SURLY BILL. 



T. R. WAITE. 



He appeared at the ranch one morning, 

 and the foreman set him at work with the 

 other boys. 



He was not remarkable in any way un- 

 less for the hopeless, gloomy expression 

 on his pallid face. He wore the usual cow- 

 boy rig, and, when he walked, the butts of 

 2 heavy revolvers could be seen underneath 

 his canvas coat. He said his name was 

 William Barton, and seemed unwilling to 

 give any other information concerning 

 himself. From the first he was reticent 

 and preferred to be by himself. Lanky 

 Bob expressed his opinion of the new- 

 comer. " Boys," he said, " that surly 

 chap's face would curdle milk," and from 

 that time forward he was dubbed " Surly 

 Bill." 



Bill frankly owned he was a tenderfoot 

 at cowpunching, but he was willing to 

 learn. As a sort of initiation they gave 

 him " Go Devil " to ride, and if ever a mare 

 was possessed of the evil one it was this 

 Go Devil. 



The boys gathered to see the fun as Bill 

 led the mare out and sprang into the saddle. 

 But they were disappointed; Bill could 

 ride. A prettier exhibition of riding a 

 half-wild bucker I never saw. 



Bill had been on the ranch a month be- 

 fore he showed the stuff he was made of. 



Late one afternoon, we were out looking 

 up stray cattle; keeping about half a mile 

 apart, with our eyes open both for cattle 

 and Apaches. 



Just as I was rising a knoll, a dozen red- 

 skins swarmed over the top and down 

 upon me, firing as they came. My pony 

 fell at the first fire, catching my left leg 

 under him. In a moment they were cir- 

 cling around me, yelling like demons, with 

 only a hand or a leg showing over the backs 

 of their ponies. I had but one cartridge 

 left in my revolver, when I heard a yell 

 and saw Surly Bill coming like a whirl- 

 wind, with the reins lying loose on Go 

 Devil's neck. Nearer he came, and I could 

 see a revolver in each hand. As they be- 

 gan to crack, I fainted. 



When I came to, Bill was bending over 

 me. " Drink this," said he, and held a 

 whiskey flask to my lips. 



" Can you ride?" I nodded assent. He 

 caught an Indian pony and assisted me to 

 mount. I saw 9 dead Apaches lying 

 around and I had wounded but 2. 



" You've saved my scalp, Bill," said I. 



" Ugh," he grunted. 



A fortnight later he came to me. " Jim, 

 you seem so grateful to me for saving your 

 scalp that I am going to ask a favor of 



you. But first, I've a story to tell, if you'll 

 listen." 



" Go ahead, pard," I said. ' You bet 

 I'll do what I can for you." 



" Ten years ago," he began, " I left col- 

 lege and entered business in New York, 

 with every prospect of a bright career. 

 After a time I married a society girl, 

 which proved a mistake for both. I cared 

 nothing for society and she cared for little 

 else. Until a beautiful boy was born to 

 us I had spent most of the time I could 

 spare from business away from home. But 

 when Reggie came, all the love in my nat- 

 ure went out to him and I was content. 

 Last year, when Reggie was 4 years old, 

 I found myself, through a dishonest em- 

 ployee, on the verge of bankruptcy. 

 Calmly I told my wife, and asked her if 

 it was not possible to retrench a little on 

 our expenses. She flew into a passion and 

 refused; blaming me entirely. 



" Despairing, I knew not what to do. In 

 a moment of temptation I used money 

 that was intrusted to my care, thinking I 

 could soon replace it. But the crash 

 came, and I was ruined and disgraced. 

 Luckily, my wife had money of her own 

 and I had given her the house we were 

 living in; so she and Reggie would not 

 want. 



" I stole into the house that night, 

 packed a few necessary things and said 

 good-bye to Reggie." 



He paused a moment and then went on. 

 " My God! I can hear him every hour 

 in the day saying ' Papa 'ill come back to 

 Reggie soon? Reggie 'ith lonesome 'ith- 

 out papa.' 



"■ My wife was at the theatre. I should 

 not have seen her had she been at home, 

 but I left a note telling her all. 



" No one knows of my whereabouts 

 but you, Jim, and my brother, who is in 

 England. I have a presentiment I shall 

 never see my boy again. Take this pack- 

 et, Jim. You'll find my wife's address in- 

 side, and if anything should happen to me 

 send it when you can." 



I took the packet and promised to do 

 as he asked. I thought I understood then 

 why, in his surliest moods, he always had 

 a pleasant word for little Jack, the 3 year 

 old son of the foreman. 



One morning, after a hard week's work, 

 the foreman said to us: " Some of you 

 boys can ride to the post office if you like. 

 But git back ternight." 



The post office was 25 miles away, and 

 6 of us, including Bill, started at a lope. 

 Four hours later we were entering the 



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