“Well, I don’t know,” said Mr. Davenport, with a heavy sigh, which told how heavily the matter bore on his mind, “I don’t know.”
Not to dwell too long on incidents that are not connected with this story, I will simply say that we were presented to two of the cowboys that night at supper time as the fellows Mr. Davenport had employed to help him drive his cattle north, our duties to begin on the day the march commenced. I took a great notion to the two men--tall, rawboned, and rough, and the simple and earnest manner in which they agreed with their employer on all questions concerning the conduct of the farmers, in keeping his cattle out on the barren prairie where there was neither water nor grass to be had, made me think that their hearts were in the matter.
During the next week I noticed that Bob and Elam went off somewhere immediately after breakfast and did not get back before night. That was all right to me, but I wanted to make sure that Elam knew what he was doing, so one day when I got a chance to speak to him in private I said:
“What do you and Bob do when you are gone all day?”
“Sho!” said Elam, with a laugh. “He just makes me lay under the trees and tell him stories.”
“Harm? What is going to harm him out here?”
“I don’t know and his father doesn’t know; but if you are wise you will keep your eyes open.”
“Harm!” repeated Elam. “Well; I should like to see somebody harm him. He’s got a good heart, that boy has. Be they going to shoot him?”
“I don’t know what they are going to do, I tell you. If his father ever tells me I will tell you.”
During all this time Mr. Davenport kept Tom and me close to himself. It was a companionship that was entirely new to him in that country, and he wanted to make the most of it. Before I had been acquainted with him twenty-four hours I could see that he was different from most men who made stock raising a business, that for years he had been out there where he had nobody to talk to, and I was sure he had some secret to tell us. One day it all came out, as I knew it would, if we let the matter alone and did not trouble him with it. It was a hot day during the first of August and we were sitting there on the porch, trying to raise a little breeze by fanning ourselves with our hats. It was after dinner, and the Mexican cook had gone somewhere to sleep and we were there alone.