The Last Chapter [pp. 56-59]

R
AN EPISODE OF THE FRONTIER
BY ALEXANDER M. REYNOLDS
.(G | HE semi-civilized garb
of the cow-boy could
not hide the fact that
he was an aristocrat.
His hands, begrimed and withered by scorching blasts of desert winds, yet preserved
their elegance, and when the loose collar of
his flannel shirt slipped from his sun-tanned
neck, it revealed a skin as white and fine as
a woman's.
Two years before the end came, he had
ridden to the door of the ranch and asked
for work. The foreman had looked contemptuously at the blistered face, which was
receiving its first lessons from the sun, but
the would-be puncher bore the scrutiny
unflinchingly, and Wild Dick "lowed" to
himself that "thar might be grit in the feller if he warn't so green," and bade him,
"Light, anyway, and come into supper."
His outfit was magnificent, purchased
with the last of a great fortune recklessly
squandered, and though everything conformed strictly to the demands of the country, from the silver-banded sombrero to the
gold-chased Mexican spurs, there was a
painful newness about it all. The saddle
creaked uneasily as he swung himself to the
ground, the "chaps" were pure and spotless in their cleanliness, and the ivory-handled six-shooter, with its untarnished barrel,
did not give evidence of having participated in much slaughter. But there was
"grit" in his face as Wild Dick had "lowed,"
a handsome, almost beautiful face the
face of that pleasure-loving race which a
hundred years before had danced to the
very brink of the volcano and then gone
with their king to the scaffold, smiling contemptuously at the fury of Parisian mobs
and jesting with their executioners.
56
For the first few months the life of
Maurice (the boys called him "Morry ") was
not an easy one. He was a good rider, but
be a man never so good a horseman, his first
experiences with broncos are apt to prove
disastrous, and more than one bruise and
sprain were the cost of experience. Then
he had to submit to the inevitable rounds of
"breaking in," as it was called. One night
he would be sewn up in his blankets, the
next a "kangaroo court" would be improvised in which he played the part of prisoner
pro tern, and was the butt of many a rude
jest. It was all in fun, however, that the
boys played their school-boy pranks on the
inexperience of the novice, and he took it as
such, laughing as loudly as any at jokes that
were often not pleasant.
It did not take him long to become a cowboy in every sense of the word, — naturally,
he who had been the wildest, gayest, of all
the gilded youth of the fastest capital in
the world, became the most devil-may-care,
the most reckless, of all that band of free
lances. If there was any particularly wild
bronco to be subjugated, Morry was the one
to do it. Was there an unruly steer to be
branded? — the gaudy foreigner was the
first to dash at the vicious brute. In their
periodic descents upon the little frontier
town, none kept up the lawless revelry with
more reckless abandon than did this scion
of nobility. He was a thorough comrade,
meeting all the vicissitudes and participating in the pleasures of his companions, but
sharing his confidence with none.
Between Wild Dick and Morry arose a
real friendship, a communistic fellowship
such as knits together the hearts of two
brave men, however different their stations
in life. A few months after his arrival, the