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CHAPTER XV. Five Years Before.
About forty miles distant from Fort Scott, in a quiet valley surrounded on all sides by stately hills, the ranch of Mr. Preston was located. The valley was fifty miles long and half as wide, and the owner had no difficulty in protecting his stock during the winter storms which now and then spread over the valley, accompanied by a driving snow that effectually shut the cowboys off from all contact with the outside world. A river flowed through within a hundred yards or so of the house, and on the wild fowl that frequented its banks during the fall and winter Carl Preston had received his first instruction in wing-shooting. Game of nearly all kinds was abundant, and it was no trouble at all for the ranchmen who wanted a haunch of venison to shoot a deer when they came to the river for water. It was a quiet, happy Page 183 home, and Carl never would have thought of leaving it had his father been spared to him.

The house was a rambling structure, built of rough boards, dismal-looking enough on the outside, but in the interior it was fitted up as any boy would care to have it. A porch ran the full length of the front of the house, and one day in the month of June Carl Preston sat on it, deeply interested in some work the foreman was doing upon his saddle. Carl was at that time seventeen years of age, and, to quote from the herdsmen, with whom he was an especial favorite, he was “as likely a boy as ever stood up.” But there was one objection to Carl, and that was, he never would study his books. According to Colonel Dodge, he found more excitement in horses and guns than he did in anything else. He tried hard to master a lesson that his father gave him, but just as surely as anything happened outside, he would go out to see what the matter was. Did any of the cattle become alarmed and threaten a stampede, Carl wanted to be sure that the cowboy got ahead of them and kept them from going out at the entrance Page 184 of the valley onto the prairie; or, if a horseman was selected that morning at breakfast to break in a bronco, Carl would happen on the porch about the time he got ready to begin, and see that the horse did not do the cowboy any damage. At last his father became disheartened, put away the books, and began work on Carl’s education himself. He took him into the field with him every time he went, all the while discoursing upon some subject in which he hoped Carl would be interested, and in this way the boy learned much that he could not have got out of books.

“So you think you won’t be lonely any more after your cousin comes?” said the foreman, stopping to pound down a waxed end with his hammer. “Well, I hope you will like him, but I am afraid you won’t.”

Mr. Preston had left home three days before to go to Standing Rock Agency for the purpose of meeting this cousin, and he had purposely left Carl at home till he could see what manner of boy it was that he was going to meet.

This boy Claude was the only son of Mr. Page 185 Preston’s brother, who lived in St. Louis. During his father’s lifetime, for Claude was now an orphan, Mr. Preston often had calls for money and assistance, until he began to believe that really his brother did not amount to much. He got him situations, only to have the man throw them up at last. To his brother’s inquiry as to why he had done so he always replied that it was something to which he was not adapted, and begged for something easier. Now the man was dead and Claude was left alone. He wrote to Mr. Preston, and, telling of the death of his father, asked him what he should do.

“Now is the time for him to make good his boasts that he is going to set me up in business,” said Claude to himself. “Ten to one he will write me to go out there, and that is one thing that I don’t want to do. But then he has money, and I will see what I can do with him after I get out there. I will promise him that if he will give me five thousand dollars I will never bother him again.”

One thing that made Claude so free with his uncle’s money was the conversations he Page 186 had often had with his father. He had heard that all Western men were reckless with their gains, and he thought perhaps Mr. Preston would be equally so. What were five thousand dollars to him? He could easily get it out of the first cattle he sold. But now his worst fears came to him. Mr. Preston, after holding a consultation with his foreman—educated man as he was, he needed somebody to go to—wrote to Claude, and sent him money to come to Standing Rock Agency. After he got there he would still have a hundred and sixty miles to ride, and, for fear that he might not be able to stand the journey on horseback, Mr. Preston would meet him there with a wagon. Claude did not like the prospect of going out there so far from everybody, but still he packed up his trunk and went, and he found his uncle ready to receive him. Carl, as we said, had been left at home, because his father was anxious to see what sort of a boy—or man, rather, for Claude was nearly seven years older than Carl—he had been so willing to receive into his house.

“I hope you will like him, but I am afraid Page 187 you won’t,” repeated the foreman. “A man who has lived all his life in a big city ain’t agoing to be contented out here.”

“Oh, I hope he will,” said Carl, somewhat disappointed at the foreman’s view of the matter. “I will give him up everything I’ve got if he will only stay here with me. There are plenty of horses for him to ride, there is a boat on the river, and——”

“That may all be,” said the cowboy, “but when he is in the city he has more than that. Where are the theatres for him to go to, and the balls and sleigh-rides?”

“Why, Claude has not been to any of those things,” said Carl in surprise. “You must remember that his father was poor.”

“Supposing he was. What has this man been doing during all these years? If he had a position when his father died, what was the reason he did not keep it?”

“Blessed if I know,” said Carl, who began to have a faint idea of the way the matter stood.

“I’ll tell you just what’s the matter with Claude,” said the cowboy, getting upon his Page 188 feet. “He did not have a thing to do when his father was alive; he stayed at home or bummed around some place waiting for his father to give him money; and now, when his father’s left him, he’s afloat and does not know w............
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