The "Wild West" Collection. William MacLeod Raine
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cook dug his trench, built his fire and set his folding table out under the pale sky that was just commencing to show brilliant stars. After the last cup of steaming coffee had been downed and pipes lighted, Sims gave the order to march. The herd was nearly still now, and roused with much complaining, but the dogs were inexorable, and presently the two thousand were shuffling on, feeding now and then, but making good progress.
There was but one thing left to do in the present instance--find running water, for it was certain that all the springs on the plain would have been visited by cattle, and that, therefore, the sheep would stand by and idly perish of thirst.
Sims knew his country, and directed the flock toward a shallow, rocky ford of the Big Horn, some five miles distant. In the meantime Bud Larkin was facing two alternatives, either one disastrous. The crossing of the Big Horn meant a declaration of war to the Bar T ranch, for in the loose division of the free country, the Bar T range extended south to the river.
On the other hand, should he turn the herds east along the bank of the Big Horn, it would be impossible to continue the march long in that direction, since the higher mountains were directly ahead, and the way through them was devious, and attended with many difficulties and dangers. On such a drive the losses to him in time and strayed sheep would be disastrous.
Larkin had no desire to clash with the cattlemen unless it were absolutely necessary, but he decided that his sheep should go through, since the free range was his as well as another's. On that long night march, when the men were behind the sheep, driving them, contrary to the usual custom, he told Sims of his interview with Beef Bissell, and the herder cracked his knuckles with rage at the position taken by the cowman.
"Send 'em through, Mr. Larkin," he advised, "and if the Bar T outfit start anything I allow we'll return 'em as good as they give."
It was within an hour of dawn when the leaders of the flock lifted their heads and gazed curiously at the line of trees that loomed before them along the banks of the river. The next instant they had started forward on a run, blethering the news of water back along the dim, heaving line. The dust beneath their sharp feet rose up into a pall that hid the sky as the whole flock got into motion.
Then dogs and men leaped forward, for now the blind singleness of purpose that pervaded the animals was more disastrous than when they refused to drink. Working madly, the dogs spread out the following herd so that all should not crowd upon the same point of the river and drown the leaders.
It was unavoidable that some should be lost by being pushed into the deeper waters north or south of the ford, but for the most part the watering was successfully accomplished, and at the first glow of dawn the animals were contentedly cropping the rich grasses in the low bottoms near the river.
But the work was not yet finished.
When it had become light enough to see, the leaders were rounded up at the ford, and, nipped into frenzy by the dogs, began the passage across the shallow bar. With the leaders safely over it was only a matter of time until the rest had followed, and by the time it was full day the last of the tailers were feeding in the opposite bottoms.
For Bud Larkin this was a very serious dawn. He had cast the die for war and led the invasion into the enemy's country. Any hope that the act might remain unknown was shattered before the sheep had fairly forded the stream. Against the brightening sky, on a distant rise of ground, had appeared the silent figure of a horse and man, one of the Bar T range riders.
Six distant, warning pistol shots had rung out, and then the horse and rider had disappeared across the plain at a headlong gallop.
CHAPTER V
STRATEGY AND A SURPRISE
"Gub pi-i-i-le!" yelled the cook at the top of his voice.
The weary herders with Sims and Larkin answered the cry as one man, for they were spent with the exertions of the night, and heavy-eyed from want of sleep. The meal of mutton, camp-bread, beans, and Spanish onions was dispatched with the speed that usually accompanied such ceremonies, and Sims told off the herders to watch the flock while the others slept.
A general commanding soldiers would have pressed forward, thus increasing the advantage gained in the enemy's country, but when sheep compose the marching column, human desires are the last thing consulted. After their long thirst and forced drive it was necessary that the animals recover their strength for a day amid abundant feed and water.
Immediately after breakfast Larkin called a small, close-knit herder to him.
"Can you ride a horse?" he asked.
"_Si, seor_," replied the man, who came originally from the southern range.
"Then saddle that piebald mare and take provisions for four days. Travel day and night until you reach the Larkin ranch in Montana, and give this letter to the man who is in charge there."
Bud drew a penciled note from the pocket of his shirt and handed it to the other. Then he produced a rough map of the country he had drawn and added it to the letter, explaining a number of times the distances from point to point, and tracing the route with his pencil. At last the herder understood.
"Tell them to hurry," was Larkin's parting injunction, as the other turned away to saddle the mare.
"_Si, seor_. Hurry like blazes, eh?" said Miguel, comprehending, with a flash of white teeth.
"Exactly."
Hardly had the man galloped away north, following the bank of the river for the better concealment past the Bar T range, when Sims languidly approached.
"I reckon we're in for trouble, boss," he remarked, yawning sleepily, "an' I'm plumb dyin' for rest, but I s'pose I better look over the country
"I was just going to suggest it," said Larkin. "I am going to stay by the camp and meet some friends of mine that I expect very shortly. Come back _pronto_, Hardy, for there's no telling what we may have to do before night."
Larkin's predictions of a visit were soon enough fulfilled. It was barely ten o'clock when several horsemen were seen riding toward the banks of the Big Horn. Bud mounted Pinte and advanced to meet them.
First came Beef Bissell, closely attended by Stelton, and after them, four or five of the Bar T punchers. The actual encounter took place half a mile from the camp. Looking back, Larkin could see his sheep feeding in plain sight amid the green of the river bottoms.
"Howdy," snapped Bissell, by way of greeting. And then, without waiting for a reply: "What does this mean?" He indicated the placid sheep.
"My flock was dying of thirst, and I brought them up last night," said Bud. "They crossed the river early this morning."
"Why didn't you keep them on the other side? I warned you about this."
"I warned you first, Mr. Bissell. My sheep have got to go north, and the range west of the Big Horn is the only practicable way to drive them. They would never come through if I started them through the mountains. You ought to know that."
"Never mind what I ought to know," cried Bissell angrily, his red face flaming with fury. "There's one thing I do know, and that is, that those range-killers don't go a step farther north on my side of the river."
"If you can show me clear title to ownership of this part of the range I will risk them in the mountains; otherwise not," replied Bud, imperturbably. "This range is free, and as much mine as yours. There's no use going into this question again."
"That's the first true thing you've said," snarled the cowman. "Now, you listen here. I don't go hunting trouble nowhere, but there ain't a man between the Rio Grande and the Columbia that can say I don't meet it half-way when I see it headed in my direction. Now, I've given you fair warnin' before. I'll give it to you again, but this is the last time. Either you have them sheep t'other side of the river by this time to-morrow, or you take the consequences."
"Is that your final word on the matter?"
"Yes. An' I've got witnesses to prove that you were given a chance to clear out."
"Then you give me