Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 170, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 July 1914 — RIAL TEST OF VALOR [ARTICLE]

RIAL TEST OF VALOR

IDA IDA SPEED.

(Copyright.) Tip Taylor never was much of a hand at high finance. He took the con* tract to paint the D Gar,windmill for five dollars, and used up six dollars’ worth of paint on the tower before ever he got as high as the wheel and r 3ian. . • All the Square Deal folkß thought he . was due to lose, because he used such a unchristian shade of blue. Windmillß bein' about all the relief we git to the landscape thataway, we’re kinder finicky as to the color of the same, This here Tip had been a cow-hand oft and on all his life, but he’d never reached the point where he was one of the toppies yet, and he couldn’t even make a livin’ at It For, although he was a pretty fair rider, he was such a irresponsible cuss he’d never got no further than tendin’ the day herd and such like. So he took such jobs as paintin’ windmills to help out on the side. zZ One evenin’ in Christmas week I was loafin’ around the Strong Brothers’ store when little Nettie Brockton was dispensin’ smiles and language sweetthe sorghum substitute she sold, when Tip comes in. Nettie had been givin’ Bud Regan cause to be glad he is livin’ by her condescendin’ to talk to him indlvid- , ual for a few minutes, and he’B leanin’ “over the counter lookin’ square in her eyes while frbm the other side she balances herself on the palms of her -little hands, and about ever’ third word lifts her 90 pounds of pure sweetness close to Bud’s face. - Every time she does ihls he ketcheß his breath like a feller loopin’ the loop and swallers so I can hear him across the aisle. Tsp walks up bold and puts both hands on Bud’s shoulders, kinder leanin’ over him to talk to his damsel. “All the boys are in four bits on a party at your house tonight, Net,’’ he says careless. “Oh, don’t have It in my house,” says Nettie. “We can’t dance there, you know.” “We ain’t particular about dancin’,” 6ays Tip, reachin’ around in the showcase and helpin’ hisself to some cocoanut candy. “At least I shore ain’t If I can talk to you.” “All right,” says Nettie pacified. “Come ahead then.” Old Mrs. Couzens come in just then to buy a hank of red yarn, and as the boys walk out of the store I hear Tip ask Bud for the loan of a dollar. “I’ll let you have four bits,” says Bud, diggin’ up a 50-cent piece, “then Til lose half and so will you,” which was so, because Tip never charged nothin’ but his memory with what he owed, and that usually failed him. r Well, that night Tip was the only feller there that had on regular party rtogs, him havin’ borrowed the best that was in town from all the boys there, and the others havin’ to take Tip’s leavin’s. ; Poor Bud contributed the coat for the occasion, and he had on a sorry lookin’ little cream-colored, summer flannel one hisself, that bein’ all he, had left. ; His hair set up in front in a kind of aThiekbrushyand he had a real foolish way of duckin’ his head to one side when he laughed, caused altogether from his bein’ bashful out in society, for old Bud had plenty of sense. It blows up a norther about time for this here function to begin, and altho’ Nettie has a good fire in the heater in the north room where the party is, Bud is chilly, havin’ took off his wool cow-puhchin’ shirt and put on a cotton one with that little flannel coat, so he sets over next to the stove, his head back against the - rough pine partition, and listens to the others talk. After while Tip, who always keeps the ball a rollin’ at such places, gits up and proposes to play “Take Back What You Borrow,” and it took nerve for Tip to suggest that game, too! Well, the boys all git their partners, and there never bein’ enough girls to go around in this western country, and Bud bein’ timid, course he was one of the left-overs. Old Mrs. Brockton sails in about the time for the game to begin, and sees him settin’ there with his chair tilted back, lookin’ like he wasn’t enjoyin’ hisself. “Come on, Bud,” she says jolly, "I ain’t got no partner.’’

Course Bud bein’ crazy ’bout Nettle was powerful tickled to git a chance to please the old lady, so be starts forward. A pained look comes over his face. He leans back again and says he believes he don’t keer to play. \ “Oh, come on,” says Mrs. Brockton, holdin' out her hand friendly. Then Tip Taylor lets out his big, boisterous laugh, which calls everybody’s attention to the fact that Bud’s mop of hair has stuck to a pine knot which the heat from the stove has turned to soft resin, so with one desperate effort Bud pulls loose, leavin’ a lock of his hair stlckln’ to the side of the butldln’. -Nettle,” hollers Tip, dyin’ a laughin’, "there's Bud’s scalp you can fasten to your belt!” and Bud almost went through the floor, knowin’ that Tip took advantage of his" plight to make him ridiculous before Nettie and her ms. Fam&rotty nesra month after that Bud hides out and Tip gits to be the Whole cheese with little Nettie. Than old man Gresham, who owns

the D Bar outfit, sends Tip and Bud up to our ranch where we’re roundin’ up, to git a bunch of strays that he’s got there, v Tip asks Nettie, and two girls from back East who are visitin’ her, to go along, knowin’ they can stay with my wife while there, and have a dance that night, returnin’ the next day. It wasn’t but 12 miles, so they come. 7* Now, on the way up to the Double Two, Tip gits to hurrahin’ Bud about them bein’ rivals. “Let's just make her say which is the best man before we git back to Square Deal tomorrow,"*rguggests to Bud, winkin’ at the girls. Course Bud, havin’ no self-confi-dence, hates to Bee it come to a test that-a-way, him bein’ willin’ to take what treatment she glveß thank* you, too. But Tip insists on a show-down and at last Nettie lays down the rules of the Contests- “ What I really’ like,” she says, “is good ridin’. The best rider Is the best man with me.” “I’m afraid that lets me out,” says Bud, duckin’ his head to one side. “Tip’ll ride any outlaw yo\j can put up, and I’m afraid to Bet on the fence and watch ’em pitch.” Tfeey got here just in dinner IBHFfBS-eKffcKwagon wlffi drawed H up by the side of the bam and sheds. Tip was just goin’ to pot for his fourth helpin’ of frijoles, him havin' a' noble appetite, when he thinks of his rival, 'tp“Where’s Bud?” he asks. “Oh, there he is I” he says, “settin’ on the grindstone to sharpen his appetite. Eat hearty, Bud,” he calls out, “we’ve got them stunts to pull off after while.” “I ain’t hungry,’* says Bud, “Ilm just feelin’ real common today.” •- That makes Tip pretty near fall in the camp-fire laughin’, and he looks at Nettie, and nods his head towards Bud, then stomps his foot and laughs some more, though she don’t take no notice of him at all. And of all the wild and reckless stunts Tip does ’em that afternoon, whilst Bud does all the work they’re both sent to do, cuttin’ old man Gresham's stock out of the herd, and afterwards pennin’ ’em fer the night. About the time they had finished brandin’ the last calf in the bunch we had sold, old Mankiller come up to the trough for water. Those old horses go several days without liquid refreshment in the winter because they’re too blamed lazy to walk the three or four miles to git it. This horse must have been pretty thirsty, for he’s a old wolf that’s killed two men and is so wild he won’t usually come up where humans are. The notion strikes Tip Taylor to ride him and, in spite of the outlaw’s pawin’ and bitin’, Tip has roped him and got a saddle on him in less time that it would take to tell how he done it „ He wasn’t even satisfied with that, for with all of us lookin’ on, and the women screamin’ and beggin’ him to git off, his daredevil spirit is aroused right _ Along"comes a wild hog out from the shinnery just as Tip’s castin’ around for something more reckless to do, and this here fool Blams his rope on the “javelina.” Well, if the thing had been excitin’ before, it was plumb perilous now! That hog drove his tushes in the ground, and jerked, and fought, and -old Mankiller begins to bite the rope, and right in the it all the horse gives a sudden turn so the rope, which of course, Is fastened to the saddle horn, gits stretched across Tip’s leg and begins to cut down into the flesh.

for din-

You could see the boy begin to git white and sick, for that grass rope was grindln’ into his leg, and the hog was holdin’ it tight at one end whilst old Mankiller plunged and couldn't be turned. About 16 cow-punchers stood helpless while the women stopped screamin' and everybody seemed to hold their breath for an Instant Then through the air flew a pair of fringed leather leggin’s and the man in ’em covered the space between us and Tip in. Just exactly nothing. We saw a pair of arms grapple with that old man-eater’s snarlin’, bitin’ head and, when it was tucked between his right arm and pressed tight to his side, he goes in his pocket with his deft hand and rips out a knife, which he with this teeth and cuts the rope right at the saddle-horn just as we run up. The man was Bud Began. We are Just in time to ketch Tip as he topples out of the saddle in a dead faint and we let old Mankiller go, saddle, bridle and all, for the time bein’. The ladles bein’ on horses, galloped up and ask anxious if Tip is hurt bad, all but little Nettie Brockton. She sees and understands the whole performance, for she has not been watchln’. Tip. "Bud," she says In a trembly voice, "oh. Bud. did he bite you?” "No, ma’am,” says Bud, takin’ off his hat polite. "I held him so close he couldn’t.” Then I comes up, thinkin’ to speak a word of praise to the medal winner, but Nettie's back is turned and she don’t see me so I hear her say low: "Bud, there is something I like better than a good rider.” His face lights up with interest while he still looks up into her eyes adorin’.. "It’s a brave man,” she says, and hdlds otti her hand to him whlch hA takes like a pet bear handlin' • year of oom.