CHAPTER XXI
THE FENCE
When Hopalong rode in at midnight to arouse the others and send them outto relieve Skinny and his two companions, the cattle were quieter thanhe had expected to leave them, and he could see no change of weatherthreatening. He was asleep when the others turned in, or he would havebeen further assured in that direction.
Out on the plain where the herd was being held, Red and the three otherguards had been optimistic until half of their shift was over and it wasonly then that they began to worry. The knowledge that running water wasonly twelve miles away had the opposite effect than the one expected,for instead of making them cheerful, it caused them to be beset withworry and fear. Water was all right, and they could not have got alongwithout it for another day; but it was, in this case, filled with thepossibility of grave danger.
Johnny was thinking hard about it as he rode around the now restlessherd, and then pulled up suddenly, peered into the darkness and wenton again. "Damn that disreputable li'l rounder! Why the devil can'the behave, 'stead of stirring things up when they're ticklish?" hemuttered, but he had to grin despite himself. A lumbering form hadblundered past him from the direction of the camp and was swallowed upby the night as it sought the herd, annoying and arousing the thirstyand irritable cattle along its trail, throwing challenges right and leftand stirring up trouble as it passed. The fact that the challenges werebluffs made no difference to the pawing steers, for they were anxious tohave things out with the rounder.
This frisky disturber of bovine peace was a yearling that hadslipped into the herd before it left the ranch and had kept quiet andrespectable and out of sight in the middle of the mass for the firstfew days and nights. But keeping quiet and respectable had been an awfulstrain, and his mischievous deviltry grew constantly harder to hold incheck. Finally he could stand the repression no longer, and when he gaveway to his accumulated energy it had the snap and ginger of a tightlystretched rubber band recoiling on itself. On the fourth night out hehad thrown off his mask and announced his presence in his true lightby butting a sleepy steer out of its bed, which bed he straightwayproceeded to appropriate for himself. This was folly, for the ground wasnot cold and he had no excuse for stealing a body-warmed place to liedown; it was pure cussedness, and retribution followed hard upon theact. In about half a minute he had discovered the great differencebetween bullying poor, miserable, defenceless dogies and trying to bullya healthy, fully developed, and pugnacious steer. After assimilatingthe preliminary punishment of what promised to be the most thorough andworkmanlike thrashing he had ever known, the indignant and frightenedbummer wheeled and fled incontinently with the aroused steer in angrypursuit. The best way out was the most puzzling to the vengeful steer,so the bummer cavorted recklessly through the herd, turning and twistingand doubling, stepping on any steer that happened to be lying down inhis path, butting others, and leavening things with great success. Underother conditions he would have relished the effect of his efforts,for the herd had arisen as one animal and seemed to be debating theadvisability of stampeding; but he was in no mood to relish anything andthought only of getting away. Finally escaping from his pursuer, thathad paused to fight with a belligerent brother, he rambled off into thedarkness to figure it all out and to maintain a sullen and chasteneddemeanor for the rest of the night. This was the first time a brick hadbeen under the hat.
But the spirits of youth recover quickly--his recovered so quickly thathe was banished from the herd the very next night, which banishment, notbeing at all to his liking, was enforced only by rigid watchfulness andhard riding; and he was roundly cursed from dark to dawn by theworried men, most of whom disliked the bumming youngster less than theypretended. He was only a cub, a wild youth having his fling, and therewas something irresistibly likable and comical in his awkward antics andeternal persistence, even though he was a pest. Johnny saw more in himthan 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 agrasshopper and uncertain as a flea. Johnny was in the same generalclass and he could sympathize with the irrepressible nuisance in itsefforts to stir up a little life and excitement in so dull a crowd;Johnny hoped to be as successful in his mischievous deviltry when hereached the town at the end of the drive.
But to-night it was dark, and the bummer gained his coveted goal withridiculous ease, after which he started right in to work off the highpressure 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 andhad rambled off and rested during the first part of the night, and theherders breathed softly lest they should stir him to renewed trials. Butnow he had succeeded, and although only Johnny had seen him lumber past,the other three guards were aware of it immediately by the results andswore in their throats, for the cattle were now on their feet, snortingand moving about restlessly, and the rattling of horns grew slowlylouder.
"Ain't he having a devil of a good time!" grinned Johnny. But it was notlong before he realized the possibilities of the bummer's efforts andhe lost his grin. "If we get through the night without trouble I'll seethat you are picketed if it takes me all day to get you," he muttered."Fun is fun, but it's getting a little too serious for comfort."
Sometime after the middle of the second shift the herd, alreadyirritable, nervous, and cranky because of the thirst they were enduring,and worked up to the fever pitch by the devilish manoeuvres of theexuberant and hard-working bummer, wanted only the flimsiest kind ofan excuse to stampede, and they might go without an excuse. A flashof lightning, a crash of thunder, a wind-blown paper, a flapping wagoncover, the sudden and unheralded approach of a careless rider, thecracking and flare of a match, or the scent of a wolf or coyote--orwater, would send an avalanche of three thousand crazed steers crashingits irresistible way over a pitch-black plain.
Red had warned Pete and Billy, and now he rode to find Johnny and sendhim to camp for the others. As he got halfway around the circle he heardJohnny singing a mournful lay, and soon a black bulk loomed up in thedark ahead of him. "That you, Kid?" he asked. "That you, Johnny?" herepeated, a little louder.
The song stopped abruptly. "Shore," replied Johnny. "We're going tohave trouble aplenty to-night. Glad daylight ain't so very far off. Thatcussed li'l rake of a bummer got by me an' into the herd. He's shoreraising Ned to-night, the li'l monkey: it's getting serious, Red."
"I'll shoot that yearling at daylight, damn him!" retorted Red. "Ishould 'a' done it a week ago. He's picked the worst time for his cusseddevilment! You ride right in an' get the boys, an' get 'em out herequick. The whole herd's on its toes waiting for the signal; an' the winkof an eye'll send 'em off. God only knows what'll happen between nowand daylight! If the wind should change an' blow down from the north,they'll be off as shore as shooting. One whiff of Bennett's Creek is allthat's needed, Kid; an'--"
"Oh, pshaw!" interposed Johnny. "There ain't no wind at all now. It'sbeen quiet for an hour."
"Yes; an' that's one of the things that's worrying me. It means achange, shore."
"Not always; we'll come out of this all right," assured Johnny, but hespoke without his usual confidence. "There ain't no use--" he pausedas he felt the air stir, and he was conscious of Red's heavy breathing.There was a peculiar hush in the air that he did not like, a closenessthat sent his heart up in his throat, and as he was about to continuea sudden gust snapped his neck-kerchief out straight. He felt thatrefreshing coolness which so often precedes a storm and as he weighed itin his mind a low rumble of thunder rolled in the north and sent a chilldown his back.
"Good God! Get the boys!" cried Red, wheeling. "It's _changed_! An'Pete an' Billy out there in front of--_there they go_!" he shouted as asudden tremor shook the earth and a roaring sound filled the air. He wasinstantly lost to ear and eye, swallowed by the oppressive darkness ashe spurred and quirted into a great, choking cloud of dust which sweptdown from the north, unseen in the night. The deep thunder of hoofs andthe faint and
occasional flash of a six-shooter told him the direction,and he hurled his mount after the uproar with no thought of the deathwhich lurked in every hole and rock and gully on the uneven and unseenplain beneath him. His mouth and nose were lined with dust, his throatchoked with it, and he opened his burning eyes only at intervals, andthen only to a slit, to catch a fleeting glance of--nothing. He realizedvaguely that he was riding north, because the cattle would head forwater, but that was all, save that he was animated by a desperateeagerness to gain the firing line, to join Pete and Billy, the twomen who rode before that crazed mass of horns and hoofs and who werepleading and swearing and yelling in vain only a few feet aheadof annihilation--if they were still alive. A stumble, a moment'sindecision, and the avalanche would roll over them as if they werestraws and trample them flat beneath the pounding hoofs, a modernJuggernaut. If he, or they, managed to escape with life, it would makea good tale for the bunk house some night; if they were killed it was indoing their duty--it was all in a day's work.
Johnny shouted after him and then wheeled and raced towards the camp,emptying his Colt in the air as a warning. He saw figures scurryingacross the lighted place, and before he had gained it his friends racedpast him and gave him hard work catching up to them. And just behindhim rode the stranger, to do what he could for his new friends, and asreckless of consequences as they.
It seemed an age before they caught up to the stragglers, and when theyrealized how true they had ridden in the dark they believed that at lasttheir luck was turning for the better, and pushed on with renewed hope.Hopalong shouted to those nearest him that Bennett's Creek could not befar away and hazarded the belief that the steers would slow up and stopwhen they found the water they craved; but his words were lost to allbut himself.
Suddenly the punchers were almost trapped and their escape mademiraculous, for without warning the herd swerved and turned sharply tothe right, crossing the path of the riders and forcing them to the east,showing Hopalong their silhouettes against the streak of pale gray lowdown in the eastern sky. When free from the sudden press of cattle theyslowed perceptibly, and Hopalong did likewise to avoid running themdown. At that instant the uproar took on a new note and increasedthreefold. He could hear the shock of impact, whip-like reports, thebellowing of cattle in pain, and he arose in his stirrups to peer aheadfor the reason, seeing, as he did so, the silhouettes of his friendsarise and then drop from his sight. Without additional warning his horsepitched forward and crashed to the earth, sending him over its head.Slight as was the warning it served to ease his fall, for instinct freedhis feet from the stirrups, and when he struck the ground it was feetfirst, and although he fell flat at the next instant, the shock had beenbroken. Even as it was, he was partly stunned, and groped as he aroseon his hands and knees. Arising painfully he took a short step forward,tripped and fell again; and felt a sharp pain shoot through his hand asit went first to break the fall. Perhaps it was ten seconds before heknew what it was that had thrown him, and when he learned that he alsolearned the reason for the whole calamity--in his torn and bleeding handhe held a piece of barb wire.
"Barb wire!" he muttered, amazed. "Barb wire! Why, what the--_Damnthat ranch_!" he shouted, sudden rage sweeping over him as the situationflashed through his mind and banished all the mental effects of thefall. "They've gone an' strung it south of the creek as well! Red!Johnny! Lanky!" he shouted at the top of his voice, hoping to be heardover the groaning of injured cattle and the general confusion. "GoodLord! _are they killed_!"
They were not, thanks to the forced slowing up, and to the pool of waterand mud which formed an arm of the creek, a back-water away from thepull of the current. They had pitched into the mud and water up to theirwaists, some head first, some feet first, and others as they would gointo a chair. Those who had been fortunate enough to strike feet firstpulled out the divers, and the others gained their feet as best theymight and with varying degrees of haste, but all mixed profanity andthankfulness equally well; and were equally and effectually disguised.
Hopalong, expecting the silence of death or at least the groaning ofinjured and dying, was taken aback by the fluent stream of profanitywhich greeted his ears. But all efforts in that line were eclipsed whenthe drive foreman tersely explained about the wire, and the providentialmud bath was forgotten in the new idea. They forthwith clamored for war,and the sooner it came the better they would like it.
"Not now, boys; we've got work to do first," replied Hopalong, who,nevertheless, was troubled grievously by the same itching triggerfinger. They subsided--as a steel spring subsides when held down by aweight--and went off in search of their mounts. Daylight had won theskirmish in the east and was now attacking in force, and revealed asight which, stilling the profanity for the moment, caused it to flowagain with renewed energy. The plain was a shambles near the creek, anddead and dying steers showed where the fence had stood. The rest of theherd had passed over these. The wounded cattle and three horses wereput out of their misery as the first duty. The horse that Hopalong hadridden had a broken back; the other two, broken legs. When this work wasout of the way the bruised and shaken men gave their attention to thescattered cattle on the other side of the creek, and when Hawkins rodeup after wasting time in hunting for the trail in the dark, he sawfour men with the herd, which was still scattered; four others near thecreek, of whom only Johnny was mounted, and a group of six strangersriding towards them from the west and along the fence, or what was leftof that portion of it.
"That's awful!" he cried, stopping his limping horse near Hopalong. "An'here come the fools that done it."
"Yes," replied Johnny, his voice breaking from rage, "but they won't goback again! I don't care if I'm killed if I can get one or two of thatcrowd--"
"Shut up, Kid!" snapped Hopalong as the 4X outfit drew near. "I knowjust how you feel about it; feel that way myself. But there ain'ta-going to be no fighting while I've got these cows on my han's. Thatgang'll be here when we come back, all right."
"Mebby one or two of 'em won't," remarked Hawkins, as he looked againover the carnage along the fence. "I never did much pot-shooting, 'ceptagin Injuns; but I dunno--" He did not finish, for the strangers werealmost at his elbow.
Cranky Joe led the 4X contingent and he did the talking for itwithout waste of time. "Who the hell busted that fence?" he demanded,belligerently, looking around savagely. Johnny's hand twitched at thewords and the way they were spoken.
"I did; did you think somebody leaned agin it?" replied Hopalong, verycalmly,--so calmly that it was about one step short of an explosion.
"Well, why didn't you go around?"
"Three thousand stampeding cattle don't go 'round wire fences in thedark."
"Well, that's not our fault. Reckon you better dig down an' settle upfor the damages, an' half a cent a head for water; an' then go 'round.You can't stampede through the other fence."
"That so?" asked Hopalong.
"Reckon it is."
"Yo're real shore it is?"
"Well there's only six of us here, but there's six more that we can getblamed quick if we need 'em. It's so, all right."
"Well, coming down to figures, there's eight here, with twohoss-wranglers an' a cook to come," retorted Hopalong, kicking thebelligerent Johnny on the shins. "We're just about mad enough to tackleanything: ever feel that way?"
"Oh, no use getting all het up," rejoined Cranky Joe. "We ain't a-goingto fight 'less we has to. Better pay up."
"Send yore bills to the ranch--if they're O. K., Buck'll pay 'em."
"Nix; I take it when I can get it."
"I ain't got no money with me that I can spare."
"Then you can leave enough cows to buy back again."
"I'm not going to pay you one damned cent, an' the only cows I'll leaveare the dead ones--an' if I could take them with me I'd do it. An' I'mnot going around the fence, neither."
"Oh, yes; you are. An' yo're going to pay," snapped Cranky Joe.
"Take it out of the price of two hundred dead cow
s an' gimme what'sleft," Hopalong retorted. "It'll cost you nine of them twelve men to pryit out'n me."
"You won't pay?" demanded the other, coldly.
"Not a plugged peso."
"Well, as I said before, I don't want to fight nobody 'less I has to,"replied Cranky Joe. "I'll give you a chance to change yore mind.We'll be out here after it to-morrow, cash or cows. That'll give youtwenty-four hours to rest yore herd an' get ready to drive. Then youpay, an' go back, 'round the fence."
"All right; to-morrow suits me," responded Hopalong, who was boilingwith rage and felt constrained to hold it back. If it wasn't for thecows--!
Red and three companions swept up and stopped in a swirl of dust andasked questions until Hopalong shut them up. Their arrival and themanner of their speech riled Cranky Joe, who turned around and loosedone more remark; and he never knew how near to death he was at thatmoment.
"You fellers must own the earth, the way you act," he said to Red andhis three companions.
"We ain't fencing it in to prove it," rejoined Hopalong, his hand onRed's arm.
Cranky Joe wheeled to rejoin his friends. "To-morrow," he said,significantly.
Hopalong and his men watched the six ride away, too enraged to speak fora moment. Then the drive foreman mastered himself and turned to Hawkins."Where's their ranch house?" he demanded, sharply. "There must be someway out of this, an' we've got to find it; an' before to-morrow."
"West; three hours' ride along the fence. I could find 'em the darkestnight what ever happened; I was out there once," Hawkins replied.
"Describe 'em as exact as you can," demanded Hopalong, and when Hawkinshad done so the Bar-20 drive foreman slapped his thigh and laughednastily. "One house with one door an' only two windows--are you shore?Good! Where's the corrals? Good again! So they'll take pay for theirblasted fence, eh? Cash or cows, hey! Don't want no fight 'less it'snecessary, but they're going to make us pay for the fence that killedtwo hundred head, an' blamed nigh got us, too. An' half a cent a headfor drinking water! I've paid that more'n once--some of the poor devilssquatting on the range ain't got nothing to sell but water, but I don'tbuy none out of Bennett's Creek! Pete, you mounted fellers round up alittle--bunch the herd a little closer, an' drive straight along thetrail towards that other fence. We'll all help you as soon as thewranglers bring us up something to ride. Push 'em hard, limp or no limp,till dark. They'll be too tired to go crow-hopping 'round any in thedark to-night. An' say! When you see that bummer, if he wasn't got bythe fence, drop him clean. So they've got twelve men, hey! Huh!"
"What you going to do?" asked Red, beginning to cool down, and verycurious.
"Yes; tell us," urged Johnny.
"Why, I'm going to cut that fence, an' cut it all to hell. Then I'mgoing to push the herd through it as far out of danger as I can. Whenthey're all right Cookie an' the hoss-wranglers will have to hold 'emduring the night while we do the rest."
"What's the rest?" demanded Johnny.
"Oh, I'll tell you that later; it can wait," replied Hopalong."Meanwhile, you get out there with Pete an' help get the herd in shape.We'll be with you soon--here comes the wranglers an' the cavvieyeh.'Bout time, too."