CHAPTER X
INTRODUCING A PARASITE
In the northeast corner of the Cyclone ranch, not far from the LittleJill, and in a hollow, well screened by hills and timber, One-Eye sat onhis horse, smoking a brown cigarette and keeping a satisfied watch overa dozen mangy-looking cattle as they grazed intermittently in arestless, nervous way. They were a pitiful-looking handful, weak,emaciated, their skins showing bald patches and scabs, and theycontinually licked themselves and rubbed against the trees. While theywere restless, it was without snap or vim; they were spiritless anddrooping, enduring patiently until death should end their misery.
One-Eye beamed upon them, his good optic glowing with satisfaction. Hehad gone to some trouble and risk to cut these miserable animals cut ofthe herd collected by the hasty round-up, and now that he was about tohave them taken off his hands he sighed with deep content. To runinfected cattle onto the Cyclone's non-infected northern range was verydangerous, for his foreman was direct and unhesitating in his methods.Discovery might easily mean a bullet above One-Eye's blue-red nose--andthis accounts for that puncher's satisfaction. Some men will do a greatdeal for ten dollars.
"D--n if they ain't beauts," he chuckled. "When it comes to pickin' outth' real, high-toned wrecks, th' constant scratchers, why I reckon I 'msome strong. He says to me 'Get th' very wust, One-Eye,'--an' I shorehas obeyed orders. That two-year-old tryin' to saw through thatcottonwood is a prize-winner when it comes to scabs--his tail looks likea dead tree in a waste of sand, th' way th' hair 's gone. Wait till hegets rubbin' hisself through th' brush across th' river, where Peters'cows like to hang out. He 'll hang mites on every twig; an' this kindo' weather will boom things. I heard tell that Peters examined that newherd extra cautious afore he bought it--well, boxcars an' pens can handout itch a-plenty, so he can't prove they got it from us." He pulledout a battered brass watch and gauged where the broken hands would be ifthey were all there to point. "He 's due in ten minutes an' he 'susually on time. Yep: here he comes now. I 'll get my ten afore I doany more work--wish I could get ten dollars as easy every day."
Dave cantered up, his eyes fastened intently on the cattle, and helaughed cynically as he turned and regarded the puncher. "Well," hegrinned, "I reckon you got th' wust that could stand bein' drove. Comeon; we 'll get 'em off our hands as quick as we can--I don't want toanswer no questions right now. It 'll be like puttin' a match to drygrass, th' way this dozen will cut down Peters' cows."
"It shore will," replied One-Eye. "Got that ten handy?" he inquired,carelessly.
"Why, they ain't across th' river yet," replied Dave, frowning.
"They 'll get across when I gets my ten," smiled One-Eye.
"Here 's th' money!" snapped Dave, angrily, as he almost threw the goldpiece at his companion. "Fust time I was ever told I could n't betrusted for ten dollars."
"Oh, I trust you, all right--on'y I worked plumb hard for that coin, an'I want to feel it, like. Come on--take th' south side--I 'll handle th'rest."
The herd moved slowly forward into a dry ravine and finally came to theriver bank. They hadn't life enough to give trouble until theyunderstood what they were expected to do. Then the everlasting,thick-headed obstinacy, the perverse whims which all cows have to anoutrageous extent, asserted itself in a manner wholly unexpected in suchtottering hulks of diseased flesh. They did everything but get wet,even showing a returning flash of spirit in the way they swung theirheads and kicked up their heels. Time and time again they broke and ranalong the bank, and always in Dave's direction, who, until now, hadnursed the belief that he was something of a cow-puncher. When half-deadcows unhesitatingly picked him out, time after time, for an easy mark,and simply walked through his defence, it was time to exchange ideas onsome things.
At first One-Eye was greatly amused. He liked Dave well enough but hehated Dave's conceit--and to be present at his companion's discomfiturewas very gratifying. But gradually One-Eye grew restless untopeevishness and a vast contempt settled upon him, edging his temper witha keenness rare to him. He had been trying to get one dozen imitationcows to cross an ordinarily wide river, and neither coldness nor unusualdepth had any bearing on the matter. As he wondered how long he hadbeen engaged in watching Dave's blunders and jerked out the brass watchto see, his voice rumbled and boomed with a jarring timbre andsuddenness that make Dave jump.
"What th' h--l d' you think yo're doin'?" demanded One-Eye."'Allamanleft' an' 'Ladies chain' is all right for a dance, but it 'ssome foolish out here. An' somebody 's goin' to lope along this way an'see us, if you don't quit makin' a jackass out er yo'rself."
Stung to the quick, Dave wheeled to face his critic, his pent-up ragealmost hysterical. He had held it in, choked it back, and forcedhimself to be calm, but now--his purpose was never disclosed, for at theinstant he wheeled, the watchful cattle leaped through the opening hehad made and headed for the hills, their heads down and tails up. Davehesitated, glancing from One-Eye to the cattle and back again, his facewhite and pinched. One-Eye's anger melted under his impelling sense ofthe ridiculous and, slapping his thigh a resounding smack, he burst intoroars of laughter, until he was bent in his saddle like a man drunk orsorely wounded.
"This yer 's a circus," he finally managed to cry. "Don't get mad, Dave:we 'll make 'em cross this time or they 'll float down like logs. Comeon."
When they rounded up the bunch and started it toward the river again thecows were surprisingly docile and the two drivers exchanged wonderingglances. At the river edge the dozen hesitated for a moment while theynosed the water and at One-Eye's wondering command, pushed into thestream, scrambled out on the farther bank, and walked slowly into thebrush. Dave's hypnotized senses were all in his eyes and he barelyheard his companion speak.
One-Eye prefaced his remarks with a fluent burst of profanity, andcogitated aloud: "Cows is worse than wimmin! They _is_! Of all th'crazy hens what ever a man drove, them dozen mangy critters has got 'emall roped an' tied! What in h--l do you _think_ of 'em?"
"I ain't thinkin', One-Eye," softly replied Dave. "I 'm prayin' forstrength an' fortitude. I figgers I can drop th' last six from where I'm sittin', an' it's some temptation!"
One-Eye ironed out his grin. "I'm some tempted myself, Dave. There 'sthings in a cowman's life to drive him plumb loco. I 've been part locomore 'n once. Mum? You bet I 'll keep mum. You don't reckon I 'mhankerin' for to collect no cold lead, do you?"
Dave scarcely heard him. He was looking across the river, a smile onhis face. Before him was the Rocking Horse, and south of it, so closeas to appear a part of it from that angle, lay the Hog Back. He hadplanned well, he told himself, when he had decided to turn infectedcattle on the Double Y at that point.
"Now, they ain't goin' fur to be found while they stops near ol' HogBack, Dave," One-Eye was saying. "Nobody hardly ever rides that way, an'they 'll drift down where th' grass is better, soon as they finds outwhat they 're up agin. Wonder if it was true about that feller ridin'th' Rockin' Horse all day long?" he asked, curiously.
He would have talked all day if given half a chance, but his companion,knowing One-Eye's inability to gracefully terminate a conversation, oreffect a parting, mercilessly performed the operation himself. "I 'mgoin' south, One-Eye. See you in town, some night," and Schatz'_protege_ cantered away, and became hidden by the brush and hills of therough country skirting the river.
One-Eye looked after him. "Black devil!" he scowled. "If anybody getsplugged for this, you can bet it won't be little Davy. I wonder whatth' Dutch Onion knowed that Dave didn't want told? Well, when me an'him is together my gun hand ain't never far from home--but I 'msurprised he did n't pump lead into me when I laughed like I did. Iplumb forgot, then. Come on, boss; home for us, an' sudden. I ain'thankerin' none to be seen 'round here, _now_."