DRIVING THE HERD
At noon the drivers had eaten whatever they chanced to have along with
them. If one happened to be better provided than his mates, he was only
too willing to share his lunch. It was anticipated that when night came
one of the yearlings in the herd would be sacrificed to make a supper
for the outfit; and on the strength of this the boys had been enabled to
put in the entire afternoon.
Once they “threw a leg over a saddle” they seemed to revive wonderfully.
After that the tired herd would have to hasten to keep up, for the
horses were fresh.
But Colonel Haywood knew they could not expect to make any great
distance before camping. He saw that some of the cattle were footsore,
and liable to drop if pushed too far.
“There’s only one thing we’ve got to look out for,” remarked Bart, as
they considered the advisability of stopping for the night.
“What’s that?” asked Bob, who chanced to be alongside the foreman at the
time.
“We don’t have any way of knowing what them rustlers might feel like
doing, once they git out of that bunk-house,” Bart continued.
“Do you mean they may take a notion to follow us, and fight for the
possession of the herd?” asked the boy, thrilled by the possibility of
further adventure on this trip.
“Well, as a rule, the fellers that foller that line of business are a
lot of cowardly coyotes; and on bein’ found out will run to beat the
band,” Bart went on. “But this here Mendoza, he’s hard to place. Course
he’s just boilin’ over mad because his fine hiding place is discovered,
and he’ll never be able to use the same again. Question is, will he make
a break for the border, thinking the ranchers are hot on his trail; or
foller after us, just for spite, to stampede the herd, and make
trouble?”
“Then we’ll have to keep a pretty good watch, I should think,” Bob
observed.
“That goes without sayin’, younker,” replied the boss puncher. “And as
some of the stock just look all in, we’ll have to call a halt here and
now. It’s as good a place as we can find, I opine.”
“Just what I was going to say, Bart,” laughed Frank, coming up at that
moment; “for the grass is good, considering the season; and here’s all
the water wanted, fresh from the mountains.”
When the shouts of the cowboys told the weary cattle that they were to
stop and rest, they gave evidence of their satisfaction. Crowding along
the little stream, they drank their fill after the heat of the day. Some
began to crop the forage, with others immediately dropped down, utterly
exhausted by their labors.
With the report of a gun one of the yearlings dropped, and a cowboy was
soon busily engaged in cutting the animal up to serve as their supper.
A fire was started, though fuel seemed scarce. But then, only a cooking
blaze was required, and after supper was served they would have no
further need for any fire.
Bob admitted frankly that he felt tired out, though he did not fully
realize just how weary he was until he had sat down a little while, and
then attempted to rise suddenly.
“Why, I just can’t do it, Frank!” he exclaimed with a long face. “Seems
as if my legs needed oiling about the hinges, they’re that rusty. Gee! I
hope I’ll be feeling better than this in the morning.”
“Oh! don’t worry about that,” laughed his chum, who, of course, being
somewhat tougher, had not suffered quite as much as Bob; “after a sleep
you’ll be as fresh as a daisy again.”
“But I want to stand my watch to-night, all the same,” ventured Bob,
positively.
Frank looked at him.
“What’s come over you, to say that?” he demanded.
“Because, when there’s danger around I think every fellow ought to share
the duties of standing guard,” Bob replied, sturdily.
At that Frank whistled, and then chuckled.
“I see you’ve been talking with Bart, and he’s given you the idea the
rustlers may be silly enough to follow after us, just to get revenge,”
he remarked.
“Well, Bart did say something like that,” Bob admitted; “and he also
told me he meant to keep a close watch all night, to prevent a surprise
and a stampede.”
“Oh! rats! don’t you believe there’s anything like that going to
happen,” Frank hastened to remark, seeing that his chum was really
concerned and worried over the grim predictions of the boss cowboy.
“Then you don’t take any stock in it, yourself, Frank?”
“No I don’t,” replied the other, quickly adding: “though of course Bart
is quite right in saying he doesn’t mean to take any chances of a
stampede in the night. We’ve done so well that it would be a shame to
have any accident happen now.”
“But how about the rustlers?” asked the other.
“Well, by this time they’re out of that bunk-house, perhaps; or will be
as soon as it’s really dark. My opinion is, if you want to hear it, Bob,
that they’ll get out of that valley on foot as fast as they can, leaving
their ponies behind them, because they won’t know about this other
gateway, you understand.”
“And then?” continued Bob.
“They’ll be in a panic, believing that, since they’re known now, the
country’ll soon be too hot to hold ’em. And so there’ll be a chase for
the Mexican border; and a ‘good riddance to bad rubbish’ for Arizona,”
Frank concluded.
After that little talk Bob’s fears subsided somewhat, though he did
occasionally cast a furtive glance backward to where the high rocky
ridge cut across the sky-line, as though wondering what was taking place
beyond the barrier.
Supper was soon ready, and it was an almost famished bunch of cow
punchers who gathered around, taking turns at eating; for Bart would not
let the herd go unguarded even for a minute.
Arrangements were soon made looking to a detail of wranglers to stand
watch over the saddle horses and the cattle. Bob was not allowed any
share in this duty, much to his regret, for he was in earnest in his
wish to have a part in the labor. His inexperience would have rendered
his work of little value, and the head herder decided that he might just
as well get his full rest.
Bob lay down the best he could. He needed no lullaby to put him to sleep
that night. The last things he remembered hearing were the whispers of
the boys who sat near by, the drone of insects in the grass, the uneasy
movements of the herd not far away, and some night bird calling in the
trees close by the foot of the mountains.
When he awoke he could hardly believe his senses, as he sat up and dug
his knuckles in his eyes. It was getting broad daylight. The cattle
seemed to be for the most part feeding on the sweet grass that grew
close to the creek; and were apparently in good trim for the long drive
to the ranch.
“Well, that was a time when I slept like a top, sure pop,” said Bob, as
he started to get to his feet. “Seems as if I’d just lain down; and yet
here it is dawn. And nothing happened after all!”
There was a shade of disappointment in Bob’s tone. Whether this came
from the fact that he had not been allowed to share in guarding the
camp, because of his being reckoned a greenhorn; or on account of the
failure of Bart’s prediction of further trouble, it would be hard to
say.
Enough of the beef remained to serve for breakfast; and they hoped to be
at the ranch before they were hungry again.
“You see, we didn’t have any trouble after all, Bob,” said Frank, as he
joined his chum, who was looking after his horse at the time.
“If we did, I must have slept right through it all,” chuckled Bob.
“Never knew a thing from the time I shut my eyes till daylight wakened
me. But I reckon nothing bothered the herd, and we’re starting the day
fine.”
“I don’t believe even a stray wolf or coyote came near, the whole
night,” Frank went on. “I was up myself for two hours, keeping watch
over the cattle; and once I thought I heard the report of firearms, but
it wasn’t repeated; and right now I couldn’t say what it was I caught.
Might have been just one of those little rock slides up on the
mountain.”
“I’m glad it’s all over,” said Bob.
“Same here,” Frank added. “It’s sure been some strenuous. And that climb
over the ridge was the toughest ever. I suppose you’ll believe now what
I told you about how cattle can get up, and go some?”
“They’re just great at climbing, that’s what,” the other admitted.
After breakfast the start was made. There was little trouble with the
herd now. Reaching level land had apparently brought about a return of
their confidence; and it might even be that some of the older steers
could scent their customary feeding grounds in the distance.
At any rate they started off, and being once more in their glory while
mounted on their ponies, the cowboys proved as active as cats, darting
here and there to keep their charges in a compact mass as they headed
toward distant Circle Ranch.
It was about two hours later that Bob rode alongside his chum.
“Say, do you suppose that means any trouble for us, Frank?” he demanded;
and as the other turned his head to see what the Kentucky boy might be
pointing at, he discovered two horsemen heading after them.
Visions of a desperate and vengeful Mendoza had naturally leaped into
Bob’s mind, at first seeing these parties. Frank quickly put him at his
ease.
“Not by a jugfull, Bob,” he said, cheerfully. “Those fellows are the two
men we left behind us in the valley, to guard the rustlers, and keep
them quiet. They got out all right, it seems, and found their ponies
where they were left.”
“Perhaps they’ll be able to tell us something about the rustlers, and
what they were doing the last they saw of the crowd?” Bob suggested.
“Well, as like as not they may,” his chum admitted; and then they waited
for the two riders to overtake the herd drivers.
Of course there was considerable yelling and waving of hats to mark the
arrival of the balance of the Circle Ranch outfit. But, knowing that
they should make their report to their employer first, the two riders
sought the spot where he and the foreman were to be found.
Of course the two saddle boys hovered around, wishing to learn any news
in connection with what had occurred in the valley during the preceding
day, while the great herd was being driven over the ridge.
Under the skillful questioning of the stockman the cowboys told their
story. All through the long day they had kept watch and ward over the
bunk-house. Several times the rustlers who were being held prisoners
there made a show of rushing out; but they really lacked the nerve to
take their lives in their hands. And so evening still found the
situation unchanged.
When it was dark the two cowboys had fired a few shots to let the
rustlers understand they were still on deck. Then they had decamped,
and, finding the exit, managed, after great difficulties, to climb out
over the masses of piled-up rock, which had been torn loose by the
explosion of dynamite.
They had spent the balance of the night in hiding, and when morning came
made a “bee-line” for the place where they had been informed their
horses would be waiting. After that it was no great effort to discover
the presence of the herd off on the plain, and make direct for the
cattle.
“Then you saw nothing of the rustlers after you left?” asked the
stockman.
“We think we saw a bunch of riders far away to the south, an hour back,”
one of the cowboys answered; “and hitting it up for all they were worth.
If so be the rustlers had a saddle band outside the valley somewhere,
then that must ’a been the crowd we saw. No danger of them comin’ back
again.”
“Well, on the whole, it’s just as well,” remarked Colonel Haywood;
“though there are those who have suffered at the hands of Mendoza in the
past who would much rather see him a prisoner, and sent to the
penitentiary for a long term.”
“I reckon he’d never get thar,” remarked Bart, with a smile and a nod,
that Bob, though a greenhorn, could easily interpret to mean that the
cow men knew of a better way to settle the rustler so he could never
again raid their herds.