Cattle-Ranch to College Part 26

"It is kinder tough," returned the younger. "I haven't got used to 'Lite's' prancin's yet and I'm stiff."

It's the privilege of every working man on land and sea to grumble at the early getting-up time, and the cow-puncher takes all possible advantage of this immemorial right. They obeyed the summons, nevertheless, and by the time the night-wrangler came up with the saddle band Jerry and John were on hand with the rest of the punchers, having rolled up and stowed their beds in the wagon. A rope corral was drawn about them which sufficed to keep them together, the cow-pony having learned the lesson thoroughly not to run against a rope, even if it is flimsily supported. Each man took his lariat and flung it over the horse he wanted to ride that day. As the noose tightened round the neck of each horse it stood stock still till its owner came up to it. Led a little apart, the fifty-pound saddle was flung over, and in spite of more or less struggling the cinches were drawn tight and the heavy bridle buckled on.

The rush for the mess wagon which followed resembled a run on a bank, and for a few minutes the clatter of tin dishes and steel knives and forks drowned all other sounds. A tin cup of strong, black coffee, a slice or two of bacon, potatoes swimming in gravy, and a generous chunk of bread comprised the bill of fare.

With plates and cups filled, John and Jerry go off a little way to a wagon, and sitting cross-legged with backs against the wheels, proceed to put away with all possible dispatch the food allotted to them. In a few minutes breakfast is over, when each man brings his dishes and throws them on the pile which cook is already busily engaged in was.h.i.+ng.

Similar proceedings have been going on at all the different outfits at the same time, and soon all hands converge towards the round-up boss's camp.

John and Jerry joined the gathering crowd near the "captain's" wagon and waited for orders. After a few minutes Kline, captain of the round-up, appeared, a stocky man with a gray beard, slouch hat, and greasy, round-up clothes, chaps, flannel s.h.i.+rt, and big spurs. The crowd quieted down instantly.

"Barrett, take six men and go to the head of Bar Creek and rake the brush like a fine-tooth comb," began Kline. Barrett swung into the saddle, and picking out six men rode off with them.

"Haggerty, take six men and clean up Crooked Creek; Moore, three men and go up Indian Gulch," and so the orders went. Each group started on the instant, and trotting off, disappeared in a cloud of dust. Soon all the punchers had gone; only the cooks, the horse-wranglers, and a few drivers were left.

Jerry and John had been sent up a small creek to drive in all the cattle they found in that section. The head of the creek reached (it was about fifteen miles off), Jerry, who was riding some distance from John, signalled to him to turn back and make a detour so as to get around the animals ahead. At the sight of the riders the wild cattle began to gather into bunches and stare; this tendency to come together made it much easier to drive them.

By the time they had driven two miles a considerable number had gathered, which increased as it moved onward as a s...o...b..ll gathers bulk when it is pushed along.

When Jerry and John reached the main valley they were driving perhaps a couple of hundred head before them. Herds were pouring in from every direction, and soon the whole valley was filled with a vast ma.s.s of variously tinted animals, their horns tossing like a sea of tall gra.s.s.

Over all hung a great cloud of dust that obscured the sun and made it impossible to distinguish a rider the other side of the herd. "This is fierce," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed John as he tried to peer through the brown-gray cloud at another rider.

"A cow-puncher can't live without dust," returned Jerry, whose face was covered with a gray mask, through which his eyes shone in strong contrast. "My teeth is worn down and my lungs coated with it, but I don't mind it no more. Look out for that cow there!"

An old cow, made angry and brave at once by an apparent menace to her calf, was charging down on John full tilt--tail up, head down, eyes rolling--vengeance in every motion; for a minute it looked as if he would be run down: the charging beast was going at such speed that she would be hard to avoid; but when she was within five feet of the boy's horse he gave a quick pull on the rein, a sharp jab with his spurs, and the clever little cow-pony wheeled sharply round and out of range, the old cow lumbering harmlessly by, her own weight and impetus preventing her from turning.

"You want to keep your eye out for those old cows with calves,"

admonished Jerry, "they're looking for trouble."

All hands were now busy keeping the great herd together, single animals were constantly breaking out and had to be driven back; sometimes several would start at once, when there would be some pretty sharp riding for a while.

It was about midday, the sun was blazing down from above, the dust rose in clouds from below, lining mouths and nostrils of the riders. Since six o'clock they had been in the saddle constantly, and all felt, as Jerry expressed it, "Plumb empty and bone dry."

The herd presently quieted down somewhat and allowed the men to eat in relays, some watching while others fed. It was the briefest kind of a meal, but it sufficed, and in a half hour every man was ready, mounted on a fresh horse, for the real work of the day--"cutting out."

John and Jerry approached the tumultuous herd, a swirling restless sea of backs and horns. The din was tremendous; every cow lowed to her calf and every calf to its mother; the tread of thousands of hoofs even on the soft earth caused a heavy, rumbling sound that filled the air, and above all was the sharp rattle of one horn against another, of a thousand horns against each other. Into this seething ma.s.s of living wild creatures armed with sharp horns, and the tread of whose hoofs was death, must go the cowboy and his intrepid pony. To drive out the cows and their accompanying calves, so that the brand of the mother might be put on the offspring, was the cow-puncher's duty.

Jerry and John were as usual near together, and Jerry as usual grumbling. He declared that this cow-punching was a dog's life and that he would surely quit it after this round-up. John, as was his custom of late, was discoursing on the merits of "Lite." "I'll show you what a good cutting-out horse he is to-day," the youngster was saying. "You just watch him." Jerry suddenly rode off to head off a steer that had broken out of the bunch and so stopped the boy's talk. When he came back John was about to dismount to aid a weak calf to rise. "Look out!" was all Jerry had time to shout, as an old cow with horns like spears came charging down on the stooping boy. It was not her calf, but she thought it was. John's horse had become startled and ran back so fast that he could not reach the saddle horn to mount. The infuriated cow was within twenty feet of him, the cattle hedged him in on every side so he could not run, and he reached round for his six-shooter as a last resort. He was about to pull the trigger when Jerry's rope came flying through the air, settled round the animal's hind legs, and down she came in a heap just in time.

"You'll take my word next time when I tell you not to dismount in a bunch of cattle." John said nothing, but he realized that it was a pretty close shave.

Soon the cutting-out process began, to accomplish which the rider enters the main bunch, selects a cow with a calf bearing the brand of his outfit, and drives them out to a place apart, where other riders keep them separated from the main bunch and from the similar collections of other brands. To select his own brand from dozens of others requires a quick and sure eye on the part of the rider, and to follow that particular cow through all the turnings and twistings she is sure to take, requires great cleverness and perseverance on the part of the horse.

It was "Lite's" first experience as a cutting-out horse, but John had full confidence in his ability in this as in every other branch of cow-pony education. "You just watch him"--this to Jerry, who had expressed some doubts. John and Lightning rushed into the sea of cattle.

Whether by the gentle pressure of the knees or remarkable knowledge Jerry knew not, but he saw the little horse single out an animal and start it out, following directly at its heels. It turned to the left sharply; Lightning deftly threw his fore legs over its back and stood in its path; it turned to the right--horse and rider were there also.

Through the herd they went full speed, twisting, turning, pa.s.sing through lanes of cattle so narrow that John's legs rubbed their rough bodies on either side; but always they were close at the heels of the x.x.x cow, and finally they drove her out where Jerry was guarding several others of the same outfit.

"How's that?" said John breathlessly. It was hard work for horse and rider, particularly for the former.

"That's all right," Jerry answered, more enthusiastically than was his wont. "He's got the making of a good cow-horse in him."

CHAPTER XVIII.

A MIDNIGHT STAMPEDE.

On a wide flat the round-up outfit commenced working the big bunch. As the cutters-out dart here and there, whirling, dodging, and following, the small individual bunches slowly increase in size, while the main bunch correspondingly dwindles.

John and his Lightning work away with other riders until only the nucleus of the herd remains, and in five minutes this too has vanished.

Each outfit pauses to rest a few minutes before the counting and branding begin; in the meantime Jerry is coaxing the fire in which the branding irons are heating.

"What'll you give for the buckskin now?" said John with pardonable pride, as he drove in the last animal bearing the x.x.x brand.

"He'll do; but I want to see you rope with him before I take back all I've said," answered Jerry, "He cuts out pretty well, but you get a calf on your string and the string under his tail and he'll dizzy you," and Jerry began to poke the fire, chuckling the while.

"Oh, you're jokin'; I can ride him now without stirrups. I tell you he's a broke horse."

"The iron is hot now," broke in Jerry, as he rolled up his sleeves.

"Let's see what your horse can do. Bring in your calves."

It was John's duty, with two other men, to rope the calves belonging to his ranch by the hind legs and yank them along the smooth gra.s.s to the branding fire, where Jerry applied the hot iron. He started Lightning on a run to rope the first calf, eager to prove his horse's ability.

One sleek little fellow stood on the edge of the x.x.x bunch, gazing in wonder at the horse and his rider. Doubtless the calf thought this a strange creature, able to separate into two parts and reunite without the slightest inconvenience. John went straight for it and broke off its cogitations suddenly by whirling his rope and throwing it under the little fellow. The calf started and jumped into the loop, and John quickly drew the rope tight, pulling its hind legs from under it and throwing the little animal heavily. Lightning was checked and the calf rolled over and began to struggle and bleat piteously. A green horse is nearly always frightened the first time he pulls on a rope: he does not understand it, and Lightning was no exception to the rule. The rope touched his s.h.i.+fty hind legs and he kicked out with all his might; it rubbed harder as the calf struggled, and the horse began to whirl and plunge viciously in his efforts to get rid of the line that sc.r.a.ped his sensitive sides.

[Ill.u.s.tration: DRAGGED IT UP TO THE FIRE.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: ... WHILE THE IRON WAS APPLIED. (_Page 292._)]

Fortunately the little creature got loose at this juncture and escaped.

True to prediction, the rope got, under "Lite's" tail and now the fun commenced in earnest. He bucked as he had never bucked before, and all but stood on his head. The other outfits stopped work for the moment to see the sport.

Lightning fairly foamed in his rage and fear; he bucked continuously, and every time he struck the ground he gave a hoa.r.s.e squeal--shrill and wicked. John's strength was sorely tried; but after his boasting it would never do to be "piled up," so he set his teeth and vowed he would stick, no matter what happened. The fury of the effort made it a short one, but it seemed to John plenty long enough, for during the five minutes the saddle was like unto a hurricane deck in a raging sea. But through it all John came out triumphant. In the words of a bystander: "The little horse bellered and bucked and the kid never pulled leather"

(did not hold on to the horn of his saddle). Which was high praise from a cow-puncher to a cow-puncher.

"What'll you take for him?" called Jerry, as John dismounted to untangle the rope from "Lite's" heels.

"Money can't buy him," was the reply. John was bruised and stiff, but his pride was not broken and his faith in his horse was undiminished, though it must be confessed it had received a severe shock. "He'll bring that calf in or I'll kill him tryin'," he said st.u.r.dily, and he mounted "Lite" again and went back. He found the same calf, roped it, and "Lite," after a few futile plunges, dragged it up to the fire, where he stood with heaving, sweat-covered sides while the iron was applied. The hard lesson had been taught and learned for all time.

"He's got the making of a good cow-horse," admitted Jerry. "But, oh Lord! such a making!"

The way John worked the little horse that day would have seemed cruel to a novice, but he intended that he should never forget the experience of the morning, and he never did. The last calf was branded at dusk, and by the time this necessary torture was completed poor "Lite" was about done up.

The bunch was allowed its freedom for another year and the cattle began at once to wander off, the old cows licking the disfigured sides of their offspring, the calves shaking and writhing with pain, failing utterly to understand why they should be tortured thus. The wound soon heals, however, and though the soreness disappears the scar remains always.

The day's work was over; the coolness of evening succeeded the heat of the day; the men stopped work and rode slowly into camp by star-light.