CHAPTER XXII.
SAFE IN THE CORRAL.
"Well, I feel some easier now that they're getting in closer, and nosigns of a pack of rough riders anywhere in sight beyond!" announced therancher, after a little while had elapsed, which counted anxious minutesfor both himself and Billie.
Even Mr. Thomas had deigned to limp out, and offer to assist in any sortof work he might be able to do; but the stockman, after taking one lookat his shrinking figure, told him he need not bother, since everythinghad been done looking to the safety of the corrals.
And so the pilgrim of the trail hung around; but as before, he impressedBillie as a very timid sort of a fellow, and ready to run or dodge atthe first sign of any trouble.
Now the first herd was well in, and the punchers could be seen wavingtheir hats as they darted this way and that on their active ponies,cutting off the dash of an obstreperous cow that took a sudden notionshe did not want to head for the corrals, when the grass was so sweetaway out on the hills, and under the trees growing along thewatercourse.
"I'm glad to see that all the boys are working with a vim," Billie heardthe late manager of the ranch say to himself, as he took note of the waythe punchers carried on their business, every one seeming to be activelyemployed; and the boy could easily understand what he meant by thosesignificant words.
In each party, it will be remembered that there were several of the menwho secretly sided with the sister of Hatch Walker, the rustler, UncleFred's wife; and apparently the stockman had been uneasy lest thesefellows do everything in their power to create discord in the ranks, anddelay the drive until their friends the rustlers came along.
It seemed however, that from some cause or other they could not havedeemed it good policy to attempt this tricky play. Perhaps they saw fromthe way things were working that they were outnumbered in both bands;and the belief that this must have been done for a reason caused them togo slow about provoking trouble. Doubtless Fred Comstock may have givenorders to the faithful few to keep their eyes on the alert and at thefirst sign of treachery to use their guns freely. That was the sort ofreputation he used to have before the widow came into his life, andchanged its current; and there were signs that Mr. Comstock might begetting near the point where he would assert his manhood once again, andbreak away from "petticoat rule."
The two herds arriving at nearly the same time there was a scene oftremendous excitement around the ranch buildings, with cowboys dashingthis way and that, whooping at the top of their voices, and shouting outorders to one another.
Billie wanted to be with them, but that injured knee gave him a nastywrench now and then; so he concluded to forego that pleasure. He couldsee that both of his chums were doing as fine work as any one belongingto the Bar-S Ranch; and more than once a fellow whom Billie suspectedmight be under the ban would follow the flying form of Adrian with hiseyes, as though trying to figure out what difference the coming of thereal owner of the ranch might make in the final outcome.
By degrees the cattle were being separated as Mr. Comstock wished, anddriven into the separate corrals. During this period of intenseexcitement those who were not engaged in the work watched operationswith more or less interest. Even Charley Moo, the Chinese cook, could beseen leaning on the rail of a corral taking it all in; and there in thedoorway of the ranch house stood Mrs. Comstock, apparently laughingscornfully to herself at all this confusion, just because a few of herrelatives might be expected to make an evening call on her.
The day was not far from done when the last of the cattle had beenchased through the jaws of the big corral, and the bars placed inposition that made them prisoners, until such time as the stockmandeemed it wise to let them out again. Meanwhile they would have to befed from the store of hay that was kept on hand in big stacks, over inone of the fields away from the buildings, and intended for just suchemergencies as this, or a bitter spell during a wintry blizzard, whenforage could not be found by the herds in the sheltered places.
Once more Mr. Comstock was making use of his glasses to look anxiouslytoward a certain quarter. But now he was not anticipating the coming ofthe rustlers, who, upon finding that the stock had slipped through theirhands, and were safe in the corrals, were likely to remain aloof untillate in the night, when they might with impunity approach close to theranch, and try some of their sly games looking to effecting a breach inthe stockade, and the release of the herds.
"Will they come from that direction, Uncle Fred?" asked Adrian, haltingbeside the other, as he mopped his steaming face with his red bandanahandkerchief, which of course he carried, cowboy fashion, knotted abouthis neck, with the loose folds hanging in front, so that while ridingswiftly along they could be utilized to wipe his eyes free from dust,without releasing his bridle hand.
"Well, you see, son," replied the other, as he lowered the glasses, andshowed by his disappointed look that he had failed to glimpse someobject he had been hoping to discover; "I'm not bothering about therustler crowd just now. Since they didn't get along in time to stop thedrive, and run off the cattle, chances are they'll hold off tillmidnight, or along about there. But I did hope to pick up a little dustover yonder. That's about where the sheriff and his posse'd be apt toshow up, when they do come along."
"No signs of them yet, then, Uncle?"
"I'm sorry to say not, Adrian; but then, as the officer is a new hand hemight find it a little difficult to gather a posse. You see, theseWalkers have a lot of friends scattered around, and that's going to makeit hard to knock 'em out; but the new sheriff was elected for just thatpurpose, I was told, and they say he's a nervy man. Reckon he'll needall the grit he's got to tide him over; but at last the stockmen aroundthis county have made up their minds this wholesale robbery has got tostop, no matter what sort of war comes along. And I'm going to joinhands with them, in spite of what the rest of the house says."
He made this assertion boldly; but habit caused him to give a quickglance over his shoulder when speaking, just as though he half feared todiscover Mrs. Comstock standing there, with upraised hand, and a bittersmile on her strong features.
But from the sigh of relief that broke involuntarily from the lips ofUncle Fred it was apparent that the coast was clear. Really, Adrianbelieved that if things kept going on in this way much longer, hisrelative would presently turn out to be as timid as some other men hehad known, for instance that pilgrim of the trail, who gave his name asMr. Thomas, and who acted as though he might be dodging a threateninghand most of the time.
Having completed their work the punchers were grouped together,exchanging many remarks after the manner of their kind; while thesweating ponies stood around, each with his bridle rein trailing on theground.
As yet the loyal workers did not know the full extent of the opposition;they seemed to sense something unusual in the air, and as they alreadyknew the sentiments of the men who were in touch with Mrs. Comstock andher relatives, perhaps they could give a good guess that mightyinteresting developments were bound to come about in the near future,and that a change in the way things were run up in that section ofcountry was imminent.
This was shown to Donald by the way the four loyal punchers kept in abunch, and rubbed elbows with the three new hands, whom the young ownerof the ranch had employed to help out.
The night was not far away, and from indications it promised to be onecalculated to be marked with a red star in the history of the Bar-SRanch.
Adrian wondered how his father would have handled such a situation. Thethought caused him to grit his teeth, and determine that come what mighthe would never knuckle down to those greedy Walkers; if forced to thewall he would give up trying to run the ranch, and leave a barren desertbehind him when he retired; but not one dollar of tribute would he everknowingly pay in order to purchase immunity.
Presently he saw Donald beckoning to him, and went over to where theother chum was standing, leaning on the bars of the nearest corral.
Donald seemed to be amused over something, and of course Adrian was
immediately curious to know what it meant.
"Tell me, so I can laugh with you, Donald," he remarked; "things look soserious all about us that it'd do me a heap of good just to have onelittle chuckle, if only I knew of anything funny. What's been happeningaround here?"
"Why, it's this way," replied the other, looking to right and leftfirst, as though he did not want any one to overhear what he meant tosay, for Donald never hurt anybody's feelings if he could avoid it;"your Uncle Fred came along here, and chancing to see Charley Moo, hemade all sorts of gestures until he caught his eye, and then beckonedhim over."
"Sure," Adrian went on to say, "to give him orders for supper, I reckon;because there's a raft of hungry punchers to feed tonight; and they tellme that Aunt Josie never bothers her head about what the boys get toeat, because her supper is cooked privately, and as a rule she eats italone, uncle preferring to mess with his hands."
"Well, I guess this night Uncle Fred's a little mite afraid your auntmight take a notion to eat with the boys, like lots of women folks do onranches down our way, so as to civilize the savages, they say. Anyhow, Iheard him give the Chink his orders all right, and after he was throughhe called Charley Moo back; and what d'ye think he told him?"
"How do you expect me to guess?" demanded Adrian.
"Well," continued the amused boy, "he explained that he wanted the cookto fetch some supper for him out to the corral, when all the rest werebusy working their jaws--said that he felt that some one should be onguard _all_ the time, and knowing how hungry the hard-working puncherswere, he didn't have the heart to keep any one of them away from hisfeed. What do you think of that; a poor excuse is better than none atall, ain't it, Ad?"
"So they say," chuckled the other, who of course knew full well just whyUncle Fred did not care to enter the long room where the men took theirmeals, lest he see the figure of his wife at the head of the table, andbe made to appear small in the eyes of the punchers.
"There, look at Mr. Comstock now!" exclaimed Donald, suddenly; "he seemsexcited, and keeps looking through his glasses as though he had sightedsomething or other. I wonder whether it turns out to be the sheriff'sposse, or the rustlers?"
The Broncho Rider Boys on the Wyoming Trail Page 22
