Clarence E. Mulford_Hopalong Cassidy 04 (23 page)

"Yes; we'll have to drive 'em purty hard till we reach the creek,"
replied Red, thoughtfully. "Say; we're going to have three thousand of
the finest three-year-old steers ever sent north out of these parts. An'
we ought to do it in a month an' deliver 'em fat an' frisky. We can feed
'em good for the last week."

"I just sent some of the boys out to drive in the cayuses," Hopalong
remarked, "an' when they get here you fellers match for choice an' pick
yore remuda. No use taking too few. About eight apiece'll do us nice. I
shore like a good cavvieyeh."

"Hullo, Hoppy!" came from the platform as Billy grinned his welcome
through the dust on his face. "Want a job?"

"Hullo yoreself," growled Pete. "Stick yore iron on that fourth steer
before he gets out, an' talk less with yore mouth."

"Pete's still rabid," called Billy, performing the duty Pete suggested.

"That may be the polite name for it," snorted one of the iron heaters,
testing an iron, "but that ain't what I'd say. Might as well cover the
subject thoroughly while yo're on it."

"Yes, verily," endorsed his companion.

"Here comes the last of 'em," smiled Pete, watching several cattle being
driven towards the chute. "We'll have to brand 'em on the move, Billy;
there ain't enough to fill the chute."

"All right; hot iron, you!"

Early the next morning the inspector looked them over and made his
count, the herd was started north and at nightfall had covered twelve
miles. For the next week everything went smoothly, but after that, water
began to be scarce and the herd was pushed harder, and became harder to
handle.

On the night of the twelfth day out four men sat around the fire in
West Valley at a point a dozen miles south of Bennett's Creek, and ate
heartily. The night was black—not a star could be seen and the south
wind hardly stirred the trampled and burned grass. They were thoroughly
tired out and their tempers were not in the sweetest state imaginable,
for the heat during the last four days had been almost unbearable even
to them and they had had their hands full with the cranky herd. They ate
silently, hungrily—there would be time enough for the few words they
had to say when the pipes were going for a short smoke before turning
in.

"I feel like hell," growled Red, reaching for another cup of coffee, but
there was no reply; he had voiced the feelings of all.

Hopalong listened intently and looked up, staring into the darkness, and
soon a horseman was seen approaching the fire. Hopalong nodded welcome
and waved his hand towards the food, and the stranger, dismounting,
picketed his horse and joined the circle. When the pipes were lighted he
sighed with satisfaction and looked around the group. "Driving north, I
see."

"Yes; an' blamed glad to get off this dry range," Hopalong replied.
"The herd's getting cranky an' hard to hold—but when we pass the creek
everything'll be all right again. An' ain't it hot! When you hear us
kick about the heat it means something."

"I'm going yore way," remarked the stranger. "I came down this trail
about two weeks ago. Reckon I was the last to ride through before the
fence went up. Damned outrage, says I, an' I told 'em so, too. They
couldn't see it that way an' we had a little disagreement about it. They
said as how they was going to patrol it."

"Fence! What fence?" exclaimed Red.

"Where's there any fence?" demanded Hopalong sharply.

"Twenty mile north of the creek," replied the stranger, carefully
packing his pipe.

"What? Twenty miles north of the creek?" cried Hopalong. "What creek?"

"Bennett's. The 4X has strung three strands of barb wire from Coyote
Pass to the North Arm. Thirty mile long, without a gate, so they says."

"But it don't close this trail!" cried Hopalong in blank astonishment.

"It shore does. They say they owns that range an' can fence it in all
they wants. I told 'em different, but naturally they didn't listen to
me. An' they'll fight about it, too."

"But they
can't
shut off this trail!" exclaimed Billy, with angry
emphasis. "They don't own it no more'n we do!"

"I know all about that—you heard me tell you what they said."

"But how can we get past it?" demanded Hopalong.

"Around it, over the hills. You'll lose about three days doing it, too."

"I can't take no sand-range herd over them rocks, an' I ain't going to
drive 'round no North Arm or Coyote Pass if I could," Hopalong replied
with quiet emphasis. "There's poison springs on the east an' nothing but
rocks on the west. We go straight through."

"I'm afraid that you'll have to fight if you do," remarked the stranger.

"Then we'll fight!" cried Johnny, leaning forward. "Blasted coyotes!
What right have they got to block a drive trail that's as old as
cattle-raising in these parts! That trail was here before I was born,
it's allus been open, an' it's going to stay open! You watch us go
through!"

"Yo're dead right, Kid; we'll cut that fence an' stick to this trail,
an' fight if we has to," endorsed Red. "The Bar-20 ain't crawling out of
no hole that it can walk out of. They're bluffing; that's all."

"I don't think they are; an' there's twelve men in that outfit,"
suggested the stranger, offhand.

"We ain't got time to count odds; we never do down our way when we know
we're right. An' we're right enough in this game," retorted Hopalong,
quickly. "For the last twelve days we've had good luck, barring the few
on this dry range; an' now we're in for the other kind. By the Lord,
I wish we was here without the cows to take care of—we'd show 'em
something about blocking drive trails that ain't in their little book!"

"Blast it all! Wire fences coming down this way now," mused Johnny,
sullenly. He hated them by training as much as he hated horse-thieves
and sheep; and his companions had been brought up in the same school.
Barb wire, the death-knell to the old-time punching, the bar to riding
at will, a steel insult to fire the blood—it had come at last.

"We've shore got to cut it, Red,—" began Hopalong, but the cook had to
rid himself of some of his indignation and interrupted with heat.

"Shore we have!" came explosively from the tail board of the chuck
wagon. "Got to lay it agin my li'l axe an' swat it with my big ol'
monkey wrench! An' won't them posts save me a lot of trouble hunting
chips an' firewood!"

"We've shore got to cut it, Red," Hopalong repeated slowly. "You an'
Johnny an' me'll ride ahead after we cross the creek to-morrow an' do
it. I don't hanker after no fight with all these cows on my han's, but
we've got to risk one."

"Shore!" cried Johnny, hotly. "I can't get over the gall of them fellers
closing up the West Valley drive trail. Why, I never heard tell of such
a thing afore!"

"We're short-handed; we ought to have more'n we have to guard the
herd if there's a fight. If it stampedes—oh, well, that'll work out
to-morrow. The creek's only about twelve miles away an' we'll start at
daylight, so tumble in," Hopalong said as he arose. "Red, I'm going out
to take my shift—I'll send Pete in. Stranger," he added, turning, "I'm
much obliged to you for the warning. They might 'a' caught us with our
hands tied."

"Oh, that's all right," hastily replied the stranger, who was in hearty
accord with the plans, such as they were. "My name's Hawkins, an' I
don't like range fences no more'n you do. I used to hunt buffalo all
over this part of the country before they was all killed off, an' I
allus rode where I pleased. I'm purty old, but I can still see an'
shoot; an' I'm going to stick right along with you fellers an' see it
through. Every man counts in this game."

"Well, that's blamed white of you," Hopalong replied, greatly pleased by
the other's offer. "But I can't let you do it. I don't want to drag you
into no trouble, an'—"

"You ain't dragging me none; I'm doing it myself. I'm about as mad as
you are over it. I ain't good for much no more, an' if I shuffles off
fighting barb wire I'll be doing my duty. First it was nesters, then
railroads an' more nesters, then sheep, an' now it's wire—won't it
never stop? By the Lord, it's got to stop, or this country will go
to the devil an' won't be fit to live in. Besides, I've heard of your
fellers before—I'll tie to the Bar-20 any day."

"Well, I reckon you must if you must; yo're welcome enough," laughed
Hopalong, and he strode off to his picketed horse, leaving the others to
discuss the fence, with the assistance of the cook, until Pete rode in.

When Hopalong rode in at midnight to arouse the others and send them out
to relieve Skinny and his two companions, the cattle were quieter than
he had expected to leave them, and he could see no change of weather
threatening. He was asleep when the others turned in, or he would have
been further assured in that direction.

Out on the plain where the herd was being held, Red and the three other
guards had been optimistic until half of their shift was over and it was
only then that they began to worry. The knowledge that running water was
only twelve miles away had the opposite effect than the one expected,
for instead of making them cheerful, it caused them to be beset with
worry and fear. Water was all right, and they could not have got along
without it for another day; but it was, in this case, filled with the
possibility of grave danger.

Johnny was thinking hard about it as he rode around the now restless
herd, and then pulled up suddenly, peered into the darkness and went
on again. "Damn that disreputable li'l rounder! Why the devil can't
he behave, 'stead of stirring things up when they're ticklish?" he
muttered, but he had to grin despite himself. A lumbering form had
blundered past him from the direction of the camp and was swallowed up
by the night as it sought the herd, annoying and arousing the thirsty
and irritable cattle along its trail, throwing challenges right and left
and stirring up trouble as it passed. The fact that the challenges were
bluffs made no difference to the pawing steers, for they were anxious to
have things out with the rounder.

This frisky disturber of bovine peace was a yearling that had
slipped into the herd before it left the ranch and had kept quiet and
respectable and out of sight in the middle of the mass for the first
few days and nights. But keeping quiet and respectable had been an awful
strain, and his mischievous deviltry grew constantly harder to hold in
check. Finally he could stand the repression no longer, and when he gave
way to his accumulated energy it had the snap and ginger of a tightly
stretched rubber band recoiling on itself. On the fourth night out he
had thrown off his mask and announced his presence in his true light
by butting a sleepy steer out of its bed, which bed he straightway
proceeded to appropriate for himself. This was folly, for the ground was
not cold and he had no excuse for stealing a body-warmed place to lie
down; it was pure cussedness, and retribution followed hard upon the
act. In about half a minute he had discovered the great difference
between bullying poor, miserable, defenceless dogies and trying to bully
a healthy, fully developed, and pugnacious steer. After assimilating
the preliminary punishment of what promised to be the most thorough and
workmanlike thrashing he had ever known, the indignant and frightened
bummer wheeled and fled incontinently with the aroused steer in angry
pursuit. The best way out was the most puzzling to the vengeful steer,
so the bummer cavorted recklessly through the herd, turning and twisting
and doubling, stepping on any steer that happened to be lying down in
his path, butting others, and leavening things with great success. Under
other conditions he would have relished the effect of his efforts,
for the herd had arisen as one animal and seemed to be debating the
advisability of stampeding; but he was in no mood to relish anything and
thought only of getting away. Finally escaping from his pursuer, that
had paused to fight with a belligerent brother, he rambled off into the
darkness to figure it all out and to maintain a sullen and chastened
demeanor for the rest of the night. This was the first time a brick had
been under the hat.

But the spirits of youth recover quickly—his recovered so quickly that
he was banished from the herd the very next night, which banishment, not
being at all to his liking, was enforced only by rigid watchfulness and
hard riding; and he was roundly cursed from dark to dawn by the
worried men, most of whom disliked the bumming youngster less than they
pretended. He was only a cub, a wild youth having his fling, and there
was something irresistibly likable and comical in his awkward antics and
eternal persistence, even though he was a pest. Johnny saw more in him
than his companions could find, and had quite a little sport with him:
he made fine practice for roping, for he was about as elusive as a
grasshopper and uncertain as a flea. Johnny was in the same general
class and he could sympathize with the irrepressible nuisance in its
efforts to stir up a little life and excitement in so dull a crowd;
Johnny hoped to be as successful in his mischievous deviltry when he
reached the town at the end of the drive.

But to-night it was dark, and the bummer gained his coveted goal with
ridiculous ease, after which he started right in to work off the high
pressure of the energy he had accumulated during the last two nights.
He had desisted in his efforts to gain the herd early in the evening and
had rambled off and rested during the first part of the night, and the
herders breathed softly lest they should stir him to renewed trials. But
now he had succeeded, and although only Johnny had seen him lumber past,
the other three guards were aware of it immediately by the results and
swore in their throats, for the cattle were now on their feet, snorting
and moving about restlessly, and the rattling of horns grew slowly
louder.