Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine, Vol. 107 No. 3 — page 17: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

1 ow 3 man than wine. He can return from his wide excursions with no deeper injury than a sigh. Lambert came hack to the reality, broaching the subject of a job. Here Jim took netice and cut mto the conversation, it being his first word to the stranger. “Sure you.can git a job, bud,” he said, coming over to where Lambert sat with Siwash and Taterleg, the latter peeling potatoes for a stew, somebody having killed a calf. ‘The old man needs a couple of hands; he told me to keep my eye open for anybody that wanted a job.” “Ym glad to hear of it,” said, Lambert, warming up at the news, feeling that he must have been a bit severe in his judg- ment of Jim, which had not been altogether favorable. | “He'll be over in the morning; you’d better hang around.”’ _ Seeing the foundation of a new fortune taking shape, Lambert said he would hang around. They all applauded his resolution, for they all appeared to like him in spite of is appearance, which was distinctive, in- deed, among the somber colors of that sage- gray land. Jim inquired if he had a horse, the grow- ing interest of a friend in his manner. Hearing the facts of the case from Lambert —before dawn he had heard them from Taterleg—he appeared concerned almost to the point of being troubled. ‘You'll have to git you a horse, duke; you'll have to ride up to the boss when you hit him for a job. He never was known to hire a man off the ground, and I guess if you was to head at him on that bicycle, he’d blow a hole through you as big as a can of salmon. Any of you fellers got a horse you want.to trade the duke for his bicycle?” The inquiry brought out a round of somewhat cloudy witticism, with proposals to Lambert for an exchange on terms rather embarrassing to meet, seeing that even the least preposterous was not sincere. leg winkéd to assure him that it was all banter, without a bit of harm at the bottom of it, which Lambert understood very well without the services of a commentator. Jim brightened up presently, as if he saw a gleam that might le4d Lambert out of the THE DUKE OF CHIMNEY BUTTE. Tater- — 359 difficulty. He had an extra horse himself, not much of a horse to look at, but as good- hearted a horse as a man ever throwed a leg over, and that wasn’t no lie, if you took him the right side on. But you had to take him the right side on, and humor him, and handle him like eggs till he got used to you. Then you had as purty a little horse as a man ever throwed a leg over, anywhere. Jim said he’d offer that horse, only he was a little bashful in the presence of strangers—meaning the horse—and didn’t show up in a style to make his owner proud of him. The trouble with that horse was he used to belong to a one-legged man, and got so accustomed to the feel of a one legged man on him that he was plumb fool- ish between two legs. | That horse didn’t have much style to him, and no gait to speak of; but he was as good a cow-horse as ever chawed a bit. If the duke thought he’d be able to ride him, he was welcome to him. Taterleg winked what Lambert interpreted as a warning at that point, and in the faces of the others there were little gleams of humor, which they turned their heads, or bent to study the ground, as Siwash did, to hide. ‘* Well, I’m not much on a horse,”’ Lam- bert confessed. _ “You look like a man that ’d been on a horse a time or two,” said Jim, with a know- ing inflection, a shrewd flattery. “ T used to ride around a little, but that’s been a good while ago.” * " “A feller never forgits how to ride,’ Siwash put in; “and if a, man wants to work on the range, he’s got to ride ’less’n he goes and gits a job runnin’ sheep, and that’s below any man that 7s a man.” Jim sat pondering the question, hands hooked in front of his knees, a match in his mouth beside his unlighted cigarette. ‘““T been thinkin’ I’d sell that horse,” ° said he reflectively. ‘ Ain’t got no use for him much; but I don’t know.” He looked off over the chuck-wagon, through the tops of the scrub-pines in which the camp was set, drawing his thin, white eyebrows, considering the case. ‘Winter comin’ on and hay to buy,” said Siwash. “ That’s what I’ve been thinkin’ and CoMmiclooo S (C(O) mM