TOUGH LUCK FOR THE LIMITED
"I suppose," reflectively drawled Harry, in the morning at breakfast,
"that by the looks of things we're in for a dry march or two before we
strike the creeks on the other side. Anyway, we'd better fill the water
keg, sure. And I opine you're to go ahead, to keep those horse tracks,
while I follow with the cart."
"Pike's Peak or Bust," responded Terry.
They started early, to push on at best speed. Duke grunted, Jenny
sighed, the cart creaked, Harry whistled, Shep scouted before and on
either hand, sniffing at the buffalo trails and charging the prairie
dogs and little brown birds, and Terry, trudging in the advance,
faithfully kept to the hoof-prints.
Perhaps the Pike's Peak pilgrims who had turned off had been wise, for
the water certainly was failing. Now there were only a few shallow
washes, and these were dry as a bone, showing that the top of the low
prairie divide was being crossed. Still, with a full water keg, which
would give several good drinks to all, and with the horse tracks to
follow, and the Republican side of the divide somewhere ahead, there was
no cause for worry.
Duke and Jenny stepped valiantly. Terry felt a pride in the thought that
the Pike's Peak Limited was the first overland outfit on the new stage
trail. He wondered if they would beat the wheel-barrow man in to the
diggin's. Maybe they would! He wondered when they would sight the
mountains. Tomorrow? No, scarcely tomorrow. The horizon ahead was a
complete half-circle, broken by never an up-lift. In fact, 'twas hard to
believe that any mountains at all lay in that direction.
At noon Harry guessed that they had covered ten miles, and he figured on
covering another ten miles before evening camp. He was anxious to reach
the next water. The cart was not much of a drag, and both Duke and Jenny
were strong. So at the noon camp everybody had a little drink, and Duke
and Jenny had a little grass, and a little doze. Shep snored. A good
dog, Shep.
"It's queer how little game we've seen, except measley rabbits,"
observed Harry, that evening. "Only some antelope, and one old buffalo
bull at a distance."
"And no Indians, either," added Terry.
"Well, expect the Indians are with the buffalo or else begging along the
main trails," reasoned Harry. "But we'd better hobble both animals
short, anyway, so they won't stray off looking for water."
The sun had set gloriously in a clear and golden west. While camp was
being located in the open, the broad expanse of rolling plain quickly
empurpled; and in the twilight Terry staked out Duke, by a rope and a
strap around his fore-leg, and Jenny by a rope around her neck. When
supper was finished, and the dishes scoured with twigs to save the
water, the first stars had appeared in the sky.
Just before closing his eyes to sleep, Terry from his buffalo robe gazed
up and sighed contentedly. It was a fine night.
The coyotes and the larger wolves seemed unusually busy. Their yaps and
howls sounded frequently. Several times during the night Terry was
conscious that Shep growled, and that Duke and Jenny were uneasy; he
heard also a low rumble, as of distant thunder, but he was too sleepy to
sit up and look about. When he did unclose his eyes, to blink for a
moment, he saw that the stars were still vivid in the blue-black sky
overhead.
This was the last thought--and next he awakened with a start, to pink
dawn and Harry's ringing shout:
"Buffalo! Great Scott! Look at the buffalo!"
Harry was up, standing near the cart and gazing to the east. Up sprang
Terry, too, and gazed. The rumble was distinct. A miracle had occurred
between darkness and dawn--all the plain to the east was black with a
living mass which had flowed upon it during the night.
Buffalo!
"I should say!" gasped Terry.
"Must be ten thousand of them," called Harry.
"Look out for Jenny and Duke!"
Jenny was snorting, as the morning breeze bore the reek of the vast herd
to her nostrils. No, mules did not like buffalo. Duke's head was high,
as he stared. Harry had partially dressed; now he hurried to quiet the
team. Terry drew on his trousers and boots and hastened after.
The buffalo were grazing, and seemed to be drifting slowly this way. The
hither fringe was not a quarter of a mile from the camp. Bulls bellowed
and pawed and rolled, calves gamboled and breakfasted, and around the
mass prowled great gray buffalo wolves, waiting their chances. All was
wondrously clear in the first rays of the rising sun.
Harry led the restive Jenny to the wagon and tied her short.
"I think we'd better get right out of here," he announced, as he helped
Terry and Shep drive the equally restive Duke in. "The coast ahead is
clear. But if we wait for breakfast or anything, that herd's liable to
be on top of us."
"Let's hustle, then," agreed Terry. "They're coming this way, sure. I
heard 'em, in the night, but I didn't know what it was."
"Same here," confessed Harry, as they hustled to put Duke and Jenny to
the cart, and pitch the camp stuff inside. "Funny where such a mob rose
from. Reckon something set 'em traveling."
Jenny was quite ready to leave, but Duke was more reluctant. However, on
started the Pike's Peak Limited again.
"We'll stop for breakfast when we're at a safer distance," quoth Harry.
"Hope we reach water tonight."
Yes, the great herd was perceptibly nearer when they pulled out. But at
the rate it was moving it could be left behind while it peacefully
grazed. The thin brush was a-sparkle with scant dew, soon dried by the
bright sun. The hoof-prints of the second horseman party showed plainly
in the sod and sandy gravel. Terry acted as guide, Harry, following with
the cart, urged on Duke and Jenny.
"Reckon we'll come to another stake today," called back Terry.
"Reckon we will," answered Harry.
The rumble of the herd gradually died. The sun mounted higher, and Terry
was thinking upon breakfast, when a sudden hail from Harry halted him.
"Wait! Listen!"
Harry had stopped.
"Whoa!" And Duke and Jenny stopped, not at all unwillingly.
Terry stopped, poised. Another dull rumble! More buffalo? Nothing was in
sight before or on either hand. The rumble came from behind--and yonder,
against the sun, welled a cloud of dust.
"They've stampeded!" he cried.
"Sounds like it. And the question is, which way are they going?"
That was speedily answered.
"Gee whillikens!" exclaimed Terry. "They're coming this way!"
A swell of the prairie had concealed all save the dust; but now atop the
swell had appeared black dots, succeeded instantly by a long wave of
solid black, as over and down surged the whole herd, covering the back
trail and pouring on with astonishing, not to say alarming rapidity.
The flanks extended widely; there was no time for escaping to one side
or the other. In fact, the cart seemed to be right in the middle of the
broad path.
Harry acted quickly.
"Watch the animals!" he ordered. "I'll tend to this end. Don't lose your
head, Terry. We can split 'em."
He limped to the rear of the wagon. Terry ran back to Duke--and saw that
Harry had jerked the shot-gun from where it was stowed, and was posted
out behind the wagon. The crowded ranks of the buffalo were so close
that the earth trembled. Jenny trembled, also, and Duke was pawing and
staring side-ways. Shep, barking wildly, took refuge underneath the
wagon.
Terry seized the whip, dropped by Harry, and threatened Duke from
before.
"Steady, Duke! Jenny! Whoa! Whoa, now!"
"Steady, everybody!" yelled Harry, above the up-roar. The stampeding
herd was upon them. Three or four of the fleetest cows raced past,
galloping, heads low, little tails cocked, with the peculiar rolling
motion of the running buffalo; and close after pressed the whole mass--a
crowded frontage of thundering hoofs, shaggy heads, bulging eyes,
lolling tongues, huge shoulders lunging, lion-like manes tossing, and
slim, smooth hind-quarters bobbing up and down. And back from the front
rank, these were all mixed together--solid!
Terry's heart beat wildly. An instant more, and----! Why, the cart
outfit was only a speck in the path of this darkly rushing avalanche
which would swallow them all in a jiffy and never know; would mash them
flat!
He caught his breath, while trying to quiet Duke and Jenny. There was no
use in running away--Harry stood braced--how small he looked--but he was
plucky--and now he actually ran forward, a few steps, right against the
onward plunging rank--waved his hat--shouted--and bang! bang! warned the
shot-gun, belching its challenge into the buffalos' faces.
"Duke! Jenny! Whoa!" shrieked Terry, desperately--and now gladly, for
another miracle had occurred. The foremost buffalo, as if suddenly aware
of the cart, and the human beings, had veered aside, to right and left,
avoiding Harry, and the cart, and all; and following their leaders, to
right and left were veering the others, here at the middle, so that the
divided herd began to stream past in a heaving, jostling current, on
either hand. It had been split, by Harry; and the Pike's Peak Limited
was an island.
Harry continued to yell and wave his hat and arms. He stood there
fearlessly, at the split. At first the split was narrow--Terry almost
could touch the shaggy forms as they lurched by. He started to yell and
wave, also, and help widen the split--for it did widen--but speedily he
had to quit. Duke and Jenny were nervous enough already. Jenny snorted,
reared; Duke shook his head and strained from side to side.
"Duke! Whoa! Steady, boy! Back, Jenny!"
The pounding of the incessant hoofs was like the long-roll of a great
drum. Thick rose the dust, but not so much from the earth as from the
big hairy bodies, to which had clung dried dirt. Bulls, cows, and
calves; cows, calves, and bulls--forming a stifling, living lane of
constant motion.
Terry scarcely could hear himself.
"Duke! Whoa, boy! Steady, there! Whoa, Jenny!"
Would the herd never be past? Yes, yonder it was thinning--and farther
beyond, the stragglers were in sight. Good!
"Duke! Be careful, Duke!" He was growing more unmanageable. Terry danced
before him, and threatened. "Whoa Jenny! Whoa, Duke!" And--"Duke! Duke!
DUKE! Whoa-oa! DUKE!" But no use; with shake of angry head and flirt of
wickedly cocked tail Duke bolted; dragged Jenny and the cart together,
knocked Terry sprawling--Terry clutched vainly at the cart, was dragged,
himself, a few feet, staggered up, hatless, stumbled on the frightened
Shep, and gazed after with a wail: "Oh, jiminy!"
They were away, in the dusty wake of the flying herd: Duke galloping,
Jenny galloping, the cart bounding.
Harry had turned just in time to witness. His sweat-streaked face gaped,
amazed, perplexed, and hardened into sudden resolution as whirling he
sprang forward. But Terry was as quick. Grabbing up his hat as he went,
he launched in the pursuit. Out-stripping him, Shep ran furiously,
barking, and Harry kept close behind.
The cart was plainly visible, in an open place among the stragglers at
the rear of the herd. Duke lumbered, Jenny lumbered, the cart lumbered,
and holding to the chase lumbered in their heavy boots Terry and Harry.
Soon it was evident that a harnessed buffalo was no match for free
buffalo. Duke's outfit was being left; buffalo after buffalo passed it,
until presently Duke and Jenny and the cart were traveling alone. But
they kept going, on a stampede of their own, imitating the insensate
herd.
"Darn that Duke!" panted Terry. And he shouted: "Sic', Shep! Turn 'em!
Sic', sic'! Catch 'em, boy!"
Shep darted gaily. He fairly tore through the brush. Now he had reached
the cart--and now he was barking alongside the crazy team. Would he do
it? _Could_ he do it? Yes, he was trying to head them. He had gained the
front; yapping, darting, snapping, he was crossing back and forth before
Duke's nose. Down lower dropped Duke's burly head; he charged; Shep
dodged, and returned.
The cart swung and tilted, and out was bounced the cask of sauerkraut.
"Hurrah!" cheered Harry.
On at a tangent lumbered Duke and Jenny--Shep was bothering them
seriously--and out bounced the water keg.
"Great Scott!" gasped Harry. "Don't let's lose that keg!"
"Shep'll stop 'em! Shep'll stop 'em!" panted Terry. "Hurrah!" His throat
was tight, his heart thumped tremendously, his legs were like lead, but
he had hopes.
Shep knew his business of turning cattle. Now wherever the enraged and
frantic Duke headed, the pesky, yapping, snapping dog was under his
nose. Jenny was growing tired of being dragged hither-thither; she
detested dogs, and she despised buffalo, tame or wild. Duke, at his
wits' end, and tired also, stopped short; she stopped; Duke pawed and
shook his locks and rumbled, keen yet for just one good chance at his
tormentor--and Shep, sitting down, with tongue dripping, held the way.
There they were when, breathless, Terry and Harry arrived, to scold the
runaways, to praise Shep, and to take stock of damages.
"Not a thing broken, is there?" pronounced Harry, still panting, after
the hasty survey.
And that appeared to be the case. Of course, the stuff inside the cart
was pretty well jumbled; but the frame and wheels seemed all right, and
the harness was whole, and only Duke and Jenny themselves were the worse
for wear. Their drooping heads and heaving flanks proclaimed that they
had run quite far enough.
So, thought Terry, had he and Harry. He felt as though he had run a mile
or more. Whew!
"All's well that ends well," asserted Harry, regaining his spirits.
Nothing downed Harry. "Now, first thing to do is to get that keg of
water. But I don't suppose we'll ever find the trail. The buffalo must
have tramped it out--and we're away off the track, anyway. Shucks!"
"Where is the keg?" asked Terry, peering.
"There it is--that first dot. See? The gunny sacks are beyond, and the
sauerkraut last. Let's turn the critters about. You bring them on and
I'll go ahead. Maybe something else was jounced out."
Duke and Jenny were turned, after considerable shouting and shoving;
Harry set off on a straight line for the keg, and Terry followed more
slowly with the team and cart. It did seem rather tough luck that they
had lost the horsemen's trail to the next stake; now they'd simply have
to guess at direction, unless they happened to be near the stage line
and a stage came.
Golly, but he was thirsty! His mouth was glued. He hoped that they
all--that is, Harry and he and Shep--would get a good drink from that
keg. As for Duke and Jenny, they did not deserve a drink, although
doubtless they needed one. And what about something to eat?
Harry was waiting at the keg, a queer look on his perspiring, grimy
face. He had set the keg on end.
"Thirsty?" he queried.
"Thirsty's no name for it," panted Terry.
"So am I. But we'll have to go easy. The bung flew out of the keg, and
half the water's followed. I found the bung, but I can't find the
water."
Harry evidently tried to speak lightly, but Terry read concern in his
tone and face both.
"Can you stand a short drink?" encouraged Harry. "There'll be plenty on
ahead somewhere."
"Sure," declared Terry, manfully, feeling thirstier than ever. "We've
got a little, haven't we? And if we strike that trail maybe it'll lead
us to a creek."
So they hoisted in the keg, tightly stoppered again (but it was
suspiciously light), and Harry trudged ahead once more, to find the
gunny sacks.
"We'll never mind the sauerkraut," he called back. "Let it stay. The
lighter we travel, the better, from here to water."
Shep went with him. They dipped into a shallow, narrow draw; Terry heard
Shep barking, and then Harry hallooing. And when, urging Duke and Jenny,
he could see into the draw, Harry was there, at one side, beckoning and
shouting to him, and at the same time examining some object on the
ground.
"Haw, Duke! Haw! Hep with you!" Along the shallow draw they toiled, for
he was afraid to leave the team.
Harry was kneeling, Shep was nosing and busily waving his tail. They
were engaged over that object. It could not be the gunny sacks. The
gunny sacks had not rolled so far from the back trail.
"Whoa-oa, Duke, Jenny! Stand, now!" And Terry trudged a few steps to
join the investigation. He stopped short, astounded.
Harry and Shep had found a man--no, looked more like a boy; lying
crumpled and motionless in a little saucer-shaped hollow amidst the
brush.
"Say! Is he dead?" gasped Terry.
"No. Hasn't even been stepped on, I think," answered Harry. "But he
needs food and water mighty bad--'specially water. Open the keg,
quick."
[Illustration: "TERRY FLEW TO THE CART ... FLEW BACK AGAIN WITH THE
PRECIOUS FLUID"]