The Reveler
by
Happy Jack, coming from Dry Lake where he had been sent for the mail, rode up to the Flying U camp just at dinner time and dismounted gloomily and in silence. His horse looked fagged–which was unusual in Happy’s mounts unless there was urgent need of haste or he was out with the rest of the Family and constrained to adopt their pace, which was rapid. Happy, when riding alone, loved best to hump forward over the horn and jog along slowly, half asleep.
“Something’s hurting Happy,” was Cal Emmett’s verdict when he saw the condition of the horse.
“He’s got a burden on his mind as big as a haystack,” grinned Jack Bates. “Watch the way his jaw hangs down, will yuh? Bet yuh somebody’s dead.”
“Most likely it’s something he thinks is going to happen,” said Pink. “Happy always makes me think of a play I seen when I was back home; it starts out with a melancholy cuss coming out and giving a sigh that near lifts him off his feet, and he says: ‘In soo-ooth I know not why I am so sa-ad.’ That’s Happy all over.”
The Happy Family giggled and went on with their dinner, for Happy Jack was too close for further comments not intended for his ears. They waited demurely, but in secret mirth, for him to unburden his mind. They knew that they would not have long to wait; Happy, bird of ill omen that he was, enjoyed much the telling of bad news.
“Weary’s in town,” he announced heavily, coming over and getting himself a plate and cup.
The Happy Family were secretly a bit disappointed; this promised, after all, to be tame.
“Did he bring the horses?” asked Chip, glancing up over the brim of his cup.
“I dunno,” Happy responded from the stove, where he was trying how much of everything he could possibly pile upon his plate without spilling anything. “I didn’t see no horses–but the one he was ridin’.”
Weary had been sent, two weeks ago, to the upper Marias country after three saddle horses that had strayed from the home range, and which had been seen near Shelby. It was quite time for him to return, if he expected to catch the Flying U wagon before it pulled out on the beef roundup. That he should be in town and not ride out with Happy Jack was a bit strange.
“Why don’t yuh throw it out uh yuh, yuh big, long-jawed croaker?” demanded Pink in a voice queerly soft and girlish. It had been a real grievance to him that he had not been permitted to go with Weary, who was his particular chum. “What’s the matter? Is Weary sick?”
“No,” said Happy Jack deliberately, “I guess he ain’t what yuh could call sick.”
“Why didn’t he come out with you, then?” asked Chip, sharply. Happy did get on one’s nerves so.
“Well, I ast him t’ come–and he took a shot at me for it.”
There was an instant’s dead silence. Then Jack Bates laughed uneasily.
“Happy, how many horses did yuh ride out to camp?”
Happy Jack had, upon one occasion, looked too long upon the wine–or whisky, to be more explicit. Afterward, he had insisted that he was riding two horses home, instead of one. He was not permitted to forget that defection. The Happy Family had an unpleasant habit of recalling the incident whenever Happy Jack made a statement which they felt disinclined to credit–as this last statement was.
Happy Jack whirled on the speaker. “Aw, shut up! I never kidnaped no girl off’n no train, and–“
Jack Bates colored and got belligerently to his feet. That hit him in an exceedingly tender place.
“Happy, look here,” Chip cut in authoritatively. “What’s wrong with Weary? If he took a shot at you, it’s a cinch he had some reason for it.”