PREPARING FOR AN ATTACK
It was late on the following forenoon when the Pony Rider Boys
descended on the Simms ranch, bag and baggage. Larue had relieved
one of the herders and sent him back with Tad Butler and Ned Rector,
to bring up the rest of the party.
The parlor tent they found had been too badly damaged to be worth
carrying along, so they left it where the bear had wrecked it.
"Heard anything from the herd?" was Tad's first question as
Mr. Simms came out to greet them.
"We certainly have. They are within three miles of here now. I have
given orders to keep them clear of the ranch, and the herders are at
work deflecting them to the northward. We shall bed them down about
five miles from here to-night. To-morrow we will push on slowly for
the grass regions up the state. I have arranged for you to remain at
the ranch to-night."
"Oh, no. We prefer to go out and join the herd," objected Tad.
"We most certainly do," added Ned. "That's what we are here for."
"Have you heard anything new?" asked Tad, in a low voice, leaning
from his saddle.
"Yes. I heard that the cowmen all through here are stirred up. It
isn't any one man or set of men that's doing it. We have received
threats from different sources if we allow the sheep to stray from
our own ranch," answered Mr. Simms, with serious face.
"And you have decided----?"
"To go on."
"Hello, is this your son, Philip?" asked Tad, as a slender,
pale-faced boy came toward them.
"Yes, this is Phil. Come here, Phil and meet my young friends."
The Pony Rider Boys took to the lad at once. He was a manly little
fellow, but delicate to the point of being fragile, the lad having
only recently recovered from a serious attack of typhoid fever.
"You see what the outdoor life has done for these young gentlemen,
Phil," said Mr. Simms. "I shall expect you to come back this fall,
looking every bit as well as they do now. All get ready for
dinner. It will be served in a few moments. Later in the day, we
shall move out on the range. Phil, have you packed up your things?"
"Yes, sir. I'm all ready."
The noon meal was a jolly affair. The herders cooked their own meals
out on the range, and after this the boys would eat with them. But
to-day they were invited guests in the home of the rancher and
hanker. In the meantime Professor Zepplin and Mr. Simms had become
interested in each other and already were looking forward to the
next few days on the range together, with keen pleasure.
The start was made shortly after three o'clock, the party reaching
their destination well before sundown.
The Pony Riders uttered a shout as they descried the white canvas
top of the chuck wagon. It was a familiar sight to them. On beyond
that was a perfect sea of white backs and bobbing heads, where the
great herd was grazing contentedly after its long journey to the
free grass of Montana. The boys had never seen anything like it.
The sheep dogs, too, were a source of never-ending interest. The
boys watched the intelligent animals, as of their own accord they
rounded up a bunch here and there that they had observed straying
from the main herd, working the sheep back to their fellows quietly
and without in the least appearing to disturb them.
"What kind of sheep is that over there?" asked Chunky, pointing.
"That's no sheep. That's Billy," answered Mr. Simms.
"Who's he?"
"The goat. You've no doubt heard of a bell wether?"
"I have," spoke up Tad.
"That's what Billy is. He leads the sheep. They will follow a leader
almost anywhere. In crossing a stream Billy wades in without the
least hesitation and they cross right over after him. Otherwise we
should have great difficulty in getting them over."
"Oh, yes, I know a goat. Had one once," replied Stacy. "Does he
butt?"
"Sometimes. His temper is not what might be called angelic. I
suspect the boys have been teasing him pretty well. However, you
want to look out for some of those rams. They are ugly and they can
easily knock a man down. If you are up early in the morning you will
see them at play--you will see what they can do with their tough
heads."
"I forgot to tell you," said Larue in a low voice, "that some of the
men report having encountered Indians during the day."
"That's nothing new. There are plenty of them around here," laughed
the banker.
"They think they were Blackfeet. The reds were so far away, however,
that the men could not make certain."
"Off the reservation again, eh? Probably think they can pick up a
few sheep. Well, look out for them. If you catch them at any shines
just shoot to scare. Don't hit them. We don't want any Government
inquiry. I have suspected for a long time that some of them were
hiding in the Rosebuds and that the Crow Indians were in league with
them. It's only the bad Indians who stray from their reservations,
you see," explained Mr. Simms. "We have to be on the lookout for
these roving bands all the time or they'd steal all we have."
"I should think you would complain to the Indian agencies,"
suggested the Professor.
"Doesn't pay. They would take it out of us in a worse way,
perhaps. They're a revengeful gang."
One by one the herders came in with their dogs and flocks, rounding
the sheep in for the night, having chosen for the purpose a slight
depression in the plain. For the first time, the boys had an
opportunity to meet the ranchers and compare them with the cattle
men they tad known in Texas. They were a hardy lot, taciturn and
solemn-faced. The most silent man in the bunch, was Noisy Cooper,
who scarcely ever spoke a word unless forced to do so by an
insistent question. Bat Coyne had been a cattle man down in Texas,
while Mary Johnson--so called because of his pink and white
complexion, which no amount of sun or wind could tarnish--was said
to have come from the East. He had left there for reasons best known
to himself, working on sheep ever since.
It was Old Hicks, however, who interested Tad most. Hicks's first
words after being introduced were in apology for being cook on a
sheep ranch.
He was limping about, flourishing a frying-pan to accentuate his
protests.
"I'm a cowpuncher, I am. Wish I'd never joined this mutton outfit,"
he growled.
"Then why did you?" asked Tad, smiling broadly.
"Why? I joined because I could get more pay. That's why. What you
suppose I joined for?"
"I thought perhaps you preferred sheep," answered the lad meekly.
"Like them--like mutton?" snarled Old Hicks, hurling his frying-pan
angrily into the chuck wagon. "Between sheep and had Injuns, give me
the Injun every time. Why, every time I have to cook one it makes me
sick; it does."
"Indians? Do you cook Indians?" asked Stacy, who had been an
interested listener to the conversation.
"Wha--wha--cook Indians? No! I cook mutton. What do you take me
for?"
"I--I--I didn't know," muttered Stacy meekly. "Thought I heard you
say you did."
"You got another think coming," growled the cook, limping
away. "Come over here and take a sniff at this kettle?" he called,
turning back to Tad.
The lad did so.
"Smells fine, doesn't it?"
"I think so. What is it, mutton?"
"Boiled mutton. I kin smell the wool. Bah."
"Do you cook them with the wool on?" asked Chunky, edging nearer the
kettle.
"See here, young man. This here is a bad country to ask fool
questions in. Use your eyes and ears. Give your tongue a rest. It'll
stop on you some day."
Chunky retired somewhat crestfallen, and from that moment on he kept
aloof from the irascible cook, whom he held in wholesome awe.
"Come and get it!" bellowed Old Hicks, who, after prodding about the
interior of the kettle with a sharp stick for some time, decided
that the hated mutton was ready to be served.
The Pony Riders did not share Hicks's repugnance to mutton. They
helped themselves liberally, and even Phil Simms went so far as to
pass his plate for a second helping. By the time the meal had been
finished twilight was upon them.
The boys, when Professor Zepplin called their attention to the
lateness of the hour, made haste to pitch their tents, while
Mr. Simms, with Phil and the sheepmen, looked on approvingly.
"You boys go at it like troopers," he smiled. "You'll have to pitch
your own, too, after to-day, Philip."
"We'll help him," chorused the boys. "We've got to do something to
earn our board," said Ned.
"If we eat all the time the way we have tonight, there won't be many
sheep left to graze by the time we've finished the trip," laughed
Walter.
"Somebody has to eat the cook's share," interrupted Larue. "What I
came over here to ask was whether you boys were intending to take
your turns at herding for the next few nights?"
"Of course we are," they answered in one voice. "That's what we are
up here for," added Tad.
"Got any guns?"
"Rifles. Fortunately, they were not in the tent that was set afire
by the bear, so they are all right," replied Tad. "However, I'll
have to ask the Professor about taking them out. I do not think he
will care to have us do so."
"I'll give you each a revolver," announced the foreman.
"Luke, never mind the guns. The boys will do their part by keeping
guard. We don't want them to be mixed up in any trouble that may
follow. If there is any shooting to be done, we can take care of
that, I guess," said Mr. Simms, with a grim smile.
"Yes, I could not think of permitting it," said the Professor
firmly; hence it was decided that the lads should go on as they had
been doing, leaving the sterner work to those whose business it was
to attend to it.
After the darkness had settled over the camp, the boys observed that
there were more men present than had been the case when they had
their supper.
Mr. Simms explained that they were some men he had sent for to help
protect the herd. He had ordered them to report after dark, so that
the trouble-makers might know nothing about the increased force. The
rancher was determined to teach the cattle men of the free-grass
range a lesson they would not soon forget.
"What do you wish us to do?" asked Walter. "We are anxious to get
busy."
"I think two of you had better go out for the first half of the
night; the other two for the latter half."
"Do we take our ponies?" asked Tad.
"Yes. All of us will ride, excepting the few men who are regularly
on guard with the sheep. But you will not move around much. Make no
noise and be watchful. That is all we can do."
It was decided that Ned and Walter should take the early trick; Tad
and Stacy Brown going out after midnight.
The herders were already attending to their duties. And now
Mr. Simms and the foreman having given their orders, the reserve
force moved out one at a time until all had disappeared in the
darkness. A signal had been agreed upon, so that they might
recognize each other in the dark.
The rancher had thrown out his reserve force in the shape of a
picket line, located some distance out from the herd and covering a
circle something more than a mile in diameter. This was done so that
in case of an attack they would have an opportunity to drive off
their enemy without great danger to the herd. The battle, more than
likely, would be ended before the cowmen could get near enough to
the sheep to inflict any damage.
The two boys left camp rather closer together than had the others,
as they were to keep in touch during their watch.
In a short time the guards were all placed and a great silence
settled over the scene, broken only now and then by the bleating of
a lamb that had lost its mother in the darkness.