CHAPTER X.
DANGER IN THE EAST
THE sun was no more than fairly above the horizon when the party were on the move, headed in the direction named. The expected norther did not come, the weather continuing as perfect as heart could wish. The uneven ground rendered the progress slow for a couple of hours, the horsemen being obliged to pick their way with care; but, by bearing to the right, better ground was reached, and they struck into an easy gallop which lasted for several hours.
“Strubell,” said Herbert, who with Nick was riding beside the Texan, the other being at the rear with the pack animals, “do you expect to find any use for that lasso?”
“You mean the lariat,” replied the cowboy, looking down at the rope coiled at his saddle; “can’t say, but Baker and I make it a rule to go prepared for business. We may strike a job in New Mexico, after taking a look at the ranch for Mr. Lord.”
“But you could get them there.”
“Of course, but I’ve used this for years, just as Baker has his, and we are so accustomed to them that we prefer to take them with us, just as you will soon grow to prefer your pony and your Winchester above all others.”
“When is the harvest time, as you may call it, for cattle?” asked Nick, who was always on the lookout for a chance to increase his store of knowledge.
“The spring; that’s when the big herds are put up for the drive, and that’s the season too, when the yearly round-up takes place.”
“What’s that for?”
“To apportion the unmarked calves and yearlings among the owners of stock on the range, so they can be branded.”
“I should think there would be a confusion of brands.”
“No; that can never happen, for the law requires the brand to be recorded in the county clerk’s office. It is generally the initials of the owner’s name, with perhaps some device to help distinguish it. The county clerk sees to it that no two are the same. But,” added the Texan, “the law compels every cattle owner to record also with the county clerk the ear-marks, crops, half-crops, upper and under bits, upper and under slopes, splits, swallow-forks, and jingle-bobs. When all this is done, the ranchman can identify his property as easily as you could pick out your own father in a crowd.”
“Suppose a lot of branded cattle are sold?” asked Nick.
“That seller is compelled to counterbrand them, and in case they are driven from the State, the buyer is obliged to road-brand them with a device different from his regular brand, and must record it in every county through which he passes.”
“I should think some of the cattle would become pretty well covered with brands.”
“So they do; after a few shiftings about, I have seen them so thickly branded that there seemed no place for anything new in that line. It doesn’t require many transfers to do this when the burned letters, as I have seen them, are nearly a foot long.”
“How is the branding done?”
“When convenient, the animal is driven between two parallel lines of fencing, called a chute, bars being placed before and behind him. He is then helpless, and the operator does the work at his leisure. But fences (except the wire kind that the big owners are stretching across the country) are scarce, and we generally have to go to the help of the brander.”
“How do you manage it?”
“Easily enough; slip about eight feet of the end of the lariat through the ring, and, putting a loop at the other end, over the pommel of the saddle, I gather the coils into my bridle hand, holding the noose in my right, and start my pony on a gallop. The animal that I want breaks into a run. I quickly get near enough to drop the noose over its head or fore feet, and the pony wheels the other way and braces himself for the shock that he knows is coming and which throws the animal to the ground. The minute he goes down, the branders seize him by the head and tail, and the hot iron does its work.”
“The operation must be painful,” suggested Herbert.
“Well,” replied Strubell, “I suppose the animal doesn’t enjoy it overmuch, but it isn’t so bad as many think, for the brander must take great care not to burn through the skin into the flesh.”
“What harm would be done by that?”
“The brand would be blotched, and a good many dishonest people would find an excuse for getting their brands mixed; but that isn’t the worst trouble,” added the cowboy, “for after the branding comes the blow-fly, which is the pest of Texas.”
“What is his style of working?”
“He deposits his eggs under the raw sore, and, before long, thousands of screw worms are eating their way toward the vitals of the animal.”
“What is done to check them?”
“We have different remedies, which only half do their work, but the best that I know of is cresylic ointment. In order to apply it, however, the animal must be roped and sometimes thrown down.”
“It looks as if the cowboy has more work than play in his business,” said Nick, with a laugh.
Strubell turned and stared at him a moment, as if pitying his ignorance.
“If you have any doubt about it, just try it for six months or a year. We spend most of our time in the saddle from daylight till dark. When on the trail, our diet is bacon, bread, and coffee, and not overmuch of that. I have gone twenty hours without a mouthful, for the simple reason that I hadn’t the time to ride to the cook wagon to get it. When one pony gave out, I jumped on another and rode him like a house afire.”
“What was the cause for such hard work?”
“Chiefly stampedes, which set the animals wild. When following the Old Cattle Trail, northward through Texas and Kansas, I have had five thousand cattle scattered to every point of the compass by a thunder-storm, despite all we could do to keep them together. Sometimes they become crazy for water, start bellowing on a full run, and crowd into the first stream so fast that a hundred or two are drowned; then, when the night is still and no air stirring, nor the slightest cause, so far as you can see, exists for alarm, something will set them off again. The only explanation that I could ever think of was that the animals are troubled now and then with bad dreams, and by their cavorting frighten the others out of their wits.”
“They must be guarded carefully at night?”
“Certainly; our men are divided into three reliefs, which makes it a little harder than we have it now. When the stampede breaks out, the riders have no let up night or day till the cattle are brought together again. Then, too, the Kiowas or Comanches may take it into their heads to try a little cattle speculation. They are all fine horsemen and rifle-shots, and a half dozen of the scamps can make things as lively on a dark night as a nest of hornets. However, we like it for all that,” said the Texan, “because it’s the only business we know; but these big cattle owners, that are fencing in most of Texas with their barbed wire, will soon take it away from us.”
At this juncture, Lattin touched his pony with his spur, and placed him alongside the others.
“I wish,” said he, “that you would p’int that machine of yours off there to the east, and let us know what you make of it.”
His outstretched arm showed the direction named, and his friends naturally turned their attention toward that point of the compass. They were on the plain, where the grass grew plentifully, the hilly portions being in sight several miles to their left.
Before the field glass was called into use, all saw, seemingly in the very rim of the horizon, several horsemen moving apparently over a course parallel with their own, since Lattin said they had been in sight for nearly an hour, and were neither more nor less distinct than when first observed.
The glasses were passed from one to the other, and the parties were closely studied. The instruments were of great help, giving to our friends a knowledge which otherwise they could not have obtained.
All agreed that there were three horsemen, and that one, possibly two, were white men. The third might have belonged to the same race, but, for some cause, the Texans declared that he was a half-breed, known as Jim-John, one of the worst rogues in the Southwest.
“If you know him,” said Nick, “you ought to know the others.”
“So I do,” quietly replied Strubell; “one is Bell Rickard, that you introduced to us last night. They’re a bad lot, and we’re bound to have trouble with them before morning.”
Little did the sagacious Texan suspect the startling manner in which his words were to be verified.
CHAPTER XI.
STRANGE PROCEEDINGS
THE elder Texan turned to the boys and said:
“I must ask you to excuse Baker and me for a few minutes, while we discuss a little private business.”
It was a singular request, but Nick and Herbert nodded their heads. Striking their ponies into a quick gallop, the cowboys rode a hundred yards or so in advance, before bringing their animals down to a walk. The gait of the youths was the same.
The remark made by Strubell concerning Rickard, caused Herbert to ask what it meant. Nick told him the story, adding:
“They are talking now about him and the others: look at them!”
The Texans were certainly discussing some subject with great earnestness. Inasmuch as they kept glancing to the eastward, gesticulating and often pointing in that direction, there was little doubt that Nick was right in his surmise as to the theme of their conversation.
“I wonder what it can be,” said Herbert, after watching the couple, who modulated their voices so that not a word could be recognized; “it seems strange that they should treat the horse thief as a friend, when they know him to be an enemy.”
“Well, I have been trying to figure it out; I supposed they would make it clear to me, but though I heard them speak about it to each other this morning, they took care not to give me a word in the way of explanation. I shall not ask them, though I was never more curious to learn anything in all my life.”
“It can’t be that Strubell and Lattin are on friendly terms with Rickard?” suggested Herbert.
“I might think so, after what we have just seen, though it seems cruel to suspect them of anything like that. Mr. Lord has known them for years, and says two more honest men never lived.”
“You are brighter than I am, Nick; what is your theory?”
“Well, it is clear that Strubell and Lattin had the choice of shooting down Rickard when I drove him into camp, or of letting him go. They knew it was of no use to ask a pledge of him in payment for their kindness, for he wouldn’t regard any promise as binding; so, not willing to treat him as he deserved, perhaps they took the fellow for what he was, and then let him go.”
“You may be right, but the explanation doesn’t amount to much, and doesn’t satisfy me.”
“Nor me either. I would like to hear yours.”
“I haven’t any. They are hard at it now!”
The Texans were talking more excitedly than ever, but did not forget to keep their voices so low that no stray word reached the ears of the puzzled youths.
The conference, however, speedily reached its conclusion. Their talking ceased, and, bringing their horses to a standstill, they waited for the boys and the pack horses to join them.
The faces of Strubell and Lattin showed signs of the stirring conversation, but, as the boys anticipated, they were silent as to the theme.
“We must make a change in our course,” said the elder, who immediately turned the head of his pony to the westward, in the direction of the hills among which they had spent the previous night. It was near noon, and the major part of the day was gone, when they reached the rougher section where the Texans said the camp was to be made.
They showed their usual good judgment in the selection of a favorable site, for it was near another running stream, larger than the previous one, though the current was roiled and lukewarm. They might count themselves fortunate, however, that they were able to find water at all; for thirst has caused the death of untold thousands of cattle on the vast plains of Texas, and brought great suffering to those who have ventured not alone upon the Llano Estacado, but in other localities where moisture is almost unknown.
The pack horses were unloaded, saddles and bridles removed, and the ponies allowed to crop the scanty grass. It was too early for the regular evening meal, but considerable fuel was gathered; and, much sooner than there seemed to be any need for it, a fire was started, the smoke from which rose vertically, and was of so dark a color that it must have been visible for a long distance across the plain.
During all this time the three horsemen in the eastern horizon were not forgotten. The glasses were often turned thither, and there could be no doubt that Rickard and his companions were keeping our friends in sight. Evidently they were determined that they should not be lost.
The use of spy glasses has never been common among the cowmen, who are generally gifted with such keen eyesight that they scorn everything in the nature of artificial help. Counting upon this fact, it was not unlikely that Rickard believed that, by hovering on the line of invisibility, he would escape attention, or at least suspicion, on the part of the Texans. Had he known of the field glasses, he must have made an important change in his programme.
The fact that our friends were without a particle of food did not cause them concern. They were not likely to suffer from starvation, for, beside the stray cattle that they were warranted in using in an emergency (always holding themselves ready to reimburse the owner when it could be done), there were antelope and other animals to be found among the hills.
But Lattin stated that, unless some kind of game would be accommodating enough to come forward and offer itself as a sacrifice to their needs, they would content themselves with a good cup of coffee around, making up for the light meal when morning should come.
When the sun sank behind the hills, Rickard and his party became invisible to the naked eye. The supposition might have been that they had withdrawn and would be seen no more, but for the story told by the field glasses. Under their power it was discovered that the scamps had dismounted near a small arroya or natural depression, and compelled their animals to lie down. Seating themselves at the same time on the grass, they filled too small an angle for the unassisted eye to note them across the intervening space.
Strubell turned to Lattin and spoke:
“Bell’s cunning, but he does not dream about the spy glasses.”
“We’re bound to hear from him before morning,” replied Lattin.
They did not mean that their words should be overheard, but Nick caught them all, though he affected ignorance.
The next sentences were meant for the youths.
“Hadn’t we better move over the trail into the hills, Ard?” asked the younger Texan, as though the idea had just come to him.
“Why should we do that?” inquired the other, as if in surprise.
“Well, you know of that spring where we’ve camped many a time, and once had the brush with half a hundred Comanches. There are more rocks and bowlders there, and everything is a blamed sight better for a fight than it is here.”
“Now, Baker, you aint so foolish as to think Bell and the others mean to disturb us?” asked Strubell, apparently forgetting the words uttered by himself only a few minutes before.
“Well, maybe not, but you know as well as me that it won’t do to trust him further than you can see him.”
“I tell you, Baker, what will be better,” spoke up Strubell, like a man with a new and brilliant idea; “we’ll send the boys ahead to the spring with the pack horses, while we wait here and find out just what Bell is up to.”
“That is a good plan,” added Lattin heartily; “let’s do it.”
The Texans now turned to Nick and Herbert, as though they did not suspect they had caught any of the conversation.
“Boys, we want to watch Bell and the others for a while, and have made up our minds to let you ride some distance over the trail, while we stay here and watch. I have proposed it, and Baker agrees that the plan is a good one. You have no objections?”
It occurred to Nick to ask in what way it was likely to improve their eyesight and the power of the glasses, by sending him and Herbert off. Surely their presence or absence could not operate one way or the other. The proposition was not very profound or bright, but, keeping back his thoughts, he promptly answered:
“Herbert and I are always ready to do cheerfully whatever you decide is best for us.”
“Thanks! – spoken like a man. Now, you see the trail just beyond,” added Strubell, pointing to a faintly marked path; “it has been used since the days of old Moses Austin and Sam Houston, and is so plain that you can’t miss it. It leads into the hills for a quarter of a mile, and then turns north through a sort of valley. A little more than half a mile further, and you will come upon one of the prettiest springs of water in Texas. There’s where you will unsaddle and make camp for to-night.”
“When will you join us?”
“We hope to do so in the course of a few hours, but don’t be alarmed if you see nothing of us before morning.”
CHAPTER XII.
WHAT DOES IT MEAN?
BEFORE parting with the Texans, Nick Ribsam handed his field glass to Strubell, with the remark that he and Lattin would be likely to find it of use, and it could be well spared, since Herbert had one of his own. The coffee was prepared before the breaking up took place, for the cooking utensils were to go with the boys, and the men did not expect to have much leisure for preparing the delicious refreshment.
The trail, to which several references have been made, showed no evidence of having been recently travelled, though, in the course of time, a great many animals must have found their way through the hills by that route, which Nick took, with the pack horses stringing after, and Herbert bringing up the rear.
It was too strait to admit of two horsemen riding abreast, and there were places where there was none too much room for a single animal. The path wound in and out among and around bowlders and large rocks, with stunted vegetation here and there, all the time steadily ascending, until a height of several hundred feet was attained, beyond which the descent was gradual, until the same level was reached on the other side.
The distance across the ridge or small mountain spur has been named – about one-fourth of a mile. It is probable that it was first made by the feet of wild animals when they were more numerous in the neighborhood, and was afterward used by Indians and hunters in passing to and fro through that portion of Texas. It was not the first time that the speechless part of creation has blazed the path for the pioneer to follow after them.
Nick Ribsam, having placed himself at the head of the little party, started his pony, Jack, on a moderate walk, the others following at the same pace, with Herbert and his Jill at the rear. They had named their animals that day, and both were surprised at the intelligence, speed, and endurance they developed. It was impossible for the boys not to form a fondness for the ponies, since they were so worthy, and showed a strong affection for their masters.
The sun was well above the horizon, and the youths had plenty of time at command. At the highest portion of the path, where the space was broad enough for a dozen animals to stand side by side, the boys came together.
“I guess,” said Nick, from his saddle to Herbert on his right, “that you understand what all this means.”
“I suspect,” replied the elder, “that Strubell and Lattin are preparing for a fight with Rickard and his men.”
“I’ve no doubt that’s it, and they want us out of the way; they are pretty shrewd fellows, but I can’t help wondering what answer Strubell would have made, if I had asked him how our absence would be likely to help him and Lattin better than our presence. Well, no doubt they have good reason to want us beyond gunshot; we couldn’t give them any help, and might prove a hindrance, and they think too much of us to allow us to run into danger when they can prevent it.”
“Nick,” said Herbert, as if giving expression to a thought that had been in his mind for some time; “I wish I could think as you do about things, but I can’t.”
The younger lad looked at him with surprise.
“What’s the odds, if we don’t see everything in exactly the same light? But I am not sure that I understand you.”
“Let’s dismount for a few minutes.”
The open space where the four animals were standing was so walled in by masses and piles of stone and vegetation that, although considerably higher than their friends at the foot of the ridge, the latter were invisible. By climbing a large, irregular bowlder, the Texans were in plain sight.
“Don’t let them see us,” said Herbert, “but let’s watch them for a while: maybe you can explain things, and maybe you can’t.”
Nick was a little disturbed by the words of Herbert, though it should be stated that it was not the mind of either to suspect the Texans of anything but the truest friendship toward them; but it looked very much as if something was on foot which they wished to keep secret from their younger companions.
Strubell and Lattin were standing beside each other, with their whole attention directed eastward, where Rickard and his companions were known to be. At the moment the boys observed them, the elder Texan was holding the field glass levelled, while Lattin was doing what he could in the way of observation by shading his eyes with one hand. They were too far off to learn whether any words passed between the cowboys.
“I don’t notice anything to cause question,” remarked Nick, after viewing the couple for several minutes. “They are simply studying the horse thieves over yonder, in the hope of finding out something about their purposes. We have been doing the same thing, off and on, for a number of hours.”
“And you think there will be a fight?”
“It looks that way; it seems to me that Strubell and Lattin are satisfied that those fellows yonder are bent on stealing our horses, and that they are likely to hang to us for days and nights, in the hope of getting a good chance to do so. So our friends have made up their minds that the best thing is to settle it at once, and by sending us off they have cleared the deck for action.”
“You put it very well,” said Herbert, whose admiration of his companion’s brightness never grew less; “and maybe, since you have explained some things so well, you will tell us about others.”
The youths now took turns in studying the group across the plain. The sun was out of sight behind the hills to their rear, but the eastern horizon, being relieved from the glare, was more favorable than before for observation through the instrument.
The three horses of the rogues were seen to be on their feet, with their riders standing beside them, as if about to climb into the saddles. One of the company, evidently Rickard himself, was several paces in advance of the others, as motionless as a statue, and evidently staring in turn toward the Texans at the foot of the ridge.
“It looks to me,” said Nick, passing the glass back to Herbert, “as though he is using a field glass: can it be possible?”
“What is there so wonderful about that? The cowboys may not be fond of spy glasses, but it would be strange if some of them did not employ all the help they could get in their business.”
Ceasing the conversation for the moment, the boys gave their whole attention to seeing what they could see.
Lattin, having passed the glass to Strubell, stepped back to where the fire was beginning to burn low, and threw on a few sticks. When the ascending smoke increased in volume, he took off his broad-brimmed hat and waved it in an odd way over the blaze. The result was that the volume of smoke, instead of ascending vertically, was broken into what might be called a regular irregularity, the appearance being peculiar and different from anything the the youths had ever observed before.
“That’s a signal to the horse thieves,” said Herbert, “and I would give a good deal to know what it means.”
“So would I,” added Nick, more disturbed by the sight than he was willing to admit.
It looked as if Herbert was right, but, if so, the singular feature of the business was that all the signalling seemed to be done by Strubell and Lattin. Nothing, so far as could be perceived, was sent in response by Rickard.
If there were actual communication going on between the parties, it was beyond the power of Nick and Herbert to frame a satisfactory explanation. Why intercourse should be held at such long range, when seemingly there was no reason for the mutual playing off, was a problem beyond ordinary acuteness.
But while the two were speculating, Herbert, with his field glass to his eye, began sweeping every part of the visible horizon. He had no special object in doing this, but thought he might perceive other horsemen, who had nothing to do with their friends or enemies.
Suddenly he startled Nick by an exclamation.
“Follow the direction of my finger!” he said, “and tell me what you see.”
He pointed almost north, that is in a line parallel with the ridge which they were crossing; and, without the aid of the field glass, Nick observed a second column of smoke of precisely the same appearance as that produced by Baker Lattin at the foot of the hills.
Apparently it was a mile distant, its location being at one corner of a right-angled triangle, with the horse thieves and Texans at the other two respective corners. The course of the ridge shut Strubell and Lattin from the sight of those that were managing the second fire. The parties could not have caught the first mutual glimpse, and yet nothing was more reasonable to believe than that they were telegraphing important messages back and forth to each other.