Prev | Current Page 119 | Next

Vachell, Horace Annesley, 1861-1955

"Bunch Grass A Chronicle of Life on a Cattle Ranch"

Finally I felt so sorry for the
girl, that I made up my mind to give her a hint, so that she could
slip quietly away. She greeted me warmly, and said that she supposed
Mr. Jasperson was around 'somewheres,' and I said that he was. Then
she spoke about the riot, and asked if I had seen a number of brutal
cowboys abusing a poor Indian. She told me that her brothers and
sisters inside the lodge were very distressed about it. And as she
talked the yells grew louder, and I was convinced that the candidate
was about to present himself. So I tried to explain the facts. But,
confound it! she was so obtuse--for I couldn't blurt the truth right
out--that, before she caught on, the procession arrived. The catechumen
was seated upon an empty beer-barrel, placed upon a sort of float
dragged by the boys. They had with them a big drum, that terrible
bassoon of Uncle Jake's, and a cornet; the noise was something
terrific. Well, Miss Birdie's a good plucked one! She stood on the
steps and rebuked them. That voice of hers silenced the band. Before
she was through talking you might have heard a pin drop. She rated
them for a quarter of an hour, and all the good people in the lodge
came out to listen and applaud.


Pages:
107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131