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Page 11
"But such fun and such a rum crowd you never saw! Why, there are
cowboys, ranchers, prospectors, coppers, ex-sheriffs, sailors,
mine-owners, men from every college in the country, tennis champions,
football-players, rowing-men, polo-players, planters, African
explorers, big-game hunters, ex-revenue-officers, and Indian-fighters,
besides any number of others who have led the wildest kinds of life,
all chock-full of stories, and ready to fire 'em off at a touch of the
trigger. Teddy hasn't come yet, and so I haven't been able to do
anything for you; but you must trot right out, all the same, and join
our mess. Besides, I want you to pick out a horse for me, something
nice and quiet, 'cause I'm not a dead game rider, you know. Same time
he must be good to look at, sound, and fit in every respect. I've
already bought one this morning, a devilish pretty little mare, on Sile
Pine's say-so that she was gentle, but after a slight though very
trying experience, I'm afraid a bronco-buster's ideas of gentleness and
mine don't exactly agree."
"Why? Did she throw you?" asked Ridge.
"Well, she didn't exactly throw me. I was merely projected about a
thousand yards as though from a dynamite-gun, and then the brute tried
to chew me up. You see she's a Mexican--what Mark Twain would call a
'genuine Mexican plug'--and doesn't seem to sabe United States; for
when I began to reason with her she simply went wild. I left her
tearing through the camp like a steam-cyclone, and if we find anything
at all to show where it was located, it is more than I hope for. But
there's a new lot of prime-looking cattle just arrived, and they are
going like hot cakes; so come along quick and help me get something
rideable."
Half an hour later Ridge found himself in the first army camp he had
ever visited, amid a body of men the most heterogeneous but typically
American ever gathered together. Millionaire dudes and clubmen from
the great Eastern cities fraternized with the wildest representatives
of far Western life. Men of every calling and social position, all
wearing blue flannel shirts and slouch hats, were here mingled on terms
of perfect equality. They were drilling, shooting, skylarking, playing
cards, performing incredible feats on horseback, cooking, eating,
singing, yelling, and behaving in every respect like a lot of
irrepressible schoolboys out for a holiday. Here a red-headed Irish
corporal damned the awkwardness of a young Boston swell, fresh from
Harvard, who had been detailed as cook in a company kitchen; while,
close at hand, a New-Yorker of the bluest blood was washing dishes with
the deftness gained from long experience on a New Mexican sheep-ranch.
As Ridge and Rollo passed through one of the canvas-bordered streets of
this unique camp, the former suddenly leaped aside with an exclamation
of alarm. An unknown beast, fortunately chained, had made a spring at
him, with sharp claws barely missing his leg.
"You mustn't mind a little thing like that," laughed Rollo, with the
air of one to whom such incidents were of every-day occurrence. "It's
only 'Josephine,' a young mountain lion from Arizona, and our
regimental mascot. She's very playful."
"So it seems," replied Ridge, "and I suppose I shall learn to like her
if I join the regiment; but the introduction was a little startling."
A short distance beyond the camp was gathered a confused group of
officers, troopers, men in citizen's dress, some of whom were
swart-faced Mexicans, and horses. To this Rollo led the way; and, as
the new-comers drew near they saw that for a moment all eyes were
directed towards a man engaged in a fierce struggle with a horse. The
animal was a beautiful chestnut mare with slender limbs, glossy coat,
and superb form. Good as she was to look upon, she was just then
exhibiting the spirit of a wild-cat or anything else that is most
savage and untamable, and was attempting, with desperate struggles, to
throw and kill the man who rode her. He was our recent acquaintance,
Silas Pine, bronco-buster from the Bad Lands, who, with clinched teeth
and rigid features, was in full practice of his chosen profession.
All at once, no one could tell how, but with a furious effort the mare
shook off her hated burden, and, with a snort of triumph, dashed madly
away. The man was flung heavily to the ground, where he lay motionless.
"That's my horse," remarked Rollo, quietly, "and Sile undertook to
either break or kill her. Nice, gentle beast, isn't she? Hello,
you're in luck, for there's Roosevelt now. Oh, Teddy! I say, Teddy!"
Two officers on horseback were approaching the scene, and in one of
them Ridge recognized his chance acquaintance of the evening before.
Towards this individual Van Kyp was running.
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