Cattle-Ranch to College

by John Kendrick Bangs

  CHAPTER XVII.

  A COW-PUNCHER IN EARNEST.

  The round-up was now at hand--that great account of "stock taking,"literally, the closing of the year's books as it were, on the cattlerange. At its conclusion the ranchman would know whether the previouswinter's storms and cold had allowed him any increase or not. The cattleroam at will over great tracts of country bounded only by watercoursesand the wire fences along the railways; the herds of one ranchman minglewith those of another, and only during the round-up are they separatedand the calves marked with their respective owners' brands.

  The date of the round-up is fixed beforehand and all the detailsarranged, so that when the day arrives every man is ready to take thefield. As several owners have cattle on the range, each sends his quotaof cowboys to do the riding, and all work together under a general heador round-up boss.

  The Sun River Ranch had perhaps the largest number of cattle out, andits outfit consisted of twenty-five men, with two cook wagons andseveral other vehicles to carry beds and various necessaries.

  The morning of May 25th, the day set for the rendezvous of the round-up,was as near perfect as one could wish. With the first streak of light inthe east all hands were routed out, and after a hasty breakfast,everyone at once set about making the last preparations to take thefield. Some helped the cooks load up their wagons and pack the utensils;some were busy piling the beds into their places, and the rest wereoccupied with their own riding outfits or looking after the large saddleband.

  It was a gay crowd; you would have thought it was a gang of boys off fora swim instead of a party of men bound on a very serious undertaking,accompanied, as it was sure to be, with a good deal of danger and no endof hard work and privation.

  John was in the thick of it, looking after the horses he had helped tobreak. Of these there were a goodly number, for from six to eight wererequired for each man. He noted with pride that "Lite's" bruises hadentirely healed and that his bones were almost wholly hidden by the firmflesh and muscle he had gained under his new master's watchful care.The boy was to be one of the gang that represented the Sun River Ranch,and he looked forward to the round-up as an opportunity to show what wasin him.

  At last the procession was ready to move, and amid a chorus of "solongs" to those left behind, the shouts of men, the whinny of horses,the rattle and bang of wagons and cooking utensils, the snapping ofwhips, and the beating of hoofs, it started.

  Little time was wasted in making the journey to the camping place, forall were anxious to get to work. At this time, men gathered togetherfrom widely separated points, acquaintanceship was renewed and gossipexchanged. The following morning found them at the appointed campingground in convenient proximity to a stream, and at about the centre ofthe territory which it was proposed to sweep clean of cattle. Alreadythe triangle bar ([Symbol: Triangle over bar]) and the M T outfits hadarrived; their cook wagons were unpacked and their fires built. It wasnot long before the Sun River boys, called the Three X outfit, fromtheir brand (XXX), were likewise settled. The settling in order was nota very elaborate proceeding; there were no carpets to be laid--"thegrass of Uncle Sam" served that purpose admirably--the bric-a-bracconsisting of saddles, bridles, and some harness, which was slungcarelessly on the ground; and the furniture, if the rolled-up blanketbeds could be called such (and there was no other), were left in thewagons till wanted.

  A hole a foot or so deep and a few feet in diameter was dug in theground to hold the fire and at the same time prevent it from spreadingto the surrounding prairie--a thing to be dreaded. The tail of thecook's wagon was let down, thus forming a sort of table and disclosing acupboard arrangement. An awning was spread over the whole and it wasready for business.

  As soon as these arrangements were completed the men broke up intolittle groups, renewing old friendships and exchanging the bits of newsthat one or the other had learned. John hung round the cook's wagon,making friends with that important individual. He was no poor hand withthe frying-pan himself, and the appreciation of the cook's efforts soonwon over this personage.

  "Well, Billy," John was saying, "you'll be kept pretty busy this trip, Iguess."

  "Yes, it'll be no easy thing," he answered. "It's a big round-up, andit's so terrible dry for this time of year and so dusty that the boys'llbe weary and lookin' for trouble--and it'll all come back on me."

  "Oh, I guess not," said John consolingly, as he walked about, kickingthe tufted buffalo grass and swishing his quirt about aimlessly. "I tellyou what, Billy, it wouldn't take much to start a fire in this"--heslapped the grass with his lash. "With a wind like this we'd have ablaze in a minute that would be harder to stop than----Look out!"

  John rushed over to the shallow firepit, shouting warnings as he ran,and began stamping down the thin edge of fire that was eating its wayinto the bone-dry grass. While the two were talking, a gust of wind hadblown a brand out of the pit and into the tinder-like hay. John keptstamping frantically, and in an instant Billy had joined him and wasalso vigorously engaged in crushing out the dreaded flames. They bothshouted lustily, and soon a number of the punchers, seeing the thinsmoke and realizing the danger, came over to help.

  Fire is perhaps the thing of all others that the plainsman dreads; aprairie blaze once fairly started and sweeping over an expanse ofterritory is almost impossible to stop, and there is nothing to do butrun before it; man and beast, tame and wild, flee from it. Only charredand blackened ashes lie behind the swiftly advancing thin line offlame.

  All this came into the minds of the men as they tramped out the redtongues of flame that lapped ever further along and around. There was notime to plough round (even if such an aid as a plough could be had) andso check the fire by turning under what it fed upon. Soon it was seenthat it would take more than the trampling of men's feet to put it out,and a line was started down the creek with buckets. Then blankets andgunny sacks were wet and beaten against the flames.

  The smoke choked and blinded, and the heat was almost unbearable, butthe men kept the blankets going until the spiteful red tongues drew backdefeated, and died. It was a hard fight for a couple of hours, and whenit was over those who took part were hardly recognizable--facesblackened and eyes reddened by smoke, hair, beards, and mustachessinged.

  John, who had drawn his smoke-begrimed fingers over his cheeks andforehead, was a sight; Frank saw him thus and said he looked like across between a tiger and an ourang outang.

  ROPED.]

  THROWN.]

  WHOSE IS IT? A QUESTION OF OWNERSHIP.]

  For a day or two after all the outfits came into camp the time was spentin organizing the round-up and planning the campaign. The ranchmen orforemen, as the case might be, were extremely busy during this time, butfor once the punchers were at liberty to do as they pleased. All sortsof cowboy sports were indulged in; horse-racing (where "Lite," likeBaldy, generally came out ahead, under John's understanding jockeyship),rope-throwing, and feats of horsemanship. What to an Easterner wouldappear impossibilities were commonplace acts of good riding for acow-puncher. Picking up a hat from the ground while riding at full speedwas a feat of good but not at all extraordinary riding.

  The men were full of life and energy--skylarking was going oncontinually. It was no place for the seeker of peace and quietness; theair was filled with cowboy yells and shouts of laughter. The unwary one,afoot or on horseback, was likely to hear a sudden swish and in a secondfind himself hugging mother earth and acting as if he was trying to pulla peg with his teeth, the result of some rope throwing in his rear.

  As evening draws near the word is passed that "real work will beginto-morrow," and all hands quiet down, realizing that they will need allthe strength that rest can give them. Soon after supper the men pull outtheir bed rolls, spread them, and, using their saddles as head rests,turn in.

  The Sun River round-up is in camp. The moon beams placidly down andshows in high relief the white-topped wagons and tents huddled together.Beds are scattered here and there upon the ground, and from ea
ch comesthe sound of tired men's breathing. Half a dozen saddled and picketedhorses crop the grass near by, and a small bunch of cattle, guarded by asingle rider, who lolls sleepily in his saddle, lie a little furtheroff, their heavy bodies appearing strange and shapeless in the halflight. A coyote from a little distance barks and howls, but even itsvoice is drowsy. The only animated sound comes from a bell on a horsetinkling as he feeds.

  At four o'clock a little red spark appears near the XXX outfit and thecook can be dimly discerned moving round his wagon. Soon the smokebegins to pour from his fire, and then the cooks of other outfits alsoshow signs of life. Tin pans and kettles are heard to rattle, andbreakfast is under way. At a quarter to five the cooks begin the_reveille_ of the plains; dishpans in hand they move about among thesleeping men beating an awakening call neither musical nor poetic, butmost effective. Between the strokes comes the long-drawn cry, "Grubp-i-l-e! Grub p-i-l-e!"

  Apparently it is no easier to rouse up from the rough couch, knobbed asit is with the inequalities of the surface of the ground beneath, thanit is to rise from "flowery beds of ease."

  "Cow-punching ain't what it's cracked up to be," said Jerry grumblinglyto John as they lay near a XXX wagon. "I'm goin' to quit after thisround-up and drive a horsecar."

  "It is kinder tough," returned the younger. "I haven't got used to'Lite's' prancin's yet and I'm stiff."

  It's the privilege of every working man on land and sea to grumble atthe early getting-up time, and the cow-puncher takes all possibleadvantage of this immemorial right. They obeyed the summons,nevertheless, and by the time the night-wrangler came up with the saddleband Jerry and John were on hand with the rest of the punchers, havingrolled up and stowed their beds in the wagon. A rope corral was drawnabout them which sufficed to keep them together, the cow-pony havinglearned the lesson thoroughly not to run against a rope, even if it isflimsily supported. Each man took his lariat and flung it over the horsehe wanted to ride that day. As the noose tightened round the neck ofeach horse it stood stock still till its owner came up to it. Led alittle apart, the fifty-pound saddle was flung over, and in spite ofmore or less struggling the cinches were drawn tight and the heavybridle buckled on.

  The rush for the mess wagon which followed resembled a run on a bank,and for a few minutes the clatter of tin dishes and steel knives andforks drowned all other sounds. A tin cup of strong, black coffee, aslice or two of bacon, potatoes swimming in gravy, and a generous chunkof bread comprised the bill of fare.

  With plates and cups filled, John and Jerry go off a little way to awagon, and sitting cross-legged with backs against the wheels, proceedto put away with all possible dispatch the food allotted to them. In afew minutes breakfast is over, when each man brings his dishes andthrows them on the pile which cook is already busily engaged in washing.Similar proceedings have been going on at all the different outfits atthe same time, and soon all hands converge towards the round-up boss'scamp.

  John and Jerry joined the gathering crowd near the "captain's" wagon andwaited for orders. After a few minutes Kline, captain of the round-up,appeared, a stocky man with a gray beard, slouch hat, and greasy,round-up clothes, chaps, flannel shirt, and big spurs. The crowd quieteddown instantly.

  "Barrett, take six men and go to the head of Bar Creek and rake thebrush like a fine-tooth comb," began Kline. Barrett swung into thesaddle, and picking out six men rode off with them.

  "Haggerty, take six men and clean up Crooked Creek; Moore, three men andgo up Indian Gulch," and so the orders went. Each group started on theinstant, and trotting off, disappeared in a cloud of dust. Soon all thepunchers had gone; only the cooks, the horse-wranglers, and a fewdrivers were left.

  Jerry and John had been sent up a small creek to drive in all the cattlethey found in that section. The head of the creek reached (it was aboutfifteen miles off), Jerry, who was riding some distance from John,signalled to him to turn back and make a detour so as to get around theanimals ahead. At the sight of the riders the wild cattle began togather into bunches and stare; this tendency to come together made itmuch easier to drive them.

  By the time they had driven two miles a considerable number hadgathered, which increased as it moved onward as a snowball gathers bulkwhen it is pushed along.

  When Jerry and John reached the main valley they were driving perhaps acouple of hundred head before them. Herds were pouring in from everydirection, and soon the whole valley was filled with a vast mass ofvariously tinted animals, their horns tossing like a sea of tall grass.Over all hung a great cloud of dust that obscured the sun and made itimpossible to distinguish a rider the other side of the herd. "This isfierce," ejaculated John as he tried to peer through the brown-graycloud at another rider.

  "A cow-puncher can't live without dust," returned Jerry, whose face wascovered with a gray mask, through which his eyes shone in strongcontrast. "My teeth is worn down and my lungs coated with it, but Idon't mind it no more. Look out for that cow there!"

  An old cow, made angry and brave at once by an apparent menace to hercalf, was charging down on John full tilt--tail up, head down, eyesrolling--vengeance in every motion; for a minute it looked as if hewould be run down: the charging beast was going at such speed that shewould be hard to avoid; but when she was within five feet of the boy'shorse he gave a quick pull on the rein, a sharp jab with his spurs, andthe clever little cow-pony wheeled sharply round and out of range, theold cow lumbering harmlessly by, her own weight and impetus preventingher from turning.

  "You want to keep your eye out for those old cows with calves,"admonished Jerry, "they're looking for trouble."

  All hands were now busy keeping the great herd together, single animalswere constantly breaking out and had to be driven back; sometimesseveral would start at once, when there would be some pretty sharpriding for a while.

  It was about midday, the sun was blazing down from above, the dust rosein clouds from below, lining mouths and nostrils of the riders. Sincesix o'clock they had been in the saddle constantly, and all felt, asJerry expressed it, "Plumb empty and bone dry."

  The herd presently quieted down somewhat and allowed the men to eat inrelays, some watching while others fed. It was the briefest kind of ameal, but it sufficed, and in a half hour every man was ready, mountedon a fresh horse, for the real work of the day--"cutting out."

  John and Jerry approached the tumultuous herd, a swirling restless seaof backs and horns. The din was tremendous; every cow lowed to her calfand every calf to its mother; the tread of thousands of hoofs even onthe soft earth caused a heavy, rumbling sound that filled the air, andabove all was the sharp rattle of one horn against another, of athousand horns against each other. Into this seething mass of livingwild creatures armed with sharp horns, and the tread of whose hoofs wasdeath, must go the cowboy and his intrepid pony. To drive out the cowsand their accompanying calves, so that the brand of the mother might beput on the offspring, was the cow-puncher's duty.

  Jerry and John were as usual near together, and Jerry as usualgrumbling. He declared that this cow-punching was a dog's life and thathe would surely quit it after this round-up. John, as was his custom oflate, was discoursing on the merits of "Lite." "I'll show you what agood cutting-out horse he is to-day," the youngster was saying. "Youjust watch him." Jerry suddenly rode off to head off a steer that hadbroken out of the bunch and so stopped the boy's talk. When he came backJohn was about to dismount to aid a weak calf to rise. "Look out!" wasall Jerry had time to shout, as an old cow with horns like spears camecharging down on the stooping boy. It was not her calf, but she thoughtit was. John's horse had become startled and ran back so fast that hecould not reach the saddle horn to mount. The infuriated cow was withintwenty feet of him, the cattle hedged him in on every side so he couldnot run, and he reached round for his six-shooter as a last resort. Hewas about to pull the trigger when Jerry's rope came flying through theair, settled round the animal's hind legs, and down she came in a heapjust in time.

  "You'll take my word next time wh
en I tell you not to dismount in abunch of cattle." John said nothing, but he realized that it was apretty close shave.

  Soon the cutting-out process began, to accomplish which the rider entersthe main bunch, selects a cow with a calf bearing the brand of hisoutfit, and drives them out to a place apart, where other riders keepthem separated from the main bunch and from the similar collections ofother brands. To select his own brand from dozens of others requires aquick and sure eye on the part of the rider, and to follow thatparticular cow through all the turnings and twistings she is sure totake, requires great cleverness and perseverance on the part of thehorse.

  It was "Lite's" first experience as a cutting-out horse, but John hadfull confidence in his ability in this as in every other branch ofcow-pony education. "You just watch him"--this to Jerry, who hadexpressed some doubts. John and Lightning rushed into the sea of cattle.Whether by the gentle pressure of the knees or remarkable knowledgeJerry knew not, but he saw the little horse single out an animal andstart it out, following directly at its heels. It turned to the leftsharply; Lightning deftly threw his fore legs over its back and stood inits path; it turned to the right--horse and rider were there also.Through the herd they went full speed, twisting, turning, passingthrough lanes of cattle so narrow that John's legs rubbed their roughbodies on either side; but always they were close at the heels of theXXX cow, and finally they drove her out where Jerry was guarding severalothers of the same outfit.

  "How's that?" said John breathlessly. It was hard work for horse andrider, particularly for the former.

  "That's all right," Jerry answered, more enthusiastically than was hiswont. "He's got the making of a good cow-horse in him."