INTO THE CORRAL
Teddy, himself, realized the post of danger that he held. Behind him
came some three thousand cattle--some horned and all hoofed with bone
as sharp as steel. He, alone, was to guide that thunderous herd into
the corral, between the wing-like gates. Half an hour more he had--then
the test would come. The boy leaned low in his saddle and patted his
pony’s side.
“It’s up to us, Flash,” he said softly. “But I’m glad dad gave me the
job. It’ll show what I’m good for, at least. If I fail--I sha’n’t be
here to know it.”
He rode onward, never increasing his pace. All thought of Jamisson, of
the Lefton brothers, of the fear of rustlers, had left his mind. He
concentrated on one thing--getting these cattle into the corral.
There were no more herds to be gathered in. Before him lay open
country. Every animal on the range, except, of course, that one bunch
of six hundred which had been purposely avoided, was in that crowd of
plodding beasts behind him. If a break came now it would mean disaster.
He heard a grunt of impatience from the leading cows and turned
quickly. He saw heads being lowered and raised nervously. His eyes
swept over a tossing sea of horns. Ten minutes more before the rush
would come. Would they hold?
Flash seemed to sense the tensity of his rider, and whinnied softly.
“Steady, boy,” Teddy murmured. “Not yet. Save all you’ve got. We’ll
need it later.”
A mile or so in front of him loomed the corral. Was it time yet? Could
Flash carry him to safety if he started now?
He glanced back again. The cattle were closer to him, and he had not
lagged. That meant that they were moving faster. Their grunts and
lowings became more pronounced. A small section on the left broke into
a run, goaded into activity by the long, slow march. Those in the
center, directly behind Teddy, swerved to the right.
“Here it comes!” thought the boy, breathing jerkily. “Steady, Flash!
Just a little faster--jus-s-s-st a little.”
The pony went into the trot. The cattle saw him pulling away from them,
and unconsciously increased their speed. The circle of riders in the
rear moved forward.
Now the corral was but three-quarters of a mile away. Faster and faster
came the cattle. At the instant, Teddy gave Flash his head.
The horse leaped ahead. There was a sound of thunder, and the earth
shook as the herd followed madly after the lone rider. A cloud of dust
arose, blotting out the sun. Through the haze the corral showed faintly.
“All you’ve got, baby!” Teddy panted. “Take ’em in!”
The pony flashed over the ground like a brown streak. Close on his
heels came the cattle, running with all their power, pressed on by
those behind. The horse was doing his best, and still he increased the
distance between him and the onrushing horns not a trifle. A steer on
the rampage shows tremendous speed.
Straight for the winged fences Teddy directed the pony. For a moment
they were hidden from view, so thick was the dust, and when they came
into sight again the boy was almost within them. And still he kept on.
When it seemed as though he must surely be swept into the corral by the
beasts behind him and cut to ribbons under their hoofs, he whirled the
bronco. Flash answered the call. He shot to the left, his flank nearly
grazed by the horns of the leaders, leaped frantically--and was clear.
Teddy’s part was over.
The rushing herd, unable to stop or to change direction, flowed through
the gates into the corral. Those in front were smashed solidly against
the fence at the extreme end. The others rushed forward, their momentum
carrying them where they had no desire to go. Within four minutes it
was finished--the cattle were safely within the corral, every last
one of them. Sing Lung and Joe, who were waiting, rushed forward and
dropped the bars. Teddy had not failed.
Mr. Manley was the first to reach the boy, and Roy was the second.
“Son, you’re there! Congratulations! Boy, you sure turned that trick!
Shake!”
Father and son clasped hands in a firm grip.
“Thanks, Dad,” Teddy answered, grinning. “It was as much Flash as it
was me. He practically did the whole thing.”
“Don’t let him get away with that!” Roy shouted. “Teddy, congrats! That
was a big job. And you did it, too.”
“You mean ‘I done well’,” Teddy laughed. “Baby, I’m sort of shot! Let’s
get off these ponies.”
The men, dismounting, crowded about Teddy, shaking his hand, clapping
him on the back, none too gently. And this praise was well deserved.
It was the first time the boy had been “general” of a round-up, and
everything had depended on his skill in starting the rush at precisely
the right moment and not swinging out of the way a second too soon.
Besides this, he had to keep the pace down at the most dangerous time,
half an hour before he “broke” the cattle. In these few minutes the
success of a round-up is decided. It means untold labor if the leader
bungles his job--and death for the bungler under the feet of the cattle.
The excitement wore off gradually, and the men sat down to their meal.
The rest of the days on the round-up were to be spent on unromantic
work--cutting out undesirable cattle, branding, “tailing” and so forth.
Then the horses held in reserve would be needed, for this work is very
wearing on the ponies. A careless puncher can easily ride a horse to
death.
During the meal talk flowed freely. The men were relieved of a great
responsibility, and they reacted accordingly.
“Teddy, there’s one thing I’m sorry for,” Roy declared, with a wink at
his father.
“Yea? Well, go ahead. I suppose it’s some sort of wise crack.”
“Wise crack? Oh, no, nothing like that. I was thinking--”
“Well, spill it! I’m waiting.”
“Golly, Teddy, your face looks as though it had been painted with
dirt! All in streaks.”
“What of it? What were you going to say?”
“Oh, yes. I was going to tell you something, wasn’t I? Well it was
this.”
He hesitated, until everyone was listening. Then he arose and bowed.
“Teddy, my boy, if Curly could only see you now!”