CHAPTER XXIII
BASHFUL IKE TAKES THE BIT IN HIS TEETH
There was great commotion at Silver Ranch when Jib Pottoway (on a fresh horse he had picked up at the riverside cow camp) rode madly to the ranch-house with the news of what was afoot so far away across Rolling River. From Old Bill down, the friends of Ruth were horror-stricken that she should so recklessly (or, so it seemed) expose herself to the contagion of the fever.
"And for a person who is absolutely nothing to her at all!" wailed Jennie Stone. "Ruth is utterly reckless."
"She is utterly brave," said Madge, sharply.
"She has the most grateful heart in the world," Helen declared. "He saved her life in the canon—you remember it, Mary. Of course she could not leave the poor creature to die there alone."
The Fox had turned pallid and seemed horrified. But she was silent while all the others about the ranch-house, from Old Bill Hicks down to Maria the cook, were voluble indeed. The ranchman might have laid violent hands upon Jib Pottoway, only there was so much to do. Such simple medicines as there were in the house were packed to take to Tintacker. Old Bill determined to go over himself, but he would not allow any of the young folks to go.
"And you kin bet," he added, "that you'll see Jane Ann come back here a-whizzin'!"
The unfortunate Jib had enough to do to answer questions. The girls would not let him go until he had told every particular of the finding of the man at Tintacker.
"Was he just crazy?" queried Heavy.
"I don't know whether he's been loony all the time he's been hanging around the mines, or not," growled the Indian. "But I'm mighty sure he's loco now."
"If that was him who shot the bear up in the canon that day, he didn't appear to be crazy enough to hurt," said Helen.
"But is this the same man?" queried Mary Cox, and had they not all been so busy pumping Jib of the last particular regarding the adventure, they might have noticed that The Fox was very pale.
When Jib first rode up, however, and told his tale, Bashful Ike Stedman had set to work to run the big touring car out of the shed in which it was kept. During the time the young folk had been at Silver Ranch from the East, the foreman had learned from Tom and Bob how to run the car, It came puffing up to the door now, headed toward the Bullhide trail.
"What in tarnashun you goin' ter do with that contarption, Ike?" bawled Mr. Hicks. "I can't go to Tintacker in it."
"No, yuh can't, Boss. But I kin go to Bullhide for the sawbones in it, and bring him back, too. We kin git as far as the Rolling River camp in the old steam engine—if she don't break down. Then we'll foller on arter yuh a-hawseback."
"You won't git no doctor to come 'way out there," gasped the ranch owner.
"Won't I?" returned the foreman. "You wait and see. Ruthie says a doctor's got to be brought for that feller, and I'm goin' to git Doc. Burgess if I hafter rope an' hogtie him—you hear me!"
The engine began to pop again and the automobile rolled away from the ranchhouse before Mr. Hicks could enter any further objections, or any of the young folk could offer to attend Ike on his long trip. Fortunately Tom and Bob had seen to it that the machine was in excellent shape, there was plenty of gasoline in the tank, and she ran easily over the trail.
At the Crossing Ike was hailed by Sally Dickson. Sally had been about to mount her pony for a ride, but when the animal saw the automobile coming along the trail he started on the jump for the corral, leaving Miss Sally in the lurch.
"Well! if that ain't just like you, Ike Stedman!" sputtered the red-haired schoolma'am. "Bringin' that puffin' abomination over this trail. Ain't you afraid it'll buck and throw yuh?"
"I got it gentled—it'll eat right off yuh hand," grinned the foreman of Silver Ranch.
"And I was going to ride in to Bullhide," exclaimed Sally. "I won't be able to catch the pony in a week."
"You hop in with me, Sally," urged Ike, blushing very red. "I'm goin' to Bullhide."
"Go joy-ridin' with you, Mr. Stedman?" responded the schoolma'am. "I don't know about that. Are you to be trusted with that automobile?"
"I tell yuh I got it gentled," declared Ike. "And I got to be moving on mighty quick." He told Sally why in a few words and immediately the young lady was interested.
"That Ruth Fielding! Isn't she a plucky one for a Down-East girl? But she's too young to nurse that sick man. And she'll catch the fever herself like enough."
"Hope not," grunted Ike. "That would be an awful misfortune. She's the nicest little thing that ever grazed on this range—yuh hear me!'
"Well," said Sally, briskly. "I got to go to town and I might as well take my life in my hands and go with you, Ike," and she swung herself into the seat beside him.
Ike started the machine again. He was delighted. Never before had Sally Dickson allowed him to be alone with her more than a scant few moments at a time. Ike began to swallow hard, the perspiration stood on his brow and he grew actually pale around the mouth. It seemed to him as though everything inside of him rose up in his throat. As he told about it long afterward, if somebody had shot him through the body just then it would only have made a flesh-wound!
"Sally!" he gasped, before her father's store and the schoolhouse were out of sight.
"Why, Ike! what's the matter with you? Are you sick?"
"N-no! I ain't sick," mumbled the bashful one.
"You're surely not scared?' demanded Sally. "There hasn't anything happened wrong to this automobile?"
"No, ma'am."
"Are you sure? It bumps a whole lot—Ugh! It's not running away, is it?"
"I tell yuh it's tame all right," grunted Ike.
"Then, what's the matter with you, Ike Stedman?" demanded the school-mistress, with considerable sharpness.
"I—I'm suah in love with yuh, Sally! That's what's the matter with me. Now, don't you laugh—I mean it."
"Well, my soul!" exclaimed the practical Sally, "don't let it take such a hold on you, Ike. Other men have been in love before—or thought they was—and it ain't given 'em a conniption fit."
"I got it harder than most men," Ike was able to articulate. "Why, Sally, I love you so hard that it makes me ache!"
The red-haired school-mistress looked at him for a silent moment. Her eyes were pretty hard at first; but finally a softer light came into them and a faint little blush colored her face.
"Well, Ike! is that all you've got to say?" she asked.
"Why—why, Sally! I got lots to say, only it's plugged up and I can't seem to get it out," stammered Ike. "I got five hundred head o' steers, and I've proven on a quarter-section of as nice land as there is in this State and there's a good open range right beside it yet"
"I never did think I'd marry a bunch o' steers," murmured Sally.
"Why—why, Sally, punchin' cattle is about all I know how to do well," declared Bashful Ike. "But you say the word and I'll try any business you like better."
"I wouldn't want you to change your business, Ike," said Sally, turning her head away. "But—but ain't you got anything else to offer me but those steers?"
"Why—why," stammered poor Ike again. "I ain't got nothin' else but myself"
She turned on him swiftly with her face all-smiling and her eyes twinkling.
"There, Ike Stedman!" she ejaculated in her old, sharp way. "Have you finally got around to offering yourself? My soul! if you practiced on every girl you met for the next hundred years you'd never learn how to ask her to marry you proper. I'd better take you, Ike, and save the rest of the female tribe a whole lot of trouble."
"D'ye mean it, Sally?" cried the bewildered and delighted foreman of Silver Ranch.
"I sure do."
"Ye-yi-yip!" yelled Ike, and the next moment the big touring car wabbled all over the trail and came near to dumping the loving pair into the gully.