left
HQ with + ?v>nd
uoi mvu uiuti j uuii^oiui ot w u\jy uiau.
We had more than one carefully guarded
interview with this plausible vaquero,
and he had hinted that we could easily
find saddles and wages on the Sapio
range. The stranger slipped mysteriously
away after certain days; but the tinder
of our fancy, having taken fire from
contact, burned on after the incident was
past. As entirely unlocated in our minds
as was that Sapio world, we determined
to seek our fortunes in it, and counted
ourselves already as good as there. After
a time, however, our resolution slackened
not a little. Then came a renewal
i nf fhn fovnr nnlv a ho oIlovoH ooroln
der reflection. We were drifting between
resolution and irresolution when
Mayeld's shilling became to us the voice
of destiny.
"It's a go now, Penn, even if we have
to foot it half the way over," said Mayfield
in a plain effort to test my seriousness.
"It's a go," I returned. "It's Sapio
Ranch?or?bust!"
S PRESBYTERIAN OF THE SOI
E.N Of SATIO
By Horace J*l. DuBose.
After this we shook hands, and the decision
was considered to be beyond reversal.
A day or two of preparation ensued.
This consisted chiefly in turning
into cash our few effects. We confided
our plans to no one, lest an effort should
be made to dissuade us from executing
them. Our final farewell was therefore
t li n fi rot i 5 ? ? * 8 e?? ' - 1 *
uuv m.oi iiiviiuaiiui] i^ni'u uur inenustn.at
we were to be off with the terra incognita
of the Sapio as our destination.
By rail, by water craft, by stage, and
again by rail, we chased the sun in his
westering course, until at last we found
ourselves on the outposts of civilization
where the extension of the pacific Railway
ended in a desolation of sand dumes,
sagebrush, and cactus. That was five
and thirty years ago.
Gordo Station, the Western terminus
jj^
"Yez hav' got the devil, foorst past
he's doone floong
of the railway, consisted at that time of
five roofs, two of which sheltered stocks
of very red whisky and a faro table each.
The other three were accounted for in
the tumble-down railway shed, a ranch
supply store, and a blear-eyed ramstyprkle
called "The Hotel." From the
shadow of these roofs drifted desertward
a straggling line of Mexican jacals, built
chiefly of refuse cross-ties and thatched
with cactus leaves and sand.
We had been informed that the proprietor
of the supply store, one Simon
JTH March 16, 1910.
RANCH I
(whose name betrays him), was the local
agent of Sapio Ranch, and to him we lost
no time in applying. Simon was a typical
Israelite, with a cantilever nose, heavy
browed eyes, drooping jowls, and a generous
rotundity.
He received us cordially, and showed
us not a little consideration. We were
in the nick of time. It was the "rounding
up" season at Sapio, and men were
needed without delay.
"A vindfall, I declare!" asseverated Si
mon as he bustled about, dispatching a
Mexican to fit us out with a pony, saddle
and bridle each.
"Ve like dose tenderfoot green fellows,"
he went on to say; "dey don't
make no trouble, like dose old stagers
does, and dey stay pretty vel py deir
chobs. Chini vill be delighted."
i, yer rivrance. . . . Don't yez see
oop his hand?" i
I was about to make an inquiry as to
the identity of "Jim," but at that moment i
the agent was called inside; and before
he reappeared the Mexican had returned
leading two trim-looking bronchos, on
each of which had been fitted a spanking
new saddle and bridle. Both Mayfield
and I expressed unbounded admiration
at the sight.
"You vas two lucky dogs," declared Simon,
who had returned; "dem two ponies
vas de best and safest of de whole
range. But my! should you come last