The Greatest Works of B. M. Bower - 51 Titles in One Volume (Illustrated Edition). B. M. Bower
first time the Kid turned his attention full upon the man. "How far is it from here to Soldier's Field?"
"From here to Soldier's Field? I don't just—oh, Parks!" he called to the chauffeur who was conferring with a white-garbed mechanic. "How far is it from here to Soldier's Field, about?"
"Twenty—about thirty miles, sir, I should say it was." His eyes went curiously to the horses before he returned to the tire trouble that occupied him.
"Thirty miles—I thought it would be about that. Take you about all day to-morrow, won't it, Cowboy?"
"Yes," sighed the Kid, "and then some. These slick pavements and the traffic slow us down like the very deuce. It will take the better part of two days, I expect." He turned with the empty bucket to refill it for the next thirsty throat, and the man stood stroking Stardust's sleek neck with the unmistakable look of one who loves horses. As the Kid returned the man gave a little chuckle.
"Do you mind telling me, Cowboy, why you didn't say 'slows' and 'best'?" he asked quizzically.
"Slows and best?" The Kid stared. "I didn't know that was required of me."
Whereupon the other chuckled again and patted the Kid reassuringly on the arm with his modishly gloved fingers.
"You're all right, Cowboy—where are you from?"
"Montana. Up near the Bear Paws."
"You don't mean to tell me you rode horseback all the way from Montana?"
"No; as a matter of fact, I didn't ride horseback all the way." The Kid was busy now with Blazes and did not look up. "I woke up one morning in Bismarck in the rain, and had a swift mental picture of the four of us sloshing through the mud all day, so I blew myself to a truck for a couple of hundred miles. Aside from that we trailed through. We've been on the road since the day after the Fourth."
"Sounds funny to me—the language you use. You look like a cowboy, all right, but you don't talk like one." The man's twinkling blue eyes rested thoughtfully upon the Kid's face.
"We have schools out West, and a few of us can read and write," the Kid rebuffed him.
"Now, I didn't mean a thing, Cowboy, except that I'm kind of homesick for the lingo and you don't speak it."
"Oh, well, I can," drawled the Kid, and went for another bucket of water.
"Why don't you hire a truck to take you the rest of the way in?" the man suggested, when the Kid returned and was watering Sunup. "You're going to have pretty heavy traffic from here on, Cowboy. Be too bad if these ponies got hurt after all those miles to get here."
"Yes, but it would be worse if they didn't get their oats every day," the Kid answered laconically. "These ponies are in the pink, because I've grained them three times a day ever since we started. They're my relay string, and this sorrel, Stardust, is the smartest rope horse in the country. A truck would be fine, but it isn't essential. We can make it the last thirty miles, I guess, after coming over a thousand. I don't intend to get into the thickest of the traffic, anyway."
The stranger stood with a hand on Stardust's sweaty shoulder and eyed the Kid's face, tanned and grimed with the dust of plodding miles through the heat.
"Ever been in Chicago, Cowboy?" he asked suddenly, watching for a look into the Kid's eyes as he glanced up.
"No, but I can read the signs, I guess. That's how I got this far," the Kid retorted rather brusquely, and went for more water. The day had been blistering hot and the ponies were thirstier than he had realized.
"All ready, sir," the chauffeur announced at this moment, coming up and touching his cap in salute.
"Yes, Parks. Just wait in the car, will you?"
The Kid, coming up with his filled bucket, observed that the smooth, kindly tone carried that note of authority which simply eliminates any thought of disobedience. He had wondered if the man were not some rangeman luxuriating in civilization for a time, but now he knew better. City bred he was, in spite of his evident love of horses and his professed longing for the range dialect. As Stardust thrust his nose deep into the cool water the Kid lifted his head and met full the steady gaze of the other. It was the suave stranger who first glanced away.
"Reading the signs won't help you much from now on," he said cheerfully. "They'll probably land you in the Loop, and you want to avoid that. If you'll permit me to advise you, you'll keep pretty well to the left, which will bring you out—wait a minute; I'll draw you a map so you can't go wrong."
Whereupon the man briskly produced a long envelope from an inner pocket, a fountain pen from another and, using the Kid's saddle for a desk, began to sketch streets and boulevards rapidly while he talked.
"You won't need this until you reach the city limits; then you take the first through street running north—forget the name of the confounded thing, but it'll be a main thoroughfare and you can't miss it. Keep on until you cross the river—North Branch. Keep right on until you strike Lincoln Avenue and follow that southeast to the junction of Sheridan Road and Clark. Keep straight on—alongside the park, that will be—turn to your left, still keeping the park on your left hand to where it turns left the second time; see? Right here you leave the park and keep straight on, up Michigan Ave. If you take it early in the morning it won't be so bad—just busses, mostly. Follow Michigan right along south—well, a good landmark will be the Central Station, facing you at the terminal of all the sunken tracks running alongside you. Turn to the left in front of the station, across the tracks; then to your right, down past the Field Museum—can't miss it—the stadium will be staring you in the face and there you are!"
"Well, thank you a lot," grinned the Kid. "Thousands of folks have stopped me to satisfy their own curiosity and ask a million questions that didn't concern them, but you're the first to offer any tangible help. I surely appreciate it right now. I've been kind of worried about finding the darned place when I got to it."
"For heaven's sake, Dad!" an impatient young woman leaned from the car to call, "I thought you were in such a tearing rush to get back to the office!"
"Yes, just a minute, honey. Finish your book, why don't you?"
The Kid turned and looked that way, and the young woman stared back at him curiously.
"Oh, one of those cowboys," she said, exactly as if he were a black beetle with unusual markings which excited her aloof interest for a moment. "I might have known it was something of that sort."
Her father was hastily scribbling something across the face of the envelope. At her words he looked up at her, glanced at the Kid with a lowered eyelid and grinned as he signed his name and handed the envelope to the Kid.
"I'm a cowboy at heart," he remarked with a note of whimsical apology in his tone. "My family knows it and is afraid I may chuck everything some day, jump on my champing white charger and go galloping off to the plains with a pistol in each hand and a bowie knife in my teeth. Fact. They watch me like a hawk, don't they, Dulcie? She's watching to see that I don't kidnap one of the ponies and disappear over the horizon right now!" Then he returned to the Kid's affairs, tapping the envelope with his pen. "When you reach the stadium, just hand that note to the first man who seems inclined to block your way. No reason why you should have the expense of boarding your horses outside somewhere—if the quarters aren't ready under the stadium they soon will be, and you tell them you want to keep your horses there. Tell them I said they were to let you pick yourself a place for them. They know me—some of them do. Just—"
"Dad! For heaven's sake!"
"Just show them this note. Good luck, Cowboy! Wish I could change places with you for awhile; maybe I'll get in on some of the fun later on. See you at the show—what's your name, Cowboy—just so I can give you a hand when they call it?" As if invisible hands plucked at him, the man edged toward the big car where his daughter's impatience compelled attention.
"Dad, if you aren't in a hurry, I am. I'm going out to dinner at six, and it's after four now. There'll be cowboys enough to stare at—the place will be flooded with them before long."
"Yes,