Kitabı oku: «The Boy Ranchers at Spur Creek: or, Fighting the Sheep Herders», sayfa 5

CHAPTER XII
AFTER THE RUSTLERS

"Rough riding," as it is called, made up more than half the fun the cowboys indulged in among themselves. There has, of late years, been so much of this done in public, in traveling "wild west" shows, and in exhibitions of some features of the rodeo in New York and other large cities, that I believe most of you are familiar with the feats of cowboys on these trained and untrained "broncks," or outlaw horses – "mankillers" some of them are dubbed.

I might say that there are two classes of this rough riding. One is the real thing, on horses or cow ponies that are naturally bad, and never can be broken or trained to behave. The other is on what might be called "professional buckers." That is, horses which have trained to try and unseat their riders as long as they are expected to do this.

I venture to say most of you have seen exhibitions of rough riding in a wild west, traveling show, or in some rodeo, as an imitation round-up is called after its Spanish title. And most of you, I believe, have been impressed with the fact that as soon as the man got off the back of the bucking steed the said steed became as gentle as a lamb. This is what those that are trained to it do purposely, but it is not what a real dyed-in-the-wool outlaw does. For he does not let up in his attack on the man even after the latter is out of the saddle.

Perhaps some of you, at a rodeo, have seen a rider come bursting out of the pen on the back of a rearing, bucking, leaping steed. After the first burst two cowboys would ride up, one on either side of the bucker, and take off, on their own stirrups or saddle the fearless rider. And then the so-called "outlaw" would let himself be led meekly back into the pen to be ready for the next performance, when it would all be gone through with again.

But occasionally you may have seen one of these horses lash out viciously with his heels, in an endeavor to kick anyone he could reach, not even excluding his fellow steeds. This is a specimen of a real outlaw, who never lets up in his fight against man. But few of these horses are taken about in a traveling show. They are too dangerous.

However, the two that were fenced off in the corral at North Station were of the real "bad" variety. They had been partly tamed, but their tempers had been spoiled and they were really dangerous to approach. Hence they were confined in a small space, and not allowed out.

However, cowboys are by nature reckless, and to them bucking horses are but a source of amusement and rivalry. Each cowboy thinks he can ride some steed no one else can mount. And for the purpose of contests or exhibitions, to relieve the monotony of "riding range," there are facilities for saddling and bridling these horses without danger to those doing it.

This method consists of putting the horse in a long narrow place like a stall in a stable, through the bars of which the boys can reach in, throw on the saddle and tighten it. Then a rider can climb into the saddle over the top rail of the fence and at a signal a gate can be opened, allowing the maddened steed to rush out.

Then the fun begins.

"I'm goin' t' ride!" yelled Snake.

"Take th' big one then," advised Sam. "He ain't quite so bad as th' other."

"I want th' meanest one!" insisted Snake, "an' if it's th' smallest I'll ride him!"

"Better not!" advised the foreman, but Snake was not to be persuaded against it. And the other cowboys, scenting fun, were not very anxious to have Snake change his mind.

Accordingly some of the men who had handled Red Pepper before – Red Pepper being the name of the horse – arranged to get a saddle on him, and to slip a sort of bridle over his head. But he had no bit, for it was as much as a man's hands were worth to try and force the bar of steel between the teeth of this outlaw.

"Now you watch me!" cried Snake when, after hard work, the saddle had been strapped on and pulled tight. "I'm goin' t' fan him."

I might explain that it is considered cowboy ethics to ride with only one hand on the reins, whether a bit is used or not, and in the other hand, usually the left, the cowboy carries his hat with which he hits the steed on either side of the neck, "fanning him," it is called. And no rough rider would ever think of sitting on the worst bucker in the world without thus riding with one hand and "fanning" with the other. Meanwhile, of course, he keeps up a wild whooping sound, just to show his spirits.

The feeling of a man on his back – a feeling he hates, the wild whooping, the jab of the spurs and the flapping hat around his head serves further to madden the bucker and it is a wonder any human being can stay on his back a second. Yet cowboys do, and ride until they are tired of the sport.

"Are you ready?" called the cowboys who had saddled the "mankiller," as Sam dubbed the small horse.

"Let him out!" yelled Snake.

The fastenings of the gate were loosed and out rushed the animal with the cowboy bobbing about on his back. Red Pepper seemed a whirlwind of fury. He rushed forward, his nose almost touching the ground, and then he began to go up in the air. Up he would leap, coming down with all four legs held stiff and his back arched, to shake, if it were possible, Snake from the saddle. The cowboy rose in his stirrups to take the shock as much as possible from his frame, and with a yell, began "fanning" Red Pepper.

This added to the fury of the beast, and it fairly screamed in rage and, reaching back, tried to bite Snake's legs. But they were protected by heavy leather "chaps," and the animal soon realized this.

He now began leaping sideways, a form of bucking that often unseats a rider, but Snake was proof against this. And all the while the animal was dashing around the larger corral, on the fence of which sat the boy ranchers and their friends, watching this cowboy fun. As they watched they laughed and called such remarks as:

"Fan him, Snake! Fan him!"

"Whoopee! That's stickin' to him!"

"Tickle him in the ear, Snake!"

"Want any court plaster t' hold you down?"

Snake paid little attention to this "advice" of his friends. In fact he had little time, for he discovered that his "work was all cut out for him," before he had been many seconds on the back of Red Pepper. The steed in very truth was an outlaw of the worst type.

Finding that the methods usually successful – those of bucking and kicking out with his hind feet – were of no avail, the animal adopted new tactics. He reared high in the air, with a scream of rage – reared so high that there was a gasp of dismay from the spectators. For surely it seemed that the horse would topple over backward and, falling on Snake, would crush and kill him.

But the cowboy had ridden horses like this before, and with a smart blow between the animal's ears Snake gave notice that it would be considered more polite if his steed would keep on all four feet.

Down came Red Pepper with a jar that shook every bone in Snake's body, but he remained in the saddle, and with more wild yells brought his broad-brimmed hat down again and again on the animal's neck.

Again Red Pepper dashed forward, bucked again, worse than before and still finding the hated rider on his back began to play one of his most desperate tricks.

This consisted of lying down and trying to roll over his rider. If successful, it would crush the rider almost as badly as if he had been toppled on from a backward fall.

"Look out, Snake! He's going to roll!" warned Sam.

But Snake was ready.

Suddenly Red Pepper stopped bucking. But before Snake could catch his labored breath the horse knelt down and started to roll over, at the same time opening his mouth to bite whatever portion of Snake first came within reach.

Snake, however, had been through an experience like this before. In an instant he had leaped from the saddle and was out of danger. That is, out of danger in a way. But he and the others realized that as soon as he could Red Pepper would get to his feet again and run after the cowboy. It was that which made this particular animal so dangerous. He never gave up fighting his rider, even when the latter was unseated; and he had killed two men.

"Watch yourself!" cried Sam.

But Snake was ready, and so were some of the other cowboys, for they had feared just this ending of the attempt to ride Red Pepper. No sooner was Snake out of the saddle than two of his friends dashed toward him, picking him up between them so that he rode with a foot on either of their inner stirrups.

Meanwhile some other cowboys rode up to get the outlaw back into the corral. This was no easy work, but they had given him little chance, and with two lariats about his neck, so that he could be held from either side, he was, after some time, gotten back in his pen.

"Well, I rode him," chuckled Snake, when it was all over.

"And you came out of it luckier than lots of 'em," added the foreman. "Red Pepper sure is a bad one!"

"Oh, shucks!" laughed Snake. "That jest gave me an appetite."

And, really, it seemed to. But perhaps Snake was hungry, anyhow.

After the meal there was a general talk about the raid of the rustlers. And then as the cowboys sat about in the evening they indulged in various forms of sport and fun, in which the boy ranchers joined.

Bright and early those who were to take the trail after the cattle thieves were on their way, taking with them enough food to last for several days. They were now better prepared than when they had first started out from Diamond X.

It was comparatively easy to pick up the trail left by the rustlers and soon our friends were riding after them, though of course several hours behind them. But as had been said, the ground was of a nature that did not lend itself well to haste, and if the thieves stampeded their animals they would, very likely, lose them. They could only go so fast and Billee and his cowboys hoped soon to come up to the raiders.

It was nearly noon when one of the cowboys who was riding on ahead, came to a stop on a little rise of land and, shading his eyes from the sun, looked long and earnestly off to his left.

"See anything?" asked Bud, who with his cousins rode up.

"I think so, but I'm not sure," was the reply. "But doesn't it look like a bunch of cattle there?" and he pointed.

The boy ranchers gazed earnestly.

"It sure does look like 'em to me!" declared Nort.

"Could it be one of our regular herds?" Dick asked.

"None of our cattle are down that way," the cowboy said.

"Then they're rustlers!" cried Bud. "After 'em, boys!"

CHAPTER XIII
A CLOUD OF DUST

Flappings of heels to the flanks of horses, the tightening of reins, firmer seats in the saddles and glances at the heavy revolvers swinging in their holsters at the sides of the riders came as a prelude to the burst of speed which immediately followed the sight of the distant herd of cattle being hazed across the prairie.

"Whoop-ee!" cried Yellin' Kid. "We'll show 'em what's what! Whoop-ee!"

"Reckon you can stand a fight?" asked Nort, looking at the leg of the cowboy, which had been severely injured.

"Shucks, yes! I'm all right now! I'd a leetle mite ruther lick a bunch of sheep herders than jest plain onery cattle rustlers," went on Yellin' Kid, "but anythin' for a fight!"

"You said it!" chimed in some of the other rough but ready and earnest punchers.

"I s'pose there will be a fight," mused Dick.

"Unless they quit and run," said Bud. "You don't mind a little thing like a fight, do you?" he asked his cousin. "Of course not! I was only joking!" he quickly added as he saw a look on Dick's face.

"It won't be the first time we've had a scrap," remarked Nort.

All this while they were riding hard toward the distant group which, at first had been but a cloud of dust, but which now resolved itself into forms of horsemen and cattle.

And as the outfit from Diamond X approached nearer, it could be seen that the drivers of the cattle were not regulation cowboys from any ranch north of the Rio Grande. There was an air and manner about the horsemen urging on the weary cattle which betokened them as irregulars – rustlers, in other words.

The advantage – such as it was – appeared to be with the boy ranchers and their friends, for they were on fresh horses, and could ride hither and yon without having to drive before them, and keep from stampeding, a bunch of cattle. As for the rustlers the success of their raid depended on keeping the cattle they had stolen. Once the small herd got beyond their control, they might as well cut and run for it, since it would be a case of everyone save himself, and every man for himself.

"Some of you cut out the cattle, boys," advised Old Billee, as he spurred along with the youngest rider. For though this veteran more than doubled the years of the boy ranchers, he was almost as "spry" as any of them. "Cut out the cattle, and we'll look after these rustlers."

There were members enough in the outfit from Diamond X to provide for a division of forces – enabling them to execute a flank movement, as it were, though this does not exactly describe it.

"What's the best thing to do?" asked Bud, willing to take advice from his father's able helper. Bud was willing to learn, a most commendable spirit in a youth.

"Wa'al, this would be about as good a plan as any," remarked Old Billee, as he still continued to ride on, but at the same time he was, with his keen eyes, looking over the lay of the land. "Bud, you and your cousins ride off to the left, with Hank and Sam, and see if you can cut out the steers. If you can circle 'em around and bring 'em up behind where we are now – or as near as you can. I'll take the rest of the boys and see if we can't speed up and close with the rustlers."

Bud at once saw that this was giving him and his boy chums, as well as Sam and Hank, the other two cowboys, quite the safest end of the battle. The cattle could be cut out without coming into very close contact with the desperate rustlers. The fight with them would be taken care of by the more experienced Billee and his men.

Bud thought it over for a moment. He was not afraid of danger, but he was not foolhardy, and he knew the veteran had been in many more engagements like this than had Bud himself. Also Bud was too good a soldier to object to taking orders.

"All right," he finally said. "Suits me, Billee. How about you fellows?" he asked Nort and Dick.

With short nods they agreed to Billee's plan, and a few minutes later it was put into execution. The outfit from Diamond X separated, and while Bud and his party spurred ahead to cut out the cattle, the others circled around to make a "flank" attack, as it might be called.

"Here we go!" cried Bud who, naturally, was the leader of the "cutting out" sally.

On rushed the horses, the boys clapping heels to them and "fanning" them with their hats to urge them to greater speed. They were quite close, now, to the band of cattle being hazed away, and on some of the lagging steers could be made out the branding marks of the Diamond X ranch.

"Those are ours all right!" cried Bud to his cousins.

"And we'll have 'em back soon," added Dick.

"We'd better begin shooting," called out Hank, one of the two cowboys who had been assigned to duty with Bud.

This was not as serious as it sounds, for the shots were not to be directed at the rustlers but fired in the air to startle the cattle. In cutting out, or, rather, in separating from those who had stolen them the steers from Diamond X, it was necessary to get the animals on the run. They could then more easily be driven where they were wanted.

By this time, of course, the rustlers knew they were in danger not only of losing their ill-gotten cattle, but of losing their own freedom and perhaps their lives. They could be arrested and sent to jail for theft if they were caught.

For a few minutes after the pursuit became close, the rustlers made an attempt to get the cattle into one of the many small valleys with which the country around there abounded. But they soon saw that it was a losing fight. The animals were too wearied to be driven at much speed.

Then some order seemed to have been given by the leader of the rustlers, for the nondescript bunch of cattle thieves swung off, and practically abandoned their four-footed charges.

This made it easier for the boy ranchers, though the task of urging the cattle away from the line they were traveling was hard enough at best.

"Come on!" yelled Bud, when he saw what was happening. "We've got 'em going!"

This was true, as regarded the rustlers. They were about to save themselves if they could.

With drawn guns, firing rapidly and yelling as loudly as they could, the boy ranchers rode in among the frightened steers, endeavoring to turn them off to the right. For a moment it seemed as if they were not going to do this, but eventually their tactics succeeded, and the leaders of the herd swung off. Then the others followed and it was now a comparatively easy matter to drive them along where it was desired they should go.

"Poor things!" murmured Dick sympathetically, as he saw the weary cattle. "We'll have to let 'em rest, Bud."

"Guess you're right," agreed the son of the Diamond X owner. "They won't be much good for shipping to market until they get some fat back on their bones." Many of the cattle were in woeful shape, and all suffered from lack of water, since the rustlers had driven them so hard, endeavoring to get far away with them as soon as possible that they had not stopped to water them.

"There's a little stream over there," announced Sam, one of the cowboys who knew this part of the country well. "We can haze 'em over there and keep 'em for a while."

This was considered the best thing to do, and soon the weary cattle were drinking their first water in many hours. Afterward they all lay down to rest, not even eating until some of the weariness had passed.

Meanwhile the cowboys under Old Billee had come to close quarters with the rustlers and the fight started immediately. There was nothing unusual about it, the rustlers merely desiring to get away and the outfit from Diamond X wishing to capture them to make them pay for their lawlessness.

One rustler was captured, for he was so wounded that he fell from his horse. The others got away, one badly hurt, it seemed, for he had to be taken in charge by one of his companions who lifted him to his own saddle.

As for Billee and his forces, they suffered somewhat, two of the cowboys being painfully wounded by bullets. But, on the whole, the affair ended much better than might have been expected. The stolen cattle had been recovered, in as good condition as could be hoped for, and the rustlers had been driven off, with the exception of the wounded one.

It was planned to take him to the nearest jail, but this trouble was obviated for the man died in the night.

Riding back after having driven off the rustlers, Billee and his men found the cattle quietly resting, while Bud and his friends were doing likewise, as they had ridden hard.

"We'll camp here for the night," decided Billee. "Too bad there isn't a telephone here that we could use to send word back to your dad, Bud. But we can't have everything."

"No," agreed Yellin' Kid with a chuckle. "I'd like a room an' a bath with plenty of hot water, but I don't see any growin' on no trees around here!"

However, the cowboys were used to this sort of life and they counted it no unusual hardship. A fire was made, those who had been scarred by bullets were looked after and then the ever-welcome "grub" was served.

The next day, after the hasty burial of the dead rustler, on whom little sympathy was wasted, and concerning whose identity no one cared much, the march back to Diamond X was begun, the cattle being slowly driven toward their former pasture. As not all the cowboys were needed for this, a sufficient number were told off by Billee, and the remainder, including the boy ranchers, made better speed back to headquarters.

There the news of the successful chase after the rustlers was received with satisfaction, and Mr. Merkel said he hoped it would be a lesson to other thieves.

"I wish we could give the same sort of lesson to any sheep herders that might be around here," remarked Bud.

"That's so," said his father. "And perhaps you'd better be getting back to Spur Creek. No telling what might have happened while you've been away. We didn't leave anyone on guard."

"I don't know as it was necessary," said Bud. "But, all the same, we'd better get back."

They made the start early the next morning – the boy ranchers, with Yellin' Kid and Snake, and there was the promise of more cowboys to help them hold the "fort" should it be considered necessary.

"Well, everything seems to be all right," remarked Bud as he and his party rode up to the shack on the edge of the stream. "No signs of the sheep yet."

"And no smell, either," chuckled Yellin' Kid, as he sniffed the air.

"It takes the perfesser for that!" said Snake with a laugh.

"I wonder what Professor Wright is doing?" said Nort.

"Oh, digging up a lot of old bones, I reckon," Bud answered. "But let's get grub and rest. I'm tired."

The events of the past few days had been strenuous enough to make them all welcome a period of rest. And they had it, for a few hours. And then something occurred to start a series of happenings that lasted and created excitement for some time.

It was toward the middle of the afternoon when Nort, who had gone down the stream a little way, looked across Spur Creek and saw hanging in the hazy air a cloud of dust.

"Wonder if that's a wind storm," he mused. But as there was not a sign of vapor in the clear blue sky he gave up that theory. "Guess I'd better let 'em know," he thought, turning back toward the fort.

And when the others came out to look at the cloud of dust, on the Mexican side of the river – a cloud which had grown larger – Bud exclaimed:

"Sheep, I'll bet a hat!"