After supper Ted told of the maiming of the cattle and the death of Sol
Flatbush.
It was part of the life at the ranch that bad news of any sort was never
told at the table during meals, and if any of the fellows had a
grievance or was in trouble he tried to keep that fact out of his face
and look as merry as he could while the others were eating. If he wanted
to tell his troubles later, and any one was willing to listen, all right
and good, but mealtime was glad time where the broncho boys and their
friends sat down together.
While they were sitting before the great fireplace after supper, Clay
Whipple was looking into the flames with a preoccupied air.
He had been silent all evening, an unusual thing for him, for usually he
injected humorously dry comments into general conversations.
"What's the trouble, Clay?" asked Stella, who was always the first to
notice when one of the boys was not his usual self.
"Oh, I don't know," said Clay uneasily.
"Reckon he's worryin' some on account o' this yere mountain bandit bein'
ther same name as him," laughed a cow-puncher named "Pike" Bander.
"I reckon you're only joshin', Pike," said Clay quietly, but growing a
shade paler.
"Why, shore, Clay. Yer didn't think I wuz in earnest?" Pike hastened to
say.
Clay's Kentucky blood would not permit him to receive without resentment
any reflections against the South or the people of his family, while he
could stand any amount of personal joshing without growing in the least
touchy or angry.
Pages:
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75