_Aboard a Modern Prairie Schooner._
Dates are a thing of the past along with newspapers, street cars,
electric lights, the hope of a speedy arrival in California, and last,
but not least, our faithful companion, the stout, green tandem. And it
came about thus:
We had reached a country of great level stretches, with grazing cattle
and raw looking farms, of infrequent water and distant ranges of bare,
blue mountains. Following a barbed wire fence, our road turned at right
angles to the north, whereas the way should have been open straight into
the west where a more fertile region was blazoned forth in masses of
green and long strips of yellow.
We stopped at a rude cabin which crouched, mouse-like, at the turn in
the road, to fill the canteen. A woman, withered and sunbrowned and worn
by pathetically futile efforts to maintain a home in an unfriendly land,
answered my knock. She informed us that the fenced range that blocked
our path was part of a great holding to the south, which projected a
long tentacle to enfold a source of life-giving water far to the north.
Thus, we needs must make a great detour to reach the point to the west
of us where the highway again took up its march toward the setting sun.
This strip, it appeared, was but a scant three miles in width, and we
were at once filled with the idea of walking across instead of riding so
far around. After some manœuvring, we succeeded in crowding the wheel
beneath the barbed strands and set off across the prairie, which was
almost as hard and bare as the county road. We had not gone far when a
group of cattle caught sight of us and moved up to inspect the strange
intruders. These were followed by others, which seemed a signal to
hundreds. Soon a dense mass was tagging at our heels and spreading out
to right and left, while in the distance still more could be seen
lumbering up to join the herd. A peculiar prickling sensation began to
manifest itself in the region of my scalp.
“Dear me, I do wish your sweater was blue instead of red,” I observed
nervously to Dan. “I believe it is making these cattle angry. Do you
suppose they really would attack us?”
“No, of course not. They are perfectly harmless. They don’t know what to
make of us, that’s all, and their curiosity urges them up to take a good
look.”
“Nevertheless, I noticed that he was quickening his pace. As for myself,
I scanned the distance to the boundary fence with anxious eyes. The
cattle, which at first had maintained a respectful distance, now began
to crowd closer.
“Please, Dan,” I urged, “take off that sweater and hide it till we get
out of this pasture. I don’t like the sight of so many cows a little
bit.”
“Rats, Ethel, don’t be a coward. Who’s afraid of a few cows?”
He turned to wave his hat at the advancing animals, stepped into a
prairie dog burrow and came heavily to the ground. As he regained his
feet, his features twisted in pain and he caught at the handle bars.
“Gee whiz,” he grunted, “I gave my ankle a beastly wrench. It hurts like
the devil.”
Visions of dislocations, sprains, of incapacitation in this God-forsaken
spot, flashed before my brain as I sank to my knees to learn the extent
of the injury, the cattle for a moment forgotten. I unlaced the shoe,
and after a careful examination was delighted to find that it was
nothing worse than a sprain which would doubtless be well in a few days.
“I’ll take the wheel and you sit down while I unpack the emergency kit
and get out the bandages,” I remarked, rising to my feet. “I’ll just put
on a——” The words froze on my lips. We stood in a ring of cattle less
than two hundred feet in diameter. They stood shoulder to shoulder,
heads down, noses to the ground, blowing, snorting, pawing, while here
and there some young bull would advance a step with tossing head, then
pause while the herd moved in to join him. Dan broke in on my
immobility.
“We can’t stop to bother with my ankle now,” he muttered. “We must make
tracks out of here as fast as the Lord’ll let us.”
He hobbled on a few steps, leaning on the tandem. At once the animals in
the rear moved forward, while those in front set up a peculiar moaning
bellow, which seemed to enrage the whole herd. The air vibrated with
their bawling. To my affrighted eyes the whole plain seemed a solid mass
of reddish backs and tossing heads. Fragments of what I had read and
heard of western cattle came to my mind. They would attack a man on
foot—a person on horseback was safe——.
“Get into your saddle, quick,” I cried. “It’s our only chance.”