A CATTLE DRIVE
George was summer fallowing, sitting in the iron saddle of a plow which
a heavy Clydesdale team hauled through the stubble. The work should
have been done earlier, for the soil on the Marston farm was very
light, and, as it had already grown several crops of cereals, George
was anxious to expose it to the influence of sun and wind as soon as
possible. It was about the middle of the afternoon and very hot.
Rounded cloud-masses overhung the plain, but dazzling sunshine fell on
grass and stubble, and a haze of dust surrounded the team, while now
and then the fine soil and sand, blown from the rest of the fallow by
the fresh breeze, swept by in streams. George wore motor-goggles to
protect his eyes, but his face and hands felt scorched and sore.
Farther back, Edgar plodded behind a lighter team, making very poor
progress.
Presently George looked up and saw Flora Grant riding toward him. She
sat astride, but her skirt fell in becoming lines, and he thought the
gray blouse and wide Stetson hat, with a red band round it, most
effective. She reined up her horse near the plow, and George got down.
"I was passing--going on to Forsyth's place--and my father asked me to
call," she said. "You were talking about buying cattle, and a man at
Dunblane has some good Herefords to sell. Father thinks they would
suit you."
"His recommendation carries weight," said George.
"I'll go and see them. I must thank you for bringing me word."
"I've another message. It's this--when you're buying stock, be
cautious how you bid."
"As I'm not well up in local prices, I wish Mr. Grant had been a little
plainer."
"He went farther than I expected. You see, as a friend of the seller,
he's awkwardly fixed."
"Just so," said George. "But, if you're not in the same position, you
might give me a hint. How much is the value of Canadian cattle usually
below the price likely to be asked of a new arrival?"
"In this case, I should say about fifty per cent," Flora answered, with
a laugh.
"Thank you," responded George. "I am sure your opinion's to be relied
on."
Edgar stopped his team near by, and Flora regarded him with amusement
as he came toward them, his red face streaked with dust.
"You look a good deal more like a western farmer than you did when I
saw you last," she laughed.
Edgar removed his goggles and surveyed his working attire somewhat
disgustedly.
"I wonder whether that's a compliment; but now that I've made the first
plunge, I'd better go through with it--get a flappy hat and a black
shirt, or one of those brilliant orange ones."
"The latter are more decorative. But, as you are going on a two days'
journey to drive some cattle, I'll tell you how to find the way."
"You had better tell George. I can only remember the things that
interest me."
Flora gave them clear instructions, and when she rode away George
turned to Edgar.
"You'll have to come, and we'll start at once. Grierson can go on
plowing with the Clydesdales, which is more than you could do."
"I'm afraid I must admit it," said Edgar, glancing at his ragged
furrow. "But I'm going to have my supper and put up some provisions
before I leave the place."
They set out an hour later, and safely reached their destination, where
George purchased a dozen cattle. They were big, red and white,
long-horned animals, accustomed to freedom, for fences are still scarce
on tracts of the prairie, and they ranged about the corral in a
restless manner. Edgar, leaning on the rails, watched them dubiously.
"They look unusually active," he remarked. "I'm not an expert at
cattle-driving, but I suppose two of us ought to take them home."
The rancher laughed.
"Two's quite a good allowance for that small bunch, but if you keep
north among the scrub poplar, you won't be bothered by many fences.
It's pretty dry in summer, but you'll get good water in Baxter's well,
if you head for the big bluff you'll see tomorrow afternoon. We'll let
them out when you're ready."
As soon as the rails were flung down, the cattle rushed out
tumultuously, as if rejoicing in their restored freedom. Then, while
George and his companion mounted, they started off across the prairie
at a steady trot.
"A mettlesome lot; seem to be in good training," Edgar commented.
"Have you any idea where they're going?"
"Guess they're heading for a creek two miles back; water's scarce,"
explained the rancher. "As it's near the trail, you had better let
them go. You'll round them up quite easy when they've had a drink."
George and Edgar rode after the cattle. The sun was getting low, but
the temperature showed no signs of falling, and the men were soon
soaked in perspiration. The herd went on at a good pace, making for a
wavy line of timber, and on reaching it, plunged down the side of a
declivity among little scattered trees. A stream trickled through
willow bushes and tall grass in the bottom of the hollow, and the men.
had trouble in forcing the cattle to leave the water. Before they
accomplished it, Edgar had got very wet and had scratched himself badly
in scrambling through the brush.
"Driving stock is by no means so easy as it looks," he grumbled, when
they had climbed the opposite ascent, leading their horses. "The way
these beasts jump about among the bushes confuses you; I'd have sworn
there were forty of them in the ravine."
"I see only nine now," George said pointedly.
Edgar looked back into the hollow.
"There are three of the brutes slipping away upstream as fast as they
can go! You're smarter at the thing than I am--hadn't you better go
after them?"
"I expect I'll be needed to keep this bunch together," George rejoined.
Edgar strode away, but it was half an hour later when he came back, hot
and angry, with the cattle crashing through the brush in front of him.
Then the reunited herd set off at a smart pace across the plain.
"They seem fond of an evening gallop," Edgar remarked. "Anyhow,
they're going the right way, which strikes me as something to be
thankful for."
They rode on, and it was getting dark when they checked the herd near a
straggling poplar bluff. The grass was good, the beasts began to feed
quietly, and after picketing their horses the men lay down on their
blankets. It was growing cooler, a vivid band of green still flickered
along the prairie's rim, and the deep silence was intensified by the
soft sound the cattle made cropping the dew-damped herbage.
"I wonder if they go to sleep," mused Edgar. "I'm beginning to think
this kind of thing must be rather fine when one gets used to it. It's
a glorious night."
By and by he drew his blanket round him and sank into slumber; but for
a while George, who had paid a high price for a Hereford bull, lay
awake, thinking and calculating. It would cost a good deal more than
he had anticipated to work the farm; Sylvia had no funds that could be
drawn upon, and his means were not large. Economy and good management
would be needed, but he was determined to make a success of his
undertaking. At last, seeing that the herd showed no signs of moving,
he went to sleep.
Awakening at sunrise George found that, except for the horses, there
was not a beast in sight. For an hour he and West hunted them through
the bluff; and then, after making a hurried breakfast, they went on
their way again. It rapidly got hotter, the stock traveled quietly,
and, with a halt or two where a clump of poplars offered a little
shade, they rode, scorched by dazzling sunshine, across the limitless
plain. In the afternoon George began to look eagerly for the bluff
that the rancher mentioned. They had found no water, and the cattle
seemed distressed. The glare and heat were getting intolerable, but
the vast, gradual rise in front of them ran on, unbroken, to the
skyline. Its crest, however, must be crossed before evening; and they
toiled on.
At last, the long ascent was made, and George felt relieved when he saw
a dark line of trees in the wide basin below him.
"That must be the big bluff where the well is; though I don't see a
house," he said.
They had some trouble in urging the herd down the slope, but after a
while they reached the welcome shadow of the trees, and Edgar broke
into a shout when he saw a rude wooden platform with a windlass upon it
and a trough near by.
"Ride ahead with the horses and water them," said George, dismounting.
Edgar did as he was bidden, but presently the herd, attracted by the
sight of water, came surging round the trough, savagely jostling one
another. The lad worked hard with the windlass, but he could not keep
them supplied, and they crowded on the low platform covering the well,
with heads stretched out eagerly toward the dripping bucket. After
being flung against the windlass by a thirsty beast, Edgar called to
his companion.
"They'll break through if you're not quick! It's my opinion they're
bent on getting down the well!"
George came to his assistance with his riding quirt, but when they were
supplying the last two or three unsatisfied animals, a man ran out of
the bluff.
"What in thunder are you doing with our water?" he cried.
"He looks angry," Edgar commented. "When that rancher fellow told us
about the well, he didn't mention the necessity of asking Mr. Baxter's
permission." Then he waved his hand to the stranger.
"Come here and have a talk!"
The man came on at a quicker run. His face was hot with indignation,
and on reaching them he broke into breathless and pointed
expostulations.
"When you're quite through, we'll assess the damages," George quietly
told him.
The farmer's anger began to dissipate.
"No," he said; "that would be taking a pretty mean pull on you; but
water's scarce, and you can't have any more."
"Well," requested George, "have you a paddock or corral you could let
me put this bunch of cattle into until the morning? I'm willing to pay
for the accommodation."
"I can't do it," replied the other. "I want all the fenced grass I've
got. Take them right along, and you'll strike a creek about six miles
ahead. Then you ought to make the river to-morrow night."
It was obvious that he desired to be rid of them; and as it was getting
cooler George resumed his journey. He found the creek early the next
morning, and as the day promised to be unusually hot he delayed only
until he had watered the stock. In an hour or two the sun was hidden
by banks of leaden cloud, but the temperature did not fall and there
was an oppressive heaviness in the air. The prairie had faded to a
sweep of lifeless gray, obscured above its verge. The men made
progress, however; and late in the afternoon a winding line of timber
that marked the river's course appeared ahead. Shortly afterward,
Edgar looked around.
"That's a curious streak of haze in the distance," he remarked.
"It's smoke," said George. "Grass fires are not uncommon in hot
weather. It looks like a big one."
They urged the cattle on a little faster, but it was evening when they
reached the first of the trees. George rode forward between them and
pulled up his horse in some concern. The ford had been difficult when
they crossed it on the outward journey, but now the space between bank
and bank was filled by an angry flood. It rolled by furiously, lapping
in frothy ripples upon the steep slope that led down to it.
"Nearly an extra three feet of water; there'd be a risk in crossing,"
he said, when Edgar joined him.
"We couldn't make the place where the trail runs in, and the landing
down-stream from it looks bad."
"Then what ought we to do?" Edgar inquired.
"Wait until to-morrow. There's no doubt been a heavy thunderstorm
higher up, but the water should soon run down." George glanced back
toward the prairie dubiously. "I'm a little anxious about the fire;
but, after all, it may not come near us."
The cattle did not wander far after drinking, and the men ate their
supper. It grew dark, but the heat did not lessen, and the oppressive
air was filled with a smell of burning. Looking back between the
trees, they could see a long streak of yellow radiance leaping up, and
growing dim when the view was obstructed by clouds of smoke.
"It's an awkward situation, and, as if it were not bad enough, there's
a big thunderstorm brewing," Edgar said at length. "I'll go along and
look at the mark you made upon the bank."
He strode away among the trees. It was very dark. The tethered horses
were moving restlessly; but, so far as Edgar could make out, the cattle
were bunched together. After lighting a match he came back.
"The water's falling, but only slowly," he reported. "Should we try to
drive the stock along the bank?"
"We couldn't herd them in the dark. Besides, it's an extensive fire,
and I'm doubtful whether we could get down to the water farther along."
They waited for an hour, keeping the cattle together with some trouble,
and watching the blaze, which grew brighter rapidly. At last, wisps of
pungent smoke rolled into the bluff.
"The beasts are ready to stampede!" George suddenly called to Edgar.
"We'll have to make a start! Get into the saddle and drive them toward
the ford!"
They were very busy for a while. Their horses were hard to manage, the
timber was thick, and the herd attempted to break away through it; but
at last they reached the steep dip to the waterside. One beast plunged
in and vanished, more followed, and George, plying his quirt and
shouting, rode in among the diminishing drove. He felt the water
lapping about his boots, and then the horse lost its footing. George
dropped from the saddle and seized a stirrup. For some minutes he
could see a few dark objects about him, but they disappeared, and he
and the horse were swept away down-stream.
He kept hold--the animal was swimming strongly--and after a time a
lurid flash of lightning showed him a black mass of trees close ahead.
They vanished, the succeeding darkness was impenetrable, and the crash
of thunder was deadened by the roar of water. For a moment or two his
head was driven under, but when he got it clear, another dazzling flash
revealed a high bank only a few yards away, and when thick darkness
followed he felt the horse rise to its feet. Then he touched soft
bottom, and a little later scrambled up an almost precipitous slope
with the bridle in his hand and the horse floundering behind him. They
reached the summit, and, stopping among thin timber, it was with strong
relief that he heard Edgar's shout. Shortly afterward the lad
appeared, leading his horse.
"There's some of the drove on this side; I don't see the rest," he
said, glancing toward the opposite bank, where dark trees stood out
against a strong red glare.
"It strikes me we only got across in time."
Then torrential rain broke upon them, and while they stood, unable to
move forward, a cry reached them faintly through the roar of the
deluge. It came again when George answered, and was followed by a
crackling and snapping of underbrush. Then, as a blaze of lightning
filled the bluff with radiance, two men appeared for a moment, leading
their horses among the slender trunks. They were immediately lost to
sight again, but presently they came up, and George recognized Grant by
his voice.
"So you have got through, Lansing," he cried. "I met Constable Flett
on the trail, and, as he told me the river was rising and there was a
big fire west, I figured you must be up against trouble."
He asked a few questions and then resumed:
"As you got the stock started, they'll have swum across; but we can't
round them up until it's light. There's a deserted shack not far off,
and I guess we'll head for it."
The constable agreed; and, mounting when they had got out of the
timber, they rode off through the rain.