CHAPTER XII
A HIDDEN ENEMY
Cock Murray had an engagement to meet Schatz at the point where theDouble Y's north line touched the Black Jack, and after he had ridden upto the south line to see how the cows were doing, as Buck had ordered,he swung west to the Black Jack to follow it down to the meeting place.As he rode he neared the Hog Back, a vast upheaval of rock, not highenough to be called a mountain, flat on the top except for hollows andgullies, scantily covered with grass and stunted trees. The Hog Backwould have been called a mesa in the South, for want of a better name,though it was no more a mesa than it was a mountain. A mile long and athird of that across at its widest point, it made an effective naturalbarrier between the Double Y and the river, hiding a pasture of greatacreage which lay between it and the precipitous cliff which frowneddown upon the rushing, swishing Black Jack eighty feet below. While theround-up would, of course, comb this poor-grass part of the range foroutlaws and strays, the outfit never gave it any attention becausecattle seldom were found upon it.
Cock Murray, knowing that he had an hour to spare, and fond of hardriding where his skill was called into play, suddenly decided to ascendthe Hog Back. Antelope were still to be found even on the range itself,along the wildest part of the south line, and he might get a shot at oneif he made the climb. It was an easy task to go up the northern end,where the trail arose in a succession of steep grades; but he had notime for that and guided his pony up the rough, rocky east wall. As hegained the top he rested the horse while he looked around. It was afavorite view of his; below him lay the range and the river; he couldsee, on a clear day, the dot that represented his ranch house; and tothe west and south lay the wild, rolling range of the Cyclone. Graduallyhis gaze sought nearer objects and he thought of antelope. Movingforward cautiously he kept keen watch on all sides, intending if hecaught sight of one, to dismount and stalk it on foot. He had riddennearly to the northern end when he jerked his pony to a stand, and then,gazing earnestly ahead a short distance, went on as rapidly as thebroken ground would permit.
"Dead cows! What 'n h--l killed 'em? Wolves would clean 'em to thebone. G'wan, you fool!" he growled at his mount. "Scared of dead cows,are you! If you are, I 've got the cure for it right here on my heel."
The horse went on, picking its footing, and soon Murray whistled insurprise: "Cyclone brand! Bet they 've got the itch, too. Yep! Diedfrom it, by G--d! Now, how the blazes did they get over here! Cows, andsick ones especially, don't hanker to swim the Jack. Well, that willhold over a little--let 's see how many are up here"--and he began thesearch. Four were all he could find, two alive and two dead. The twothat still stumbled weakly in search of food, dropped as if struck bylightning as the acrid gray smoke sifted past Murray's head. "Wonderhow many more there was and where they went to? Must have been heresome time, judging by the carcasses. Holy smoke! If any cows gone asbad as these are loose on our range may the Lord pity _us_! Come on,bronc; we 'll see what Schatz thinks about it. Wish I had time to builda fire over these itch farms."
He was careful to guide his horse on ground barren of vegetation and notlet brush or grass touch the animal when he could avoid it. As heplunged down the steep northern trail, a dried water course, he reinedup hard, looking closely at the tracks in the soft alluvial soil washeddown by the last rain. "Must have been about a dozen; perhaps a fewless--then some did get where we don't want them--holy cats! as if wehave n't got enough with our regular calf round-up!"
When he galloped up to the north line he found Schatz waiting for him."Schatz," he shouted, "I just found four itch cows on the Hog Back. Sixor eight are loose on th' ranch. They was Cyclone, an' they nevercrossed th' Jack by themselves."
"_Mein Gott_! Did you drive dem back?"
"Two was dead; th' other two was so near it I just dropped 'em. Theycould n't stand a drive even to th' river. Shall I tell Peters?"
"Shall you tell him? _Gewiss_! Vat you t'ink--I vant itch on de DoubleVy? How dey come?"
"I don't know. But they must 'a' been driven. Th' Jack is cold as icean' she runs strong by th' Rocking Horse. That's where th' tracks ledto. Cows ain't goin' to swim that for fun. Why, these was all et upwith th' itch--wonder they did n't drown."
"_Dank Gott_! Sick cows ain't made vell mit ice vater und schwimmin'.Dey don't lif so long like de vater vas varm. Der shock help kill demquick."
Murray nodded, his hand resting on his gun, and Schatz noticed it."_Gewiss_, if dey vas too veak to drive in der river, it vas besser toshoot dem. But ven dey drop dey stay mit all dem parasites. Drivin'dem off de range is besser. _Aber_, you stopped dem de best vay youcould."
Murray nodded again. "Yes, yo're right--but I was n't thinkin' ofshootin' no cows," he asserted calmly. "I know all about that. But Iwas just a-wonderin' if I should ketch some skunk of a cow-punch drivin'itch cattle on us, an' shoot him, if he 'd drop any parasites when _he_fell."
"_Ach Gott_! Alvays you shoot, like Dave! Shoot, shoot, shoot! Vy in_Himmel_ should you alvays grab dot gun? Brains are in your head, and_besser_ as lead in dot Colt. Brains first, and if dey don't do it, dender gun. But alvays der gun should be last. _Verstanden_?"
Murray did not reply and his companion, exchanging a few terse sentenceswith him, waved him towards the ranch house while he followed the linetowards the Little Jill.
Buck was washing for supper when Murray arrived and kept right on withhis ablutions as the puncher told his tale. Murray quite expected tosee some signs of its effect on the owner, but he met with surprise andlooked it. Buck Peters almost made an ally when he turned, afterMurray's last word. "Murray, that's good work. Prepare for _hard_work. Send Ned here right away," he said, quietly, no trace of emotionin his voice.
Murray went out, thinking hard. When a man could take such a blow asthat one had been taken, then he was clean grit all through. To smileas Buck had done--"By G--d, he 's a man!" swore the puncher. "I can't_help_ liking him; wish I did n't have to help throw him. And I wish hedid n't trust me like he does--ah, h--l!" he growled, savagely. "He 'sa range thief, after all!"
When Monroe entered the ranch house he found his employer looking out ofthe window in the direction of the Hog Back, but he turned at Ned'sentry. "Got work ahead, Ned. Murray found some Cyclone cows dead andwobbly on th' Hog Back. Bad case of itch. He killed th' wobblers butsays th' tracks show that about a dozen was in th' herd. That meanseight of 'em are on our range among the cattle. Tell th' boys we startth' round-up at daylight. If we can, we 'll make this do for the springround-up, too; if not, then th' calves 'll have to wait till we can gofor 'em. Th' north range won't have no itch cows on it yet, so take th'south first. As fast as we can cut out th' cattle that are free fromit, we 'll throw 'em over on th' north range. Begin in th' Hog Backcountry an' clean up. Drive everything out of it."
"It's d--d funny Cyclone cows swum th' Jack," commented Monroe, a blacklook on his face. "By G--d, let _me_ ketch anybody at that game!"
"That's th' whole thing, Ned," and Buck smiled: "To ketch 'em. I know aman who 'd clean up th' mystery if he was here, an' was told he did n'thave nothin' else to do." He smiled again quietly and turned to hissupper. "But he ain't here, so what's th' use."
"Mebby I--" suggested Ned, nervously.
"No, yo 're goin' to help me most by curing th' evil on th' table; nevermind th' dealer, nor th' game. We 've got as many cards as we 're goin'to get--use 'em, Ned. Help me lick th' itch first--th' hows an' whyscan wait."
"Yo 're right, Peters; an' we _will_ lick it! But it makes me fightin'mad, a thing like this. I 'll get everything all ready to-night an' th'round-up starts with th' comin' of th' sun to-morrow. Good-night."
Buck ate slowly, his thoughts far more occupied with the problem thanwith the food. This was the firing of the first cannon in the fightMonroe had predicted. Who was responsible? His suspicions, guided byMonroe's warning, were directed towards Schatz
, but in his presentabsence of knowledge they could advance no farther than suspicions.Dave's half-closed eyes sneered at him as he recalled the ambiguousthreat made that first night in the Sweet-Echo: still remained suspiciononly. McReady, of the Cyclone, might have designs for the Double Y, buthe doubted it. They had yet free grass a-plenty, though the time wasnot far distant when the private ownership of the Double Y would be aninvaluable asset. Still, it might be any other cowman in that part ofthe country--or none of them. Well, he had met problems as great as thisone on the Texan range--but he had fought them with an outfit loyal tothe last man, every unit of it willing and eager to face all kinds ofodds for him. He now recalled those men to his mind's eye, and he neverloved them more than he did now, when he realized how really preciousunswerving loyalty is. Hopalong, Red, Johnny and the others of the oldBar-20 outfit, made an honor roll that held his thoughts even to thetemporary exclusion of the bitterness of his present situation. If onlyhe had that outfit with him now! Even his neighbors and acquaintanceson that southern range were to be trusted and depended upon more thanhis present outfit. His vision, knocking patiently at first upon thedoor of his abstraction, at this point kicked its way in and demandedattention. Buck became aware that for some time he had been staringunseeingly at a folded paper, tucked partly under his bunk blanket.With a smothered oath he sprang from his seat, strode to the bunk andsnatched up the paper. The warning it contained was better founded thanthe first. It read:
"Buck Peters: Itch on the YY. Crossed the Jack at the Rocking Horse. AFriend."
"If you told me who sent it across, you 'd be more of a friend,"muttered Buck--in which he was less wise than Tex, who did not see thesense in having the servant removed while the master remained.
Hoofbeats rolled up in the darkness and stopped at the door of the houseand a moment later Whitby entered the room, his pink, English complexionaglow with the exercise and wind-beating of his ride.
Buck was glad to see him; he needed a little of the other's cheerfuloptimism and after a few minutes of random conversation, Buck told himof the latest developments. Whitby's surprise was genuine, and thepracticability of his nature asserted itself. This was ground uponwhich he was thoroughly at home.
"I say, Buck, we can show these swine a thing or two they don't know,"he began. "They don't know it in the States, I 'll lay, nor north ofthe line either, for that matter. My Governor is a cattle man, youmight say; on the other side of the pond, of course. And I 've knockedabout farm land a good bit, you know. Now a chap in the same county hada lot of sheep with this what-d'you-call it--scab, they said. He used apreparation of arsenic but a lot of the beggars died, poisoned, youknow. He had tried a number of other things and he got jolly well tiredof the game; so he wrote to a cousin, chemist or something, and told himabout it; and this chap sent him a recipe, after a bit, that killed offthe parasites like winking, without injuring a single sheep."
"That ain't goin' to help us none, Whit. You ain't got th' receipt an'you don't know how to make th' stuff."
"Ah! But I do though. I gave him a hand with the silly beggars andbally good fun it was, too. We passed them through a long trough andducked their heads under as fast as they came along. But it was work,no end, mixing the solution. There was nothing funny about that part ofit."
"See here, Whit, are you really in earnest? Do you think you can makethe stuff and show us how to use it?"
"Absolutely certain, dear boy. Cattle are n't sheep, but I 'll be boundit 'll do the trick."
"How fast can you run 'em though?"
Whitby reflected. "We could do a thousand a day, perhaps more. Itdepends on how many you do at once, you know." And Whitby went into adetailed description to which Buck gave close attention. At the end heshook his head. "Reckon we 'll have to stick to th' old way," headjudged, regretfully. "There ain't that quantity of lime and sulphurin all Montana."
"Ah, yes; your point is good," drawled Whitby, smiling. "But yourpartner lives in Chicago where there is any quantity of it. If we wiredhim to-morrow to get the stuff and ship it at once he would do it, don'tyou know."
"Take it too long to get here," replied Buck, gloomily.
"Don't you think the railroad will see that such an importantconsignment gets off and comes through quickly, especially if theconsignor is willing to pay the damage? I 'll bet you a good cigar itwill be here within a week after we wire. Let _me_ send the wire and I'll bet you a box. I 'm bally good at wires. I used to get money outof the Governor by wire when I could get it no other way."
"Let her go," said Buck. "If it's all you say we 'll show them coyoteswe know a few tricks ourselves."
"Yes, I fancy we shall," replied Whitby. "But isn't this a rummy game?They act like savages, you know. It is all very refreshing to a satedmind--and their justice is so deuced direct, right or wrong. FancyBlackstone in the discard, as you Americans say, and a Colt's revolversovereign lord of the realm!"
"King Colt is all right, Whitby, when you _know_ who to loose him at,"declared Buck, turning toward the door to the kitchen. "Jake! Jake!"he called.
The sharp, incisive tones told their story and brought buoyancy to thecook, for he was on his feet, across the kitchen, and into thedining-room in apparently one movement, which astounded the soul of thatculinary devotee when leisure gave time for reflection.
"Why, Jake, I believe yo 're gettin' to be almost a human, livin'creature," remarked Buck. "I never saw you move so fast before. Itain't pay day now, you know."
"Shore I know, but next _week is_," grinned Jake, not quite catching themeaning.
"Oh, I 'm glad you do," sighed Buck with relief. "Now as long as youain't sufferin' no hallucernations, suppose you tell Ned to come inhere. You need n't tell _him_--he knows it ain't, too."
"Knows what ain't?" demanded Jake, his fingers slowly ploughing throughhis mass of hair. "If I need n't tell him, what do you want me to tellhim for?"
"Be calm, Jake, be calm," replied Buck, raising a warning finger."There are _two_ tells in this; one you must, th' other you need n't."
"Ah, go to h--l an' tell him yourself," retorted Jake, backing toward ahandy chair so as not to be without a weapon.
"You tell Ned I want to see him--I 'll explain th' second tell later.Now--_Will_ y'u tell?"
Jake backed into the kitchen, slammed shut the door behind him, and lostno time in getting to the bunkhouse.
"Hey, Ned," he blurted out, "th' boss says to tell you he wants to seeyou. Th' second tell can wait till later. William Tell?"
"What t'ell!" snorted Bow-Wow, arising.
"You another?" demanded the cook; then he fled, Ned following moreleisurely.
Bow-Wow looked at Murray inquiringly: "What did he mean by WilliamTell?"
Murray put down his mended riding gear. "Why, don't you know?"
"Shore; what is it?" sarcastically responded Bow-Wow. "If I knew, doyou think I 'd tell?"
"Well I know, all right. It's what he was brought up on, Bow-Wow."
"Huh! Did you know him when he was a kid?"
"Shore! He used to live in th' next street in th' same town, or was itin some other town?" he mused, thoughtfully. "H--l, that don't make nodifference, 'cause he lived in th' next street. See?"
"No; I don't; not a d--d bit!"
"Bow-Wow, if I was as thick as you get sometimes, I 'd drink lots ofwater an' thin down a bit. This is th' story of William Tell, an' I 'lltell it to you if you won't tell: When he was a kid he had a awfulyearnin' for apples, like you has for cheap whiskey, Bow-Wow. Nothin'else suited him an' th' bigger he got th' more apples he had to eat.All th' farmers was a-layin' for him with guns, so what did li'l Williedo? Why, he shot 'em down with a bow an' arrer. An' that's why he canthrow a stone so straight to-day. _Now_ do you see?"
Bow-Wow threw a shoe after Murray's departing figure and suggested aplace to go to. Then he scowled and muttered: "If I was shore of what Isuspects I 'd give you a sample of _my_ shootin', _six_ samples so
you'd appreciate the real thing." He grinned at the memory of Jake'smessage.
"You 'll say somethin' with sense in it some day if you gropes longenough, Jake. Yo 're gettin' warmer all th' time."
When Monroe reached the ranch house Buck met him with some sharp orders:"Send Bow-Wow to Twin River and Wayback first thing to-morrow. Tell himto leave word we want two dozen more punchers for our round-up--fiftydollars a month an' a full month's work guaranteed. Jake 's goin' todig some big holes in th' ground in th' next few days--he ain't fit fornothin' else, not even cookin'."
A crash in the kitchen interrupted him. "Jake!" he called. There was ascramble and the cook appeared, much excited. "What's th' fuss about?"
"Fell off my chair," replied Jake. "An' it hurts, too."
"Yo 're gettin' too soft, Jake. A little exercise 'll toughen you so achair would n't dare to tackle you. I 'm goin' to let you dig some holesfirst thing to-morrow."
Jake had visions of extensive excavations, dug by him, into whichthousands of dead cows were being piled for burial. "Would n't it bebetter to burn 'em, or push 'em into th' river an' shoot 'em there?"
"I never saw holes you could handle that way, Jake," gravely repliedBuck.
"Why, no," supplemented the foreman. "Most holes would ruther be slitup th' middle an' salted. That's th' way we allus used to get rid of'em."
"I don't mean holes--I mean _cows_!" explained Jake.
"Oh, then it 's all right," responded Buck. "I ain't goin' to ask _you_to dig no cows, Jake. But yo 're goin' to dig some nice ditchesto-morrow; long, deep ones, an' good an' wide."
"I ain't never dug a ditch in my life," hastily objected Jake.
"Why, did n't you tell me how you dug that railroad cut down there inIowa, an' got a hundred dollars extra 'cause you saved th' company somuch money?" inquired Buck.
"Oh, but that was a steam shovel!"
"All right; you 'll steam afore yo 're at it very long."
Jake backed out again, slipped out of his kitchen, and stood reflectiveunder the stars. He would quit and flee to Twin River if it was n'tsuch a long walk. "D--n it!" he growled, and forthwith threw two stonesinto the darkness by way of getting rid of some of his anger.
"Sa-a-y!" floated a voice out of the night. "You jerk any more rocks in_this_ direction an' I 'll beat you up so you 'll wipe your feet onyoreself, thinkin' yo 're a doormat! What 'n h--l you mean, anyhow?"
"Mebby they 's _apples_!" jeered Bow-Wow from the bunk-house. "Hello,William Tell!"
The cook softly closed the door and propped a chair against it. "Geewhiskers! I ain't goin' to stay _here_ much longer! _Every_body 'sgettin' crazy!"
"'If a body meets a body, comin' through th' rye,'" quavered a voicefrom the corral and a voice in the darkness profaned the song: "Evermeet yoreself goin' t'other way, after surroundin' th' rye?"
"Never had that pleasure after you 'd been at th' booze."
Chesty Sutton entered the bunk-house and stared at Bow-Wow. "What'seatin' you?" he demanded, curiously.
"I dunno; I 've been itchin' ever since Murray told us. Wonder if I 'vegot it?"
Chesty considered: "Well, now I remember that chickens, cats, and dogsdon't get cattle itch. You ain't got it, Bow-Wow. It 's yoreimagination that's got it. But if you 're bound to scratch, do itsomewhere else--you make me nervous, keepin' on one spot so long. Waittill I asks th' boys about it."
"Stop!" snapped Bow-Wow, his hand on a bottle of harness oil: "You nevermind about askin' anybody! I 'll take yore word for it--remember, I 'llbust yore gizzard if you gets that pack o' coyotes barkin' at my heels!"
"Holy Smoke! We 'll have our hands full a while," growled Chesty,dropping onto a box. "Let any o' this crowd ketch anybody throwin'mangy cows over on us! An' right after it comes th' Springcombin'--this is shore a weary world."
"Jake 's got to dig some ditches," remarked the foreman, entering thehouse, and immediately the misery of future hours was forgotten in themerriment and satisfaction found in this news. Jake would have a lot ofadvisers.
In the ranch house Whitby was laughing gently and finally he voiced awish: "I say, Peters, what a wealth of character there is out here. Iwish Johnnie Beauchamp were here--what a rattling good play he couldmake. You know, Johnnie's last play was almost a success--and I 'm verymuch interested in him. I backed him to the tune of two thousandpounds."
Invited to spend the night in the ranch house, Whitby accepted withalacrity. In carrying out McAllister's wishes he could not be too nearheadquarters, he concluded; but added to this, he entertained a sincereadmiration for Buck Peters which increased as the days went by.
Some few minutes after the lights were out, Buck was brought back fromthe shadowy realm of sleep by Whitby's voice coming from the other room."I say, Peters, did you keep those calculations?"
"Yes," answered Buck. "Why?"
"There 's the lumber, you know. It might be a good idea to haveMcAllister send it on."
"Shore would. You tell him."
"I will," promised Whitby. A few seconds later he broke out again: "Doyou know, Buck, the railroad companies of America are cheerful beggars.They take your luggage and then play ducks and drakes with it, in a veryidiotic way. Why, mine was lost for two weeks and I was in a very devilof a fix. So it would not be a bad idea, you know, if I tell yourpartner to send a man with the consignment. He can sit on the barrelsand see that they are n't placed on a siding to prove the theory thatloss of movement results in inertia. Am I right?"
Buck laughed from his heart. "If there 's anything you don't think ofmake a note of it an' let me see it," he commended.
"What a rummy remark. I say, how--ha! ha!" and Whitby's bunk creaked tohis mirth. "That's rather a neat one, you know! I did n't know youwere Irish, Peters, blessed if I did! I must tell that to your manFriday--it will keep the bally ass combing his frowsy locks for a week."
Buck had one foot on the Slumberland boundary when he heard the voiceagain, seeming to have travelled a long distance: "And I believe Ishould be rewarded for my brilliancy. I 'll ask your partner to sendsome brandy and a box of _good_ cigars with the rest of it as my fee. I'll have to learn to smoke all over again," he complained drowsily. Araucous snore bounced off the partition and Whitby opened his eyes for amoment: "My word, if Friday could only cook as well as he snores!"
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