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A Field Guide to the Distributed
Development Stack
A Field Guide to the Distributed Development Stack
by Andrew Odewahn
Copyright © 2014 Andrew Odewahn. All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America.
Published by O’Reilly Media, Inc., 1005 Gravenstein Highway North, Sebasto‐
pol, CA 95472.
O’Reilly books may be purchased for educational, business, or sales promo‐
tional use. Online editions are also available for most titles ( http://safaribook‐
sonline.com ). For more information, contact our corporate/institutional sales
department: 800-998-9938 or [email protected] .

Editor: Andrew Odewahn

Copyeditor: Amanda Kersey
Interior Designer: David Futato
Cover Designer: Edie Freedman
October 2014: First Edition
Revision History for the First Edition
2004-10-01: First Release

While the publisher and the author(s) have used good faith efforts to ensure
that the information and instructions contained in this work are accurate, the
publisher and the author(s) disclaim all responsibility for errors or omissions,
including without limitation responsibility for damages resulting from the use
of or reliance on this work. Use of the information and instructions contained
in this work is at your own risk. If any code samples or other technology this
work contains or describes is subject to open source licenses or the intellec‐
tual property rights of others, it is your responsibility to ensure that your use
thereof complies with such licenses and/or rights.

978-1-491-91658-2
[LSI]
 Table of Contents

Introduction 1
How to Contribute 3

The Cloud Is the Default Platform 5

Traditional Cloud Providers 6
Hosted PaaS 6
Internal Services 7
For More Information 8

CI Servers Deploy Code, Not Ops 9

Tools 10
Continuous Deployment 11

The Codebase Is in Git 13

Tools 14

The Entire Application Runs Locally in Development 17

Tools 17

The Environment Is Automated in the Code 21

iii
 Tools 22
For More Information 23

The Monitoring Infrastructure Is Critical 25

Tools 26

Tests Done in Code, Not by a QA Department 29

Tools 29

Containerization for Production Services 31

Real-time Chat and Chatbots 35

Chat 37
Chatbots 37
For More Information 38

Appendix: Contributors 39

Survey 41

iv | Table of Contents
 Introduction

This project began while we were developing Atlas (https://

atlas.oreilly.com/), O’Reilly Media’s next-generation publishing
tool. It seemed like every day we were finding interesting new
tools in the DevOps space, so I started a “Sticky” for the most
interesting-looking tools so I could explore them later.

At first, this worked fine. I was content to simply keep a list,

where my only ordering criteria was “Huh, that looks cool.
Someday when I have time, I’ll take a look at that,” in the same
way you might buy an exercise DVD and then only occasion‐
ally pull it out and think “Huh, someday I’ll get to that.” But, as

1
anyone who has watched DevOps for any length of time can
tell you, it’s a space bursting with interesting and exciting new
tools, so my list and guilt quickly got out of hand.
Once I reached the limits of the Sticky as a medium, I started to
look for patterns in my list. Some were obvious. For example,
many of the tools, like Ansible, Salt, or (to a certain extent)
Dockerfiles, fit into a clear infrastructure-automation group
pioneered by Chef, CFEngine, and Puppet. So, too, the many
cloud services.
But where would something like CoreOS, Docker, or Mesos fit?
As I thought about how to group them, they seemed somehow
tied up with the notion of containerization, but that just
seemed too narrow. Rather, these projects and tools were part
of a much larger trend — enabling clustering and distributed
computing—and containerization was just a piece. So, rather
than group by technology, it made sense to me to group by
trend—in other words, what did the tool enable, and why was
that trend important?
Simultaneously, other people at O’Reilly were also exploring
this same question, but from a different perspective. In "Every‐
thing is distributed (http://radar.oreilly.com/2014/05/everything-
is-distributed.html),” Courtney Nash, the chair of Velocity
(http://velocityconf.com/), was asking “how do we manage sys‐
tems that are too large to understand, too complex to control,
and that fail in unpredictable ways.” In "Beyond the stack
(http://radar.oreilly.com/2014/05/beyond-the-stack.html),” Mike
Loukides was thinking about how “a new toolset has grown up
to support the development of massively distributed applica‐
tions,” and described the profound consequences that the shift
from well-tended, internal servers to disposable VMs was hav‐
ing on the traditional “LAMP” stack. (As well as its hipster
cousin, the MEAN stack (http://meanjs.org/).)
So, it’s from this context that my Sticky list grew into this Field
Guide to the Distributed Development Stack (http://

2 | Introduction
sites.oreilly.com/odewahn/dds-field-guide/). The Guide is
organized into buckets based on a general observation, such as:

• The cloud is the default platform (http://

sites.oreilly.com/odewahn/dds-field-guide/ch02.html)
• CI servers deploy code, not ops (http://
sites.oreilly.com/odewahn/dds-field-guide/ch03.html)
• The codebase is in git (http://sites.oreilly.com/
odewahn/dds-field-guide/ch04.html)
• The entire application runs locally in development
(http://sites.oreilly.com/odewahn/dds-field-guide/
ch05.html)
• The environment is automated in the code (http://
sites.oreilly.com/odewahn/dds-field-guide/ch06.html)
• The monitoring infrastructure is critical (http://
sites.oreilly.com/odewahn/dds-field-guide/ch07.html)
• Tests done in code, not by a QA department (http://
sites.oreilly.com/odewahn/dds-field-guide/ch08.html)
In addition to being a (hopefully) useful framework, the Guide
is also meant to be a living resource. So, we’ve put the source on
GitHub (https://github.com/odewahn/dds-field-guide) and
invite you to contribute. If you feel like we’ve missed a tool
(which we most certainly have, since new things are popping
up every day) or a major theme, then fork the repo and send
me a pull request. We’ll be keeping this document up to date
and republishing it as we watch this trend continue to grow.
We’ll use O’Reilly Atlas to pull in the contributions and period‐
ically republish the guide.
This is still very much a work-in-progress, but I hope it will be
a resource you’ll add to your own Sticky collection.

How to Contribute
To contribute to the DDS field guide: Fork this repo Agree to
the O’Reilly Contributor License Agreement (http://

How to Contribute | 3
contributor-agreements.oreilly.com/) Add your tool / contribution
Submit a pull request
If your request is accepted, we’ll add you to the Contributors
page.

Making a larger contribution

If you want to make a suggestion or contribution that is larger
than just a single tool, it might make sense to begin the conver‐
sation as a GitHub issue, rather than a pull request. For exam‐
ple, if you want to add a new theme, or want to add a major
narrative section, it would be good to discuss that first to make
sure it’s suitable for the guide. While I certainly don’t want to
limit what people contribute in any way, it’s also the case that
this guide will be centrally curated by me and other O’Reilly
contributors.

4 | Introduction
 The Cloud Is the Default Platform

The accelerating transition to distributed, cloud-based plat‐

forms is one of the main drivers of the DDS trend. Organiza‐
tions have adopted these services for a number of reasons: cost
savings, increased speed for launching new projects, and scala‐
bility, to name just a few.
But, whatever the reasons for adoption, the default platform for
many applications is increasingly assumed to be a transient,
virtual, cloud-based platform, rather than a traditional server
maintained by an internal IT group. Even in cases where the
virtualization/PaaS solution is maintained in an internal cloud,
the net effect is much the same.
The various platforms you’re likely to encounter in this new
world can be divided into three main groups:

• Traditional cloud providers. These allow you to

quickly create storage or computing power as
needed.
• Hosted PaaS services. These are value-added services
built on top of raw hosting providers. For example, a
PaaS might allow you to easily spin up a machine
based on a particular stack when you deploy your
application.

5
 • Internal cloud and PaaS services.
These are tools and services you’re likely to encounter here:

Traditional Cloud Providers

There are lots of hosting services. Here are some of the more
popular:

• Amazon Web Services (http://aws.amazon.com/).

AWS is probably the original model for pay-as-you-
go infrastructure and remains one of the leading
cloud platforms.
• Google Compute Engine (https://cloud.google.com/
products/compute-engine/). Google’s cloud platform,
which has become much more compelling now that
they have open sourced their cluster management
tools (http://googlecloudplatform.blogspot.com/
2014/06/an-update-on-container-support-on-google-
cloud-platform.html).
• Azure (http://www.windowsazure.com/). Microsoft’s
cloud offering.
• Rackspace cloud (https://mycloud.rackspace.com/).
The cloud offering from Rackspace is mostly about
compute power and storage. The API is well done,
and the customer service is generally outstanding.
Overall, though, it’s not as full-featured as AWS.

Hosted PaaS
Hosted PaaS services add a layer on top of the raw offerings of
hosting providers:

• Heroku (https://www.heroku.com/). A PaaS service

built on top of AWS. Unlike AWS, which gives you a
raw machine, Heroku allows the developer to push

6 | The Cloud Is the Default Platform

 an application into the service and have a corre‐
sponding application stack provision for the
machine.
• OpenShift (https://www.openshift.com/) is a cloud-
hosted PaaS solution developer by RedHat, the com‐
pany behind RHEL (http://www.redhat.com/prod
ucts/enterprise-linux/) Linux distribution.
• Digital Ocean (https://www.digitalocean.com/). A
lower-cost alternative to AWS that says it focuses on
developers. It seems to be what a lot of developers
use for side projects.
• Linode (https://www.linode.com/) is a hosting service
that offers SSD for really fast access.

Internal Services
These are tools that create virtual internal clouds (i.e., on prem‐
ise). While they’re technically running in your own internal
datacenter, they enable the concept of scalable, on-demand
resources:

• Open Stack (https://www.openstack.org/). Open

source software for building private and public
clouds.
• VMWare vCloud Suite (http://www.vmware.com/
products/vcloud-suite/). A tool for running and man‐
aging VMWare images in your own data center.
• Mesos (http://mesos.apache.org/) / Marathon (https://
github.com/mesosphere/marathon) / Chronos
(https://github.com/airbnb/chronos) are a trio of tech‐
nologies for managing and scheduling processes
across a cluster of machines. Apache Mesos provides
the core clustering technology for the stack. Mara‐
thon, from Mesosphere (http://mesosphere.io/), is a
distributed tool for starting, stopping, and managing

Internal Services | 7
 individual jobs on a Mesos cluster. (So, it’s like a dis‐
tributed version of init (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/
Init) or upstart (http://upstart.ubuntu.com/)). Chro‐
nos, developed by Airbnb’s engineering team, is a
distributed, fault-tolerant replacement for cron (the
classic UNIX job scheduling tool) for scheduling
when jobs will start.
• OpenShift Origin (https://openshift.github.io/) is an
open source version of RedHat’s Open Shift plat‐
form.

For More Information

You can find more important background at The Twelve Factor
App (http://12factor.net/).

8 | The Cloud Is the Default Platform

 CI Servers Deploy Code, Not Ops

Martin Fowler defines continuous deployment (http://

www.martinfowler.com/articles/continuousIntegration.html) as
“a software development practice where members of a team
integrate their work frequently, usually each person integrates
at least daily - leading to multiple integrations per day.” This
seminal article defines the key best practices as:

• Maintain a single source repository.

• Automate the build.
• Make your build self-testing.
• Everyone commits to the mainline every day.
• Every commit should build the mainline on an inte‐
gration machine.
• Keep the build fast.
• Test in a clone of the production environment.
• Make it easy for anyone to get the latest executable.
• Everyone can see what’s happening.
• Automate deployment.
The CI server executes a specific action on a repository when it
receives a commit hook. For example, if a developer makes a
commit against a repository called foo, the CI server might:

9
 • Clone down a local copy of foo.
• Execute foo’s test suites (see the section on applica‐
tion stacks for more about this).
• If the tests fail, send an alert to the development
team and halt the process.
• If the test suite passes, deploy the code to a staging
or even production server.

Tools
Here are a few of the CI servers you might encounter:

• Hudson (http://hudson-ci.org/). Hudson is a CI

server from Oracle written in Java.
• Jenkins (http://jenkins-ci.org/). Jenkins, a fork of
Hudson, is one of a leading open source CI servers.
It has a host of useful plug-ins for tasks like build
tasks, error reporting, and repository management.
• Buildbot (http://buildbot.net/). Buildbot is an open
source CI server based on Python.
• Travis (https://travis-ci.org/). Travis is a hosted CI
solution that is used primarily by the Ruby commu‐
nity, particularly Rails.
• Hubot (http://hubot.github.com/). Hubot is a chatbot
from GitHub. It allows you to easily create scripts
that you can use inside your chatroom (e.g., Camp‐
fire or HipChat) to deploy new code, receive mes‐
sages from the build server, or get messages from
your monitoring tools when things go wrong.
• [Shippable] (http://shippable.com/) Shippable is a
hosted CI solution built on Docker with Webhooks.
• [Werker] (http://wercker.com/). Werker is a hosted
CI solution built on Docker with Webhooks.

10 | CI Servers Deploy Code, Not Ops

Continuous Deployment
• [Distelli]
• [Capistrano]

Continuous Deployment | 11
 Another Random Document on
Scribd Without Any Related Topics
 He did not, however, go all the way to the guide’s trapping
grounds, for before he got there he saw enough to indicate that the
thief had not been so far down the stream.
A short distance below the place from which Oscar’s first trap had
been stolen the trail branched off from the brook and led toward the
outer edge of the willows, from which the cabin could be distinctly
seen. The thief had passed along here for half a mile or more, making
frequent halts behind rocks and trees to reconnoitre the camp, and
then the trail ran back across the brook and struck off through the
open valley toward the hill on the opposite side.
After following it long enough to make sure that the thief came
from those hills (remember that he had been following the back trail
all this while), Oscar turned about and went back to the cabin.
Having put his rifle in its place over the door, Oscar sat down to
think about it, and to make up his mind what he ought to do under
the circumstances; and it was while he was thus engaged that a light
step sounded outside the cabin, and the door, which he had left ajar,
was pushed a little further open.
But Oscar did not know it, for he was wholly wrapped up in his
meditations. The first thing that aroused him was the creaking of the
wooden hinges. Then he looked up to see that a shaggy, uncombed
head, covered with a greasy felt hat, had been thrust into the cabin.
Under the hat was a most villainous and repulsive countenance that
Oscar recognized at once.
Knowing the man and the reputation he bore, he jumped to his
feet with an exclamation of astonishment, and made a dash for his
rifle; but at the same instant the door was thrown wide open, and the
tall, slouching figure of Lish the Wolfer barred his way.
 CHAPTER XXXI.
TOM AND HIS PARTNER.

“W ell, if this doesn’t bang me completely! Who in the world

would ever have dreamed of seeing that boy out here? I can’t
describe the feelings I experienced when he first came in sight. I
knew that I was neither asleep nor dreaming, and I was really afraid
that my senses were deserting me. If I haven’t passed through
enough since I left home to unsettle almost anybody’s mind I don’t
want a cent. This much I know—I’ll never be surprised at anything
that happens hereafter.”
It was Tom Preston who spoke. The last time we saw him he was
hurrying into a thicket, with an axe on his shoulder, ostensibly for
the purpose of cutting some wood for the fire, which he had allowed
to burn itself nearly out; but his real object was to get away from his
brother, whose presence he could no longer endure.
He now stood in the edge of the thicket, listening to the echoes
made by the pony’s feet as Oscar rode away from the camp. As soon
as the sound ceased he walked out of the bushes, threw his axe
spitefully down upon the ground, and seated himself on his log
again. He had never been so nearly overcome with rage before in his
life.
“This is a pretty state of affairs, I must say!” he exclaimed aloud.
“Here’s Oscar, with a thousand dollars in clean cash at his command,
a fine hunting rig of his own, a pony to ride, and living like a
gentleman at the fort, with those gold-bespangled officers, who
wouldn’t so much as look at me if they met me on the trail, or even
speak of me, unless it was to say, ‘There goes some worthless
vagabond.’ And he even had the impudence to tell me that he has a
guide, and is going to the mountains in style; while I——It’s a lucky
thing for him that he left his money at the fort,” said Tom, grinding
his teeth in his fury. “I’d have choked some of it out of him in short
order. He must have seen at a glance how miserable I am, and yet he
seemed to take delight in telling me how comfortably he is situated.”
For a long time Tom sat on his log, making himself miserable with
such thoughts as these, and the longer he indulged them the madder
he became. He could see very plainly that there was a wide gulf
between him and his brother, and it hurt him terribly to know that he
had made that gulf by his own acts.
He had never dreamed that there was anything in Oscar, or “Old
Sober Sides,” as he used to call him; but here he was, the associate of
a college faculty and the daily companion of officers who held high
and honorable positions under the government.
As for himself, there was only one person in the world he could
lean upon, or to whom he could look for a kind word; and he was so
low down in the scale of humanity that, had he presumed to intrude
among those with whom Oscar associated on terms of the closest
intimacy, he would have been promptly kicked out of doors.
When Tom thought his brother had been allowed time enough to
ride to the fort, and purchase the blankets and clothing he had
promised to give him, he arose to his feet and walked slowly down
the ravine.
“If there were any way in which I could smash up that expedition
of his, and send him back to the States with as heavy a heart as I
carry at this moment, I’d do it,” said Tom, who was so envious of
Oscar that he would gladly have injured him by every means in his
power; and, this being his state of mind, he was quite eager to fall in
with a plan that was suggested to him a few days afterward. “It must
be broken up, for it would never do to allow him to go back to Eaton
and Yarmouth, and earn honors and money there, while I am out
here in this deplorable condition. I’ll speak to Lish about it as soon as
he comes back.”
While Tom was ready to throw all the obstacles he could in the way
of his brother’s success, he was equally ready to accept from him a
suit of thick clothes and a pair of blankets to keep him warm of
nights. He thought Oscar ought to be on his way back by this time,
and so he was, as Tom found when he reached the mouth of the
ravine.
 He was coming at a gallop along the path that led through the
sage-brush. Tom did not want to meet him again, so he sought a
hasty concealment among the bushes on the side of the ravine
opposite to that on which stood the rock he had described to his
brother.
He heard Oscar pronounce his name and say that he had news for
him, but he could not be coaxed out of his hiding-place. He saw the
bundle that Oscar carried on the horn of his saddle, watched him as
he rode up the bank toward the rock behind which the bundle was to
be left, and wondered what it was that kept him there so long.
He also saw his worthy partner when he went by, and was
somewhat surprised that Lish, whose eyes were as sharp as an
Indian’s, did not see the trail that Oscar’s pony made when passing
through the bushes. Oscar, too, saw the wolfer, as we know, and
made all haste to quit the ravine as soon as he had passed out of
hearing.
“He’s gone at last,” said Tom, as he drew a long breath of relief,
sprang to his feet, and ran across the ravine toward the rock. “If he
had stayed here much longer I should have thought that he was
making the clothes or weaving the blankets for me. Oh, I see what it
was that kept him,” he added, snatching up the note that Oscar had
thrust under the string with which the bundle was tied. “Perhaps I
shall now find out what it was he wanted to tell me, and perhaps, too,
he has been thoughtful enough to put a ten-dollar note into this. No,
he hasn’t! I might have known better than to expect it.”
Tom opened the letter, but there was nothing but writing in it. He
quickly made himself master of its contents; and, after cramming it
into his pocket, untied the bundle, threw out the blankets, which
were on the top, and began a hurried examination of all the pockets
in his new suit; but he did not find what he was looking for—every
one of them was empty.
“He must have hurt himself,” said Tom in great disgust, as he
picked up the blankets, one after the other, and shook them violently
in the air, at the same time keeping a close watch of the ground
under them to see if anything fell out. “A pair of blankets, an
overcoat, and a suit of clothes, but not a cent of money, although he
knows that I stand in great need of it. You haven’t made anything by
this day’s work, Mr. Oscar. Yes, you have,” he added a moment later.
“You have made an implacable enemy of me, and of Lish also; for I
know he will be hopping mad when I read that note to him. I wish I
knew what that ‘affair’ was, for then I could read something to Lish
to make him madder. No matter. I can make up something.”
Although Tom’s rage was greatly increased by the sight of his
brother’s gift—the articles comprising it were not as fine and costly
as he had expected them to be—he did not hesitate to take it. On the
contrary, he made all haste to pull off his threadbare garments and
get inside the new and warmer ones.
He did not abandon his old clothes, but wrapped them up in his
blankets, threw them over his shoulder, and started toward the
bottom of the ravine.
Just as he reached it his steps were arrested by an exclamation of
astonishment that fell upon his ear, and, looking up, he saw Lish the
Wolfer peeping out from behind a rock a little distance away.
“Hello! What brought you back here?” exclaimed Tom. “I thought I
saw you ride toward the camp a quarter of an hour ago.”
“Mebbe ye did,” replied the wolfer, still keeping his position
behind the rock, and showing nothing but his head around the side
of it. “Thar’s been a hoss through this gulch since I went away. But,
see here, pard. Ye don’t look like yerself.”
“Don’t I?” replied Tom, who now walked up and presented himself
before the wolfer. “Well, you can see that it is I, can’t you? Come on.
I’ve a story to tell and a letter to read to you; and if you don’t get mad
and vow vengeance against the one who wrote it, you are not the man
I take you for. Lish, you had an awful row with some fellow last
summer, and injured him seriously, and if you don’t dig out of here
in a little less than no time you’ll be arrested.”
“’Taint no sich thing!” exclaimed Lish, stopping suddenly, and
facing his companion.
Tom saw at once that he had made a mistake. If he had been a
little better acquainted with his partner he never would have accused
him of being in a fight with anybody, for he lacked the courage to
carry him through such an ordeal.
“Well, you are suspected of it, anyway,” said Tom; “and if you stay
here and allow yourself to be taken into custody our trip to the hills is
up stump. But you did steal something,” he added, closely watching
his companion’s face, on which a change at once became visible, “and
I know it.”
That he had hit the nail on the head this time was evident. Lish
turned all sorts of colors, and looked up and down the ravine, and
before and behind him, as if he were trying to make up his mind
which way he would run, in case circumstances rendered it necessary
for him to seek safety in flight.
Finally he backed into the bushes, and said, almost in a whisper:
“Who told ye that story, pard?”
“I will begin at the beginning and tell you all about it,” was Tom’s
reply. “You met a boy on horseback up there in the sage-brush, didn’t
you? Well, that fellow was my brother, whom I supposed to be a long
way from——Don’t interrupt me now,” he exclaimed, when he saw
his companion’s eyes growing larger and his mouth open as if he
were about to speak. “Let me tell my story in my own way, and then I
will answer all the questions you can ask. That was my brother, as I
told you, and he is——”
Here Tom went on to tell, in language the wolfer could easily
comprehend, all about the unexpected meeting between himself and
Oscar, and to repeat, as nearly as he could, the conversation that
passed between them.
He described how his brother happened to be there, told what he
intended to do, how much money he had, and wound up with the
remark that he was soon to start for the hills, with Big Thompson for
a companion.
Then he exhibited the new clothes and blankets that Oscar had
purchased for him, and finally he came to the note, which he read to
suit himself, not forgetting to put in something about the theft Lish
had committed, and going into the particulars of that terrible fight he
was suspected of being engaged in during the previous summer.
It may have been all imagination on Tom’s part, but he really
thought that his companion seemed to grow taller and swell out
considerably when he read that imaginary part of the letter that
related to the fight. He certainly did grow bigger in feeling, if not in
person, for he had never before been suspected of “severely injuring”
anybody, and he regarded it as a high honor. He forgot the strange
story to which he had listened, and became lost in admiration of
himself.
“Mebbe thar’s sunthin’ in that thar account, arter all,” said he,
looking reflectively at the ground. “I’ve had so many of them triflin’
skrimmages, an’ tumbled over so many fellers that I don’t seem to
rightly know which one that thar letter tells on. Don’t amount to
nothin’ when ye gits used to ’em.”
As the wolfer said this he drew himself up to his full height and
looked formidable indeed.
 CHAPTER XXXII.
THE WOLFER’S PLAN.

“I f folks don’t want to git hurt they mustn’t come within reach of
this yere,” continued Lish, tapping the handle of the knife he
wore in his belt.
“I suppose not,” said Tom, who could not help feeling the most
profound contempt for his lying partner. “Now what did you steal?”
“Wal, that thar aint by no means so triflin’,” replied Lish, once
more lowering his voice and glancing suspiciously about him. “I
reckon mebbe we’d best move on an’ change our camp afore one of
them sergeants comes down here with a squad. I seed a young
leftenant down thar to the settlement, an’ I kinder thought he was
arter me by the way he looked; but I had disremembered all about
stealin’ that thar muel from Ike Barker last summer. The kurn knows
it, I reckon.”
“Of course he does!” replied Tom promptly.
“Who told him?”
“My brother did. He’s just that sort.”
“What’s he got ag’in me, do you reckon?” asked Lish, who seemed
to be all in the dark.
“Nothing at all. He wants to injure me, and the only way he can do
it is by breaking up our expedition. He knows that I am going to
make money this winter, and he doesn’t like it. He wants to keep me
away from the hills, and that is the reason he is trying to have you
arrested.”
“I wish I could bring the sights on my rifle an’ the tip eend of his
nose in range for jest half a minute,” said the wolfer in savage tones,
as he came out of the bushes and led the way down the ravine. “I’d
make him think creation was comin’, sure!”
“I don’t want you to shoot at him,” said Tom, who need not have
had any fear on this score. “I only want you to help me serve him as
he is trying to serve me. He is getting on in the world altogether too
fast.”
“Wharabouts in the hills is him an’ Big Thompson goin’?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me.”
“We must watch ’em an’ find out. If we see that they are strikin’ for
our grounds we must shoot their critters an’ stop ’em. Thar aint room
enough in our valley fur me an’ Big Thompson.”
“You don’t like that man, do you? What has he done to you?”
The two worthies had by this time reached the place where Lish
had left his horse. The latter did not answer Tom’s question, but
threw one of his long legs over the pony’s back, and rode toward the
camp, leaving his partner to follow on foot.
He did not even offer to carry Tom’s bundle, for he was too lazy to
make any unnecessary exertion.
While on the way down the ravine Tom made repeated efforts to
find out why it was that Lish hated Oscar’s guide so cordially, but the
answers he received did not let him into the secret of the matter.
All he could learn was that Big Thompson had interfered too much
with the wolfer’s business, and that the latter owed the guide a
grudge for it.
He had never been able to have a settlement with him, but he
would have it the very first time they met.
The facts of the case were that Big Thompson, in his capacity of
government scout, had several times caused the wolfer to be arrested
on the charge of selling arms and ammunition to hostile Indians.
While there was not the least doubt of his guilt, there was no
evidence on which he could be convicted, and he had always been
released, after a short confinement in the guard-house.
This, of course, made Lish very angry, and on one occasion he had
tried to make matters easier for himself, and deprive the government
of a faithful servant at the same time, by sending a ball after Big
Thompson; but the long chase that followed, and the noise of the
bullets which his determined pursuer sent whistling about his ears,
satisfied him that the scout was a good man to be let alone.
He never repeated the experiment, but took the best of care to
keep out of Big Thompson’s sight. The latter had not forgotten this
little incident, and that was the reason he threatened to pull the
wolfer’s hair when he met him.
As soon as Tom and his companion reached their camp, they
packed up the little luggage they possessed, and struck deeper into
the woods.
Two hours afterward they were snugly settled in a thicket on the
side of a bluff, from which they could see the bottom of the ravine for
the distance of half a mile, and thus detect the presence of anyone
who might approach the bluff before they could be seen themselves.
In this camp they passed only their nights, their waking hours
being given to watching the fort from the top of the hill on which the
sage-brush grew. They were waiting to see what Oscar and his guide
were going to do. This was a matter of no little importance to the
wolfer.
Whenever Tom grew down-hearted and discouraged Lish had
always tried to cheer him up by describing to him a beautiful valley
among the hills, in which not only wolves, but game animals of all
kinds were so abundant that one soon grew tired of shooting and
trapping them.
It was true that there was a valley something like this a few days’
journey distant, and it was also true that Oscar’s guide knew as much
about it as Lish did, and that he quite as fully appreciated the
hunting and trapping to be found there.
He had led a party of sportsmen to that very place a summer or
two ago, and his presence there had caused the wolfer to pack up his
skins and leave with the utmost precipitation.
Lish wanted to go to that same valley this winter, and if events
proved that Big Thompson was going there too, he must be stopped
at all hazards. It was too fine a hunting ground to be given up to
anybody.
These days of waiting were very tedious to Tom, who soon grew
tired of lying around in the brush, watching for somebody who never
showed himself. All this while Oscar was enjoying the best of sport,
in company with a select party, coursing antelope and shooting
wolves with the bow and arrow; but Tom and his companion did not
see him when he left the fort or when he came back to it, for the
reason that on both occasions they were soundly asleep in their camp
on the bluff.
Monday morning dawned at last, and they had scarcely taken up
their usual stations when a horseman rode out of the fort, followed
by a covered wagon, drawn by a large mouse-colored mule.
Tom saw them, but he would have paid no very particular
attention to them had it not been for the actions of the wolfer, who,
after uttering an exclamation indicative of the greatest amazement,
rubbed his hands together and chuckled to himself.
“It’s them,” said he; “the very fellers we’ve been a-waitin’ fur so
long. That one on the pony is Big Thompson, an’ I reckon t’other one
is yer brother, aint it?”
“I can’t tell yet. He’s too far away,” replied Tom. “You seem to be
glad that we are about to make a start.”
“Yes, I be; but that aint what makes me feel so peart. That thar
muel an’ wagon is the very ones I borrered from Ike Barker last
summer. I sold ’em down in Denver; an’ if the feller I sold ’em to
haint brung ’em up here an’ sold ’em to yer brother, I’m a Dutchman!
Now, if they’re goin’ to our grounds, they’ll foller the trail, an’ that’ll
take ’em right past Ike Barker’s ranch. If they’ll only go thar we’ll
bust ’em up higher’n the moon!”
“How will we do it?” asked Tom.
“I’ll tell ye when the time comes. Stay here an’ keep your eyes on to
’em, while I go back to camp arter our plunder.”
As there was no very hard work about this, Tom readily consented
to do as his companion desired. He lay concealed in the edge of the
brush, watching the wagon, and as it drew nearer to him he saw that
the driver of it was his brother. He recognized him by the clothes he
wore. He shook his fist at him as he passed along the base of the hill.
When the wolfer came back an hour later, leading his pony, which
was loaded with their camp equipage and provisions, Tom met him
at the mouth of the ravine.
He told him which way the wagon had gone, and Lish declared
that it was all right. He thought he knew where Big Thompson was
going, but they would watch him a day or two, he said, until they
were sure of his course, and then they would get ahead of him and
carry out the plan he had determined upon.
We have already told what the plan was, and therefore it is
needless to dwell upon it. The note Ike Barker found fastened to his
door was written by Tom at his partner’s dictation, and as Lish could
not have been induced to undertake so dangerous a mission himself,
Tom volunteered to put it where the ranchman could find it.
This he did without being discovered, but he breathed a great deal
easier when he came back from the dug-out and joined his
companion, who was waiting for him behind a swell a little distance
away.
“There was a blanket hanging in the doorway, and I fastened the
note to it with a pin I happened to have in my coat,” said Tom, with a
sigh of satisfaction. “I guess they have gone about as far toward the
hills as they will get this fall—don’t you?”
“I’m sartin of it,” answered the wolfer, who seemed to be as highly
elated as Tom was. “Ike’ll know his critter as soon as he puts his
peepers on to him, and he’ll have him back spite of Big Thompson or
anybody else. He’s that kind of a feller.”
If Tom had really succeeded in stopping his brother’s progress it
would have been a most unfortunate thing for himself. But Oscar was
helped out of the difficulty by the kindness of the ranchman, and
thus it happened that he was in a condition to give assistance to Tom
at a time when he stood in the greatest need of it.
After this piece of strategy the wolfers journeyed more rapidly
toward the hills. Having no wagon to impede their movements, they
were able to take a straight course for the valley of which Lish had so
often spoken, and in this way they gained nearly three days on Oscar
and his guide, who were obliged to keep to the “divides.”
With his usual caution, the wolfer proceeded to hide himself as
soon as he reached his hunting grounds.
He went the whole length of the valley, and when at last he was
ready to make his winter’s camp, he selected a spot that was almost
hemmed in by high and perpendicular bluffs, and which could be
approached only from one direction.
 Long before they were settled in this camp (their only shelter was a
hastily constructed “lean-to,” through whose roof the snow found its
way to the ground almost as readily as it did anywhere in the woods)
Tom had become heartily disgusted with his partner and tired of his
company.
He turned out to be a regular tyrant; and when things went wrong
—and they never seemed to go any other way—he abused Tom
without stint.
He could do this with impunity now, for Tom could not desert him
with any hope of finding his way back to civilization; nor could he
resist his partner’s tyranny without bringing upon himself certain
and speedy punishment. There was a wicked gleam in the wolfer’s
eye sometimes that fairly made Tom tremble.
 CHAPTER XXXIII.
LISH DECIDES TO MOVE.

T he wolfer had brought Tom to the hills with him for a purpose.
He intended to make him do all the drudgery of the camp, and to
increase his own profits in the spring by stealing the skins the boy
might find time to capture.
But Tom was not long in discovering that his catch was not likely
to be very large. He was expected to cook all the meals and cut all the
wood for the fire.
As their larder was not very well supplied, the cooking did not
amount to much, but the chopping did.
Being more accustomed to handling a pen than he was to swinging
an axe, he made very slow progress with this part of his work, and by
the time it was done there were but a few hours of daylight left.
Still he did manage to take a few pelts, and it seemed to him that
he ought to have taken more, for some of his baits were always
missing, and on following up the trail that led from them, he not
unfrequently found the carcasses of the wolves that had eaten the
baits—minus the skins.
Lish was systematically robbing him. Knowing where the boy put
out his baits, he visited them early every morning, taking as many
skins as he thought he could without exciting his companion’s
suspicion, and then going off to hunt up his own.
“He’ll never know the difference,” Lish often said to himself, “an’ I
don’t reckon it makes any odds to me if he does, fur if he opens his
yawp I’ll wear a hickory out over his back. The spelter’ll all be mine
some day, anyhow. I aint a-goin’ to show him the way to this nice
wolf ground an’ give him grub an’ pizen fur nothin’, I bet you!”
 “This is some more of my honest partner’s work,” Tom would say
when he found the body of a wolf from which the skin had been
removed. “It beats the world what miserable luck I do have! I can’t
make a cent, either honestly or dishonestly. Oscar knew what he was
talking about when he said that Lish intended to rob me. Why didn’t
I go up to the fort to see him, as he wanted me to do, instead of
making myself unhappy over his good luck? If he were only here now
how quickly I’d bundle up my share of the skins and find my way to
his camp!”
We have said that things always went wrong with Lish, but that is
not in strict accordance with the facts.
There was one hour in every twenty-four during which he allowed
his good nature to triumph over the tyrant in his disposition, and
that always happened at night, provided his own catch had been
tolerably fair, and he had been able to steal a few skins from Tom
without being caught in the act.
On these occasions Lish entered into friendly conversation with his
partner over his pipe, during which he never failed to make a good
many inquiries concerning Oscar and his business, and he seemed
particularly desirous of finding out just how the young taxidermist
looked and acted.
This led Tom to believe that Lish was greatly interested in his
brother and his movements, and so he was; for he had not yet been
able to settle down into the belief that his plan for keeping Oscar out
of the hills would prove successful.
Through the influence of Big Thompson a compromise of some
kind might be effected between Oscar and the ranchman, or the boy
might purchase the stolen mule and wagon.
In either case he and his guide would be able to continue their
journey with but little delay, and come into the valley in spite of the
wolfer’s efforts to keep them away from it.
This was what Lish was afraid of, and it was one cause of his
constant ill-humor.
When the snow fell and blocked the gorge he would feel safe, and
not before. The wolfer knew Big Thompson, but Oscar he did not
know,—he did not have time to take a very good look at him when he
met him in the sage-brush,—and he wanted to learn all about him, so
that he would be sure to recognize him if he chanced to encounter
him in the valley. He had another idea in his head too; and what it
was shall be told further on.
The wished-for storm came at last, and Tom was disposed to
grumble sullenly when he awoke the next morning and found three
inches of snow on his blanket; but Lish was as gay as a lark, and
excited the suspicions of his companion by offering to help him
prepare the breakfast.
All the wolfer’s fears were banished now. If Big Thompson was not
in the valley already, he would not be likely to get there at all, for the
gale must have filled the gorge full of snow. But Lish wanted to
satisfy himself entirely on this point; so he left the camp as soon as
he had eaten his bacon and cracker, and, after stealing a few skins
from Tom, set out to visit the lower end of the valley.
On his way there, he struck the trail of two mule-deer, and this
caused him to postpone his reconnoissance for the present. He was
getting tired of bacon, and believing that a fresh steak for dinner
would be more palatable, he took up the trail at once, and followed it
at the top of his speed.
About two miles further on the trail left the valley and turned
toward the hills. When Lish saw this he deposited his wolf-skins in
the fork of a small tree, and having thus put himself in light running
order, he went ahead faster than ever.
By the time he had run himself almost out of breath he had the
satisfaction of discovering, by signs which an experienced hunter can
readily detect, that he was closing in upon the game.
He had already begun to look around for it, when he was startled
almost out of his moccasins by the report of a rifle, which sounded
close at hand, followed by a tremendous crashing in the bushes, as a
fine doe broke cover and dashed down a hill a short distance away.
Lish could easily have shot her, as she passed without seeing him;
but he never thought of it. His whole mind was concentrated on
something else. Who fired that gun? Being determined to find out,
the wolfer ran to the edge of the bluff and looked over.
“That thar letter that Tom writ an’ put on to Ike Barker’s door
didn’t stop ’em, arter all,” said Lish to himself, as he stretched his
long neck out to its full length, and took a good survey of the hunter
below him. “Here’s one of them pizen critters now. He’s gone an’
killed my black-tail, an’ now he’s a-yellin’ for Big Thompson. So ye’re
the chap as wanted to have me put into the guard-house ag’in, be ye?
Fur two cents I’d——”
The wolfer finished the sentence by drawing his rifle to his
shoulder, as if he were about to shoot.
After taking a good aim at Oscar’s head he lowered the weapon and
looked nervously about him, at the same time listening for Big
Thompson’s reply. He wanted to see which way it came from, so that
he could secure his own safety by running off in another direction.
But there was no answer to Oscar’s repeated calls, and the wolfer
finally mustered up courage enough to start for camp, not forgetting
to stop on the way and take down the bundle of skins he had left in
the tree.
Hearing nothing of his dreaded enemy, his fears left him after a
while, and he was able to think the matter over and make up his
mind what he would do about it. One thing was certain—he dared
not remain longer in that valley, for there was no knowing at what
moment he and Big Thompson might run against each other in the
woods. In order to avoid that it was necessary to break camp at once
and start for new hunting grounds.
“I won’t tell Tom who them fellers is,” thought the wolfer as he
neared his camp, “for if I do he’ll run off and jine ’em. Now whar is
he, do ye reckon? He’s allers off when he’s wanted to hum.”
Tom, having completed his morning’s drudgery, had gone out to
visit the baits he had scattered around the day before, and he did not
come in until it was almost dark.
Lish waited and watched for him with no little impatience,
constantly harassed by the fear that Tom would somehow discover
that his brother was in the valley, in which case he knew that he
would be obliged to pass the rest of the winter alone, doing all his
own work about the camp, and catching all his own skins. Tom was
too valuable an assistant to be given up, and the wolfer resolved to
hold fast to him as long as he could.
Tom came in at last, staggering under the weight of his day’s catch,
and was instantly put on his guard by the friendly greeting his
partner extended to him.
 The wolfer’s cordiality, however, was all assumed for the occasion.
If Lish had acted out his feelings he would have abused Tom soundly
for being so long absent from camp, and, in his rage, he might have
done something even worse; but knowing that it would not be safe to
say or do too much just then, he bottled up his wrath, to be held in
reserve until some future occasion, and said cheerfully:
“Pard, ye’ve done fine; ye have so. An’ yer the green young feller
that wanted me to show ye how to pizen wolves! Ye know more about
the business now nor I do, an’ I’ve follered it a good many years. Now
I reckon ye must be a trifle tired arter packin’ all them skins so fur,
an’ if ye’ll cook the supper I’ll chop the wood.”
“What’s up, I wonder?” thought Tom, as he threw his hides down
in one corner of the lean-to. “He don’t speak that way to me unless
he wants me to do something for him. Well,” he added aloud, “where
is it?”
“Whar’s what?” asked Lish.
“The deer, or whatever it was, that you shot. I heard the report of
your gun.”
“So ye did; but I didn’t get him. I missed him.”
Lish put a stop to the conversation by grabbing the axe and going
at the pile of fuel in front of the cabin as if he meant to do something;
but when he had cut a few sticks of half-decayed wood he was tired
enough to stop and rest.
“Say, pard,” he exclaimed, “I’ve been a prospectin’ to-day! The
varmints aint by no means as plenty about yere as they had ought to
be, but I know whar thar’s piles of ’em in a leetle valley ’bout ten
miles deeper into the hills. We want to go whar the wolves is, ye
know; so to-morrow mornin’ we’ll pack up bright an’ arly an’ dig
out.”
“Oh, that’s what you want, is it?” thought Tom. “Well, I don’t care
where we go. I’ve got to endure your detestable company all winter, I
suppose, and I might as well be in one place as another. I shall not
see a happy day anywhere.”
“What do ye say, pard?” exclaimed Lish.
“I say all right,” was the indifferent reply.
 That this was all the wolfer wanted was evident from his actions.
He threw down the axe, declaring that he was awful tired after his
long tramp, and picking out the warmest place beside the fire, he
took possession of it, leaving Tom to cook the supper and cut the
wood besides.
 CHAPTER XXXIV.
A CLIMAX.

A t daylight the next morning breakfast had been eaten, and the
two wolfers were on their way to their new hunting grounds,
Lish leading his pony, which was loaded with their outfit and the
skins they had secured, and Tom bringing up the rear.
If the latter had been as skilled in woodcraft as his brother was he
would not have been long in finding out that Lish had told him a
falsehood regarding his movements of the previous day.
There were no signs of a trail in the gorge which they followed
from one valley to the other, and that proved conclusively that the
wolfer had not been along there during the last twenty-four hours.
But Tom took no note of the fact. He was utterly indifferent to
everything around him, and it is hard to tell how he would have lived
if he had not been cheered and sustained by the hope—which
sometimes amounted to positive conviction—that there were brighter
days in store for him, and that his affairs would soon take a turn for
the better.
He was in a very repentant frame of mind, and promised himself
over and over again that, if he ever got back among civilized people,
he would lead an honest and respectable life, in spite of all the
temptations that could be thrown around him.
His first hard work should be to return every cent of Mr. Smith’s
money, and when that was done he would once more be able to look
honest men in the face.
The valley, which they reached at noon that day, was by no means
as fine a hunting ground as Tom had expected to find it. It was not so
well watered or so effectually protected from the storms as the one in
which they had first taken up their abode, and consequently the deer,
and the wolves that preyed upon them, were not found in any great
numbers.
Their want of success of course had its effect upon the temper of
his partner, and for three long weeks he never spoke a civil word to
Tom, who lived in constant apprehension of open violence.
Lish grumbled every time the firewood gave out before morning,
and swore whenever he looked at the very small supply of bacon and
cracker they had left.
Finding that he grew worse every day, Tom, who feared an
outbreak above all the other evils that threatened him, gradually gave
up wolfing and devoted himself to his camp duties; but not even the
sight of the nice fat grouse that were set before him every night, and
which Tom had snared in the neighboring woods, could put Lish in
good humor.
From this time forward Tom provided all the fresh meat that was
served up in that camp, for Lish would not expend his ammunition
on anything smaller than a deer, and that was an animal he did not
often see.
When Tom stopped putting out bait for the wolves he gave the
wolfer another cause for displeasure, and the man took his own way
to show how mad he was over it.
One afternoon, when Tom came in from making the round of his
snares, he was surprised to see that the skins they had captured,
which were piled in one corner of the lean-to after being cured, had
disappeared.
Believing that the camp had been robbed during his absence, and
that he would be sure to suffer for it when his partner returned at
night, Tom threw down the grouse he had captured and made the
circuit of the lean-to, looking for the robber’s trail.
He found it after a short search, and the moment he saw it he knew
that it had been made by Lish himself. He followed it up for a few
hundred yards, taking care to step exactly in the wolfer’s tracks, and
presently came within sight of a tree, which had been partly uprooted
by the wind.
Among the branches, about twenty feet from the ground, was a
small platform, built of poles, and on this platform was something
covered with a blanket.
 To scramble up the inclined trunk, raise the blanket, and see what
was under it was scarcely two minutes’ work. The blanket was one of
his own, and the objects it concealed and protected from the weather
were the skins he and Lish had captured.
At the sight of them Tom uttered a low whistle; and, after looking
all around to make sure that his partner was nowhere in sight, he
backed down the trunk and set out for camp at a rapid walk, being
careful, as before, to step squarely into the wolfer’s tracks.
Arriving at the lean-to, he replenished the fire; and, picking up one
of the grouse, began plucking it, working as fast as he could in order
to make up for lost time.
He knew that Lish would be sure to take him to task for something
the moment he returned, and if he did not find a cup of hot coffee
waiting for him, supplemented by as good a supper as Tom’s limited
means would allow him to prepare, something disagreeable might
happen.
“What object could Lish have had in view when he stole those
skins out of the camp and hid them in that tree?” Tom asked himself
over and over again. “I can’t think of any unless he intends to clear
out and leave me to shift for myself. If he should do that, what in the
world would become of me?”
While Tom was turning this alarming thought over in his mind he
heard somebody coming toward the camp at a rapid pace, stamping
furiously through the crust as if to give emphasis to some words he
was muttering to himself, but which Tom could not catch.
The next moment the wolfer came round the side of the lean-to. In
one hand he carried his rifle and in the other a stout switch, which he
was brandishing wildly over his head. His face was fairly black with
fury.
“Look a-yere!” he yelled, as he leaned his rifle up in one corner and
approached the place where Tom was sitting. “What ye bin a-
snoopin’ round out thar in the timber fur to-day? Don’t be long in
speakin’ up, kase this hickory is gettin’ heavy, an’ it will have to drop
somewhar purty soon!”
Tom was surprised, and greatly alarmed besides. He was alarmed
by the expression of almost ungovernable fury he saw in the wolfer’s
face, and surprised to learn that his movements had been so readily
detected, after all the pains he had taken to cover his trail.
But there was nothing surprising in that, for if he had carefully
examined his trail he would have seen that there were the prints of
two boot heels in each one of the tracks that had been made by the
wolfer’s moccasined feet.
“What ye bin a-pokin’ yer nose into my business fur?” shouted
Lish, making the switch whistle as he whirled it around his head.
“What made you go out an’ hunt up them skins?”
“What made you hide them?” asked Tom, as soon as he could
speak. “It looks as though you were trying to rob me of my share.
Some of those skins belong to me.”
“I hid ’em kase I aint a-goin’ to have ye slip inter the camp when I
aint here, an’ go off to find yer brother.”
“If my brother was anywhere within reach of me it would take a
better man than you to keep me here,” was the thought that passed
through Tom’s mind.
But he knew better than to give utterance to it.
“Thar don’t none of them pelts b’long to ye, an’ I don’t want ye to
fergit it, nuther!” exclaimed Lish. “Ye haven’t pizened a dozen
varmints since we come to this yere place.”
“That’s because I can’t do all the work about camp and put out
baits too,” replied Tom. “If you will cut the wood I’ll do the cooking
and catch as many skins as you do into the bargain.”
“Yer so powerful lazy yer don’t ’arn yer salt,” said the wolfer,
paying no attention to this proposition. “Now I’ll jest tell ye what’s a
fact. If ye don’t mind yer own business an’ let mine be I’ll lay that
hickory over yer head till ye see more’n a hundred stars. Ye hear me?
I’ll put it here in this corner, so’s to have it handy. Ye’ve been a-
spilin’ for a trouncin’, an’ I’m jest the feller to give it to ye.”
Tom drew a long breath of relief, but made no reply.
He had been expecting something like this for a long time, and he
was glad to know that his punishment was to be postponed for a few
hours at least.
He did not go near the skins again (if he had he would not have
found them in the tree, for they had been removed to other and safer
quarters), but gave all his time to his camp duties and to keeping
Lish supplied with fresh meat, which the latter was sure to call for
every night and morning.
Tom’s object was to put off the day of his “trouncin’” as long as he
possibly could.
One afternoon, about two weeks after the occurrence of the events
we have just described, Tom had the misfortune to cut his foot while
he was chopping wood.
The wound would have been considered a serious one under any
circumstances, but situated as he was it became positively
dangerous.
Lacking the forethought as well as the means to provide for such
accidents as this, he had brought no bandages or liniment with him,
and all he could do was to pull off his boot, apply some ice-cold water
—which was about the worst thing he could have put on it—wrap the
injured member up in one of his extra shirts, and crawl to his bed
under the lean-to.
Lish swore loudly when he came in. He fairly surpassed all his
previous efforts in this line; and one, to have heard the abuse he
heaped upon the head of his unfortunate partner, would have
supposed that Tom had been guilty of some great crime.
The wolfer now had to cook for himself and cut his own wood. A
short experience must have disgusted him with this sort of work; for,
on the third morning after the accident, Tom awoke from a troubled
slumber to find his last blanket and his partner missing. If it had not
been for the fact that the pony was standing near the dying embers of
the fire, he would have believed that Lish had deserted him in his
trouble.
The wolfer was gone two whole days and a part of another, and
when at last he came within sight of the camp he was followed by a
very small pony, which fairly staggered under the weight of a huge
pack he bore upon his back.
Where he had been, and what he had been doing, of course Tom
did not know; but he could see by the expression on his face that Lish
was highly elated over something. He really looked good-natured.
“Hello, pard!” he exclaimed as he came to a halt in front of the
lean-to. “How ye makin’ it by this time? If we aint struck it rich now
we never will! That thar pony is jest loaded down with jest the finest
lot of——”
Lish stopped and looked about him, evidently not at all pleased
with the gloomy appearance of things. A few green boughs sputtered
on the fire, giving out a dense smoke, but no flame; Tom was flat on
his back, just as he had left him, and there was no dinner waiting for
him.
“Why didn’t ye get me nothin’ to eat?” demanded Lish.
“Why didn’t you send a messenger on ahead to tell me that you
were coming?” replied Tom, driven almost desperate by the pain of
his wound, which was growing worse, in spite of the best care he
could give it.
“Wal, ye see me here now, don’t ye?” retorted Lish. “Git up from
thar an’ make me a cup of coffee.”
“I can’t; the coffee is all gone.”
“Then give me a partridge an’ some bread!” commanded the
wolfer, beginning to grow angry.
“I can’t do that either. I haven’t been able to visit my snares since
you went away, and there is not a crumb of cracker left.”
“Thar aint?” shouted Lish, while an ominous light shone in his
eyes. “An’ ye aint done nothin’ but lay thar an’ stuff yerself till our
coffee an’ grub’s all gone! Git up from thar, I tell ye, an’ go out an’
ketch me a partridge!”
“I can’t,” replied Tom, who, seeing that an outbreak was not very
far distant, began to be terribly alarmed. “I can’t walk a step. You
have no idea how I suffer all the time.”
“’Taint nothin’ on ’arth but laziness that is the matter of ye!” said
Lish as he laid down his rifle and picked up the switch. “If ye won’t
move, I’ll have to move ye. Git up from thar! Git up, ye lazy
wagabone, an’ git me sunthin’ to eat! Do ye reckon yer goin’ to git
up?”
These words were accompanied by a shower of blows, which fell
upon Tom’s head and shoulders with such force that the sound of
them could be, indeed was, heard a considerable distance away.
If his life had depended upon it, poor Tom could not have
maintained an upright position for half a minute. He had tried it
often enough to know. Whenever he attempted it the blood rushed
into his foot, causing him the most intense anguish.
He could only lie there and make feeble, but unavailing, efforts to
shield his face, which seemed to be the mark at which his tormentor
aimed his blows. His shrieks of agony fell upon deaf ears, the wolfer
having determined to beat him until he got upon his feet.
They were both so completely engrossed—Lish in raining his blows
upon his helpless victim, and Tom in trying to ward them off—and
the hubbub they occasioned was so great, that they did not hear the
sonorous bray which awoke the echoes of the hills, nor the noise
made by rapidly advancing hoofs.
Just as Tom was about to give up in despair, and allow the wolfer
to beat him to death—if he had made up his mind to do so—a large
mouse-colored mule, without saddle or bridle, but carrying a rider on
his back, suddenly appeared upon the scene.
The mule was coming at a furious pace directly toward the lean-to,
and for a moment it looked as though he was going to run right
through it; but he stopped when he reached the side of the pony, and
his rider swung himself to the ground.
No sooner was he fairly landed on his feet than he dashed forward
with an angry exclamation, and planted his fist so squarely and
forcibly against the wolfer’s neck that he doubled him up like a piece
of wet cloth, and brought the fracas to a close in an instant.
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