UNAVAILING EFFORTS
Dave, who had heard this talk, leaped on the back of Crow, and followed
Mr. Carson and the cowboy who rejoiced in the euphonious title of
"Skinny."
"What do you mean by retaliation, Dad?" he asked. "Has it anything to do
with the Molicks?"
"A whole lot to do with them, Dave, I'm afraid," was the reply.
"You mean they have diverted some of your water?"
"Some of it! Better say all of it!" exclaimed the disgusted Skinny. "There
ain't enough comin' down Rollin' River, over where I come from, t' make a
cup of coffee."
"As bad as that?" asked Mr. Carson in alarm.
"Well, almost. I got skeered and made up my mind I'd come and tell you
about it."
"You did just right, Skinny. We may be able to get ahead of these chaps
after all."
"I hope we can," murmured Dave.
Though Dave had seldom, for any length of time, lost sight of the fact
that he was a "nobody," still he could not help feeling an interest in the
ranch, which had been the only home he had known for a long time. In fact
it was really the only home he knew, for he did not, of course, recall his
days of babyhood. And now, though Dave knew that he was not Mr. Carson's
son, though he realized that he might never inherit the broad acres over
which roamed thousands of cattle, still he retained the feeling of loyalty
and fealty that caused him to hope for the best.
"I wonder if I'll ever find my real folks," mused Dave, as he rode on with
Mr. Carson and Skinny. "It's hardly possible, after all these years."
Over the rolling plains they rode, now and then catching sight of distant
herds of cattle under the guard of cowboys, again gaining a view of the
distant Centre O ranch. But they saw no sign of Molick or Len, nor could
they catch, in the direction they were going, a glimpse of the place where
the fence work and dam building had been going on.
A little later they topped another rise, and began to descend into a
sheltered and fertile valley where Mr. Carson usually sent his choice
cattle to fatten before shipping them to the dealers in Chicago and
elsewhere.
As the three came within sight of this valley they saw a strange sight
Instead of the cattle quietly grazing, with perhaps small bunches of them
wandering now and then to the banks of the stream to get a drink, the
whole herd seemed scattered along the water course. And instead of quietly
drinking the cattle seemed fighting among themselves. Pushing, struggling,
rearing with heads up against one another, bellowing and stampeding.
On the outside vainly rode two or three cowboys who were doing their best
to keep the rearmost cattle from rushing over those in the front rank, who
were nearest the water.
"What does it mean?" demanded Mr. Carson of Skinny, as he urged his horse
forward. "What does it mean?"
"It's a stampede!" cried Dave. "Maybe Len is trying some of his mean
tricks again."
"It's a trick, but it isn't any like that," said Skinny. "None of that
Molick crowd is around here now."
"But what's the matter?" demanded the ranchman.
"Water--or, rather lack of water," said the cowboy briefly. "The cattle
are half mad with thirst I expect. And I guess maybe it isn't so much of a
real thirst as it is the fear that there won't be any water left after an
hour or two. Cattle know more that way than we give 'em credit for."
"This is serious!" exclaimed Mr. Carson.
"I thought you'd think so. That's why I come for you," Skinny explained.
The three rode down the slope, the confusion among the cattle increasing
every moment.
"What can you do?" asked Dave.
"Have to drive 'em over to the other range, there's water there, I should
think," Mr. Carson answered. "That is, if Molick and his bunch haven't
tried any of their tricks there."
"No, they can't stop the supply there," said Skinny. "It's only here,
where the river takes a sharp turn above us, that they could cut off the
supply."
"Then you think there's no question but that they did it?" as had Dave of
Mr. Carson.
"Hardly any doubt," was the reply. "But of course I'll look into it. Watch
out now, Dave. Those cattle are fairly wild, and I don't want you to be
hurt."
The ranchman looked affectionately at the youth, and Dave felt a warm spot
in his heart for the man who had done so much for him.
"I don't believe we can drive 'em back until they've licked up every last
drop," said Skinny. "Then they'll know there's no use in stayin' and we
may be able to do somethin' with 'em."
"Is it drying up as badly as that?" asked Mr. Carson.
"You'll soon see," was the answer.
Only skillful cowpunchers could have made their way through that maddened,
seething, wild herd of cattle. But Dave, Mr. Carson and Skinny were more
at home in the saddle than afoot. Their intelligent ponies pushed their
way through the heaving mass of steers until the three of them stood on
the brink of what had been a fair-sized branch of the Rolling River but a
few hours before.
Now all that showed was a small, narrow ribbon of muddy water, in the
clay-like expanse of what had been the bed of the original stream.
"Whew!" whistled Mr. Carson. "This sure is bad!"
"I should say so!" exclaimed Dave.
A sharp bend in the course of the stream above them cut off all but a very
limited view. But, as far as they could see, the same conditions
prevailed. There was only a small trickle of water. It was in the very
middle, the lowest point of the stream, and up to the very edge of this
the thirst-tortured cattle pressed, sinking down deep in the soft mud.
"We've got to get 'em out of that," declared the ranchman. "A lot of 'em
will be mired if we don't."
"There are some mired now," said Skinny, pointing. "Ed and Foster are
trying to yank 'em out."
He indicated two cowboys who, with ropes around the mired steers, were
trying to drag them to solid ground. Other animals, though, were pressing
in to make their way to the water.
It was a hot day, and bore a promise of being hotter. It needed but a
glance to show that the water would soon fail entirely. And it was evident
what had caused it. At some point, higher up, the supply had been cut off
or diverted.
"Well," said Mr. Carson quickly, like a general on the field meeting a
reverse, and deciding on the best way to save the day, "well, the only
thing we can do is to get the cattle off this range. Take 'em over to the
spring, Skinny-you and the rest of the boys. Fight 'em hard-it's the only
way. I'll ride on up and see what's happened to our water supply. Dave,
you ride back and get Mr. Bellmore. Maybe he can tell us a way out of this
trouble. He's a water engineer."
Thus were the orders issued, and the cowboys and Dave prepared to carry
them out. Hardly had Mr. Carson ceased speaking than Skinny rode off with
a whoop to aid his fellows.
Dave watched for a moment as the cowboys prepared to move the herd of
valuable cattle. It would be hard work to get them away from the water
while a drop yet remained in the muddy pools. But it must be done, for if
the steers were allowed to remain there many of them would be mired, and
in the fight for water others would be trampled on and killed.
As Dave galloped back to the ranch to summon the irrigation engineer he
saw Mr. Carson head his pony for the bend, above which was the beginning
of the Centre O ranch.
Then the young cowpuncher gave a look at the strenuous efforts of the
cowboys to move the maddened cattle.
"They'll have their own troubles," Dave reasoned. "I'll help them as soon
as I get back."
He covered the distance to the ranch in record time, and found Mr.
Bellmore busy over some calculations. The engineer was surprised to learn
what had happened, and at once jumped on his horse and galloped off with
Dave.
When they again reached the valley Mr. Carson had not yet returned from
his trip to the bend, but the cattle were in a worse tangle than before.
The cowboys efforts to drive them away from what was now nothing but a
long mudhole, were unavailing.
"Something's got to be done!" cried Skinny. "We've lost some already, and
more will die soon. We've got to get 'em away from here. But we can't as
long as they smell even the mud. What's to be done?"
Dave looked gloomily on, but could not answer. Could the engineer solve
the problem?