BILL'S FINANCING
Bill's method of conducting the sale of the pinto was eminently successful as a financial operation, but there are those in the Swan Creek country who have never been able to fathom the mystery attaching to the affair.It was at the fall round-up, the beef round-up, as it is called, which this year ended at the Ashley Ranch.There were representatives from all the ranches and some cattle-men from across the line.The hospitality of the Ashley Ranch was up to its own lofty standard, and, after supper, the men were in a state of high exhilaration.The Hon.Fred and his wife, Lady Charlotte, gave themselves to the duties of their position as hosts for the day with a heartiness and grace beyond praise.After supper the men gathered round the big fire, which was piled up before the long, low shed, which stood open in front.It was a scene of such wild and picturesque interest as can only be witnessed in the western ranching country.About the fire, most of them wearing "shaps" and all of them wide, hard-brimmed cowboy hats, the men grouped themselves, some reclining upon skins thrown upon the ground, some standing, some sitting, smoking, laughing, chatting, all in highest spirits and humor.They had just got through with their season of arduous and, at times, dangerous toil.
Their minds were full of their long, hard rides, their wild and varying experiences with mad cattle and bucking broncos, their anxious watchings through hot nights, when a breath of wind or a coyote's howl might set the herd off in a frantic stampede, their wolf hunts and badger fights and all the marvellous adventures that fill up a cowboy's summer.Now these were all behind them.
To-night they were free men and of independent means, for their season's pay was in their pockets.The day's excitement, too, was still in their blood, and they were ready for anything.
Bill, as king of the bronco-busters, moved about with the slow, careless indifference of a man sure of his position and sure of his ability to maintain it.
He spoke seldom and slowly, was not as ready-witted as his partner, Hi Kendal, but in act he was swift and sure, and "in trouble" he could be counted on.He was, as they said, "a white man; white to the back," which was understood to sum up the true cattle man's virtues.
"Hello, Bill," said a friend, "where's Hi? Hain't seen him around!""Well, don't jest know.He was going to bring up my pinto.""Your pinto? What pinto's that? You hain't got no pinto!""Mebbe not," said Bill, slowly, "but I had the idee before you spoke that I had.""That so? Whar'd ye git him? Good for cattle?" The crowd began to gather.
Bill grew mysterious, and even more than usually reserved.
"Good fer cattle! Well, I ain't much on gamblin', but I've got a leetle in my pants that says that there pinto kin outwork any blanked bronco in this outfit, givin' him a fair show after the cattle."The men became interested.
"Whar was he raised?"
"Dunno."
"Whar'd ye git him? Across the line?"
"No," said Bill stoutly, "right in this here country.The Dook there knows him."This at once raised the pinto several points.To be known, and, as Bill's tone indicated, favorably known by The Duke, was a testimonial to which any horse might aspire.
"Whar'd ye git him, Bill? Don't be so blanked oncommunicatin'!"said an impatient voice.
Bill hesitated; then, with an apparent burst of confidence, he assumed his frankest manner and voice, and told his tale.
