



Produced by Al Haines









[Illustration: Cover art]





[Frontispiece: 'THEN BEGAN A TERRIBLE FIGHT BETWEEN THE MAN AND THE
HORSE.'  _Page_ 124.





LEFT ON THE PRAIRIE



BY

M. B. COX (NOEL WEST).




_ILLUSTRATED BY A. PEARCE_




LONDON:

WELLS GARDNER, BARTON & CO.,

3, PATERNOSTER BUILDINGS, & 44, VICTORIA STREET, S.W.

1899.




CONTENTS.


CHAPTER

    I.  AT LONGVIEW
   II.  JACK IN TROUBLE
  III.  JACK'S RESOLUTION
   IV.  JACK STARTS ON HIS JOURNEY
    V.  JACK GOES IN SEARCH OF <DW65>
   VI.  JACK IS DESERTED
  VII.  JACK IS RESCUED
 VIII.  WHAT JACK LEARNED FROM PEDRO
   IX.  JACK ARRIVES AT SWIFT CREEK RANCH
    X.  JACK'S VISIT AT SWIFT CREEK RANCH
   XI.  JACK CROSSES THE RANGE WITH CHAMPION JOE
  XII.  AT LAST!




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.


'THEN BEGAN A TERRIBLE FIGHT BETWEEN THE MAN AND THE HORSE'......
... _Frontispiece_

'JACK COULD HELP HIS FATHER, TOO, WHEN HE ARRIVED HOME'

'HE RUSHED OFF TO THE WOODSHED, AND WEPT AS IF HIS HEART WOULD BREAK'

'HE GOT OUT OF HIS WINDOW'

'JACK STRUCK UP "FOR EVER WITH THE LORD"'

'"YOU'D BETTER NOT COME BACK WITHOUT THE HORSE"'

'JACK FOUGHT HARD, BUT THEY WERE TOO MANY FOR HIM'

'"HERE," SAID THE MEXICAN, "DRINK THIS"'

'PEDRO LET THE NOOSE FALL OVER SENOR'S NECK'

'JACK MADE HIMSELF USEFUL'

'CARRYING HIM INTO A NICE WARM ROOM'

'THROUGH A DENSE FOREST OF PINES'

'JACK RUSHED INTO THE MIDST OF THE HORSES TOWARDS A YELLOW-COATED
BRONCHO'

'"OH, MOTHER DARLING!  I AIN'T DEAD, AND I'VE FOUND YOU AT LAST!"'




LEFT ON THE PRAIRIE.



CHAPTER I.

AT LONGVIEW.

Little Jack Wilson had been born in England; but when he was quite a
baby his parents had sailed across the sea, taking him with them, and
settled out on one of the distant prairies of America.  Of course, Jack
was too small when he left to remember anything of England himself, but
as he grew older he liked to hear his father and mother talk about the
old country where he and they had been born, and to which they still
seemed to cling with great affection.  Sometimes, as they looked
out-of-doors over the burnt-up prairie round their new home, his father
would tell him about the trim green fields they had left so far behind
them, and say with a sigh, 'Old England was like a _garden_, but this
place is nothing but a _wilderness_!'

Longview was the name of the lonely western village where George
Wilson, his wife, and Jack had lived for eight years, and although we
should not have thought it a particularly nice place, they were very
happy there.  Longview was half-way between two large mining towns,
sixty miles apart, and as there was no railway in those parts, the
people going to and from the different mines were obliged to travel by
waggons, and often halted for a night at Longview to break the journey.

It was a very hot and dusty village in summer, as there were no nice
trees to give pleasant shade from the sun, and the staring rows of
wooden houses that formed the streets had no gardens in front to make
them look pretty.  In winter it was almost worse, for the cold winds
came sweeping down from the distant mountains and rushed shrieking
across the plains towards the unprotected village.  They whirled the
snow into clouds, making big drifts, and whistled round the frame
houses as if threatening to blow them right away.

Jack was used to it, however, and, in spite of the heat and cold, was a
happy little lad.  His parents had come to America, in the first place,
because times were so bad in England, and secondly, because Mrs.
Wilson's only sister had emigrated many years before them to Longview,
and had been so anxious to have her relations near her.

Aunt Sue, as Jack called her, had married very young, and accompanied
her husband, Mat Byrne, to the West.  He was a miner, and when he
worked got good wages; but he was an idle, thriftless fellow, who soon
got into disfavour with his employers, and a year or two after the
Wilsons came he took to drink, and made sad trouble for his wife and
his three boys.  George Wilson had expostulated with him often, and
begged him to be more steady, but Mat was jealous of his honest
brother-in-law, who worked so hard and was fairly comfortable, and
therefore he resented the kind words of advice, and George was obliged
to leave him alone.

George Wilson made his living by freighting--that is, carrying goods
from place to place by waggons, as there was no rail by which to send
things.  Sometimes, when he took extra long journeys, he would have to
leave his wife and boy for some weeks to keep each other company.

'Take care of your mother, Jack, my boy,' he would say, before
starting.  'She has no man to look after her or do things for her but
ye till I get home.'  And right well did the little fellow obey orders.
He was a most helpful boy for his age, and was devoted to his mother,
who was far from strong.  He got up early every morning, and did what
are called the _chores_ in America; these are all the small daily jobs
that have to be done in and around a house.  First, he chopped wood and
lit a fire in the stove; after that he carried water in a bucket and
filled the kettle, and then leaving the water to boil, he laid the
breakfast-table and ground the coffee.

When breakfast was over, he ran off to school, and afterwards had many
a good romp with his cousins, Steve, Hal, and Larry Byrne, who lived
quite close to his home.  Jack was very fond of his Aunt Sue; she was
so like his gentle mother.  He often ran in to see her, but he always
fled when he heard his Uncle Mat coming, whose loud, rough voice
frightened him.

Jack was very sorry for his cousins, as they did not seem to care a bit
for their father; indeed, at times they were very much afraid of him,
and Steve, the eldest, who was a big fellow, nearly sixteen, told Jack
that if it wasn't for his mother, he would run away from home and go
off to be a cowboy, instead of working as a miner with his father.  But
he knew what a sad trouble it would be to the poor woman if he went
away from her, and he was too good a son to give her pain.

When his father was away freighting, Jack, even while he was at play,
kept a good look-out across the prairie, watching every day for his
return.  He could see for miles, and when he spied the white top of the
familiar waggon appearing in the distance, he would rush home shouting,
'Mother!  Mother!  Daddy's coming!  I see the waggon ever such a long
way off.'  And then the two would get to work and prepare a nice supper
for him.

Jack could help his father, too, when he arrived home, for there were
four tired horses to unharness, and water, and feed.  Jack knew them
all well; Buck and Jerry in front as leaders, and Rufus and Billy
harnessed to the waggon.  George Wilson was very proud of his horses,
and they certainly had a good master, for he always looked after them
first, and saw them comfortably into their stable before he began his
own supper.

[Illustration: 'JACK COULD HELP HIS FATHER, TOO, WHEN HE ARRIVED HOME.']

Trouble, however, was dawning over the happy household.  The life in
the hot village had never suited Mrs. Wilson, and it told on her more
as time went on.  She looked white and thin, and felt so tired and
weary if she did any work, that her husband got alarmed and brought in
a doctor to see her.  The doctor frightened him still more.  He said
the place was slowly killing her, as the air was so close and hot.

'You must take her away at once,' he said emphatically, 'if you want to
save her life.  She has been here too long, I fear, as it is.  Go away
to the mountains and try the bracing air up there; she may come back
quite strong after a year there if she avoids all unnecessary fatigue.
Take my advice and go as soon as you can.  There's no time to lose!'

These words came as an awful shock to George Wilson, who had no idea
his wife was so ill, and had hoped a few bottles of tonic from the
doctor would restore her failing strength.  But the medical warning
could not be disregarded, and he could see for himself now how fast she
was wasting away.  They must go away from Longview as soon as possible.

It was a sad thing for the Wilsons to contemplate the breaking up of
their home, but there was no help for it.  They talked matters well
over, and came at last to the conclusion that it would be better not to
take Jack with them.  They would probably be moving on from place to
place, and in a year he would forget all he had learnt at school.
After a long consultation with Aunt Sue, it was arranged that Jack
should stay at the Byrnes' house and keep on at his lessons, his Uncle
Mat having given his consent after hearing the Wilsons would pay well
for his keep.

George Wilson and his wife felt keenly the idea of leaving Jack, and it
was agreed that if they decided to stay in the mountains altogether,
someone should be found who would take the boy to them.

It was terrible breaking the news to poor little Jack that his parents
were going away from him, and for a time he was quite inconsolable.
His father talked very kindly and quietly to him, and at last made him
see that the arrangement was really all for the best.

'Ye see, Jack,' he said, 'the doctor says your mother is seriously ill,
an' the only chance for her is to take her off to the mountains.'

'Can't I go too, Daddy?' pleaded Jack, with tears in his eyes.  'I'll
do such lots o' work.'

'No, my lad; it won't do for ye to miss yer schoolin', as ye'd be bound
to do if ye came wanderin' about with us.  It's only fur a year, so ye
must try an' be a brave boy, an' stay with yer good Aunt Sue until we
come back agin or send fur ye.  We know what's best fur ye, an',
laddie, won't it be fine if Mother gets strong and well agin?'

'Aye, dad!  That would be grand!' said Jack, brightening up.

'Well, it's a sad partin' fur us all; but there's nothin' else to be
done, an' ye must try an' keep up a good heart fur yer mother's sake,
as I doubt she'll fret sadly o'er leavin' ye.'

Jack promised to be brave, but there was a troubled look on his usually
bright face as he watched the rapid preparations going on for the
departure.  The things had to be sold out of the house, as they could
not take much with them.  The sale at first excited Jack, as so many
people came to buy; but when he saw their furniture, beds, chairs and
tables all being carried oft by strangers, he realized fully what the
breaking up of his home meant, and it made him feel very sad.

There was a lot to be done.  Jack went with his father to buy a stock
of provisions for their long journey, and then they tried to make the
clumsy waggon as comfortable as possible for the sick mother.  Aunt Sue
packed up, as her sister was so weak, and the trial of leaving Jack was
proving almost too much for her slender stock of strength.  All the
same, she bravely tried to hide the pain the parting gave her, and for
her boy's sake tried to be cheerful even to the last.

Alone with Aunt Sue, she opened her heart, and received true sympathy
in her trouble from that good woman, who knew well that the chief
sorrow to her sister was the fear she might never see her little lad
again.

'You mustn't get so down-hearted, Maggie,' said Mrs. Byrne kindly, 'but
hope for the best.  I have heard the air in them mountains is just
wonderful to cure cases like yours, and perhaps ye'll get quite strong
afore long.'

'If it pleases God,' said her sister gently.  'And now, Sue, ye'll
promise me to look well after Jack.  I know ye're fond o' him fur his
own sake as well as mine; but I'm feared if Mat gets one o' his mad
fits on he might treat him badly.'

'Don't you fear, Maggie,' returned Mrs. Byrne soothingly; 'I'll treat
him as one o' my boys, an' ye know I manage to keep them out o' their
father's way when he's too quarrelsome.  Besides, Mat knows as ye're
payin' well for Jack, and that, if naught else, will keep him civil to
the lad.'

'I hope so,' murmured the mother sadly; 'an' if all goes well we'll
have our boy with us again in a year.'

'Aye, a year'll go quick enough, never fear!' concluded her sister
cheerfully; 'an' Jack'll get on finely at his schoolin' in that time.'

The night before they started came, and Jack, who had gone early to
bed, lay sobbing quietly to himself, quite unable to go to sleep.
Before long his mother came softly into the room and stood beside him.
She noticed the flushed, tear-stained face on the pillow, and exclaimed
in a grieved voice, 'Oh, Jack, darling, don't take on so!  It'll break
my heart if I think o' ye frettin' all the time.'

'I can't help it, Mother!' cried Jack.  'What shall I do without Dad
an' ye?'

'Ye must think o' the meeting ahead, dearie.  P'raps if Daddy does well
in this new part of the country, an' I can get strong again, we may
make our home up near the grand mountains as ye've never seen.  It's so
different from this hot prairie, fur there are big trees to shade ye
from the sun, an' little brooks, called creeks, running down the sides
of the hills.'

'Aye, I'd like to go an' live up thar,' cried Jack.  'I hope ye'll send
fur me soon, an' I'll try an' be good.  I do love Aunt Sue, but I'm
scared o' Uncle Mat at times.'

'Never fear, Jack,' said his mother, putting her arms round him; 'Aunt
Sue'll see as ye come to no harm.  But, oh! dearie, how I wish I could
take ye with me!'  And the poor woman broke down and mingled her tears
with Jack's.

But the boy suddenly remembered his promise to his father, and, knowing
how bad the excitement was for his mother, he made