AT THE RANCH.
The night was well advanced, and the boys, despite their fine physique,
felt the effects of the prolonged ride. They had come a goodly distance
since morning, the tough little ponies most of the time maintaining a
sweeping canter, which placed many miles behind them. Jack and Fred were
stiffened, tired and hungry, for no halt was made for supper, it being
the intention of the guide to take that meal at the ranch, which he
meant to reach before drawing rein.
In the midst of the monotonous gallop of the animals the youths were
startled by the sound of a laugh, which suddenly rang out on the still
air. It was brief and hearty, such as a man emits who is highly pleased
over something said by a companion. There was no moon in the sky, but
the starlight was as bright as on the previous evening. Peering ahead in
the gloom, nothing was to be seen that explained the singular sound.
"Did you hear that?" asked Jack of Hazletine.
"I s'pose you mean that laugh? Not being deaf, it would have been cur'us
if the same hadn't reached my ears."
"What was the meaning of it?"
"It meant, I s'pose, that somebody was pleased."
The lads had to be satisfied with this indefinite answer, but they did
not have to wait long for the explanation. Suddenly, from the obscurity
ahead, loomed the outlines of a building. It was long, low, and flat,
consisting of a single story, like most of the structures in that
section of the country.
At the same moment that it was observed, a tiny point of light shone
through the gloom, and some one called to them:
"Is that you, Hank?"
"I reckon," was the reply.
At the same moment a tall man, rising from the stool on which he had
been seated, came forward. He was smoking a pipe, and the gleam of the
fire in the bowl was what had been noted before he became visible.
"These are the younkers we expected," explained Hazletine, "and, if I
ain't mistook, they've brought a purty healthy appetite with 'em."
"I've heard of such things afore. Howdy?"
The man, who was known as "Kansas Jim," his full name being James
Denham, extended his hand to each boy in turn, and they dismounted.
"I'll look after the animals," he explained. "Go inside, and I reckon
Ira can give you some medicine fur that appetite Hank spoke about."
Hazletine led the way to the small covered porch where Ira Garrison,
another cattleman, rose to his feet and shook hands with the boys,
expressing his pleasure at receiving a visit from them. All three of the
arrivals sat down at the front, while Ira passed inside and lighted an
oil-lamp. It seemed that he was not absent ten minutes when he called
out that the meal was ready--a most welcome announcement to our young
friends. The three were quickly seated at the pine table and feasting
with keen enjoyment. While they were thus engaged, Ira Garrison sat on a
stool a few paces away, smoking his pipe, and was soon joined by Kansas
Jim, who brought the saddles and belongings of the ponies that he had
turned loose to look after their own wants.
Jack and Fred found their new acquaintances typical cowboys, dressed
similarly to Hazletine, though neither wore as much beard as he. Both
had long hair, pushed behind their ears, while Jim displayed a luxuriant
tawny mustache and goatee, had fine blue eyes, and was thin almost to
emaciation. Garrison was short and stockily built, with a powerful
physique. His hair, eyes and mustache were as black as coal. He had a
fine set of even white teeth, and was so full of jest and humor that it
was safe to conclude it was something said by him that had caused Jim to
break into laughter.
The structure, as has been said, was a low, flat building, similar to
the majority found in that part of the country. It was made wholly of
wood, with only a single door at the front, where was a shaded porch,
provided with seats, most of which were occupied at times by the cowmen
through the day and late into the night.
There were five men employed at the ranch in looking after the immense
herd of cattle grazing over the surrounding country and acquiring the
plumpness and physical condition which fitted them for the Eastern
market. Hank Hazletine was in charge of the four men, and would so
remain until the task was finished and the stock disposed of. Barton
Coinjock and Morton Blair were absent looking after the animals, whose
wanderings in quest of food sometimes took them fifteen or twenty miles
from the house. Most of the time, however, the cattle obtained their
grazing on the ranch, a half of which belonged to Mr. Dudley, and which
extended into the foot-hills of the Wind River Mountains.
It has already been made clear that little was to be apprehended from
the hostility of the red men in Wyoming. Rarely is anything of the kind
known north of Arizona and New Mexico, and in those Territories it
seldom manifests itself since the conquest of the Apaches. There have
been fierce collisions of late years between the cowmen and rustlers of
the West, and at one time there was considerable bloodshed, but the
quarrel seems to have been adjusted.
The reader need hardly be told that in the new States, where grazing has
become so important an industry, a perfect system prevails among the
cattlemen. Large associations, with their enormous herds of cattle, have
their own peculiar brands by which their stock is stamped with their
sign of ownership. All these brands are registered, and the cattleman
who uses the same, or is found in possession of cattle with the brand of
another, is subject to a severe penalty.
Comparatively slight friction, therefore, takes place in those sections.
It is a stirring time when the wonderful horsemen are engaged for days
in branding the calves that have been added to their herds during the
previous months. Sometimes some of the branded cattle wander off while
grazing, but if a cattleman from Central Wyoming came upon an animal
hundreds of miles north in Montana, bearing his brand, he would promptly
cut out the brute from another herd, whose owner would not think of
making objection.
It happens now and then that some of the cattle stray off before they
are branded. The difficulty of their owners identifying them will be
understood. Such cattle are mavericks, and whoever comes upon them loses
little time in scorching his brand into their shoulders or hips, after
which no one cares to dispute their ownership.
The cowmen whose duty it was to look after the large herd browsing over
the thousands of acres composing Bowman's ranch had two annoyances to
guard against. It was their duty, as may be said, to keep the animals
well in hand. But for this precaution hundreds of them would gradually
drift apart until, when the time came for rounding them up, they would
be gone beyond recovery. Great loss, therefore, was averted by looking
after them.
A more aggravating annoyance, however, brings loss to the owners of the
herds. Despite the stringent law, there is always a certain number of
desperate men who take perilous chances in stealing cattle and running
them off beyond recovery by their owners. This practice is not so
prevalent as formerly, for since the brands are registered, and the
agents well known at Cheyenne, Helena, and other shipping-points, the
thieves find it hard to explain their possession of the carcasses thus
marked and escape the arrest and imprisonment provided as a penalty.
One feature of this annoyance comes from the Indians. By far the greater
majority of those on the reservations are law-abiding. Under the patient
and skilful tutorship of the Government agents they are advancing in
civilization, and in a knowledge of the trades and of agriculture.
Rarely is there any trouble with them; but it would be strange indeed
if, among these people not yet fairly emerged from barbarism, there were
not a number sullen because of the change, and who cling to the
traditions and practices when the Indian looked upon every white man as
his enemy, whom it was his duty to kill upon the first opportunity. The
watchfulness of the authorities prevents grave crimes, but no vigilance
can keep the dusky thieves from stealthily raiding upon the cattle and
property of their white neighbors.
One of the tasks, therefore, of the cowmen of Bowman's ranch was to
guard against aboriginal thieves. Since those fellows were sure to have
the same trouble as white pilferers in disposing of their stolen stock,
they were fond of stampeding the cattle when not under the eyes of their
caretakers. About all that resulted from this amusement was extra
exasperation and work on the part of the cowmen.
A more serious mischief was that of killing the animals. Having
satisfied themselves that they were safe from detection, three or four
Indians would entertain themselves for an hour or two in shooting down
cattle in pure wantonness, and then making off before they were seen.
True, this brought the dusky scamps no gain, but it served as a partial
outlet for their enmity of the white man, and that sufficed.
That this peculiar feature of ranch life sometimes assumed grave phases
was proved by several narrations made by the cowmen to the boys on their
first night at the ranch. Less than a year previous, Kansas Jim shot
from his horse an Indian whom he caught killing his cattle; and, not
many months previous, the five cowmen, under the leadership of Hank
Hazletine, had a running fight for half an afternoon with a dozen
Bannocks, engaged in the same sport. At that time Barton Coinjock and
Kansas Jim were severely wounded, but three of the marauders were slain,
and the mischief nearly ended for a time.
But Jack and Fred were tired, and, though interested in the
reminiscences of the cowboys, they longed for rest. The house consisted
of four rooms, one being generally reserved for visitors or to serve as
a spare apartment. This contained a wooden bedstead and some simple
furniture, for luxuries are not popular on cattle-ranches. Surely no bed
ever felt more luxurious, however, than the blankets upon which the
wearied youths flung themselves, sinking almost immediately into deep,
dreamless sleep. There were no wolves or dog Indians to guard against
now, and their sense of security was as strong as if in their own beds
at home.
The night was well past, when both lads were awakened by the sound of
rain pattering upon the roof, which, although they were on the ground
floor, was but a brief space above their heads. The storm foretold by
Hank Hazletine had come.
There are few sounds more soothing at night than the falling of
rain-drops upon the shingles over one's head, but in the present
instance the music was anything but welcome to Jack and Fred. It meant
that there could be no hunting on the morrow, and probably not for
several days. Their time in Wyoming was so limited that they begrudged
an hour of enforced idleness.
"But what's the use of kicking?" asked Fred, after they had fully
discussed the situation; "it can't be helped."
Nevertheless, they condoled with each other for some time, until, lulled
by the gentle patter, they floated off once more into the land of Nod,
from which they did not emerge until morning.
The first doleful fact that impressed them was that it was still
raining. A peep through the single front window with which their room
was provided showed the dull leaden sky, with its infinite reservoir,
from which the drops were descending in streams that bid fair to last
for days and weeks. The air was chilly, and the wood fire burning in the
adjoining room was grateful.
The boys were surprised by a characteristic fact. At some time previous
to their emerging from their sleeping-room Jim and Ira had departed to
take their turn in looking after the cattle, while Bart and Mort, as
they were called, had come in to spend the day and night at the
building. When they saw the boys they greeted them pleasantly and
conversed for some time. Blair showed himself a man of education, and it
came out afterward that he was a college graduate, who, having been
threatened with pulmonary trouble, had gone to Arizona and engaged in
the cattle business. The experiment wrought a cure, and he was now one
of the sturdiest of the five men, not afraid to face the more rigorous
climate of the North and to expose himself to all sorts of weather. It
was a surprise, indeed, to Jack Dudley and Fred Greenwood, in the course
of the day, when the conversation happened to drift to the subject of
higher mathematics, to find this cowboy could give them instruction in
the most abstruse problems they had ever attempted to solve. Thus,
although they would have preferred to be away on a hunt, they found the
time less monotonous than anticipated.
"This will let up afore night," said Hank, much to the delight of his
young visitors, "and to-morrow will be clear."
"I hope it will last several days," ventured Fred.
"So it will," remarked the cowman, with that air of assurance which
showed he was more reliable than the Government in his forecasts of the
weather.
Hazletine examined the Winchester repeating-rifles of the boys with
great care. He pronounced them excellent weapons, as were the Smith &
Wesson revolvers with which they were furnished.
"Your outfit is all right," he said, "but it remains to be seed whether
you know how to handle 'em."
"We cannot claim to be skilful," was the modest remark of Jack, "but we
have had some experience at home, though when we hunted there it was
mostly with shotguns."
"The main thing, younker, is not to git rattled. Now, if you happen to
see old Ephraim sailing for you, all you have to do is to make your aim
sure and let him have it between the eyes, or just back of the foreleg;
or, if you don't have the chance to do that, plug him in the chest,
where there's a chance of reaching his heart."
By "old Ephraim" the hunter referred to the grizzly bear, as the boys
knew.
"I have heard that it generally takes several shots to kill a grizzly."
"That's 'cause the bullets are not put in the right place. You see, old
Ephraim don't take any trouble to give you a better show than he has to,
and you must look out fur yourself."
"There are other kinds of bears in Wyoming?"
"Rather--several of 'em. For instance, there's the cinnamon, which, in
my 'pinion, is about as bad as Ephraim. I've fit both kinds, and the one
that left that big scar down the side of my cheek and chawed a piece out
of my thigh was a cinnamon, while I never got a scratch that 'mounted to
anything from Ephraim."
"What about the black bear?"
"He's less dangerous than any of 'em. A black bear ain't much more than
a big dog. Last fall I killed one with my revolver."
"What other kinds of game are we likely to meet?"
"Wal, it would be hard to name 'em all. There's the deer and antelope,
of course, which you find in all parts of the West. Then there's the
mountain lion, that is fond of living on beef."
"I never saw one of the creatures."
"Have you ever seen the Eastern panther?" asked Garrison.
"No; though they used to be plentiful in the northern part of the State
of New York."
"Well, the mountain lion is the same animal. Our climate and conditions
have made some changes in his appearance and habits, but there is no
doubt the two are identical."
"There's one kind of game that I wish we could meet," resumed Hazletine,
"but they've got so scarce that I haven't seen one fur three years.
That's the big-horn sheep."
"He seems to be disappearing from certain sections, like the buffalo
from the country," remarked Garrison.
"There's plenty of 'em in the mountains of Arizona and old Mexico, and
I've no doubt there's thousands of 'em in the Wind River and other parts
of the Rockies, but it's mighty hard to find 'em. Then there's the black
wolf."
"Is he fiercer than the gray one?"
"He's ten times worse. Whenever he meets the gray wolf he tears him to
smithereens. You never seen a wolf of any kind that wasn't as hungry as
you younkers was yesterday."
"He couldn't be any hungrier," said Fred, with a laugh.
"I have knowed one of them critters to foller a steamboat down the upper
Missouri fur two days and nights, howling and watching fur a chance to
git something to eat."
"The buffaloes have disappeared."
"The right name of the animal is the bison," suggested Garrison; "they
have been slaughtered in pure wantonness. It is a crime, the way in
which they have been extirpated."
"There are a few of 'em left, deep among the mountains," said Hazletine,
"where no one has happened to find 'em, but it won't be long afore
they'll all be wiped out. Do you know," he added, indignantly, "that
last year our boys found a herd of eighteen buffaloes some miles back in
the mountains. Wal, sir, we was that tickled that we made up our minds
to watch 'em and see that they wasn't interfered with. We kept track of
'em purty well till their number had growed to twenty-four. Then one
afternoon a party of gentlemen hunters, as they called themselves, from
the States, stumbled onto 'em. Wal, as true as I'm a settin' here, they
s'rounded that herd and never stopped shooting till they killed every
one of 'em!"
The cowman was so angry that he smoked savagely at his pipe for a minute
in silence. His friends shared his feelings, and Kansas Jim remarked:
"Hank and me hunted two days fur them folks, and if we'd have got the
chance to draw bead on 'em not all of 'em would have got home. Why, the
rapscallions just shot the whole twenty-four, and left 'em laying on the
ground. They didn't even take their hides. If there ever was such a
thing as murder that was."
"Yes," assented Garrison; "and although the Government is doing all it
can to protect the few in Yellowstone Park, somebody is continually
shooting into the herd. The bison will soon be an extinct animal."
"It's too bad, but I don't see that we can help it," observed Hazletine,
rousing himself; "there's plenty of other game left, and it'll last
longer than any of us, but it don't make the killing of the buffaloes
any better. We're likely to find a good many animals that I haven't told
you 'bout and that I don't think of."
"How is it, Hank, that you don't keep any dogs?"
"'Cause they're no use. The hunters from the East seem to think they
must have a dozen or more sniffing at their heels, but I don't like 'em.
We had a big hound a couple of years ago that I took with me on a hunt.
The first critter we scared up was a cinnamon bear, and that dog hadn't
any more sense than to go straight for him. Wal," grinned Hank, "we
haven't had any dog since that time."