Idaho semi-weekly world. [volume] (Idaho City, Idaho Territory) 1875-1908, 1892-12-09
AN IDYL OF THE HT.

the ranch house, awaiting supper. The
Mexican cook has just begun his fragrant
task, so half hour must elapse before
these Arabs are fed. Their ponies are
turned into the wire pasture, their big
Colorado saddles repose astride the low
pale fence which surrounds the house,
and it is evident that their riding is over
for the day.
Why are they gloomy? Not a boy OF
them can tell. One Is from Princeton,
too. They have been partners and com
paneros and worked" the HIT cattle to-
gether for months. and nothing ever
came in misunderstanding or cloud.
The ranch house is their home, and
theirs has been the unity Of brothers.
A week ago pretty girl, the daughter
of one Of the owners, came to the ranch
from the east She was protected in
this venture by On old and gnarled aunt,
watchful as ferret, sour as lime.
Not that the pretty girl needs watching;
she is indeed in every move propriety' g
climax. No soft or dulcet reason woos
her to the west; she comes on no love
errand. She is elegantly and profoundly
tired of the east, that is all, and longs
for western air and western sights. She
has been at the HIT ranch a week, and
the boys have met her, every one. The
meeting or meetings were marked by
awkwardness as to the boys, utter in
difference rs to the pretty girl She
met them as she met the ponies, cows,
horned toads and other animals, domes-
tic and indigenous to eastern New Mex
leo. While every cowboy was blush
ingly conscious of her. she was purely
and serenely guiltless of giving him a
thought.
Before this pretty girl came the boys
were friends, and the calm tenor of theil
relations with each other had never q
ripple. She was not there day before
each drew himself insensibly FROM the
others, and vague hostility shont
dimly in their eyes. 1t was the instinct
Of the fighting male animal aroused by
the presence of the pretty girl. She
however, proceeded on her daily way
sweetly unconscious of the sentiments
she had awakened.
| Men are mere animals; women are
too, for that matter, but they are very
different animals from men. The eff
| fort the race makes to be the other, bet
ter or different than beasts fails. 1t al
ways failed; it will always fail. Civil
ation-culture-is the variest venee
and famously thin. A year on the plain
cracks this veneer - this shell - ant
leaves the animal exposed. This is b.
the expanding growth of all that is AMI
malish in man; these attributes of tn
physical being fed and pampered by
plains existence.
The dark, vague, impalpable differ
ences which cut off each of these Great
ures from his fellows and inspired hir
with an unreasoning and unmeasurabl
hate had grown with the brief week @
their existence. A philosopher woul
look for trouble soon on the HIT.
"What did you go and take my saddl
for yesterday, Bill?" said Jack Moore t
a boy by the name of Bill Watkins.
"Cause | allows I'll ride it some,
says Watkins II thought it might lik
to carry high grade cowpuncher once.
well, don't take it no more" sal
Moore, modify, ignoring the gay iusc
lence in the reply. "Leastwise, don
come a-takin' of it an sayin' nothin
You can palaver Americana, can't you
When you aims to ride my saddle agir
ask for it; if You can't talk make sign
and If you can't make sign, shake
bush, but don't go Injunin' off no saddl
Of mine no more"
whatever do you allow is liable
happen if | take it agin tomorry?" il
quired Bill in high scorn.
Bill was of more vivacious tempe
than the gloomy Moore.
You takes it agin an mingles wit
you whole lot, mighty prompt" r
piled Moore in Il tone of obstinate injur,
These boys were brothers in affectic
before that pretty girl came, and eith'
would have gone afoot all day to len
his saddle to the other. Going afoot, to
is the last thing, let me assure you,
cowboy will do.
well, don't you fail to mingle none
said Bill. with cheerful ferocity," ON a
count of its being me. crossed the ira
of the shorthorn like you, over on Il
/ Panhandle onct, an puts him in the fl
an has plenty of fun with him."
, stop the play now, right yere,' sa
7 Tom Rawhns, the HIT range boss, wi
was sitting close at hand. "You {
spring trouble round yere an I'll be in
Whatever's the matter with all you pc
81 Vn,sra lfl., N ,,a.ro1 90 mr.
head dogs for more'n a week no,
/. You're shorely too many for me to sab
an cl'ar gives you up"
!, The boys started some grumbling T
ply, but the cook called them to supp
Just then, and, one animalism becomil
overshadowed by another, they forg
their rancor and vague animosities
! thoughts of supplying their hunger. I
ward the last of the repast Rawlins arc
7 and going to another room began owe
, looking some entries in the ranch bool
/ The pretty girl did not eat at the ran
: table. She had little banquets in h
D own room. Just then she was in h
own room and began singing in ID
tenor some tender little love song th
seemed born of a sigh and a tear. T
| boys at supper heard her, and their
' sentiment of each others existence beg
, again TO fame in their breasts and bu
. t-sply in their eyes. None of these 50
a ages was in the least degree in love wi
the pretty girl either. They might ha
, become so, all or any of them.
: The singing went on in cooling, $,
: way that did not bring you the words
:, only the music.
"What l says about my saddle VIII
a back. Imeans," said Moore, finally, tu
ing dark looks on Watkins.
a "See yere." said Watkins, in an ex