Boy Scouts on the Range
CHAPTER VIII.
HEMMED IN BY THE HERD.
There was little time to think, and hardly more for action. A moreperfect trap of its kind than that in which Rob was caught could nothave been devised by the utmost ingenuity.
Shouts of alarm went up from the cow-punchers, and from the little groupof Boy Scouts as they saw his danger. But not one of those horrifiedonlookers could do more than sit powerless. All about them, like wavesshattered against a mighty rock, surged the broken stampede, with wildcattle rushing hither and thither. They themselves were, in fact, by nomeans out of danger.
With an angry bellow, the leader of the advancing left flank of cattlelowered his head. His mighty horns glistened like sharpened sabres.Straight at the boy he rushed, while his companions followed hisexample.
An involuntary groan burst from the watchers. It seemed as if Rob's doomwas sealed. But suddenly something happened that they still talk aboutin that part of the country.
Quick as thought the boy decided that there was only one course open tohim. Advance he could not. Retreat, on the other hand, seemed barred bythe gulch. Yet on the gulch side of the beleaguered boy lay the onlypath.
Foolhardy as the attempt appeared, Rob decided that the risk must betaken.
A shout burst from the lips of the powerless onlookers as they realizedwhat the boy meant to do.
Leap the gulch on his pony!
A run, or take-off, of some fifty feet lay between Rob and the darkcrack in the earth that was the gulch. Short as was the distance, fromwhat Rob knew of the active little beast he bestrode, he believed hecould do it. He raised his heavy quirt above the pony's tremblingflanks.
Crack!
The lash descended, cutting a broad wale on the buckskin's back. He gavea squeal of rage and bounded forward.
"Yip-yip!" yelled Rob.
Out of the peril of the situation a spirit of recklessness seemed tohave descended upon him. He could have shouted aloud as he felt theactive bounds of the cayuse. One hurried glance at the awful gap beforehim gave the boy a rough estimate of its width--ten feet or more. Atremendous leap for a pony. But it must be done.
"Yip-yip," yelled Rob once more, as he dug his spurs in deep, and themaddened pony gave one tremendous bound that brought it right to theedge of the pit.
Then the brave buckskin gathered its limbs for the leap.]
For one sickening instant it paused, and Rob felt the chill fear ofdeath sweep over him. Then the brave buckskin gathered its limbs for theleap. Like steel springs its tough muscles rebounded, and the yelling,shrieking cow-punchers saw a buckskin body, surmounted by a cheeringboy, give a great leap upward and--alight safe on the farther side ofthe chasm.
Cheer after cheer went up, while Rob waved his hat exultantly and yelledback at his friends.
Nothing like that leap for life had ever been witnessed before.
The amazed cattle, cheated of their prey, wavered, and the leaders triedin vain to check themselves. Desperately they dug their forefeet intothe edge of the gulch, but the treacherous lip of the chasm gave undertheir weight, and with a roar and rattle, a cloud of dust and adespairing bellow, four of them shot over the edge and vanished.
Rob could not repress a shudder as he patted his buckskin, and realizedthat but for the little steed's noble effort he might have shared thefate of the dumb brutes.
Before long the cow-punchers had the rest of the steers rounded up, andready to be driven back to the Far Pasture. Many were the threatsbreathed against the Moquis as they did so. The cattle, as is the natureof these half-wild brutes, having had their run out, seemed inclined tocollapse from fatigue. As long as unreasoning terror held sway amongthem they had galloped tirelessly, but now their legs shook under themand they quivered and drooped pitifully. But the cattlemen showed themno mercy. With loud yells and popping of revolvers and cracking ofquirts, they rode round them, getting them together into a compact mass.
While all this was going on, Rob had ridden his buckskin along the edgeof the gulch. Some two miles below the place where his leap had beenmade, he found a spot which seemed favorable for crossing. The pony sliddown one bank on its haunches and clambered up the other like a cat. Asthe boy traversed the bottom of the Graveyard, he noticed a peculiarlyoffensive odor. The smell which offended his nostrils, he found, sprangfrom the carcasses of the cattle which had at various times fallen intothe gulch, above where he was crossing.
"Wonder why they don't put up a fence here," thought the boy.
He did not learn till afterward that that very thing had been done, butevery time a freshet occurred in the mountains a part of the gulch cavedaway, carrying with it the fence and all. It had thus grown to be lessof an expense to the ranchmen to lose a few cattle every season than toerect new fences constantly.
By the time Rob rejoined his friends, the cattle were standing ready forthe drive back to their pastures. A more forlorn looking lot of beastscould not have been imagined.
"They know they done wrong," volunteered Blinky, gazing at the dejectedherd.
"Well done, my boy," exclaimed Mr. Harkness, as Rob rode up. "I neversaw a finer bit of horsemanship. But let us hope that such a resourcewill never again be necessary."
"I hope so, too, Mr. Harkness," said Rob. "I tell you I was scared bluefor a minute or two. If it hadn't been for this gritty little cayusehere, I'd never have done it."
"So I did you a good turn, after all, when I roped up that four-leggedbit of dynamite, thinking to play you a fine joke," said Blinky.
"You did," laughed Rob, "and I thank you for it."
"Say, Rob," put in Tubby plaintively, after the other boys had gotthrough congratulating Rob, and wringing his hand till, as he said, itfelt like a broken pump handle. "Say, Rob, don't ever do anything likethat again, will you?"
"Not likely to, Tubby--but why so earnest?"
"Well, you know I've got a weak heart, and----"
"A good digestion," laughed Mr. Harkness; "and speaking of digestions,reminds me that we haven't had any dinner."
"As I was just about to observe," put in Tubby, in so comical a tonethat they all had to burst out laughing, at which the stout youth put onan air of innocence and rode apart.
"But," went on Mr. Harkness, "the 'chuck-wagon' I sent out to the FarPasture last night should still be there. It isn't more than five miles.If you boys think you can hold out we can ride over there, and we canhave a real chuck-wagon luncheon. How will that suit you?"
"Down to the ground," said Rob.
"From the ground up," chimed in Tubby, who had recovered from hisassumed fit of the sulks, at the mention of the immediate prospect of ameal.
"It'll be great," was Merritt's contribution to the general chorus ofapproval.
"Very well, then. Blinky, you ride on ahead and tell Soapy Sam to cookus up a fine feed."
"With beans, sir?" asked Blinky in an interested tone.
"Of course. And if he has any T bone steaks, tell him we want those,too."
"Say, did you hear the name of that cook?" asked Tubby, edging his ponyup to Merritt's, as the cow-puncher spurred off on his errand.
"Yes--Soapy Sam; what of it?"
"Oh, I thought it was Soupy Sam, that's all," muttered Tubby.
"Say, is that meant for a joke? If so, where is the chart that goes withit?"
But Tubby had loped off to join the cow-punchers, who with yells andloud outcries were getting the steers in motion.
Presently the cloud of dust moved forward. After traversing some roughcountry a yell announced that the cabins and the chuck-wagon of the FarPasture were in sight. The cow-punchers immediately abandoned the tiredcattle, leaving them to feed on the range, and swept down on the camplike a swarm of locusts.
Soapy Sam, his sleeves rolled up and a big apron about his waist,flourished a spoon at them as they began chanting in a kind ofmonotonous chorus:
"Chick-chock-we-want Chuck! Chuck-chuck we want chuck! Cook-ee! Cook-ee! Cook-ee!"
What's the
luck?
As they chanted they rode round and round the cook, whose fires and potswere all on the ground. In a huge iron kettle behind him, simmered thatstaple of the cow-puncher, beans. The atmosphere was redolent withthose sweetest of aromas to the hungry man or boy, sizzling hot steaksand strong coffee. Soapy Sam had fairly outdone himself since Blinky hadridden in with news that the boss and some guests were on the way.
"Now you go way back and sit down, you ill-mannered steer-steering bunchof cattle-teasers," bellowed Soapy Sam indignantly, at the singingpunchers. "If you don't, you won't get a thing to eat."
"Oh, cook-ee!" howled the cowboys.
"Oh, I mean it, not a mother's son of you," yelled Soapy Sam. "All youfellows think about is eating and drinking, and then smoking andswopping lies."
"How about work, cook-ee?" yelled some one.
"Work!" sputtered the cook with biting sarcasm. "Why, if work 'ud comeup to you and say 'Hello, Bill!' you'd say, 'Sir, I don't know you.'"
Further exchange of ranch pleasantries was put a stop to at this momentby the arrival of Mr. Harkness and the boys, for the Simmons boys andthe other Boy Scouts had been included in his invitation. The cowboysdispersed at once, riding over toward the huts, where they unsaddledtheir ponies and turned them into a rough corral. Water from a springwas dipped into tin basins, and a hasty toilet was made. By the timethis was finished, Soapy Sam announced dinner by beating loudly on thebottom of a tin pan with a spoon.
"Grub!" yelled the cowboys.
"Come and get it," rejoined Sam in the time-honored formula.
Within ten minutes everybody was seated, and in the lap of each memberof the party was a tin plate, piled high with juicy steak, friedpotatoes, and a generous portion of beans of Soapy Sam's own peculiardevising. Handy at each man's or boy's right was a steaming cup ofcoffee. But milk there was none, as Tubby soon found out when heplaintively asked for some of that fluid.
"Maybe there's a tin cow in the wagon," said Soapy Sam; "I'll see."
"A 'tin cow'," repeated Tubby wonderingly; "whatever is that?"
A perfect howl of merriment greeted the fat boy's query.
"I guess its first cousin to a can of condensed milk," smiled Mr.Harkness. "But if you'll take my advice, you'll drink your coffeestraight, in the regular range way."
And so the meal went merrily forward, in the shadow of the frowning,rugged peaks of the Santa Catapinas. In after days, the Boy Scouts weredestined to eat in many strange places and by many "strange camp fires,"but they never forgot that chuck-wagon luncheon, eaten under thecloudless Arizona sky on the open range.