THE HERD FORDS THE RIVER
"Is he--is he----" asked Ned, weakly, after they had taken the jug of
water from his hand.
"He's alive, if that's what you mean," answered Stallings. "I'm afraid
he's got a slight concussion of the brain. He doesn't come around the
way I should like to see him."
"Sure it isn't a fracture!" asked the Professor, who had just arrived on
the scene.
"No, I hardly think so."
The foreman washed the unconscious boy's face, soaking Tad's head and
neck and searching for the seat of the trouble.
"Huh! Steer kicked him," grunted Stallings. "It was a glancing blow,
luckily for the kid."
They worked over the lad for fully half an hour before he began to show
signs of returning consciousness. At last his trembling eyelids
struggled apart and he smiled up at them weakly.
"Ah! He's all right now, I guess," laughed the foreman, with a world of
relief in his tone. "Boys, get busy now and cut out the rest of those
cows. If the young man is not able to ride we'll put him in the chuck
wagon when it comes up. Feel bad anywhere, now?" he asked.
"My--my head weighs a ton."
"I should think it would. Did the white steer kick you?"
"I--I don't know. Hello, Professor. I roped him all right, didn't I, Mr.
Stallings?"
"You did. But you got roped yourself, too, I reckon. Think you'll be
able to ride in the trail wagon? If not we'll have to send you back to
town."
"That'll be the best place for the tenderfoot," growled Lumpy Bates.
Stallings turned a stern eye upon him.
"Lumpy, when I want your opinion I'll let you know. What are you doing
here, anyway? Get into that cut out and be mighty quick about it!"
Lumpy rode away growling.
"I'll ride in no trail wagon," announced Tad Butler, with emphasis.
"I guess you will have to, my boy."
"I'll ride my pony if I have to be tied on," he declared resolutely.
The foreman laughed heartily.
"Well, we'll see about that. You boys all have good stuff in you. I see
that Master Walter and the gopher are still out there looking after that
bunch of cattle."
"I told them to do so," spoke up Tad.
"And they are obeying orders. That's the first thing to learn in this
business."
"May I sit up now?"
"You may try."
Tad's head spun round when he raised himself up. The lad fought his
dizziness pluckily, and mastered it. After a little while they helped
him to his feet. Finally feeling himself able to walk he started
unsteadily away from them.
"Where are you going?" demanded the Professor.
"Pony," answered Tad.
"I protest, Tad. You will come back here at once."
Tad turned obediently.
"Please, Professor. I'm all right."
"Let the boy go. He will be all right in a few moments after he has
gotten into the saddle," urged the foreman. "Besides, he's too much of a
man to be treated like a weakling. He'll get more bumps than that before
he leaves this outfit, if I'm any judge."
The Professor motioned to Tad to go on, which the lad did, petting his
pony as he reached him, and then pulling himself into the saddle with
considerable effort.
"I'm ready for business now," he smiled, waving a hand to the foreman.
"Better look on and let the rest do the work," advised Stallings,
mounting his own tough pony and riding into the thick of the cutting out
process.
But Tad Butler could no more sit idly by while the exciting work was
going on than could the foreman himself. The first steer that was cut
out from the main herd, after Stallings went back, found Tad Butler
alongside of it, crowding it toward his own herd farther out. And this
work he kept up until all the strangers had been separated from the
Diamond D stock.
"There, I'm glad that job is done," exclaimed Stallings, whipping off
his hat and drawing a sleeve across his perspiring brow.
"Too bad I had to go and upset things so," said Tad.
"Never mind. It's all in a day's work. On a cattle drive if it isn't one
thing it's sure to be another. We have been lucky enough not to have a
stampede thus far. That isn't saying we won't, however. If you feel like
working you can ride up and join the point men. We'll make five or six
miles before it is time to bed down the herd."
To Tad's companions was left the task of driving the strange cattle a
couple of miles to the west and leaving them there.
The boys could not well lose the main herd; for, no sooner had they
started on the trail than a great cloud of dust slowly floated up into
the air. Tad, in his position near the head of the line, and well out to
one side of it, was free from this annoyance. The longer the lad was in
the saddle, the stronger he seemed to feel, and the only trace that was
now left of his recent experience among the hoofs of the Mexican steers
was a bump on one side of his head almost as large as a hen's egg.
It was near sundown when the foreman, who had ridden on ahead some time
before, came back with the information that a broad stream that was not
down on his map lay just ahead of them.
"There's not more than thirty feet of swimming water there, and I
believe I'll make a crossing before we go into camp," he announced
briefly.
"How deep is the water?" asked Big-foot Sanders.
"In the middle, deep enough to drown, but on the edges it's fordable.
The cows will be glad of a drink and a swim after the heat of to-day."
With this in mind the cowmen were instructed to urge the cattle along at
a little stronger pace, that they might all get well over before the
night came on.
The animals seemed to feel the presence of water ahead of them, for they
ceased their grazing by the wayside and swung into a rapid pace, such a
pace as always gladdens the heart of the cowboy. The steers held it
until the rays of the setting sun were reflected on the surface of the
broad sluggish stream.
The Pony Riders dashed forward intent upon reaching the stream first.
Tad followed them upon receiving permission from the foreman to do so.
The banks on each side were high and steep, making it far from an ideal
fording place. Stallings, however, thought it better to cross there than
to take the time to work the herd further down. Joining the boys, he
cast his glance up and down the stream to decide whether his judgment
had been correct.
"I thought we were going to cross the river," said Stacy Brown.
"That's exactly what we are going to do," replied the foreman.
"But where's the bridge? I don't see any?" objected the lad.
"Right there in front of you."
"Where?"
"Chunky, there is no bridge," Tad informed him. "We have to wade, just
as the cattle will."
"And swim, too, part of the way," added Stallings.
"But we'll get wet," wailed Chunky.
"No doubt about that," roared the foreman.
"Swim the river with our horses?" exclaimed Ned. "Hurrah! That will be
great!"
"I shall be glad to get some of this dust washed off me," laughed Tad.
"Besides, the bump on my head will feel better for it, I think."
"Spread out, boys. The cattle are coming up on the run. They will push
you into the river before you are ready if you happen to be in their
way," warned Stallings.
The riders clucked to their ponies and all galloped up stream some
distance that they might be well out of the way of the oncoming herd.
The thirsty animals plunged into the water with a mighty splash. Some
forded until their feet could no longer touch the ground, after which
they swam to the other side, while others paused to drink until those
behind them forced them out into the stream also.
In a few moments the stream was alive with swimming cattle, the herd
being spread out for a full quarter of a mile up and down the stream. To
the rear, yelling cowboys were urging on the stragglers and forcing the
herd into the cool waters.
It was an inspiring sight for the boys.
Here and there a cowman would ride his pony into the water and turn the
leaders, who were straying too far up or down the river.
After half an hour of watering, the men began to force the cattle to the
opposite bank. There was a great scramble when the steers started to
climb the steep bluff. The first ones to try it went half way up on a
run.
Losing their footing they came tumbling to the foot of the bluff,
knocking a number of the other cattle back into the water.
There was much bellowing and floundering about, but the relentless
forcing from the other side swept the unfortunate ones to the crest of
the tide and up the steep bank.
Now that the loose dirt had slipped down the footing grew more secure,
and the animals soon fell into trails of their own making, up which they
crept three and four abreast.
Once on the other side they started to graze as contentedly as if they
had not just passed through a most trying experience.
Two of the cowmen who had forded the stream further down, now appeared
opposite the main fording place, to take charge of the cattle.
"Get across, boys," shouted the foreman.
With an answering shout Tad and Ned slid their ponies down the sharp
bluff, plunging into the water and heading straight across.
"Slip out of your saddles and hang on!" called the foreman.
Without an instant's hesitation the two boys slid into the water with a
splash, but keeping tight hold on the pommels of their saddles.
"Let go the reins," directed Stallings. "The ponies know where to go."
Now the lads were being drawn rapidly through the water, and almost
before they knew it their feet rested on the bottom of the shallow
stream a short distance from the opposite bank.
"Hooray!" shouted Tad, waving his water-soaked sombrero. "Come in. The
water's great!"
"Come on, Chunky," called Ned.
"I'll wait and go over in the wagon," decided Chunky.
"You'll do nothing of the sort," snapped the foreman. "You will swim, if
you get over at all."
Professor Zepplin, not to be outdone by his young charges, bravely rode
his animal into the stream.
The boys set up a shout of glee when he, too, finally dropped into the
river with a great splash. Instead, however, of allowing the pony to tow
him, the Professor propelled himself along with long powerful strokes of
his left hand, while with the right he clung to the saddle pommel.
"Three cheers for Professor Zepplin!" cried Tad as the German, dripping
but smiling, emerged from the water and scrambled up the bank, leaving
his pony to follow along after him.
The cheers were given with a will.
Stacy Brown, however, was still on the other side with the straggling
cattle which were coming along in small bunches.
"Young man, if you expect to get in for supper, you'd better be fording
the stream," suggested Big-foot Sanders.
The mention of supper was all that Stacy needed to start him.
"Gid-ap!"
The pony slid down the bank on its haunches, Stacy leaning far back in
the saddle that he might not pitch over the animal's head.
"Chunky would make a good side hill rider, wouldn't he?" jeered Ned.
"Depends upon whether he were going up or down," decided Tad.
"Look out! There he goes!" exclaimed Walter.
The boy's mount had mired one foot in a quicksand pocket and had gone
down on its knees. But Chunky kept right on going.
He hit the water flat on his stomach, arms and legs outspread, clawing
and kicking desperately.
The fat boy opened his mouth to cry out for help.
As a result Stacy swallowed all the water that came his way. Floundering
about like a drowning steer, choking and coughing, he disappeared from
sight.