The Ridin' Kid from Powder River   By: Henry Herbert Knibbs (1874-1945)

THE RIDIN' KID FROM POWDER RIVER

By

HENRY HERBERT KNIBBS

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

BOSTON AND NEW YORK.

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

1919

COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY HENRY HERBERT KNIBBS

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

CONTENTS

I. YOUNG PETE II. FIREARMS AND NEW FORTUNES III. A WARNING IV. JUSTICE V. A CHANGE OF BASE VI. NEW VISTAS VII. PLANS VIII. SOME BOOKKEEPING IX. ROWDY AND BLUE SMOKE X. "TURN HIM LOOSE!" XI. POP ANNERSLEY'S BOY XII. IN THE PIT XIII. GAME XIV. THE KITTY CAT XV. FOUR MEN XVI. THE OPEN HOLSTER XVII. A FALSE TRAIL XVIII. THE BLACK SOMBRERO XIX. THE SPIDER XX. BULL MALVEY XXI. BOCA DULZURA XXII. "A DRESS OR A RING PERHAPS" XXIII. THE DEVIL WIND XXIV. "A RIDER STOOD AT THE LAMPLIT BAR" XXV. "PLANTED OUT THERE" XXVI. THE OLLA XXVII. OVER THE LINE XXVIII. A GAMBLE XXIX. QUERY XXX. BRENT'S MISTAKE XXXI. FUGITIVE XXXII. EL PASO XXXIII. THE SPIDER'S ACCOUNT XXXIV. DORIS XXXV. "CAUGHT IT JUST IN TIME" XXXVI. WHITE EYE XXXVII. "CLOSE THE CASES" XXXVIII. GETTING ACQUAINTED XXXIX. A PUZZLE GAME XL. THE MAN DOWNSTAIRS XLI. "A LAND FAMILIAR" XLII. "OH, SAY TWO THOUSAND" XLIII. A NEW HAT A NEW TRAIL XLIV. THE OLD TRAIL XLV. HOME FOLKS XLVI. THE RIDIN' KID FROM POWDER RIVER

ILLUSTRATIONS

THE RIDIN' KID . . . . Colored Frontispiece

Drawn by Stanley L. Wood

"SAY, AIN'T WE PARDNERS?"

PETE

COTTON HEARD PETE'S HAND STRIKE THE BUTT OF HIS GUN AS THE HOLSTER TILTED UP

"OF A TRUTH, NO!" SAID BOCA, AND SHE SWUNG THE BOTTLE

Drawn by R. M. Brinkerhoff

The Ridin' Kid from Powder River

CHAPTER I

YOUNG PETE

With the inevitable pinto or calico horse in his string the horse trader drifted toward the distant town of Concho, accompanied by a lazy cloud of dust, a slat ribbed dog, and a knock kneed foal that insisted on getting in the way of the wagon team. Strung out behind this indolently moving aggregation of desert adventurers plodded an indifferent lot of cayuses, their heads lowered and their eyes filled with dust.

Young Pete, perched on a saddle much too large for him, hazed the tired horses with a professional "Hi! Yah! Git in there, you doggone, onnery, three legged pole cat you!" A gratuitous command, for the three legged pole cat referred to had no other ambition than to shuffle wearily along behind the wagon in the hope that somewhere ahead was good grazing, water, and chance shade.

The trader was lean, rat eyed, and of a vicious temper. Comparatively, the worst horse in his string was a gentleman. Horse trading and whiskey go arm in arm, accompanied by their copartners, profanity and tobacco chewing. In the right hand of the horse trader is guile and in his left hand is trickery. And this squalid, slovenly booted, and sombrero'd gentleman of the outlands lived down to and even beneath all the vicarious traditions of his kind, a pariah of the waste places, tolerated in the environs of this or that desert town chiefly because of Young Pete, who was popular, despite the fact that he bartered profanely for chuck at the stores, picketed the horses in pasturage already preempted by the natives, watered the horses where water was scarce and for local consumption only, and lied eloquently as to the qualities of his master's caviayard when a trade was in progress. For these manful services Young Pete received scant rations and much abuse.