Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 60, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 March 1914 — WAS AN OLD YALE MAN [ARTICLE]

WAS AN OLD YALE MAN

By C. B. LEWIS.

There was but one passenger to alight at, Snow Hill, in the cattle and Indian country, and that was Misd Bessie Vaughn of Chicago. Her schoolmate, Nettie Long, whose father owned and managed the big Long ranch, and who was now living with him in the wilds, had written that a person would meet Bessie at Snow Hill with a buckboard and bring her safely to the ranch. The “person” proved to be a young man of twenty-five, dressed as a cowboy, but having rather a distinguished look about him. While he was hastening along the platform and yet thirty feet away, the girl acknowledged to herself that his features were good and that his face showed character and ambition. Perhaps it was for these reasons that, while he was covering the other thirty feet Miss Bessie suddenly decided that he ought UL.be snubbed. "This is Miss Vaughn of Chicago, I presume?” he said, as he lifted his hat and smiled a welcome. What right had he to presume? By what right did he smile a welcome and seem ready to shake hands? The girl looked coldly at him and slightly nodded her head, and that was snub No. 1. The young man took it so, but, though he colored up, he did not lose his smile. “You will give me your checks, please, and I will . put your trunks aboard and we will be off.” There was a touch of authority in his tones that nettled the girl, and she turned away and delivered up the checks with her own hand. She would also have loaded the trunks on the vehicle if she had been strong enough. Snub No. 2 had followed fast on the heels of snub No. 1. "We have fifteen miles to drive,” observed the young man, as they got seated. No reply. Snub No. 3. “I take it that you have never visited this section before?” was remarked after the silence had lasted for a mile. “No.” “But I trust you will find novelty and pleasure.” Miss Bessie looked straight ahead and shut her teeth hard. What was it to one of Colonel Long’s hired men whether she enjoyed the west or not? The man was presumptuous, and she meant her silence to be another snub. Whether it was taken or not, it was not more than five minutes before a voice which had a touch of the paternal in It remarked: “You don’t look overly well, and a couple of months of this bracing atmosphere will do you a world of good.” "Sir, are you a practicing physician?” asked Miss Bessie, as she turned to look the young man .square in the eyes. “Well, no,” he slowly replied. “Then you need not bother to take charge of my health.” That was what the boys would have called a settler, and it hung the young man up for the next ten minutes. When he spoke again, however, it was as if nothing had happened. “It was on that hill over there,” he quietly said, as he pointed with his whip, “that four of our- men were surrounded by fifty Indian warriors two years ago.” Miss Bessie deliberately turned to look in the opposite direction, and she felt that he was smiling as he continued. "One of the boys was killed, but -they killed twelve Indians and held their ground all day.” What was it to her whether one or the whole four cowboys were killed? Indeed, she found herself wishing that all had been wiped out. She hadn’t the slightest interest in the-at->fair —not,that day.” "And over there in that valley is where a drove of steers ran over and trampled the life out of two of our men last spring. We didn’t even find their boots.” Miss Bessie looked straight ahead and made no reply. “And you wouldn’t believe, would you, that this insignificant creek we are crossing was a mile wide and ten feet deep last May? We lost a thousand head of stock in that flood.” Still no reply. It was snub after snub, and she meant to tire him out. This time the silence lasted for fifteen minutes, and she it was who broke it at last. The horses had shied at a coyote dodging for cover and started away on a tearing gallop. The young man kept them on the trail, but made not the slightest effort to check the pace. On the contrary, he hummed a popular air as they lay down to their worlf. The visitor stood it as long as she could, and then turned and exclaimed : “Can’t you see that the horses are running away?” “I have seen it for some time past,” he quietly replied. “Then why don’t you Btop them?” “I will if you wish, but a run of a few mileß won’t hurt them any." She did wish it from the bottom of her heart, for the vehicle was jumping like a goat and It took both hands to hold her hat on her head,- but she gritted her teeth and decided to be smashed into jam before she would prefer the request. The horses ran for three or four miles and then sobered down, and the girl felt that she had snubbed the young man again by not being afraid. “Who is that man you sent to the depot after me?” she asked of her schoolmate, "almost before she had taken off her hat. L “Who? my. that's Tom. I’ll form-. ally introduce you some day.”

"You needn’t mind. I found him rather presumptuous aind had to snub him.' - “Tom presumptuous ? Why, he’s the nicest —” And then she suddenly skipped to some other subject and Tom was,forgotten till next day, when he was bold enough to approach Miss as she was alone for a moment and aek: "What sort of a gait do you prefer in a horse —a trot or a lope? I am to select onp for you today.” "Thank you, but you needn't go to any trouble on my account,” was the reply* and Tom ought to have felt duly crushed as he walked away. He was not seen again for four days, duty having called hiip away. The two girls rode out every day on ponies selected for them, and oh the fourth occasion something happened. The pony ridden by Miss Bessie suddenly bolted, and when she found him beyond control she could only cling to the saddle and hope he would tire himself out after running a couple of miles. But he didn't. He kept a straight course and a headlong gallop for mile after mile, and the girl was thinking of throwing herself from the saddle when a cow pony ranged up beside her, a hand grasped her loose rein, and a voice said in her ear: "Keep your head, Miss Vaughn. I could pull him down and end his run here, but there is need of even more speed.” “W-what is it?” she asked as she turned her head and saw Tom beside her. “Indians. There are five or six in chase of us, and I am racing for that hill with the rocks on it Cling tightly and don’t be afraid.” After a terrific pace for another mile both animals were suddenly pulled up, and dismounting and lifting the girl from the saddle, Tom half pulled her up the steep side of the hill to the shelter of the rocks. “We are'all right now,” he cheerfully saicL “but you keep crouched down till f have a little talk with these noble red men.” The “talk” was his Winchester, and before it was over he had killed one and wounded another. Their loss, together with the alarm of the firing, sent the remaining Indians scurrying away. At the ranch house, after the story had been told, Miss Bessie asked for the second time: “Who is this man Tom?” “Why, he’s an old Yale man and belongs to one of the best families in the east. He came out here for hiß health, you see. Did you have to snub him again today?” “I—l don’t think so.” “But are you going to some other day?” "No, never again. I’m so sorry and ashamed —and I think —think —” Well, there’s a rumor afloat, and it may be true.