THE CATTLE STAMPEDE
If there had been confusion and excitement before there was more of
it now. Yet no one lost his head. There was a way of going about it,
and though it seemed as if everyone was running here and there,
without an object, there was a well-worked-out system evident.
The cowboys began looking to their saddle girths, for there was hard
riding ahead of them. Some ran to the supply house for extra
cartridges, and these were hurriedly thrust into belts or pockets.
Coats and hats that had been discarded were donned, and several men
began packing up some bacon and hardtack, while others strapped
simple camp outfits back of their saddles, for there was no telling
how long they would be obliged to be on the trail.
"Come on! Let's go!" cried Jack, and he and his two chums raced for
the stables.
"Will they let us, do you think?" asked John, whose eyes sparkled at
the thought of the chase.
"Of course," replied Nat. "Uncle said he wanted us to learn the ranch
business. I'll ask him."
But Nat did not get a chance. Mr. Kent was too busy preparing to ride
after his stampeded cattle to pay any attention to the three boys. It
is doubtful if he thought of them.
So the chums, without further permission than Nat's idea that it
would be all right, saddled their horses, Jack taking the black which
he had come to like very much. They rode from the corral and out on
the road that led to the north where the upper range lay. The lads at
once found themselves in the rear of a galloping throng of cowboys.
"Come on, let's get up ahead," shouted Nat, and they urged their
horses forward, passing the others. When they were almost in the van
a voice hailed them:
"Where you boys going?"
They turned, to see Mr. Kent riding toward them.
"Oh," said Nat, a little confused. "We thought you'd want us to go to
learn how to manage a herd of cattle."
"Manage stampeding cattle," muttered Mr. Kent. "You boys must be
crazy. But it's too late to send you back, I suppose. Only don't ride
your horses to death the first thing. You've got lots of work ahead
of you."
With this encouragement the chums dropped back, listening to the talk
of the cowboys about what was ahead of them.
"Remember the last stampede," one tall lanky rider asked his
neighbor, who was nearly the same build.
"The one where Loony Pete was trampled to death?"
"That's the one. The steers sure made mincemeat of him all right.
Hope no one gets down under foot this trip."
The boys looked at each other. This was a more dangerous undertaking
than they had anticipated.
The riders advanced at an even, if not rapid pace. The cowboys as
their horses ambled on were loading revolvers, looking to their
lariats, tightening the packs which they carried on the back of their
saddles, and making ready for the hard task ahead of them.
From listening to the talk, the boys learned that the upper range was
about five miles distant, and was where the choicest cattle were
herded, preparatory to being shipped away. The range was a big one,
but, about ten miles from it, was a deep and dangerous canyon, at the
beginning of the hills, which as they grew larger became the range of
Golden Glow mountains. It was toward this canyon that the steers were
headed, in a wild, unreasoning rush.
It seemed impossible for the cowboys to get ahead of them in time to
head them off. But the cattle had a longer way to travel than did the
men, and the latter could take a diagonal course and, if they had
luck, reach the edge of the canyon first. It was planned to get
between the oncoming herd and the edge of the gulch, and turn the
steers back, if possible.
"Better hit up the pace!" exclaimed Mr. Kent, when they had ridden
several miles. "We don't want to be too late."
The boys, realized, as did the men, that if the cattle, in their
rush, reached the canyon, they would pile up in the bottom, and
hundreds would be killed.
The horses were now galloped and the cavalcade raised quite a dust as
it hastened over the prairie. The men began lossening the revolvers
in their belts, and several unslung their lariats, ready for instant
use. In about half an hour they began to ascend a slight rise that
led to a plateau which extended into the range. Ahead of them, and
about two miles to their right, lay the gulch.
"Well, we're here first!" exclaimed Mr. Kent, as he topped the rise
and glanced to the left.
"Hark!" cried Rattlesnake Jim, who rode next to him. "I hear 'em!"
A noise like distant thunder sounded over the plain. Then, about
three miles away, there arose something that looked like a dark
cloud.
The sound of thunder came nearer. The dust cloud was plainly to be
seen. Right ahead, so as to cross it on the slant, rode the group of
men. The boys were in the rear. Mr. Kent gave a glance back and saw
them. He shouted something but the chums could not hear him amid the
pounding of hoofs. They saw the ranchman make signals, but did not
understand them.
Then they saw several men from the front rank of the cowboys circle
around and come up behind them.
"You young rascals!" exclaimed Rattlesnake Jim. "You ought to be
spanked for coming along! Mr. Kent says to keep in the middle now.
We're going to ride behind and keep your horses on the go. If they
lag behind you're liable to be killed!"
Things began to look serious now. The lads found themselves in the
midst of a throng of cowboys, and the horses of the chums, being
surrounded by steeds ridden by experienced cattlemen, picked up their
pace and went forward on the rush.
Closer and closer approached the dark cloud. Nearer and nearer
sounded the thunderous pounding of hoofs. Then, as the boys looked,
they could see through the dust that was blown aside by a puff of
wind, thousands of cattle, with heads on which flashed long, sharp,
wide-spreading horns, rushing madly along.
"Wow! Wow! Wow!" yelled a score of cowboys.
Bang! Bang! Bang! spoke a score of big revolvers.
"Right across now!" yelled Mr. Kent. "Try and turn 'em! If we don't
do it, then back again, once more!"
Then began such a ride as the boys had never dreamed of. Across the
ragged front of the maddened animals the men urged their horses on a
long slant. Lying low in their saddles, holding on with one hand, and
firing revolvers with the other, the cowboys rode, there being no
need to guide the trained horses.
Bang! Bang! Bang! It was like a skirmish line firing on the enemy.
The boys, who had secured revolvers as they rushed to the stables,
fired as the men did, right in the faces of the advancing steers. The
cartridges were blank, but so close were some of the men that the
burning wadding struck the cattle.
Could they stop the rush? Could the maddened and frightened steers be
halted before they plunged over the cliffs?
The line of cattle was about a quarter of a mile wide. In less than
two minutes the cowboys, with the three chums in their midst, had
swept across it. But the steers had not stopped. They were several
hundred feet nearer the canyon, which now was but a mile away. There
would be time for but one, or possibly two more attempts, and then it
would be too late.
But the cowboys never halted. Wheeling sharply, they dashed once more
across the front of the steers. Their yells were wilder than ever,
and the shooting was a continuous rattle.
"Rope some on the edges!" yelled Mr. Kent.
At that some of the cowboys rode back and, whirling their lariats
above their heads, sent the coils about the horns of some on the left
fringe. The animals went down in a heap, right in the midst and under
the hoofs of the others. Of course they were trampled to death, but
this was the means of causing a number to stumble and fall, and so
halt those back of them.
This could only be done on the two outer edges. To have attempted
this in the center of the stampeding herd would have meant death for
the cowboy who tried it.
The second dash across the front had been made, and the frightened
cattle had not been more than momentarily stopped. They were still
rushing toward the cliff.
"Once more!" called Mr. Kent. "This is our last chance!"
The canyon was hut a quarter of a mile away, If the rush was not
stopped now, it meant the death of many valuable animals, and the
possible scattering of the herd.
Again across the front, bristling with waving horns, rode the brave
men. Their revolvers spat out fire and the smoke almost obscured the
oncoming steers. The men yelled until their throats were parched.
"Make a stand! Make a stand!" yelled Mr. Kent.
The cowboys bunched together, riding their horses in a circle, the
center of which was the boys. For a moment it seemed as if death was
coming to meet them on the wings of the wind.