CHAPTER XVIII
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.