"WE CROWED TOO SOON!"
Not only the boy ranchers, but their more experienced cowboy companions
were puzzled by the actions of the sheep herders. It was the period
after the morning meal, the smoke of which fires was still rising
toward the sky. The sheep men appeared to have slept in the open, with
nothing more than their blankets for a bed and their saddles for
pillows. But they were accustomed to this, and so were our friends,
though they were glad of the fairly comfortable bunk house, or "fort,"
as they dubbed it.
But all interest was centered in what the Greasers were doing. Some of
them separated themselves from the sheep, which really did not require
much more attention than that given them by some intelligent dogs, and
a bunch of the hated and despised men were approaching the river,
carrying long poles.
"What do you reckon they're going to do?" asked Dick.
"Make a raft, maybe," answered Nort. "Though how they can float a lot
of sheep over on a raft made of a few bean poles is more than I can
understand."
"It would take them a month or more to float the sheep over, one at a
time, on a bunch of poles," objected Bud.
"That isn't what they're going to do," declared Dick, after closely
watching the actions of the Mexicans. "They're going to leave, that's
what they're planning."
"Leave? What do you mean; go away?" asked his brother.
"That's it--yes. They're going to make those dinguses the Indians use
trailing after their horses--a pole fastened to either side of the
animal, and the ends dragging on the ground. Between the poles they
carry their duffle."
"Nonsense!" laughed Bud. "In the first place these aren't Indians,
though they're as bad, I reckon. But they didn't come with those pole
trailers; so why would they make 'em to go away with? All they own
they can pack in their hats."
"I guess you're right," admitted Dick, after thinking it over. "But
they're going to do something."
They were all watching the Mexicans now. The men with long
poles--which they must have brought with them as none grew in the
vicinity--now closely approached the edge of the creek. They could not
be going to make a raft--the nature of the poles precluded that.
Then, as one after another of the sheep herders thrust the end of his
pole into the water, wading out a short distance to do this, Bud
uttered an exclamation.
"I have it!" the lad cried.
"You mean you're on to the game?" asked Dick.
"Yes."
"What is it?" cried the two brothers.
"They're feeling around to find the places where the quicksands are,"
announced Bud.
"You mean so they can jump in and get rid of themselves?" grimly asked
Snake Purdee.
"I mean so they can tell where _not_ to cross," said Bud, though this
was unnecessary, since they all grasped his meaning when he spoke of
the quicksands.
"I guess you're right, son," observed Old Billee, who had come back to
the fort with the return of the cowboys. "They're looking for safe
fords and I shouldn't wonder but what they'd find 'em."
"I wouldn't be too sure of that," said a tall lank cowboy.
"What do you mean?" Billee wanted to know.
"Wa'al, they may find the places where it's safe to cross--I ain't
sayin' but what they is sich places," went on "Lanky," as he was
called, "I know this creek putty well, an' I've crossed it more'n once,
swimmin' a hoss over an' sometimes drivin' cattle. But th' trouble is
sometimes when you find a safe place it doesn't stay safe very long."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Bud, who thought it his duty to learn
all he could about matters connected with his father's ranch.
"I reckon he means the quicksands shift--is that it, Lanky?" asked
Billee Dobb.
"That's it--yep! A place that may be safe to cross to-night may be the
most dangerous in the mornin', or even in less time."
"Oh, so the creek is going to favor us after all!" exclaimed Bud. "If
it's as treacherous as that it will keep those Greasers on the far
side."
"Not altogether," said Billee. "They may have just enough fool luck to
strike a safe place and get over here."
"Well, if they come we'll be ready for 'em!" grimly said Nort, and the
others nodded in accord with this sentiment.
Then, as there was nothing else to do for the present, they watched the
actions of the Mexicans--actions that were not so strange and
mysterious as they had been before Bud hit upon the right solution.
And that it was a correct guess no one could doubt who watched the
sheep herders. With their long, thin poles they went up and down the
bank of the stream, thrusting the ends into the mud, or whatever formed
the bottom of Spur Creek. At times, as I have said, the Mexicans would
wade out, perhaps until the water came as high as their middle, in
order to thrust their poles farther out into the stream. But when a
man thus waded another stood near with ready lariat.
"They're taking no chances on being caught as the horse was," said Nort.
"Right-o!" exclaimed his brother.
The sheep men, however, seemed to find so many places where there were
quicksands--or indications of them--in the vicinity of the place just
across from the fort--that they soon moved more than a mile down
stream. That is, some of them did. Others moved up, the party
separating and leaving a few men guarding the sheep.
"As if we'd cross and try to catch any of the woollies!" laughed Bud,
motioning to those on guard.
It was late in the afternoon when the survey or test of the creek
seemed to be completed. The two parties with their poles came back to
what might be called the "camp," and a consultation seemed to be taking
place.
In the still, quiet atmosphere the excited voices carried across the
creek, though what was said could not be made out.
"They seem to be having a dispute," observed Nort.
And this was evident. One bunch of the Greasers evidently held to one
opinion, and a minority disagreed. However, in the end the majority
ruled and then, to the surprise of our friends, the Greasers broke
camp, leaped to their saddles, and started driving their flocks back
toward the south, whence they had come.
For a few moments our friends, watching this move, did not know how to
interpret it. But as it dawned on them that the sheep men were
"pulling up stakes," and departing, Billee cried:
"We've got the best of 'em, boys! Or, rather, the quicksands worked
for us. They've gone back where they came from."
"And I hope they stay," sang out Yellin' Kid.
This was the hope of all, and it seemed likely to be carried out. As
night settled down, the mass of sheep and their herders grew more and
more indistinct as greater distance was put between them and those
holding the fort.
"Well, we'll wait a day or so to see if they don't come back," said
Billee, "and then we'll mosey to Diamond X. There's a pile of work
waitin' for us there."
"And we'd like to get back to Happy Valley," observed Bud.
"That's right," agreed Nort and Dick.
For the first time since the alarm about the sheep men rest was easier
in the fort that night. The danger appeared to be disappearing. The
treacherous nature of Spur Creek, with its shifting bottom of
quicksands--that might be here one day and a mile farther off the
next--had served our friends a good turn.
At least it seemed so, until the next morning. Then, as Billee Dobb
arose early and, as was his custom, went out for a before-breakfast
survey, he uttered a cry.
"What's the matter?" asked Bud, coming to the door of the fort.
"We crowed too soon, that's what's the matter," answered Billee. "We
crowed too soon!"