CHAPTER XX
BARB WIRE
After the flurry at Perry's Bend the Bar-20 settled down to the calmroutine work and sent several drive herds to their destination withoutany unusual incidents. Buck thought that the last herd had been drivenwhen, late in the summer, he received an order that he made haste tofill. The outfit was told to get busy and soon rounded up the necessarynumber of three-year-olds. Then came the road branding, the final stepexcept inspection, and this was done not far from the ranch house, wherethe facilities were best for speedy work.
Entirely recovered from all ill effects of his afternoon in Jackson'sstore up in Perry's bend, Johnny Nelson waited with Red Connors on theplatform of the branding chute and growled petulantly at the sun, thedust, but most of all at the choking, smarting odor of burned hair whichfilled their throats and caused them to rub the backs of grimy handsacross their eyes. Chute-branding robbed them of the excitement, theleaven of fun and frolic, which they always took from open or corralbranding--and the work of a day in the corral or open was condensed intoan hour or two by the chute. This was one cow wide, narrow at the bottomand flared out as it went up, so the animal could not turn, and whenfilled was, to use Johnny's graphic phrase, "like a chain of cows in aditch." Eight of the wondering and crowded animals, guided into the penby men who knew their work to the smallest detail and lost no time inits performance, filed into the pen after those branded had filed out.As the first to enter reached the farther end a stout bar dropped intoplace, just missing the animal's nose; and as the last cow discoveredthat it could go no farther and made up its mind to back out, it wasstopped by another bar, which fell behind it. The iron heaters tosseda hot iron each to Red and Johnny and the eight were marked in shortorder, making about two hundred and fifty they had branded in threehours. This number compared very favorably with that of the secondchute where Lanky Smith and Frenchy McAlister waved cold irons andsarcastically asked their iron men if the sun was supposed to providethe heat; whereat the down-trodden heaters provided heat with greatgenerosity in their caustic retorts.
"Oh, Susanna, don't you cry for me," sang Billy Williams, one of thefeeders. "But why in Jericho don't you fellers get a move on you? Youain't no good on the platform--you ought to be mixing biscuits forCookie. Frenchy and Lanky are the boys to turn 'em out," he offered,gratis.
Red's weary air bespoke a vast and settled contempt for such inanitiesand his iron descended against the side of the victim below him--hewould not deign to reply. Not so with Johnny, who could not refrain fromhot retort.
"Don't be a fool _all_ the time," snapped Johnny. "Mind yore ownbusiness, you shorthorn. Big-mouthed old woman, that's what--" his tonedropped and the words sank into vague mutterings which a stranglingcough cut short. "Blasted idiot," he whispered, tears coming into hiseyes at the effort. Burning hair is bad for throat and temper alike.
Red deftly knocked his companion's iron up and spoke sharply. "You mindyourn better--that makes the third you've tried to brand twice. Whydon't you look what yo're doing? Hot iron! Hot iron! What're you fellersdoing?" he shouted down at the heaters. "This ain't no time to goto sleep. How d'ye expect us to do any work when you ain't doing anyyoreselves!" Red's temper was also on the ragged edge.
"You've got one in yore other hand, you sheep!" snorted one of the ironheaters with restless pugnacity. "Go tearing into us when you--" hegrowled the rest and kicked viciously at the fire.
"Lovely bunch," grinned Billy who, followed by Pete Wilson, mounted theplatform to relieve the branders. "Chase yoreselves--me an' Pete areshore going to show you cranky bugs how to do a hundred an hour. Ain'twe, Pete? An' look here, you," he remarked to the heaters, "don't youfellers keep _us_ waiting for hot irons!"
"That's right! Make a fool out of yoreself first thing!" snapped one ofthe pair on the ground.
"Billy, I never loved you as much as I do this minute," grinned Johnnywearily. "Wish you'd 'a' come along to show us how to do it an hourago."
"I would, only--"
"Quit chinning an' get busy," remarked Red, climbing down. "The chute'sfull; an' it's all yourn."
Billy caught the iron, gave it a preliminary flourish, and started towork with a speed that would not endure for long. He branded five out ofthe eight and jeered at his companion for being so slow.
"Have yore fun now, Billy," Pete replied with placid good nature."Before we're through with this job you'll be lucky if you can do two ofthe string, if you keep up that pace."
"He'll be missing every other one," growled his heater with overflowingmalice. "That iron ain't cold, you Chinaman!"
"Too cold for me--don't miss none," chuckled Billy sweetly. "Fill thechute! Fill the chute! Don't keep us waiting!" he cried to the guiders,hopping around with feigned eagerness and impatience.
Hopalong Cassidy rode up and stopped as Red returned to take the placeof one of the iron heaters. "How they coming, Red?" he inquired.
"Fast. You can sic that inspector on 'em the first thing to-morrowmorning, if he gets here on time. Bet he's off som'ers getting full ofredeye. Who're going with you on this drive?"
"The inspector is all right--he's here now an' is going to spend thenight with us so as to be on hand the first thing to-morrow," repliedHopalong, grinning at the hard-working pair on the platform. "Why, Ireckon I'll take you, Johnny, Lanky, Billy, Pete, an' Skinny, an'we'll have two hoss-wranglers an' a cook, of course. We'll drive upthe right-hand trail through West Valley this time. It's longer, butthere'll be more water that way at this time of the year. Besides, Idon't want no more foot-sore cattle to nurse along. Even the West Valleytrail will be dry enough before we strike Bennett's Creek."
"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 ofthe 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," Hopalongremarked, "an' when they get here you fellers match for choice an' pickyore remuda. No use taking too few. About eight apiece'll do us nice. Ishore like a good cavvieyeh."
"Hullo, Hoppy!" came from the platform as Billy grinned his welcomethrough the dust on his face. "Want a job?"
"Hullo yoreself," growled Pete. "Stick yore iron on that fourth steerbefore 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 thesubject thoroughly while yo're on it."
"Yes, verily," endorsed his companion.
"Here comes the last of 'em," smiled Pete, watching several cattle beingdriven 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 hiscount, the herd was started north and at nightfall had covered twelvemiles. For the next week everything went smoothly, but after that, waterbegan to be scarce and the herd was pushed harder, and became harder tohandle.
On the night of the twelfth day out four men sat around the fire inWest Valley at a point a dozen miles south of Bennett's Creek, and ateheartily. The night was black--not a star could be seen and the southwind hardly stirred the trampled and burned grass. They were thoroughlytired out and their tempers were not in the sweetest state imaginable,for the heat during the last four days had been almost unbearable evento them and they had had their hands full with the cranky herd. They atesilently, hungrily--there would be time enough for the few words theyhad to say when the pipes were going for a short smoke before turningin.
"I feel like hell," growled Red, reaching for another cup of coffee, butthere was no reply; he had voiced the feelings of all.
Hopalong listened intently and looked up, staring into the darkness, andsoon
a horseman was seen approaching the fire. Hopalong nodded welcomeand waved his hand towards the food, and the stranger, dismounting,picketed his horse and joined the circle. When the pipes were lighted hesighed with satisfaction and looked around the group. "Driving north, Isee."
"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 creekeverything'll be all right again. An' ain't it hot! When you hear uskick about the heat it means something."
"I'm going yore way," remarked the stranger. "I came down this trailabout two weeks ago. Reckon I was the last to ride through before thefence went up. Damned outrage, says I, an' I told 'em so, too. Theycouldn't see it that way an' we had a little disagreement about it. Theysaid 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, carefullypacking 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 CoyotePass 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 allthey wants. I told 'em different, but naturally they didn't listen tome. An' they'll fight about it, too."
"But they _can't_ shut off this trail!" exclaimed Billy, with angryemphasis. "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 todrive 'round no North Arm or Coyote Pass if I could," Hopalong repliedwith quiet emphasis. "There's poison springs on the east an' nothing butrocks 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 ascattle-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 gothrough!"
"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 ofno 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 knowwe'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 fewon 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 'emsomething 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-thievesand 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 ridingat 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 torid himself of some of his indignation and interrupted with heat.
"Shore we have!" came explosively from the tail board of the chuckwagon. "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 huntingchips 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' doit. I don't hanker after no fight with all these cows on my han's, butwe've got to risk one."
"Shore!" cried Johnny, hotly. "I can't get over the gall of them fellersclosing up the West Valley drive trail. Why, I never heard tell of sucha thing afore!"
"We're short-handed; we ought to have more'n we have to guard theherd if there's a fight. If it stampedes--oh, well, that'll work outto-morrow. The creek's only about twelve miles away an' we'll start atdaylight, so tumble in," Hopalong said as he arose. "Red, I'm going outto take my shift--I'll send Pete in. Stranger," he added, turning, "I'mmuch obliged to you for the warning. They might 'a' caught us with ourhands tied."
"Oh, that's all right," hastily replied the stranger, who was in heartyaccord with the plans, such as they were. "My name's Hawkins, an' Idon't like range fences no more'n you do. I used to hunt buffalo allover this part of the country before they was all killed off, an' Iallus 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 itthrough. Every man counts in this game."
"Well, that's blamed white of you," Hopalong replied, greatly pleased bythe other's offer. "But I can't let you do it. I don't want to drag youinto no trouble, an'--"
"You ain't dragging me none; I'm doing it myself. I'm about as mad asyou are over it. I ain't good for much no more, an' if I shuffles offfighting barb wire I'll be doing my duty. First it was nesters, thenrailroads an' more nesters, then sheep, an' now it's wire--won't itnever stop? By the Lord, it's got to stop, or this country will goto the devil an' won't be fit to live in. Besides, I've heard of yourfellers before--I'll tie to the Bar-20 any day."
"Well, I reckon you must if you must; yo're welcome enough," laughedHopalong, and he strode off to his picketed horse, leaving the others todiscuss the fence, with the assistance of the cook, until Pete rode in.