A WARNING
"Oh, doesn't it hurt them?" faltered Ruth, as creature after creature
was branded.
"No, Miss, hardly at all," Pete Batso assured her. "You see they're used
to being roped, and we don't throw them as hard as it looks, onless it's
an ornery critter that wants to make trouble. And the hot iron doesn't
go in deep. It just sort of crimples up the hair, same as you ladies
frizzes your curls with a hot slate pencil--at least my second wife--no,
it was my third--she used to curl hers that way."
Ruth had difficulty to keep from laughing.
The branding was almost over, and the taking of pictures was nearly at
an end. Russ had obtained some good films, and the action was spirited.
"Here comes a bad one," announced the foreman, as the cow punchers cut
out from the herd a big steer. "That's a vicious critter, all right!"
"Oh, is there any danger?" asked Alice, for she and Ruth had finished
their work. Mr. Bunn and Paul were engaged in the final scenes, not far
from the place of the branding.
"Oh, don't worry. That critter won't get away from the boys," the
foreman assured her. "It's a steer that some of the other ranchmen
around here tried to claim for theirs. They changed the brand by burnin'
an arrow over our circle and dot. Now we've got to put our brand on
again. The steer knows what's comin', I guess."
Indeed the animal did, for it resisted, for some time, the efforts of
the cowboys to separate it from the rest of the bunch. But finally it
was forced out into an open space, and there quickly roped and thrown.
"Lively now, boys!" called the foreman. "We've got to clear out of here
right after this, and look after that bunch of critters by Sweetwater
Brook. I hear the rustlers have been after them. So get a move on."
"What are rustlers?" asked Alice, who seldom let pass a chance to
acquire information.
"Cattle stealers, Miss. Ornery, mean men who trade on the rights of
others. But we'll snub 'em if we get hold of 'em!"
The branding of the big steer was quickly done and then the restraining
ropes were cast off so that it might get up. With a deep bellow the
animal sprang to its feet. It stood still for a moment and then, with a
snort, it wheeled around and made straight for Mr. Bunn.
For a moment the veteran actor stood still. Fortunately, some little
distance separated him from the steer. Otherwise he might have been
impaled on its short horns.
"Run! Run!" cried Pete Batso. "Get out the way, and give the boys a
chance to rope him!"
Mr. Bunn needed no second call. He sprang to one side, in time to avoid
a sweep of the horns, and started to run. The steer, evidently
connecting the actor with the recent branding, made after him, and then
began a chase that might have resulted seriously.
"Stop him! Save me! Do something!" cried Mr. Bunn, as he raced about,
keeping just ahead of the angry steer.
"Just a minute--we'll rope him!" cried the foreman. But the trouble was
that the cowboys nearest the scene had just pulled their lariat from the
branded beast and the ropes were not coiled in readiness for throwing.
The foreman himself had left his at the ranch house.
On rushed Mr. Bunn. On came the steer, and only a little way behind the
actor. The distance was lessening every second.
"He ought to be on a horse--then he wouldn't have any trouble," declared
the foreman. "Lively there, Buster--get that critter!"
"Right away, Pete," was the answer as the cowboy coiled his rope for a
throw. Then, galloping his pony up behind the steer, Buster threw the
lariat over the head of the animal, and brought it with a thud to the
ground.
"Oh, am I safe?" gasped Mr. Bunn as he sank down on some saddles that
had been removed from the horses.
"You're all right now," Paul assured him. "But it certainly was a lively
time while it lasted."
"That's so," agreed Russ, who had not deserted his camera. "But why
didn't you run toward me while you were at it. I could have made better
pictures then."
"Do you--do you mean to say you took a film of me running away from
that--that cow?" panted Mr. Bunn, who had lost his tall silk hat early
in the chase.
"Well, I just couldn't help it," confessed Russ. "It was too good to
miss. I think I got most of it."
"Where's Mr. Pertell?" demanded Mr. Bunn, getting up quickly. "I want to
see the manager at once."
"What's the trouble?" asked that gentleman, as he came up.
"I demand that you destroy that film of me being chase by a cow!" cried
Mr. Bunn. "I shall be the laughing stock of all the moving picture
theaters of the United States. I demand that that film be not shown. To
be chased by a _cow_!"
"But it wasn't a cow, my friend," spoke the foreman. "It was a vicious
steer and you might have been badly hurt if Buster hadn't roped it in
time."
"Is that so?" asked Mr. Bunn.
"It sure is!"
"Well, er--then--perhaps after all, if it was as important as that, you
may show the film," conceded the Shakespearean actor, who had a large
idea of his own importance. "We might make it into some sort of a play
like 'Quo Vadis?'" he went on.
"Hardly," said Mr. Pertell with a smile. "They didn't wear tall silk
hats in those days. But I'll change the script of this play to conform
to the chase. I'm glad you were not hurt, Mr. Bunn."
"So am I. I thought several times that I felt those horns in my back."
The vicious steer was held by the ropes until the company of players
had left the scene. Then it was allowed to get up and join the rest of
the bunch. By that time it seemed to have lost all desire to attack.
"Sometimes a steer will come for a person that isn't on horseback,"
explained Pete Batso. "You see, the cattle are so used to seeing mounted
men that they can't get used to anyone afoot. You want to get your
players mounted," he added to Mr. Pertell, who was a fair horseman, and
who was on this occasion in the saddle.
"I guess I will," agreed the manager. "Some of the young ladies are
quite anxious to try it, if you have some gentle mounts."
"Oh, I think I can fix them up. My boys will quarrel among themselves,
though, for the privilege of giving lessons to 'em. You see we don't get
much of ladies' society out here and we appreciate it so much the more."
"I see," laughed Mr. Pertell.
The next few days were given over to horseback practice on the part of
all the members of the moving picture company save Mrs. Maguire. She
declared she was too old to learn, and as she would not be required in
mounted scenes she was excused. But her little grandchildren were
provided with gentle ponies and taught how to sit in the saddle. Mr.
DeVere had ridden in his youth, and the knack of it soon came back to
him, though he was a trifle heavy. Paul took to it naturally, and Miss
Pennington and Miss Dixon were soon able to hold their own, as was Ruth.
But Alice was the "star," according to Baldy Johnson, who insisted on
being her instructor. She was an apt pupil, and he was a good and
conscientious teacher. In less than a week Alice was very sure of
herself in the saddle.
"Oh, it's simply great! It's wonderful!" she cried as she came back one
day from a gallop, with red cheeks and eyes that sparkled with the light
of health and life. "I wouldn't have missed it for anything!"
"I am glad you like it," said her father. "It is good exercise for you."
"I like it, too," declared Ruth, "but I'm not as keen for it as Alice
is."
"Oh, I just love it!" cried the younger girl, enthusiastically.
"Now we'll begin some real Western scenes, since you can all ride fairly
well," remarked Mr. Pertell.
"Fairly well--huh! She's a peach at it--that's what she is--a peach!"
cried Baldy Johnson, with a look of admiration at his pupil. Alice
blushed with delight.
During the days of horseback practice Mr. Pertell and Russ had been on
the lookout for any signs of activity on the part of their rivals in the
moving picture business; but nothing had happened. The man with the
other camera seemed to have disappeared.
"Maybe they've given up," suggested Russ.
"I hope so," agreed Mr. Pertell.
A few days later several important scenes were to be filmed, and one
evening Alice, who was to have a large share in the acting, had her
horse saddled, and with Ruth and her father, accompanied by Baldy, set
off for a little gallop.
"Let's go over to that _mesa_," suggested Alice, pointing to a big,
elevated hill, standing boldly and abruptly upright in the midst of the
plain.
"No, I wouldn't go there," said Baldy, flicking his horse with the
reins. "That's a dangerous place, Miss. Best keep away."