CHAPTER XXII
MR. BOGGS IS DISGUSTED
The herd gained twelve miles by dark and would pass through the northernfence by noon of the next day, for Cook's axe and monkey wrench had beenput to good use. For quite a distance there was no fence: about a mileof barb wire had been pulled loose and was tangled up into several largepiles, while rings of burned grass and ashes surrounded what was leftof the posts. The cook had embraced this opportunity to lay in a goodsupply of firewood and was the happiest man in the outfit.
At ten o'clock that night eight figures loped westward along thesouthern fence and three hours later dismounted near the first corralof the 4X ranch. They put their horses in a depression on the plain andthen hastened to seek cover, being careful to make no noise.
At dawn the door of the bunk house opened quickly and as quickly slammedshut again, three bullets in it being the reason. An uproar ensued andguns spat from the two windows in the general direction of theunseen besiegers, who did not bother about replying; they had givennotification of their presence and until it was necessary to shoot therewas no earthly use of wasting ammunition. Besides, the drive outfithad cooled down rapidly when it found that its herd was in no immediatedanger and was not anxious to kill any one unless there was need. Thesituation was conducive to humor rather than anger. But every time thedoor moved it collected more lead, and it finally remained shut.
The noise in the bunk house continued and finally a sombrero was wavedfrantically at the south window and a moment later Nat Boggs, foremanof the incarcerated 4X outfit, stuck his head out very cautiously andyelled questions which bore directly on the situation and were to thepoint. He appeared to be excited and unduly heated, if one might judgefrom his words and voice. There was no reply, which still further addedto his heat and excitement. Becoming bolder and a little angrierhe allowed his impetuous nature to get the upper hand and forthwithattempted the feat of getting through that same window; but a sharp_pat!_ sounded on a board not a foot from him, and he reconsideredhastily. His sombrero again waved to insist on a truce, and collectedtwo holes, causing him much mental anguish and threatening the loss ofhis worthy soul. He danced up and down with great agility and no graceand made remarks, thereby leading a full-voiced chorus.
"Ain't that a hell of a note?" he demanded plaintively as he paused forbreath. "Stick _yore_ hat out, Cranky, an' see what _you_ can do," hesuggested, irritably.
Cranky Joe regarded him with pity and reproach, and moved back towardsthe other end of the room, muttering softly to himself. "I know it ain'tmuch of a bonnet, but he needn't rub it in," he growled, peevishly.
"Try again; mebby they didn't see you," suggested Jim Larkin, who had areputation for never making a joke. He escaped with his life andchecked himself at the side of Cranky Joe, with whom he conferred on theharshness of the world towards unfortunates.
The rest of the morning was spent in snipe-shooting at random, trustingto luck to hit some one, and trusting in vain. At noon Cranky Joe couldstand the strain no longer and opened the door just a little to relivethe monotony. He succeeded, being blessed with a smashed shoulder, andimmediately became a general nuisance, adding greatly to the prevailingatmosphere. Boggs called him a few kinds of fools and hastened to nailthe door shut; he hit his thumb and his heart became filled with venom.
"_Now_ look at what they went an' done!" he yelled, running around in acircle. "Damned outrage!"
"Huh!" snorted Cranky Joe with maddening superiority. "That ain'tnothing--just look at me!"
Boggs looked, very fixedly, and showed signs of apoplexy, and Cranky Joereturned to his end of the room to resume his soliloquy.
"Why don't you come out an' take them cows!" inquired an unkind voicefrom without. "Ain't changed yore mind, have you?"
"We'll give you a drink for half a cent a head--that's the regular pricefor watering cows," called another.
The faint ripple of mirth which ran around the plain was lost inopinions loudly expressed within the room; and Boggs, tears of ragein his eyes, flung himself down on a chair and invented new terms fordescribing human beings.
John Terry was observing. He had been fluttering around the northwindow, constantly getting bolder, and had not been disturbed. When hewithdrew his sombrero and found that it was intact he smiled to himselfand leaned his elbows on the sill, looking carefully around the plain.The discovery that there was no cover on the north side cheered himgreatly and he called to Boggs, outlining a plan of action.
Boggs listened intently and then smiled for the first time since dawn."Bully for you, Terry!" he enthused. "Wait till dark--we'll fool 'em."
A bullet chipped the 'dobe at Terry's side and he ducked as he leapedback. "From an angle--what did I tell you?" he laughed. "We'll dropout here an' sneak behind the house after dark. They'll be watching thedoor--an' they won't be able to see us, anyhow."
Boggs sucked his thumb tenderly and grinned. "After which--," he elated.
"After which--," gravely repeated Terry, the others echoing it withunrestrained joy.
"Then, mebby, I can get a drink," chuckled Larkin, brightening under thethought.
"The moon comes up at ten," warned a voice. "It'll be full to-night--an'there ain't many clouds in sight."
"_Ol' King Cole was a merry ol' soul_," hummed McQuade, lightly.
"An'--a--merry--ol'--soul--was--he!--was--he!" thundered the chorus,deep-toned and strong. "_He had a wife for every toe, an' some toescounted three!_"
"Listen!" cried Meade, holding up his hand.
"_An' every wife had sixteen dogs, an' every dog a flea!_" shouted avoice from the besiegers, followed by a roar of laughter.
The hilarity continued until dark, only stopping when John Terry slippedout of the window, dropped to all-fours and stuck his head around thecorner of the rear wall. He saw many stars and was silently handed toPete Wilson.
"What was that noise?" exclaimed Boggs in a low tone. "Are you allright, Terry?" he asked, anxiously.
Three knocks on the wall replied to his question and then McQuade wentout, and three more knocks were heard.
"Wonder why they make that funny noise," muttered Boggs.
"Bumped inter something, I reckon," replied Jim Larkin. "Get out of myway--I'm next."
Boggs listened intently and then pushed Duke Lane back. "Don't likethat--sounds like a crack on the head. Hey, Jim! _Say_ something!" hecalled softly. The three knocks were repeated, but Boggs was suspiciousand he shook his head decisively. "To 'ell with the knocking--_say_something!"
"Still got them twelve men?" asked a strange voice, pleasantly.
"_An' every dog a flea_," hummed another around the corner.
"Hell!" shouted Boggs. "To the door, fellers! To the door--quick!"
A whistle shrilled from behind the house and a leaden tattoo beganon the door. "Other window!" whispered O'Neill. The foreman got therebefore him and, shoving his Colt out first to clear the way, yelled withrage and pain as a pole hit his wrist and knocked the weapon out of hishand. He was still commenting when Duke Lane pried open the door and,dropping quickly on his stomach, wriggled out, followed closely byCharley Beal and Tim. At that instant the tattoo drummed with greatervigor and such a hail of lead poured in through the opening that thedoor was promptly closed, leaving the three men outside to shift forthemselves with the darkness their only cover.
Duke and his companions whispered together as they lay flat and agreedupon a plan of action. Going around the ends of the house was suicideand no better than waiting for the rising moon to show them to theenemy; but there was no reason why the roof could not be utilized. Timand Charley boosted Duke up, then Tim followed, and the pair on the roofpulled Charley to their side. Flat roofs were great institutions theydecided as they crawled cautiously towards the other side. This roof wasof hard, sun-baked adobe, over two feet thick, and they did not care iftheir friends shot up on a gamble.
"Fine place, all right," thought Charley, grinning broadly. Then heturned an agonized face to Tim, his che
st rising. "_Hitch! Hitch!_"he choked, fighting with all his will to master it. "_Hitch-chew!Hitch-chew! Hitch-chew!_" he sneezed, loudly. There was a scramble belowand a ripple of mirth floated up to them.
"_Hitch-chew_?" jeered a voice. "What do we want to hit you for?"
"Look us over, children," invited another.
"Wait until the moon comes up," chuckled the third. "Be like knockingthe nigger baby down for Red an' the others. Ladies and gents: We'll nowhave a little sketch entitled 'Shooting snipe by moonlight.'"
"Jack-snipe, too," laughed Pete. "Will somebody please hold the bag?"
The silence on the roof was profound and the three on the ground triedagain.
"Let me call yore attention to the trained coyotes, ladies an' gents,"remarked Johnny in a deep, solemn voice. "Coyotes are not birds; they donot roost on roofs as a general thing; but they are some intelligent an'can be trained to do lots of foolish tricks. These ani-mules were--"
"Step this way, people; on-ly ten cents, two nickels," interrupted Pete."They bark like dogs, an' howl like hell."
"Shut up!" snapped Tim, angrily.
"After the moon comes up," said Hopalong, "when you fellers get tireddodging, you can chuck us yore guns an' come down. An' don't forget thatthis side of the house is much the safest," he warned.
"Go to hell!" snarled Duke, bitterly.
"Won't; they're laying for me down there."
Johnny crawled to the north end of the wall and, looking cautiouslyaround the corner, funnelled his hands: "On the roof, Red! On the roof!"
"Yes, dear," was the reply, followed by gun-shots.
"Hey! Move over!" snapped Tim, working towards the edge furthest fromthe cheerful Red, whose bullets were not as accurate in the dark as theypromised to become in a few minutes when the moon should come up.
"Want to shove me off?" snarled Charley, angrily. "For heaven's sake,Duke, do you want the whole earth?" he demanded of his second companion.
"You just bet yore shirt I do! An' I want a hole in it, too!"
"Ain't you got no sense?"
"Would I be up here if I had?"
"It's going to be hot as blazes up here when the sun gets high,"cheerfully prophesied Tim: "an' dry, too," he added for a finishingtouch.
"We'll be lucky if we're live enough to worry about the sun'sheat--_say_, that was a _close_ one!" exclaimed Duke, frantically tryingto flatten a little more. "Ah, thought so--there's that blamed moon!"
"Wish I'd gone out the window instead," growled Charley, worming behindDuke, to the latter's prompt displeasure.
"You fellers better come down, one at a time," came from below. "Sendyore guns down first, too. Red's a blamed good shot."
"Hope he croaks," muttered Duke. "_That's_ closer yet!"
Tim's hand raised and a flash of fire singed Charley's hair. "Got to dosomething, anyhow," he explained, lowering the Colt and peering acrossthe plain.
"You damned near succeeded!" shouted Charley, grabbing at his head."Why, they're three hundred, an' you trying for 'em with a--_oh!_" hemoaned, writhing.
"Locoed fool!" swore Duke, "showing 'em where we are! They're doing goodenough as it is! You ought--got _you_, too!"
"_I'm_ going down--that blamed fool out there ain't caring what hehits," mumbled Charley, clenching his hands from pain. He slid over theedge and Pete grabbed him.
"Next," suggested Pete, expectantly.
Tim tossed his Colt over the edge. "Here's another," he swore, followingthe weapon. He was grabbed and bound in a trice.
"When may we expect you, Mr. Duke?" asked Johnny, looking up.
"Presently, friend, presently. I want to--_wow_!" he finished, andlost no time in his descent, which was meteoric. "That feller'll _kill_somebody if he ain't careful!" he complained as Pete tied his handsbehind his back.
"You wait till daylight an' see," cheerily replied Pete as the threewere led off to join their friends in the corral.
There was no further action until the sun arose and then Hopalonghailed the house and demanded a parley, and soon he and Boggs met midwaybetween the shack and the line.
"What d'you want?" asked Boggs, sullenly.
"Want you to stop this farce so I can go on with my drive."
"Well, I ain't holding you!" exploded the 4X foreman.
"Oh, yes; but you are. I can't let you an' yore men out to hang on ourflanks an' worry us; an' I don't want to hold you in that shack till youall die of thirst, or come out to be all shot up. Besides, I can't foolaround here for a week; I got business to look after."
"Don't you worry about us dying with thirst; that ain't worrying usnone."
"I heard different," replied Hopalong, smiling. "Them fellers in thecorral drank a quart apiece. See here, Boggs; you can't win, an' youknow it. Yo're not bucking me, but the whole range, the whole country.It's a fight between conditions--the fence idea agin the open rangeidea, an' open trails. The fence will lose. You closed a drive trailthat's 'most as old as cow-raising. Will the punchers of this part ofthe country stand for it? Suppose you lick us,--which you won't--canyou lick all the rest of us, the JD, Wallace's, Double-Arrow, C-80,Cross-O-Cross, an' the others! That's just what it amounts to, an' youbetter stop right now, before somebody gets killed. You know what thatmeans in this section. Yo're six to our eight, you ain't got a drink inthat shack, an' you dasn't try to get one. You can't do a thing agin us,an' you know it."
Boggs rested his hands on his hips and considered, Hopalong waitingfor him to reply. He knew that the Bar-20 man was right but he hated toadmit it, he hated to say he was whipped.
"Are any of them six hurt?" he finally asked.
"Only scratches an' sore heads," responded Hopalong, smiling. "We ain'ttried to kill anybody, yet. I'm putting that up to you."
Boggs made no reply and Hopalong continued: "I got six of yore twelvemen prisoners, an' all yore cayuses are in my han's. I'll shoot everyanimal before I'll leave 'em for you to use against me, an' I'll takeenough of yore cows to make up for what I lost by that fence. You've gotto pay for them dead cows, anyhow. If I do let you out you'll have toroad-brand me two hundred, or pay cash. My herd ain't worrying me--it'smoving all the time. It's through that other fence by now. An' if I haveto keep my outfit here to pen you in or shoot you off I can send to theJD for a gang to push the herd. Don't make no mistake: yo're getting offeasy. Suppose one of my men had been killed at the fence--what then?"
"Well, what do you want me to do?"
"Stop this foolishness an' take down them fences for a mile each sideof the trail. If Buck has to come up here the whole thing'll go down.Road-brand me two hundred of yore three-year-olds. Now as soon as youagree, an' say that the fight's over, it will be. You can't win out; an'what's the use of having yore men killed off?"
"I hate to quit," replied the other, gloomily.
"I know how that is; but yo're wrong on this question, dead wrong. Youdon't own this range or the trail. You ain't got no right to close thatold drive trail. Honest, now; have you?"
"You say them six ain't hurt?"
"No more'n I said."
"An' if I give in will you treat my men right?"
"Shore."
"When will you leave."
"Just as soon as I get them two hundred three-year-olds."
"Well, I hate a quitter; but I can't do nothing, nohow," mused the 4Xforeman. He cleared his throat and turned to look at the house. "Allright; when you get them cows you get out of here, an' don't never comeback!"
Hopalong flung his arm with a shout to his men and the other kickedsavagely at an inoffensive stick and slouched back to his bunk house, abeaten man.