A LUCKY ESCAPE
“What do you make it to be?” asked Jerry, as Ned was staring through
the glass.
“Cattle!”
“Cattle?”
“Yes, steers. Thousands of ’em. And they seem to be headed this way.”
“Let me take a look,” said Jerry. “You’re right,” he added, after an
inspection. “They seem to be coming on rather fast, too. I guess we’d
better get out of here. Cattle on the prairies don’t like to see
persons who are not on horseback. They are not used to a man unless
he’s mounted, and I’ve read that a man on foot may cause a stampede.”
“I hope they don’t run in this direction,” remarked Bob. “It’s going to
be unpleasant for us if they do.”
“We’d better get out of here,” advised Ned. “Come on, fellows.”
“That’s easier said than done,” retorted Jerry.
“The cattle are all around us. I don’t see how we’re going to get
through them. If we go too close we may stampede ’em at once, whereas,
if we stay here, they may pass by us, or change their direction.”
“What’s the matter with the cowboys?” asked Rob. “Why don’t they head
the animals the other way when they see we’re right in the path?”
“Probably the cattlemen are on the outer edges of the herd,” said
Jerry. “The cowboys can’t see us, and they’re simply driving the steers
on.”
“But what makes them go in a circle?” asked Bob.
“Probably the men are driving them all in to a central point to take
account of stock, or something like that,” was Jerry’s answer. “But,
instead of standing here talking of it we’d better be doing something.
What do you advise, Professor?”
Uriah Snodgrass, who had discovered some queer kind of a jumping bug in
the grass, had lost all interest in the approaching steers, but, at
this question, he looked up.
“What did you ask?” he said, making a grab for the bug, and catching
it.
“What do you think we’d better do?” asked Ned. “This is getting
serious.”
“What is? Oh, the steers. Why, they are getting a little too close,
aren’t they?”
They were, for a fact, and the animals in the foremost ranks, catching
sight of the little party on the hill, broke into awkward gallop. As
far as the boys could see, they beheld nothing but waving tails,
heaving heads, armed with long sharp horns, and the movement of brown
bodies, as the thousands of steers came on with a rush.
“We’d better—” began the professor, who was walking slowly along, his
eyes fixed on the ground, in search for another of the queer bugs.
“Look out!” he suddenly cried. “Stand back boys!”
Hardly had he spoken than there sounded, high and shrill above the dull
rumble of the oncoming cattle, a queer, buzzing noise.
“Rattlesna” exclaimed Ned.
“Yes, a whole nest of them, in a prairie dog’s hole,” added the
professor. “I nearly stepped into them. There must be thirty or forty.”
The boys looked to where he pointed. There, in a sort of depression,
near a little hollow, on the edge of what is called a prairie dog
village, they saw an ugly wiggling mass, which, as their eyes became
more used to the colorings, was seen to be a number of the deadly
rattlesnakes.
Several were coiled to strike, and had, in accordance with their habit,
sounded their rattles. This had aroused the whole den, many snakes
appearing from under ground, or crawling from beneath stones.
“Come on! They’ll chase us!” cried Bob.
“Nonsense,” replied the professor. “Rattlesnakes never attack man
unless they are first disturbed. It wouldn’t be advisable to go too
close, but, as long as we don’t molest them, we have nothing to fear
from the snakes. I’d like to get a few specimens if I had the proper
appliances for extracting their fangs. But I never saw so many in one
place, before. It is quite interesting to watch—”
The professor broke off suddenly, for the thunderous noise of the
approaching steers was now louder.
“They’re coming right at us!” exclaimed Jerry.
“Yes, and they’ve stampeded!” cried Ned. “We’re in for it now!”
The situation of the boys and the professor was extremely perilous.
They were right in the path of the now frightened steers. The circle
had been broken, by many animals, which had been approaching from the
rear of the travelers, joining the beasts on either side, so that now a
compact, dark mass of cattle, nearly a quarter of a mile wide, was
surging ahead with great speed.
“Run!” called Ned. “There’s an opening at our backs now!”
“You couldn’t go a hundred feet before they’d overtake you!” shouted
Jerry. “Let’s see if we can’t frighten ’em. Take off your hats, jump up
and down, and yell like mad. If we can force ’em to separate and go on
either side of us, we’ll be all right!”
He started to swing his hat in the air, and prepared to let out a
series of yells in imitation of an Indian war-whoop.
“Don’t!” cried the professor quickly.
“Why not?” asked Jerry. “It’s the only way to stop ’em.”
“I know a better, and a surer way,” replied the scientist. “Get the
rattlesnakes between ourselves and the cattle! Those steers will never
go near a rattlesnake den, no matter how frightened they are, nor how
badly stampeded! Quick! Here they come!”
The cattle were scarcely two hundred feet away, and were maddened by
the sight of unmounted persons, something to which they were
unaccustomed, and which thoroughly frightened them. The ground was
trembling with their hoof-beats, and the rattle of the horns, as they
clashed together, was like the murmur of cannibal tom-toms.
The professor grabbed Bob, who was nearest him, and swung the boy
around, so as to get the nest of rattlesnakes between them and the
steers. Ned and Jerry followed. The snakes, now all aroused, were
rattling away like half a hundred electric batteries working at once.
Would the professor’s ruse succeed? Would the steers be afraid to come
over the deadly reptiles, to trample down the little group, which the
animals probably took for some new species of enemy? These were
questions which the boys waited anxiously to have answered. Nor did
they have to wait long.
The foremost of the steers came within a few feet of the rattlers. Then
something seemed to stiffen the cattle. They tried to stop short, but
the press of the beasts behind them would not permit of this. For a few
seconds it looked as if the impetus of the cattle in the rear would
shove the others on, in spite of their desire to stop.
But now more of the foremost steers became aware of the den of snakes.
Their instinct, their sense of smell, and, above all, hearing the
rattling, told them the terrible danger that was in their path. More of
the animals braced their forelegs to bring themselves to a stop, and
all bellowed in terror. Then, almost as though an order had been given
by some one in command, the ranks of steers parted, right at the point
where the snakes were reared ready to strike.
To right and left the cattle passed, increasing their speed as they
became aware of the danger they were escaping. The boys and the
professor stood on the little eminence of land, as if they were on an
island in a sea of cattle. The angry snakes hissed and rattled, but did
not glide away, or what had proved a source of safety for the
travelers, might have been instrumental in their death.
Right past them rushed the cattle, raising a dust that was choking. The
four were enveloped in a yellow haze, as they stood huddled together.
Then, the last of the steers galloped past, with a band of excited
cowboys in the rear, vainly endeavoring to understand the cause of the
stampede, and halt it. As they rode on like the wind, they waved their
hands to the boys and Mr. Snodgrass.
“Well, I guess we can move on now,” said Jerry, as the last of the
steers and cowboys was lost in a cloud of dust that accompanied them.
“I’ve seen all the beef I want to for a long time.”
“That’s the first time I ever knew rattlesnakes were good for
anything,” remarked Ned, as he backed away, with his eyes on the den of
reptiles, as if afraid they would spring at him.
“They are more feared by animals than any other snake in this country,
I believe,” said the professor. “Luck was certainly with us to-day.”
The professor successfully resisted a desire to capture some of the
snakes for specimens, and soon, with the three boys, he was on his way
back to the stalled train, though he did not make very fast progress
for he was continually stopping to gather in some strange insect.
It was long past dinner-time when the travelers got back, but they
found they were not the only ones in this predicament, for a number of
the passengers had beguiled the tediousness of the wait by going off
across the prairie.
“Let’s get the porter to get us some sandwiches, and then we’ll watch
’em get the train back on the track,” suggested Jerry.