Ralphson George Harvey - Boy Scouts on the Open Plains; The Round-Up Not Ordered стр 10.

Is your father a rancher, then, Amos? Jack went on to ask, idly.

The boy grinned and looked at him queerly.

Well, he replied, with a quaint drawl that amused the scouts, I dont know as you could call him that way, exactly. Hes been cow puncher, and nigh everything else a man cn be down thisaway to make a livin. Me and my awful dad we dont git on well. Thats one reason I genrally skips out when he takes a notion to lay round home for a spell. He knows right well I aint afeard of him, if he has got the name of bein a holy terror. I happen to belong to the same fambly. Sides, he aint what youd call my real and true dad.

Oh! I see, you adopted him, did you, Amos? Jack asked, laughingly.

My mam she married agin after pop he was planted, and they went an changed my name from

Scroggins to Adams. I dont know which I likes best; but Scroggins thats honest, anyway, which Adams aint leastways some people around this region say it aint. When I grows up I reckon Ill be a Scroggins, or else get a new name.

Again the scouts exchanged amused glances. Amos was certainly a most entertaining little chap, with his quaint sayings.

Now, you see, dad never comes home alone any more, but fetches some of his cronies along with him, and theres unpleasant scenes ahappenin all the time; which is one of the reasons why I skip out. They gets to drinkin, too, purty hard, till mam she has to douse a bucket of water over each puncher, and start em off. Mam she dont approve of the kinds of business that dad takes up. But he keeps amakin these here visits to home further apart all the while, cause things aint as pleasant as they might be. Some time mebbe he wont come no more. Im bankin on that, which is one reason I aint never laid a hand on him when he gets roarin like a mad bull. There are others, too, but I wont mention the same.

Amos had apparently been very frank with his new friends. He seemed to have taken a great fancy for them all, and, in turn, asked many questions concerning their expected visit to Harrys uncle on Double Cross Ranch, which place he knew very well.

The conversation by degrees became general, and finally the scouts went on to talk about their own affairs. During this exchange of opinions, it happened that the name of Clem Parsons was mentioned by Ned. Perhaps it would be hardly fair to call it chance, when in reality the scout master wanted to find out whether the kid puncher seemed to be familiar with the name of the man whom the Government authorities in Washington wished him to round up.

The bait took, for immediately he heard Amos say:

Whats that, Clem Parsons? Say, I happen to know a man by that name, and hes been over to our house lots of times, too.

Then hes a puncher, is he? asked Ned.

Well, I reckon he has been bout everything in his day, for Ive heard him say so, came the reply. He rides with my awful dad, an they seem to git on together, which is some queer, because most of em is that skeered o dad they tries to steer clear o him.

My! but this dad of yours must be a grizzly bear, Amos? remarked Jimmy, who had been greatly impressed with what he heard the boy say.

Just you wait till you see him, thats all, was what Amos told him. Mam, she reckons as how twas this same Clem Parsons as had got dad to ridin round the kentry doin things that might git him into trouble, an she hates him like pizen, for the same. Since they got to goin together, dad hes allers showing plenty of the long-green, which he never handled before. But I aint tellin fambly secrets, and I reckons Id better shut up shop.

He had said enough, however, to convince Ned and Jack that he strongly suspected his step-father of having joined forces with a band of cattle thieves who were stealing the fattest beeves neighboring ranchers owned, and selling them on the side.

There is always this temptation existing when cattle are raised on the range, often feeding for days and weeks many miles away from the ranch house, and scattered among the little valleys where the grass grows greenest. In the darkness of the night, a few of these experienced rustlers can cut out what they want of a herd, and drive them far away, effectually concealing the trail. Then the brands are changed adroitly, and the cattle shipped away to be sold in a distant market.

So long as this lawless business can be carried on successfully, it brings in big money to the reckless rustlers; but if discovered in the act they are usually treated with scant ceremony by the angry punchers and shot down like wolves.

To some men the fascination of the life causes them to ignore its perils. Then besides, the fact that money pours in upon them with so little effort, is a temptation they are unable to resist. So long as there are ranches, and cattle to be raised for the market, there will be men who go wrong and try to get a fat living off those who do the work.

It did not surprise Ned to learn that this clever rascal, whom he had been asked to look up and apprehend if possible, had for the time being forsaken the counterfeiting game and started on a new lay. Clem Parsons was no one idea man. His past fairly bristled with shrewd devices, whereby he deluded the simple public and eluded the detectives sent out by the Secret Service to enmesh him.