Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1906-01-09
CHAPTER v.
Back to the Wolf Pack.

CHAPTER v.
Back to the Wolf Pack.
Being given to raising fowls. I'm In
structed on eggs a whole lot. Killed young.
an egg is a sure saint, being pure white
on the outside, and inwardly q beautiful
yellow; but since she amt had no chance
to 60 bad she's not responsible. But when
an egg has fingered In this wicked world.
exposed to heat, cold end other tempta-
lions, she sucoumbs, being weary OF her
youth and shamed of virtue. SO she par
ticipates in vice TO the best of her knowi-
edge and belief Yes. an old egg Ii BAD
every time, and the more bluff she makes
with her white and holy shell, the more
she's rotten inside, wfited sepulchre.
I reckon it's been the same with me. for
at Holy Cross was kept good and fresh
by the family. Shell. white, and yolk.
was good egg then. with no special In
ducements to vice. Now I know in my
poor old self what an uphill pull 1t is try
ing to reform stale egg.
In those days, when thought was be-
ing good on my own merits, had no mercy
on bad eggs like poor McCalmont, how
ever much he tried to reform. Balshan.
non took me aside and wanted to know II
he could trust this robber.
so far as you can throw daWg, SAID
L
That night the lady fed alone, and we
dined in the great hall, the patrone at the
head Of the table McCalmont and Curly
on one side, the padre and me on the other.
Curleys ankle being twisted and wrapped
up most painful in wet bandages. the
priest allowed that he couldn't ride away
with his father. but had better stay with
us.
Curly SHE'D at that. 81 won't stay noner'
he growled.
But McCalmont began to talk for Curly,
explaining that robbery was poor voca.
ton in life full of uncertainties He wanted
his son to be cowboy.
IL he rides for me-" says !, he'll have
to herd with my Mexicans. They're
greasers, but Curly's white. and they won't
mix"
'Td rather" says McCalmont "for Ard
IONA cowboys are half-wolf anyways, but
this outfit is all dead gentle, and good for
my cub"
Then the boss offered wages to Curly. and
the priest took sides with him. So Curly
Kicked, and I growled but the boy was
left at Holy Cross to be converted, and
taught punching cows.
AS to McCalmont, he rode Off that night.
gathered his wolves. and jumped down on
Mr.. George Ryan at the Jim Crow
mine. near Grave City. He wanted
compensation for not getting any plum
Ryan of seventy thousand dollars The
newspapers in Grave City sobbed over poor
Mr.. Ryan, and howled for vengeance on
McCalmont's wolves.
Curly read the newspaper account, and
was pleased all to pieces. Then he howled
all night because he was left behind.
It took me some time to get used to that
small youngster. who was a whole lot older
ana wiser than he looked He had a room
next to my quarters, where he camped on
a BED in the far corner, and acted crazy
If ever tried to come in. Because he In
sisted on keeping the shutters closed, that
room was dark as a VOLTS mouth-a sort
Of den, where one could see nothing put
his eyes, glazing green or hame-colored, nke
those of panther. If he slept, he curled up
like a little wild animal one ear cooked one
eye open, ready to start broad awake at the
slightest sound. Once 1 caught him suck
ing his swollen anldle, which he said was
Of animals dress their own wounds that
way, but never any human except little
Curly AS to his food, he would. eat the
things he knew about, but if the taste OF a
dish was new to him, he spat as If he were
poisoned. AT first he was scared Of Lady
Balshannon, hated the patrone, and surely
despised me; but one day l saw him limp
ing, attended by four OF our dogs ana a
brace of cats across to the stableyard.
sneaked upstairs to the roof and watched
his play.
There must have been fifty ponies in the
yard and every person H6 snsm oosa m
crowding round him, and those who were
tied began whickering; Horses nave one
call, soft and low. which they keep TOR
the man they love, and one after another
gave the loye-cry for Curly. He treated
them all like dirt until he came to Rebel,
an outlaw stallion. Once Rebel tried to
murder Mexican; several times aS ne nae had
always he acted crazy with men and saw
age with mares. Yet he never even snort
ed at Curly, but let that youngstsr lead
waited for him to climb UP, and trotted
him round the yard tame as q sheep.
''curly!' said I from the root: An sa1 the
boy stiffened at once. hard and heras.
Curly that horse Is yours
The dogs loved Curly first, then the
horses, and next the Mexican COWBOYS, ous
to the patrone ana the, old priest:
afterward even to Lady Bals shannon nam ., SO
the wolf pack was only fierce and wild
with strangers but inside SO gentle that he
was more like girl than a BOY He was
rather wide at the hips bow-iegsed just a
trace and when his ankle healed we found
he had a most tremendous grip in the sad
die. the balance of a hawk. Yes. that
small, slight delicate lad was the most per-
feet rider I've seen In world OF great
horsemen. The meanest horse was tame as
a dog with Curly, while in tracking scout
ing and natural sense with cattle l never
knew his equal. Yet. as l said before, he
was small, weak, Dadly Dullt-mOre ike q
girl than a boy With strangers he was a
Vicious young savage; with friends like
little child He did years work on the
range with me, and that twelve months I
look back to as a sort Of golden age at
Holy Cross.
We were raising the best horses and the
finest cattle in Arizona: prices were high,
and the patrone was too busy to have time
for cards or drink over at Grave Cityt and
even the lady braced up enough to 60 for
evening rides.
And then the Honorable James du Ches-
nay rode home to US from college.
The patrone and his lady were making
feast for their son; the cowboys were busy
as a swarm of bees decorating the great
hall; the padre fiuttered about like black
moth, getting in everybody's way: SO Curly
and rode out on the Lordsburgh trail to
meet UP with the Honorable Jim.
'I hate him. Curly snarled.
why for, boy2'
Dunno. hate him.
I told Curly about my first meeting with
that same little boy Jim. aged six, and him
turning his hot gun loose against hostile
Indians. shooting gay and promiscuous,
scared OF nothing.
II hate him." snarled Curly between his
teeth. Last night the lady was reading to
me yonder, on the roof top"
''WellT'
There was big chief on the range an
old long-horn called Abraham, and his IN old
snla Go IN bu,v In fhni, 49,