CHAPTER FIVE
THE DRIVE
A cry awakened me. It was still deep night. The moon sailed overhead,the stars shone unwavering like candles, and a chill breeze wandered infrom the open spaces of the desert. I raised myself on my elbow,throwing aside the blankets and the canvas tarpaulin. Forty otherindistinct, formless bundles on the ground all about me were sluggishlyastir. Four figures passed and repassed between me and a red fire. Iknew them for the two cooks and the horse wranglers. One of the latterwas grumbling.
"Didn't git in till moon-up last night," he growled. "Might as welltrade my bed for a lantern and be done with it."
Even as I stretched my arms and shivered a little, the two wranglersthrew down their tin plates with a clatter, mounted horses and rodeaway in the direction of the thousand acres or so known as the pasture.
I pulled on my clothes hastily, buckled in my buckskin shirt, and dovefor the fire. A dozen others were before me. It was bitterly cold.In the east the sky had paled the least bit in the world, but the moonand stars shone on bravely and undiminished. A band of coyotes wasshrieking desperate blasphemies against the new day, and the strayherd, awakening, was beginning to bawl and bellow.
Two crater-like dutch ovens, filled with pieces of fried beef, stoodnear the fire; two galvanised water buckets, brimming with sodabiscuits, flanked them; two tremendous coffee pots stood guard ateither end. We picked us each a tin cup and a tin plate from the boxat the rear of the chuck wagon; helped ourselves from a dutch oven, apail, and a coffee pot, and squatted on our heels as close to the fireas possible. Men who came too late borrowed the shovel, scooped upsome coals, and so started little fires of their own about which newgroups formed.
While we ate, the eastern sky lightened. The mountains under the dawnlooked like silhouettes cut from slate-coloured paper; those in thewest showed faintly luminous. Objects about us became dimly visible.We could make out the windmill, and the adobe of the ranch houses, andthe corrals. The cowboys arose one by one, dropped their plates intothe dishpan, and began to hunt out their ropes. Everything was obscureand mysterious in the faint grey light. I watched Windy Bill near histarpaulin. He stooped to throw over the canvas. When he bent, it wasbefore daylight; when he straightened his back, daylight had come. Itwas just like that, as though someone had reached out his hand to turnon the illumination of the world.
The eastern mountains were fragile, the plain was ethereal, like a seaof liquid gases. From the pasture we heard the shoutings of thewranglers, and made out a cloud of dust. In a moment the first of theremuda came into view, trotting forward with the free grace of theunburdened horse. Others followed in procession: those near sharp andwell defined, those in the background more or less obscured by thedust, now appearing plainly, now fading like ghosts. The leader turnedunhesitatingly into the corral. After him poured the stream of theremuda--two hundred and fifty saddle horses--with an unceasing thunderof hoofs.
Immediately the cook-camp was deserted. The cowboys entered thecorral. The horses began to circle around the edge of the enclosure asaround the circumference of a circus ring. The men, grouped at thecentre, watched keenly, looking for the mounts they had already decidedon. In no time each had recognised his choice, and, his loop trailing,was walking toward that part of the revolving circumference where hispony dodged. Some few whirled the loop, but most cast it with a quickflip. It was really marvellous to observe the accuracy with which thenoose would fly, past a dozen tossing heads, and over a dozen backs, tosettle firmly about the neck of an animal perhaps in the very centre ofthe group. But again, if the first throw failed, it was interesting tosee how the selected pony would dodge, double back, twist, turn, andhide to escape second cast. And it was equally interesting to observehow his companions would help him.
They seemed to realise that they were not wanted, and would pushthemselves between the cowboy and his intended mount with the utmostboldness. In the thick dust that instantly arose, and with thebewildering thunder of galloping, the flashing change of grouping, therush of the charging animals, recognition alone would seem almostimpossible, yet in an incredibly short time each had his mount, and theothers, under convoy of the wranglers, were meekly wending their wayout over the plain. There, until time for a change of horses, theywould graze in a loose and scattered band, requiring scarcely anysupervision. Escape? Bless you, no, that thought was the last intheir minds.
In the meantime the saddles and bridles were adjusted. Always in acowboy's "string" of from six to ten animals the boss assigns him twoor three broncos to break in to the cow business. Therefore, eachmorning we could observe a half dozen or so men gingerly leading wickedlooking little animals out to the sand "to take the pitch out of them."One small black, belonging to a cowboy called the Judge, used more thanto fulfil expectations of a good time.
"Go to him, Judge!" someone would always remark.
"If he ain't goin' to pitch, I ain't goin' to make him", the Judgewould grin, as he swung aboard.
The black would trot off quite calmly and in a most matter of fact way,as though to shame all slanderers of his lamb-like character. Then, asthe bystanders would turn away, he would utter a squeal, throw down hishead, and go at it. He was a very hard bucker, and made some reallyspectacular jumps, but the trick on which he based his claims tooriginality consisted in standing on his hind legs at so perilous anapproach to the perpendicular that his rider would conclude he wasabout to fall backwards, and then suddenly springing forward in aseries of stiff-legged bucks. The first manoeuvre induced the rider toloosen his seat in order to be ready to jump from under, and the secondthrew him before he could regain his grip.
"And they say a horse don't think!" exclaimed an admirer.
But as these were broken horses--save the mark!--the show was all overafter each had had his little fling. We mounted and rode away, just asthe mountain peaks to the west caught the rays of a sun we should notenjoy for a good half hour yet.
I had five horses in my string, and this morning rode "that C S horse,Brown Jug." Brown Jug was a powerful and well-built animal, aboutfourteen two in height, and possessed of a vast enthusiasm forcow-work. As the morning was frosty, he felt good.
At the gate of the water corral we separated into two groups. Thesmaller, under the direction of Jed Parker, was to drive the mesquitein the wide flats. The rest of us, under the command of Homer, theround-up captain, were to sweep the country even as far as the base ofthe foothills near Mount Graham. Accordingly we put our horses to thefull gallop.
Mile after mile we thundered along at a brisk rate of speed. Sometimeswe dodged in and out among the mesquite bushes, alternately separatingand coming together again; sometimes we swept over grassy plainsapparently of illimitable extent, sometimes we skipped and hopped andbuck-jumped through and over little gullies, barrancas, and other sortsof malpais--but always without drawing rein. The men rode easily, withno thought to the way nor care for the footing. The air came backsharp against our faces. The warm blood stirred by the rush flowedmore rapidly. We experienced a delightful glow. Of the morning coldonly the very tips of our fingers and the ends of our noses retained aremnant. Already the sun was shining low and level across the plains.The shadows of the canons modelled the hitherto flat surfaces of themountains.
After a time we came to some low hills helmeted with the outcrop of arock escarpment. Hitherto they had seemed a termination of MountGraham, but now, when we rode around them, we discovered them to beseparated from the range by a good five miles of sloping plain. Laterwe looked back and would have sworn them part of the Dos Cabesassystem, did we not know them to be at least eight miles' distant fromthat rocky rampart. It is always that way in Arizona. Spaces developof whose existence you had not the slightest intimation. Hidden inapparently plane surfaces are valleys and prairies. At one sweep ofthe eye you embrace the entire area of an eastern State; butnevertheless the reality as you explore it foot by foot proves to beinfinitely more than the v
ision has promised.
Beyond the hill we stopped. Here our party divided again, half to theright and half to the left. We had ridden, up to this time, directlyaway from camp, now we rode a circumference of which headquarters wasthe centre. The country was pleasantly rolling and covered with grass.Here and there were clumps of soapweed. Far in a remote distance lay aslender dark line across the plain. This we knew to be mesquite; andonce entered, we knew it, too, would seem to spread out vastly. Andthen this grassy slope, on which we now rode, would show merely as aninsignificant streak of yellow. It is also like that in Arizona.
I have ridden in succession through grass land, brush land, flowerland, desert. Each in turn seemed entirely to fill the space of theplains between the mountains.
From time to time Homer halted us and detached a man. The business ofthe latter was then to ride directly back to camp, driving all cattlebefore him. Each was in sight of his right- and left-hand neighbour.Thus was constructed a drag-net whose meshes contracted as home wasneared.
I was detached, when of our party only the Cattleman and Homerremained. They would take the outside. This was the post of honour,and required the hardest riding, for as soon as the cattle shouldrealise the fact of their pursuit, they would attempt to "break" pastthe end and up the valley. Brown Jug and I congratulated ourselves onan exciting morning in prospect.
Now, wild cattle know perfectly well what a drive means, and they donot intend to get into a round-up if they can help it. Were it not forthe two facts, that they are afraid of a mounted man, and cannot runquite so fast as a horse, I do not know how the cattle business wouldbe conducted. As soon as a band of them caught sight of any one of us,they curled their tails and away they went at a long, easy lope that adomestic cow would stare at in wonder. This was all very well; in factwe yelled and shrieked and otherwise uttered cow-calls to keep themgoing, to "get the cattle started," as they say. But pretty soon alittle band of the many scurrying away before our thin line, began tobear farther and farther to the east. When in their judgment theyshould have gained an opening, they would turn directly back and make adash for liberty. Accordingly the nearest cowboy clapped spurs to hishorse and pursued them.
It was a pretty race. The cattle ran easily enough, with long, springyjumps that carried them over the ground faster than appearances wouldlead one to believe. The cow-pony, his nose stretched out, his earsslanted, his eyes snapping with joy of the chase, flew fairly "belly toearth." The rider sat slightly forward, with the cowboy's loose seat.A whirl of dust, strangely insignificant against the immensity of adesert morning, rose from the flying group. Now they disappeared in aravine, only to scramble out again the next instant, pace undiminished.The rider merely rose slightly and threw up his elbows to relieve thejar of the rough gully. At first the cattle seemed to hold their own,but soon the horse began to gain. In a short time he had come abreastof the leading animal.
The latter stopped short with a snort, dodged back, and set out atright angles to his former course. From a dead run the pony came to astand in two fierce plunges, doubled like a shot, and was off on theother tack. An unaccustomed rider would here have lost his seat. Thesecond dash was short. With a final shake of the head, the steersturned to the proper course in the direction of the ranch. The ponydropped unconcernedly to the shuffling jog of habitual progression.
Far away stretched the arc of our cordon. The most distant rider wasa speck, and the cattle ahead of him were like maggots endowed with asmooth, swift onward motion. As yet the herd had not taken form; itwas still too widely scattered. Its units, in the shape of smallbunches, momently grew in numbers. The distant plains were crawlingand alive with minute creatures making toward a common tiny centre.
Immediately in our front the cattle at first behaved very well. Thenfar down the long gentle slope I saw a break for the upper valley. Themanikin that represented Homer at once became even smaller as itdeparted in pursuit. The Cattleman moved down to cover Homer'sterritory until he should return--and I in turn edged farther to theright. Then another break from another bunch. The Cattleman rode attop speed to head it. Before long he disappeared in the distantmesquite. I found myself in sole charge of a front three miles long.
The nearest cattle were some distance ahead, and trotting along at agood gait. As they had not yet discovered the chance left open byunforeseen circumstance, I descended and took in on my cinch while yetthere was time. Even as I mounted, an impatient movement on the partof experienced Brown Jug told me that the cattle had seen theiropportunity.
I gathered the reins and spoke to the horse. He needed no furtherdirection, but set off at a wide angle, nicely calculated, to interceptthe truants. Brown Jug was a powerful beast. The spring of his leapwas as whalebone. The yellow earth began to stream past like water.Always the pace increased with a growing thunder of hoofs. It seemedthat nothing could turn us from the straight line, nothing check theheadlong momentum of our rush. My eyes filled with tears from the windof our going. Saddle strings streamed behind. Brown Jug's manewhipped my bridle band. Dimly I was conscious of soapweed, sacatone,mesquite, as we passed them. They were abreast and gone before I couldthink of them or how they were to be dodged. Two antelope bounded awayto the left; birds rose hastily from the grasses. A sudden chirk,chirk, chirk, rose all about me. We were in the very centre of aprairie-dog town, but before I could formulate in my mind theprobabilities of holes and broken legs, the chirk, chirk, chirking hadfallen astern. Brown Jug had skipped and dodged successfully.
We were approaching the cattle. They ran stubbornly and well,evidently unwilling to be turned until the latest possible moment. Agreat rage at their obstinacy took possession of us both. A broadshallow wash crossed our way, but we plunged through its rocks andboulders recklessly, angered at even the slight delay theynecessitated. The hardland on the other side we greeted with joy.Brown Jug extended himself with a snort.
Suddenly a jar seemed to shake my very head loose. I found myselfstaring over the horse's head directly down into a deep and precipitousgully, the edge of which was so cunningly concealed by the grasses asto have remained invisible to my blurred vision. Brown Jug, however,had caught sight of it at the last instant, and had executed one ofthe wonderful stops possible only to a cow-pony.
But already the cattle had discovered a passage above, and werescrambling down and across. Brown Jug and I, at more sober pace, slidoff the almost perpendicular bank, and out the other side.
A moment later we had headed them. They whirled, and without thenecessity of any suggestion on my part Brown Jug turned after them, andso quickly that my stirrup actually brushed the ground.
After that we were masters. We chased the cattle far enough to startthem well in the proper direction, and then pulled down to a walk inorder to get a breath of air.
But now we noticed another band, back on the ground over which we hadjust come, doubling through in the direction of Mount Graham. A hardrun set them to rights. We turned. More had poured out from thehills. Bands were crossing everywhere, ahead and behind. Brown Jugand I went to work.
Being an indivisible unit, we could chase only one bunch at a time;and, while we were after one, a half dozen others would be takingadvantage of our preoccupation. We could not hold our own. Each runafter an escaping bunch had to be on a longer diagonal. Gradually wewere forced back, and back, and back; but still we managed to hold theline unbroken. Never shall I forget the dash and clatter of thatmorning. Neither Brown Jug nor I thought for a moment of sparinghorseflesh, nor of picking a route. We made the shortest line, andpaid little attention to anything that stood in the way. A very feverof resistance possessed us. It was like beating against a head wind,or fighting fire, or combating in any other of the great forces ofnature. We were quite alone. The Cattleman and Homer had vanished.To our left the men were fully occupied in marshalling the compactbrown herds that had gradually massed--for these antagonists of minewere merely outlying remnants.
I suppose Brown Jug must have run nearly twenty miles with only onecheck. Then we chased a cow some distance and into the dry bed of astream, where she whirled on us savagely. By luck her horn hit onlythe leather of my saddle skirts, so we left her; for when a cow hassense enough to "get on the peck," there is no driving her farther. Wegained nothing, and had to give ground, but we succeeded in holding asemblance of order, so that the cattle did not break and scatter farand wide. The sun had by now well risen, and was beginning to shinehot. Brown Jug still ran gamely and displayed as much interest asever, but he was evidently tiring. We were both glad to see Homer'sgrey showing in the fringe of mesquite.
Together we soon succeeded in throwing the cows into the main herd.And, strangely enough, as soon as they had joined a compact band oftheir fellows, their wildness left them and, convoyed by outsiders,they set themselves to plodding energetically toward the home ranch.
As my horse was somewhat winded, I joined the "drag" at the rear. Hereby course of natural sifting soon accumulated all the lazy, gentle, andsickly cows, and the small calves. The difficulty now was to preventthem from lagging and dropping out. To that end we indulged in a greatvariety of the picturesque cow-calls peculiar to the cowboy. One foundan old tin can which by the aid of a few pebbles he converted into avery effective rattle.
The dust rose in clouds and eddied in the sun. We slouched easily inour saddles. The cowboys compared notes as to the brands they hadseen. Our ponies shuffled along, resting, but always ready for a dashin chase of an occasional bull calf or yearling with independent ideasof its own.
Thus we passed over the country, down the long gentle slope to the"sink" of the valley, whence another long gentle slope ran to the baseof the other ranges. At greater or lesser distances we caught thedust, and made out dimly the masses of the other herds collected by ourcompanions, and by the party under Jed Parker. They went forwardtoward the common centre, with a slow ruminative movement, and the dustthey raised went with them.
Little by little they grew plainer to us, and the home ranch, hithertomerely a brown shimmer in the distance, began to take on definition asthe group of buildings, windmills, and corrals we knew. Miniaturehorsemen could be seen galloping forward to the open white plain wherethe herd would be held. Then the mesquite enveloped us; and we knewlittle more, save the anxiety lest we overlook laggards in the brush,until we came out on the edge of that same white plain.
Here were more cattle, thousands of them, and billows of dust, and agreat bellowing, and slim, mounted figures riding and shouting ahead ofthe herd. Soon they succeeded in turning the leaders back. Thesethrew into confusion those that followed. In a few moments the cattlehad stopped. A cordon of horsemen sat at equal distances holding themin.
"Pretty good haul," said the man next to me; "a good five thousandhead."