DRIVING IN
Straight toward the rising sun the herders rode. The corral, within
which the cattle were to be driven, was about seven miles out, and they
were to go there and get their instructions from Mr. Manley.
There were eight riders in the group, led by Teddy, Roy and their
father. The others were trailing along behind. In the extreme rear rode
Nick Looker and Jules Kolto.
“Peach of a day,” Teddy remarked. “Thought sure we’d have rain--always
does pour when you don’t want it to.”
“Teddy, you and Roy are going to be round-up bosses,” Mr. Manley
stated. “I reckon you knew that, anyway. Roy, you’d better put a good
tally-man on the job. I want to know just how many, if any, we’re shy
since the spring.”
“Right, Dad. Now about the six hundred we’re bringing to Red Rock! Want
them herded into the corral first?”
“No, I reckon not. Only waste time that-a-way. There’s a bunch of
dogies far down on the southwest corner--or they were the last I
heard--that I’m countin’ on for that herd. Best and fattest of the lot.
How many men do you want with you?”
“You mean to get that bunch together and drive ’em to Red Rock?”
“Yep.”
“Well, what do you think, Teddy? Suppose we take Nick, Gus and Pop. Or
do you want them to--”
“Nope--you can have ’em. These boys back there all know their
business.” He motioned with his head to those following. “But we won’t
start the drive until to-morrow. I want to get the rest together--as
many as I can--first.”
They rode on quietly for some little while, each man busy with his own
thoughts. The day was perfect--bright, with the tang of coming winter
in the air. Everything seemed to be going perfectly--too perfectly, Roy
thought, to last. There came vividly to him the memory of Professor
Sullivan and of what the professor had heard the Leftons say: “--got
’em sewed up cold.” For all the beauty of the tall, imposing mountains
surrounding them and the deep blue sky overhead, Roy found it hard to
shake off a feeling of uneasiness. It appeared to him like the calm
before a storm.
He did not confide his fears to his father, however, for he realized
that they were based on mere suspicion.
“Trouble with me is, I think too much,” he said grimly to himself.
“Chances are the Leftons and Mob Jamisson aren’t within miles of this
place. Keeping out of sight of the sheriff, most likely. But if they
wanted to, they sure could cause us plenty of trouble now.”
This was no more than the truth. Anything can happen in round-up time,
and it does not take much to cause it to happen.
“Have to forget that stuff,” Roy thought, and chuckled. Teddy looked
over at him.
“Joke?” he asked.
“No--just ideas. Hope Sing Lung has got some grub rustled for us when
we get there. I’m hungry.”
“What, again? Better save it till dinner. It’s a long time between
meals out here. Well, a mile more, and we’ll arrive.”
“Um, arrive. That’s a good word, too. Much more elegant than saying
we’ll be there.”
Teddy bowed mockingly, though it failed to impress Roy because Flash
stepped into a badger hole at the moment and interrupted the gesture.
“Nell likes big words, you know,” he said loftily, when he had
straightened out the pony. “You should practice up a bit.”
“Counting on Curley coming to the rodeo?” Roy asked innocently.
“What for--to see me fall off? Hope not.”
“Yes-s-s-s, you hope not! Hear that, Dad? He doesn’t want Curley to see
him in the rodeo!”
“That so, Son?” Mr. Manley said, grinning. “You’ve got to have someone
to hand the first prize to. Might as well be Ethel.”
“That doesn’t worry me,” Teddy laughed. “All the first prizes I get
I’ll carry home in a handkerchief.”
They now came in sight of the corral, or rather the corral they were to
use as a base. The chuck wagon was already there, with smoke pouring
out of the stack.
“We eat, boys!” Mr. Manley called to those following. The breakfast at
the ranch house had been a sketchy affair, and he felt, wisely, that a
good meal would do more than anything else to urge the punchers on to
their labors.
As the riders spurred their horses forward, Sing Lung appeared at the
door of the chuck wagon.
“Come gettee!” he yelled.
“An’ we will, brother--we will!” Nat Raymond shouted.
The men dismounted, and, picketing their horses, crowded around the
wagon. They realized that this was to be their last meal for a good
many hours, and they were going to make the most of it.
“What is it, Sing--stew?”
“Bet it’s bean soup!”
“Naw, he’s got strawberry short-cake for us! See the strawberries?”
“They ain’t strawberries--that’s his checkered shirt, stupid!”
When the meal was dished out, it proved to be some concoction of veal
and bread dressing. At least it was popular, and many of the riders
clamored for “more!”
This second breakfast was concluded, and the men gathered about Mr.
Manley for instructions. It was now eight o’clock, with the sun fully
up. A fresh breeze blew from the east, causing the ponies to sniff
loudly and joyfully. They, too, were impatient to begin.
The corral they were to use as the base of operations was about an
eighth of a mile from the chuck wagon. This corral was connected to
several smaller ones by a system of gates, so that the main herd could
be driven in and then separated and sorted into their respective
enclosures.
“Well, boys, here’s the program,” Mr. Manley said. “You can all hear
me, can’t you?”
“Yep!”
“Go ahead, boss!”
“I’ve got a deal on for six hundred head of cattle. Suppose you all
know that. It’s important that these cattle be up to expectations, and
also that they get to Red Rock on time--for certain reasons.”
He paused, and glanced around him. The punchers were listening intently.
“We’ve had a bit of trouble with two or three waddies who haven’t any
love for this outfit,” he continued slowly. “I’m not mentioning any
names. You can guess them, I reckon. And if they aim to make trouble,
we’ll have to give ’em as good as they send. Get me?”
“Sure thing, boss!”
“All right I’m just tellin’ you to watch your step. Now I guess that’s
settled.” He drew a deep breath. “Teddy and Roy here are the round-up
bosses. If you want instructions an’ I’m not around, you go to them.
One man has got to stay near this here wagon, to watch the extra
horses. That’ll be you, Joe.” He nodded to a small man who was leaning
against the wheel.
“Right, boss! I get’cha.”
“The rest of us will start on the herd in the northern corner of the
range. We’ll ride out from here, and circle every cow we see toward
this corral. The bunch that goes to Red Rock is in the southwest part,
an’ we won’t hit them to-day. Everything understood?”
“O.K!”
“Then let’s go. Joe, you stick around here. ’Bout two o’clock remind
Sing Lung that grub will be appreciated. Come on, you buckers!”
There was a rush for horses. Each man vaulted into his saddle and swung
his steed about. Hats were raised high into the air and brought down
sharply on the ponies’ flanks. Spurs were brought into play.
“Let’s go-o-o-o-o!”
“Yip-yip-yipe-e-e-e-e!”
Like children on a holiday, they started. The harder a piece of work to
be done the more ceremonious is the beginning. And a round-up occurs
only twice a year.
Out across the range they rode, Mr. Manley leading, Teddy and Roy
following close behind. After the first burst of speed they quieted
down, for the energies of the ponies had to be conserved.
Mile after mile they traveled. By ten-thirty they reached the spot they
were to begin circling from--a small knoll at the extreme edge of the
Manley range. On their way they had passed many herds of cattle, some
numbering no more than fifty, some containing two hundred head. All
these had to be gathered together and driven into the base corral.
At a signal from Mr. Manley, the men separated, forming themselves in
a long skirmish line. This line was converged at each end, to make a
semicircle. So widely apart were the riders that they stretched over
nearly two miles of territory.
Teddy was on one end, Roy on the other, and their father was the center
man. Slowly they started, each man keeping his distance, none getting
ahead of the others. Everything that ran on four legs was to be driven
in by the advancing line.