Chapter 2
chapter two of curly by roger pocock this librivox recording is in the public domain reading by mcferrard chapter two lord balsham with all the signs and the signal smokes pointing for war i reckoned i could dispense with that ocean and stay round to see the play moreover there was this british lord lost in the desert wounded some helpless as a baby game as a grizzly bear ringed round with dead horses and dead apaches and his troubles appealed to me plentiful i scouted around until i hit a live trail then streaked away to find people i was doubtful if i had done right in case that lord had got massacred me being absent so i rode hard and at noon saw the smoke of a camp against the tres hermanos mountains it proved to be a cow camp with all the boys at dinner they had heard nothing of apaches out on the war trail but when i told what i knew they came glad on the dead run their wagons and pony herd following
we found the britisher digging graves for three dead men and looking apt to require a fourth for his own use good evening says he and i began to wonder why i'd sweated myself so hot to rescue an iceberg jim says he to the boys you'll find some um coffee ready beside the fire and afterwards if you please we will bury my dead the boys leaned over in their saddles wondering at him but the lord's cool eye looked from face to face and we had to do what he said he was surely a great chief that lord balshannon the men who had fallen a prey to the apaches were two teamsters and a mexican all known to these bar white riders and they were sure sorry but more than that they enjoyed this shorthorn this tenderfoot from the east who could stand off an outfit of hostile indians with his lone rifle they saw he was wounded yet he dug graves for his dead made coffee for the living and thought of everything except himself
after coffee we lined up by the graves to watch the bluff he made at funeral honours lord balshannon was a colonel in the british army and he stood like an officer on parade reading from a book his black hair was touched silver his face was strong hard manful and his voice quivered while he read from the little book for i am a stranger with thee and a sojourner as all my fathers were oh spare me a little that i may recover my strength before i go hence and am no more seen i reckon that there were some of us sniffing as though we had just caught a cold while we listened to that man's voice and saw the loneliness of him afterwards dick bryant the bar y foreman walked straight up to balshannon britisher said he you may be a sojourner and we hopes you are a whole lot but there's no need to be a stranger so they shook hands and that was the beginning of a big friendship then balshannon turned to the crowd and looked slowly from face to face of us gentlemen he said kind of feeble and we saw his face go gray while he spoke i'm much obliged to you all for a c for coming
it seems indeed ah that my little son jim and i have made friends and um neighbors i'm sorry that you should find my camp in such a beastly mess but there's some fairly decent whiskey in this nearest wagon and ah the man was reeling and his eyes seemed blind when we get to my new ranch at holy cross i-i hope you'll friends ah and and he dropped in a dead faint so long as i stay alive i shall remember that night the smell of the dead horses the silence the smoke of our fire going up straight to a white sky of stars the bar y people in pairs lying wrapped in their blankets around the wagons the reliefs of riders going out on guard the cold towards dawn the little boy jim had curled up beside me because he felt lonesome in the wagon balshannon lay by the fire his mind straying away off beyond our range often he muttered but i could not catch the words and sometimes said something aloud which sounded like nonsense it must have been midnight when all of a sudden he sat bolt upright
calling out loud enough to waken half the camp ryan he shouted don't disturb him ryan he's upstairs dyin if you fire the shock will ryan don't shoot ryan then with a groan he fell back i moistened his lips with cold tea all right he whispered thanks helen for a long time he lay muttering while i held his hands you see helen he whispered now that you nor the child could be safe in ireland ryan killed my father he seemed to fall asleep after that and counting by the stars an hour went by then he looked straight at me you see dear i turned them out of their farms and ryan wants his revenge towards morning i put some sticks on the fire which crackled a lot go easy jim i heard him say don't waste our cartridges poor little chap day broke at last the cook was astir and the men rode in from herd i dropped off to sleep it was noon before the heat awakened me and i sat up to find the fire still burning but lord balshannon gone
i saw his wagons trailing off across the desert dick bryant was at the fire lighting his pipe with the coal wal said he you've been lettin out enough sleep through yo nose to run an engin goin to make this yo home the camp's moved sure i've sent the britisher's wagons down to holy cross he bought the place from a mexican last month is it far about twenty mile i've been down there this morning i reckon the people there had smelt apaches and run it was empty and that's why i'm making this talk to you i can't spare my men after to-day and i don't calculate to leave a sick man and a little boy thar alone i'll stay with them said i that's good talk if y'all need help by day make a big smoke on the roof or if it's night just make a flare of fire i'll keep my outfit near enough to see you reckon there'll be indians none that was a stray band and what's left of it ain't feelin good enough to want scalps but when i got to holy cross this mornin i seen this paper and some tracks of the man who left it nailed on the door
i said nothing to my boys and the britisher had worries enough already to keep him interested but you ought to know what's coming in case of trouble here's the paper grave city arizona third february eighteen eighty six my lord This is to tell you that in spite of everything you could do to destroy me, I'm safe in this free country and doing well. I've heard of the horrible crime you committed in driving the poor people from your estate in Ireland, from homes which we and our fathers have loved for a thousand years. Now I call the holy saints to witness that I will do to you as you have done to me and to my people. The time will come when, driven from this your new home, without a roof to cover you, or a crust to eat, your wife and boy turned out to die in the desert. You will plead for even so much as a drink, and it will be thrown in your face.
I shall not die until I have seen the end of your accursed house, signed George Ryan. These Britishers, said Brian, is mostly of two breeds, the lords and the flunkies, and you can judge them by the ways they act. This Mr. Balshannon is a lord, and this year Ryan's a flunk. If a real man feels that his enemy is some superfluous on this earth, he don't make lamentations and posts them up on a door. No, he tracks his enemy to a meeting. He makes his declaration of
war, and when the other gentleman is good and ready, they lets loose with their guns in battle. This Ryan here has the morals of a snake and the right hand of a coward. Do I give this paper, said I, to Mr. Balshannon? It's his business, lad, not ours. But until this lord is well enough to fight. You stands on guard. End of chapter two.
