The Flying U's Last Stand [76]
danger he had been in he did not seem to have suffered half as much as had Miss Allen.
"Howdy do," he greeted her, and smiled his adorable little smile that was like the Little Doctor's. "Are you the lady up on the hill? Do you know where the bunch is? I'm--lookin' for the bunch."
Miss Allen found strength enough to stand up and put her arms around him as he sat very straight in his little stock saddle; she hugged him tight.
"You poor baby!" she cried, and her eyes were blurred with tears. "You poor little lost baby!"
"I ain't a baby!" The Kid pulled himself free. "I'm six years old goin' on thirty. I'm a rell ole cowpuncher. I can slap a saddle on my string and ride like a son-a-gun. And I can put the bridle on him my own self and everything. I--I was lookin' for the bunch. I had to make a dry-camp and my doughnuts is smashed up and the jelly glass broke but I never cried when a skink came. I shooed him away and I never cried once. I'm a rell ole cowpuncher, ain't I? I ain't afraid of skinks. I frowed a rock at him and I said, git outa here, you damn old skink or I'll knock your block off!' You oughter seen him go! I--I sure made him hard to ketch, by cripes!"
Miss Allen stepped back and the twinkle came into her eyes and the whimsical twist to her lips. She knew children. Not for the world would she offend this manchild.
"Well, I should say you are a real old cowpuncher!" she exclaimed admiringly. "Now I'm afraid of skinks. I never would dare knock his block off! And last night when I was lost and hungry and it got dark, I--cried!"
"Hunh!" The Kid studied her with a condescending pity. "Oh, well--you're just a woman. Us fellers have to take care of women. Daddy Chip takes care of Doctor Dell--I guess she'd cry if she couldn't find the bunch and had to make dry-camp and skinks come around--but I never."
"Of course you never!" Miss Allen agreed emphatically, trying not to look conscious of any tear-marks on the Kid's sunburned cheeks. "Women are regular cry babies, aren't they? I suppose," she added guilefully: "I'd cry again if you rode off to find the bunch an left me down here all alone. I've lost my horse, an I've lost my lunch, and I've lost myself, and I'm awful afraid of skunks--skinks."
"Oh, I'll take care of you," the Kid comforted. "I'll give you a doughnut if you're hungry. I've got some left, but you'll have to pick out the glass where the jelly broke on it." He reined closer to the bank and slid off and began untying the sadly depleted bag from behind the cantle. Miss Allen offered to do it for him, and was beautifully snubbed. The Kid may have been just a frightened, lost little boy before he met her--but that was a secret hidden in the silences of the deep canyons. Now he was a real old cowpuncher, and he was going to take care of Miss Allen because men always had to take care of women.
Miss Allen offended him deeply when she called him Claude. She was told bluntly that he was Buck, and that he belonged to the Flying U outfit, and was riding down here to help the bunch gather some cattle. "But I can't find the brakes," he admitted grudgingly. "That's where the bunch is--down in the brakes; I can't seem to locate them brakes"
"Don't you think you ought to go home to your mother?" Miss Allen asked him while he was struggling with the knot he had tied in the bag.
"I've got to find the bunch. The bunch needs me," said the Kid. "I--I guess Doctor Dell is s'prised--"
"Who's Doctor Dell? Your mother? Your mother has just about cried herself sick, she's so lonesome without you."
The Kid looked at her wide-eyed. "Aw, gwan! he retorted after a minute, imitating Happy Jack's disbelief of any unpleasant news. "I guess you're jest loadin' me. Daddy Chip is takin' care of her. He wouldn't let her be lonesome."
The Kid got the sack open and reached an arm in to the shoulder . He groped there for a minute and drew out a battered doughnut smeared liberally with wild currant jelly, and gave it to Miss Allen with an air of princely generosity and all the chivalry of all the Happy
"Howdy do," he greeted her, and smiled his adorable little smile that was like the Little Doctor's. "Are you the lady up on the hill? Do you know where the bunch is? I'm--lookin' for the bunch."
Miss Allen found strength enough to stand up and put her arms around him as he sat very straight in his little stock saddle; she hugged him tight.
"You poor baby!" she cried, and her eyes were blurred with tears. "You poor little lost baby!"
"I ain't a baby!" The Kid pulled himself free. "I'm six years old goin' on thirty. I'm a rell ole cowpuncher. I can slap a saddle on my string and ride like a son-a-gun. And I can put the bridle on him my own self and everything. I--I was lookin' for the bunch. I had to make a dry-camp and my doughnuts is smashed up and the jelly glass broke but I never cried when a skink came. I shooed him away and I never cried once. I'm a rell ole cowpuncher, ain't I? I ain't afraid of skinks. I frowed a rock at him and I said, git outa here, you damn old skink or I'll knock your block off!' You oughter seen him go! I--I sure made him hard to ketch, by cripes!"
Miss Allen stepped back and the twinkle came into her eyes and the whimsical twist to her lips. She knew children. Not for the world would she offend this manchild.
"Well, I should say you are a real old cowpuncher!" she exclaimed admiringly. "Now I'm afraid of skinks. I never would dare knock his block off! And last night when I was lost and hungry and it got dark, I--cried!"
"Hunh!" The Kid studied her with a condescending pity. "Oh, well--you're just a woman. Us fellers have to take care of women. Daddy Chip takes care of Doctor Dell--I guess she'd cry if she couldn't find the bunch and had to make dry-camp and skinks come around--but I never."
"Of course you never!" Miss Allen agreed emphatically, trying not to look conscious of any tear-marks on the Kid's sunburned cheeks. "Women are regular cry babies, aren't they? I suppose," she added guilefully: "I'd cry again if you rode off to find the bunch an left me down here all alone. I've lost my horse, an I've lost my lunch, and I've lost myself, and I'm awful afraid of skunks--skinks."
"Oh, I'll take care of you," the Kid comforted. "I'll give you a doughnut if you're hungry. I've got some left, but you'll have to pick out the glass where the jelly broke on it." He reined closer to the bank and slid off and began untying the sadly depleted bag from behind the cantle. Miss Allen offered to do it for him, and was beautifully snubbed. The Kid may have been just a frightened, lost little boy before he met her--but that was a secret hidden in the silences of the deep canyons. Now he was a real old cowpuncher, and he was going to take care of Miss Allen because men always had to take care of women.
Miss Allen offended him deeply when she called him Claude. She was told bluntly that he was Buck, and that he belonged to the Flying U outfit, and was riding down here to help the bunch gather some cattle. "But I can't find the brakes," he admitted grudgingly. "That's where the bunch is--down in the brakes; I can't seem to locate them brakes"
"Don't you think you ought to go home to your mother?" Miss Allen asked him while he was struggling with the knot he had tied in the bag.
"I've got to find the bunch. The bunch needs me," said the Kid. "I--I guess Doctor Dell is s'prised--"
"Who's Doctor Dell? Your mother? Your mother has just about cried herself sick, she's so lonesome without you."
The Kid looked at her wide-eyed. "Aw, gwan! he retorted after a minute, imitating Happy Jack's disbelief of any unpleasant news. "I guess you're jest loadin' me. Daddy Chip is takin' care of her. He wouldn't let her be lonesome."
The Kid got the sack open and reached an arm in to the shoulder . He groped there for a minute and drew out a battered doughnut smeared liberally with wild currant jelly, and gave it to Miss Allen with an air of princely generosity and all the chivalry of all the Happy