author - "B. M. Bower"
ing thething to pass by his own dogged efforts. Men fell into the habit ofcalling him Luck, and they forgot that he had any other name; so thereyou have it, straight and easily understandable.
As luck would have it, then,--and no pun intended, please,--he foundhimself en route to Dry Lake without any trouble at all; a mere matter ofone change of trains and very close connections, the conductor told him.So Luck went out and found a chair on the observation platform, and gavehimself up to his cigar and to contemplation of the country they weregliding through. What he would find at Dry Lake to make the stop worthhis while did not worry him; he left that to the future and to the godChance whom he professed to serve. He was doing his part; he was goingthere to find out what the place held for him. If it held nothing but ahalf dozen ex-cow-punchers hopelessly tamed and turned farmers, why,there would probably be a train to carry him further in his quest. Hewould drop down into Wyoming and Arizona a
of him was as near murder as Wearycould come. Glory had been belabored with worse things than hatsduring his eventful career; he laid back his ears, shut his eyes tightand took it meekly.
There came a gasping gurgle from the hammock, and Weary's hand stoppedin mid-air. The girl's head was burrowed in a pillow and her slipperstapped the floor while she laughed and laughed.
Weary delivered a parting whack, put on his hat and looked at heruncertainly; grinned sheepishly when the humor of the thing came to himslowly, and finally sat down upon the porch steps and laughed with her.
"Oh, gee! It was too funny," gasped the girl, sitting up and wipingher eyes.
Weary gasped also, though it was a small matter--a common little wordof three letters. In all the messages sent him by the schoolma'am, itwas the precise, school-grammar wording of them which had irritated himmost and impressed him insensibly with the belief that she was too primto be quite human. The Happy Family had felt all along
iscussed him acrimoniously.
"By gosh, a man might do worse than locate that Native Son for asilver mine," Cal began, eyeing the interloper scornfully. "It'splumb wicked to ride around with all that wealth and fussy stuff.He must 'a' robbed a bank and put the money all into a ridingoutfit."
"By golly, he looks to me like a pair uh trays when he comesbow-leggin' along with them white diamonds on his legs," Slimstated solemnly.
"And I'll gamble that's a spot higher than he stacks up in thecow game," Pink observed with the pessimism which matrimony hadgiven him. "You mind him asking about bad horses, last night?That Lizzie-boy never saw a bad horse; they don't grow 'em wherehe come from. What they don't know about riding they make up forwith a swell rig--"
"And, oh, mamma! It sure is a swell rig!" Weary paid generoustribute. "Only I will say old Banjo reminds me of an Irish cookrigged out in silk and diamonds. That outfit on Glory, now--" Hesighed enviously.
"Well, I've gone up agains
ing thething to pass by his own dogged efforts. Men fell into the habit ofcalling him Luck, and they forgot that he had any other name; so thereyou have it, straight and easily understandable.
As luck would have it, then,--and no pun intended, please,--he foundhimself en route to Dry Lake without any trouble at all; a mere matter ofone change of trains and very close connections, the conductor told him.So Luck went out and found a chair on the observation platform, and gavehimself up to his cigar and to contemplation of the country they weregliding through. What he would find at Dry Lake to make the stop worthhis while did not worry him; he left that to the future and to the godChance whom he professed to serve. He was doing his part; he was goingthere to find out what the place held for him. If it held nothing but ahalf dozen ex-cow-punchers hopelessly tamed and turned farmers, why,there would probably be a train to carry him further in his quest. Hewould drop down into Wyoming and Arizona a
of him was as near murder as Wearycould come. Glory had been belabored with worse things than hatsduring his eventful career; he laid back his ears, shut his eyes tightand took it meekly.
There came a gasping gurgle from the hammock, and Weary's hand stoppedin mid-air. The girl's head was burrowed in a pillow and her slipperstapped the floor while she laughed and laughed.
Weary delivered a parting whack, put on his hat and looked at heruncertainly; grinned sheepishly when the humor of the thing came to himslowly, and finally sat down upon the porch steps and laughed with her.
"Oh, gee! It was too funny," gasped the girl, sitting up and wipingher eyes.
Weary gasped also, though it was a small matter--a common little wordof three letters. In all the messages sent him by the schoolma'am, itwas the precise, school-grammar wording of them which had irritated himmost and impressed him insensibly with the belief that she was too primto be quite human. The Happy Family had felt all along
iscussed him acrimoniously.
"By gosh, a man might do worse than locate that Native Son for asilver mine," Cal began, eyeing the interloper scornfully. "It'splumb wicked to ride around with all that wealth and fussy stuff.He must 'a' robbed a bank and put the money all into a ridingoutfit."
"By golly, he looks to me like a pair uh trays when he comesbow-leggin' along with them white diamonds on his legs," Slimstated solemnly.
"And I'll gamble that's a spot higher than he stacks up in thecow game," Pink observed with the pessimism which matrimony hadgiven him. "You mind him asking about bad horses, last night?That Lizzie-boy never saw a bad horse; they don't grow 'em wherehe come from. What they don't know about riding they make up forwith a swell rig--"
"And, oh, mamma! It sure is a swell rig!" Weary paid generoustribute. "Only I will say old Banjo reminds me of an Irish cookrigged out in silk and diamonds. That outfit on Glory, now--" Hesighed enviously.
"Well, I've gone up agains