by Andy Adams
CHAPTER II
THE HOSPITAL ON THE BEAVER
The patient passed a feverish night. Priest remained on watch in thetent, but on several occasions aroused the boys, as recourse to pouringwater was necessary to relieve the pain. The limb had reached a swollencondition by morning, and considerable anxiety was felt over theuncertainty of a physician arriving. If summoned the previous evening,it was possible that one might arrive by noon, otherwise there was nohope before evening or during the night.
"Better post a guide on the trail," suggested Joel. "If a doctor comesfrom the Republican, we can pilot him across the prairie and save anhour's time. There's a dim wagon trail runs from here to the firstdivide, north of the trail crossing on Beaver. Pa used it when he wentto Culbertson to draw his pension. It would save the doctor a six orseven mile drive."
"Now, that suggestion is to the point," cheerfully assented the trailforeman. "The herd will noon on the first divide, and we can post theboys of the cut-off. They'll surely meet the doctor this afternoon orevening. Corral the horses, and I'll shorten up the stirrup straps onForrest's saddle. Who will we send?"
"I'll go," said Dell, jumping at the opportunity. He had admired thehorses and heavy Texas saddles the evening previous, and now that achance presented itself, his eyes danced at the prospect. "Why, I canfollow a dim wagon track," he added. "Joel and I used to go halfway tothe divide, to meet pa when he bought us new boots."
"I'll see who can best be spared," replied Priest. "Your patient seemsto think that no one can pour water like you. Besides, there will beplenty of riding to do, and you'll get your share."
The foreman delayed shortening the stirrup straps until after the horsestood saddled, when he adjusted the lacings as an object lesson to theboys. Both rode the same length of stirrup, mounting the horse to befitted, and when reduced to the proper length, Dell was allowed to ridepast the tent for inspection.
"There's the making of a born cowman," said Forrest, as Dell haltedbefore the open tent. "It's an absolute mistake to think that that boywas ever intended for a farmer. Notice his saddle poise, will you,Paul? Has a pretty foot, too, even if it is slightly sun-burned. We mustget him some boots. With that red hair, he never ought to ride any otherhorse than a black stallion."
When the question arose as to which of the boys was to be sent tointercept the moving herd and await the doctor, Forrest decided thematter. "I'll have to send Joel," said he, "because I simply can't spareDell. The swelling has benumbed this old leg of mine, and we'll have togive it an occasional rubbing to keep the circulation up. There's whereDell has the true touch; actually he reminds me of my mother. She couldtie a rag around a sore toe, in a way that would make a boy forget allhis trouble. Hold Joel a minute."
The sound of a moving horse had caught the ear of the wounded man, andwhen the older boy dismounted at the tent opening, he continued: "Now,Joel, don't let that cow outfit get funny with you. Show them the brandon that horse you're riding, and give them distinctly to understand,even if you are barefooted, that you are one of Don Lovell's men. Ofcourse you don't know him, but with that old man, it's love me, love mydog. Get your dinner with the outfit, and watch for a dust cloud in thesouth. There's liable to be another herd along any day, and we'll needa cow."
Forrest was nearly forty, while Priest was fully fifty years of age;neither had ever had children of his own, and their hearts went out inmanly fullness to these waifs of the plain. On the other hand, a day hadbrought forth promise and fulfillment, from strangers, to the boys,until the latter's confidence knew no bounds. At random, the menvirtually spoke of the cattle on a thousand hills, until the boys fullybelieved that by merely waving a wand, the bells would tinkle and a cowwalk forth. Where two horses were promised, four had appeared. Wheretheir little store of provision was as good as exhausted, it had beenmultiplied many fold. Where their living quarters were threatened withintrusion, a tent, with fly, was added; all of which, as if by magic,had risen out of a dip in the plain.
There was no danger, at the hands of the trail men, of any discourtesyto Joel, but to relieve any timidity, the foreman saddled his horse andaccompanied the boy a mile or more, fully reviewing the details of hiserrand. Left behind, and while rubbing the wounded limb, Dell regaledhis patient with a scrap of family history. "Pa never let us boys gonear the trail," said he. "It seemed like he was afraid of you Texasmen; afraid your cattle would trample down our fields and drink up allour water. The herds were so big."
"Suppose the cattle would drink the water," replied Forrest, "the ownerwould pay for it, which would be better than letting it go to waste. Oneday's hot winds would absorb more water than the biggest herd of cattlecould drink. This ain't no farming country."
"That's so," admitted Dell; "we only had one mess of peas this season,and our potatoes aren't bigger than marbles. Now, let me rub your knee,there where the bullet skipped, between the bandages."
The rubbing over, Forrest pressed home the idea of abandoning farmingfor cattle ranching. "What your father ought to have done," said he,"was to have made friends with the Texas drovers; given them the water,with or without price, and bought any cripples or sore-footed cattle.Nearly every herd abandons more or less cattle on these long drives, andhe could have bought them for a song and sung it himself. The buffalograss on the divides and among these sand hills is the finest wintergrazing in the country. This water that you are wasting would haveyearly earned you one hundred head of cripples. A month's rest on thiscreek and they would kick up their heels and play like calves. Afterone winter on this range, they would get as fat as plover. Your fathermissed his chance by not making friends with the Texas trail men."
"Do you think so?" earnestly said Dell.
"I know it," emphatically asserted the wounded man. "Hereafter, you andJoel want to be friendly with these drovers and their men. Cast yourbread upon the waters."
"Mother used to read that to us," frankly admitted Dell. There was amarked silence, only broken by a clatter of hoofs, and the trail bosscantered up to the tent.
"That wagon track," said he, dismounting, "is little more than a dimtrail. Sorry I didn't think about it sooner, but we ought to have builta smudge fire where this road intersects the cattle trail. In case thedoctor doesn't reach there by noon, I sent orders to fly a flag at thejunction, and Joel to return home. But if the doctor doesn't reach thereuntil after darkness, he'll never see the flag, and couldn't follow thetrail if he did. We'll have to send Joel back."
"It's my turn," said Dell. "I know how to build a smudge fire; build itin a circle, out of cattle chips, in the middle of the road."
"You're a willing boy," said Priest, handing the bridle reins to Dell,"but we'll wait until Joel returns. You may water my horse and turn himin the corral."
The day wore on, and near the middle of the afternoon Joel came ridingin. He had waited fully an hour after the departure of the herd, a flaghad been left unfurled at the junction, and all other instructionsdelivered. Both Forrest and Priest knew the distance to the ford on theRepublican, and could figure to an hour, by different saddle gaits, thenecessary time to cover the distance, even to Culbertson. Still therewas a measure of uncertainty: the messenger might have lost his way;there might not have been any physician within call; accidents mighthave happened to horse or rider,--and one hour wore away, followedby another.
Against his will, Dell was held under restraint until six o'clock. "It'smy intention to follow him within an hour," said the foreman, as the boyrounded a bluff and disappeared. "He can build the fire as well as anyone, and we'll return before midnight. That'll give the doctor the lastminute and the benefit of every doubt."
The foreman's mount stood saddled, and twilight had settled over thevalley, when the occupants of the tent were startled by the neigh of ahorse. "That's Rowdy," said Forrest; "he always nickers when he sights awagon or camp. Dell's come."
Joel sprang to the open front. "It's Dell, and there's a buckboardfollowing," he whispered. A moment later the vehicle rattled
up, led bythe irrepressible Dell, as if in charge of a battery of artillery. "Thisis the place, Doctor," said he, as if dismissing a troop fromcavalry drill.
The physician proved to be a typical frontier doctor. He had leftCulbertson that morning, was delayed in securing a relay team at theford on the Republican, and still had traveled ninety miles sincesunrise. "If it wasn't for six-shooters in this country," said he, as heentered the tent, "we doctors would have little to do. Your men with theherd told me how the accident happened." Then to Forrest, "Son, thinkit'll ever happen again?"
"Yes, unless you can cure a fool from lending his pistol," repliedForrest.
"Certainly. I've noticed that similarity in all gunshot wounds: theyusually offer good excuses. It's healing in its nature," commented thedoctor, as he began removing the bandages. As the examination proceeded,there was a running comment maintained, bordering on the humorous.
"If there's no extra charge," said Forrest, "I wish you would allow theboys to see the wounds. You might also deliver a short lecture on thedanger of carrying the hammer of a pistol on a loaded cartridge. Theboys are young and may take the lesson seriously, but you're wastinggood breath on me. Call the boys--I'm an old dog."
"Gunshot wounds are the only crop in this country," continued thedoctor, ignoring the request, "not affected by the drouth. There's anoccasional outbreak of Texas fever among cattle, but that's not in mydepartment. Well, that bullet surely was hungry for muscle, butfortunately it had a distaste for bone. This is just a simple case oftreatment and avoiding complications. Six weeks to two months and youcan buckle on your six-shooter again. Hereafter, better wear it on theother side, and if another accident occurs, it'll give you a hitch ineach leg and level you up."
"But there may be no fool loafing around to borrow it," protestedForrest.
"Never fear, son; the fool's eternal," replied the doctor, with a quietwink at the others.
The presence and unconcern of the old physician dispelled alluneasiness, and the night passed without anxiety, save between the boys.Forrest's lecture to Dell during the day, of the importance of makingfriends with the drovers, the value of the water, the purchase ofdisabled cattle, was all carefully reviewed after the boys were snuglyin bed. "Were you afraid of the men with the herd to-day?--afraid of thecowboys?" inquired Dell, when the former subject was exhausted.
"Why, no," replied Joel rather scornfully, from the security of hisbunk; "who would be afraid? They are just like any other folks."
Dell was skeptical. "Not like the pictures of cowboys?--not shooting andgalloping their horses?"
"Why, you silly boy," said Joel, with contempt; "there wasn't a shotfired, their horses were never out of a walk, never wet a hair, and theychanged to fresh ones at noon. The only difference I could see, theywore their hats at dinner. And they were surely cowboys, because theyhad over three thousand big beeves, and had come all the wayfrom Texas."
"I wish I could have gone," was Dell's only comment.
"Oh, it was a great sight," continued the privileged one. "The column ofcattle was a mile long, the trail twice as wide as a city street, andthe cattle seemed to walk in loose marching order, of their own accord.Not a man carried a whip; no one even shouted; no one as much as lookedat the cattle; the men rode away off yonder. The herd seemed so easyto handle."
"And how many men did it take?" insisted Dell.
"Only eleven with the herd. And they had such queer names for theirplaces. Those in the lead were _point_ men, those in the middle were_swing_ men, and the one who brought up the rear was the _drag_ man.Then there was the cook, who drove the wagon, and the wrangler, who tookcare of the horses--over one hundred and forty head. They call the bandof saddle horses the remuda; one of the men told me it was Spanish forrelay--a relay of horses."
"I'm going the next time," said Dell. "Mr. Quince said he would buy us acow from the next herd that passed."
"These were all big beeves to-day, going to some fort on the YellowstoneRiver. And they had such wide, sweeping horns! And the smartest cattle!An hour before noon one of the point men gave a shrill whistle, and thewhole column of beeves turned aside and began feeding. The men called it'throwing the herd off the trail to graze.' It was just like saying_halt_! to soldiers--like we saw at that reunion in Ohio."
"And you weren't afraid?" timidly queried the younger brother.
"No one else was afraid, and why should I be? I was on horseback. Stopasking foolish questions and go to sleep," concluded Joel, with pityingfinality, and turned to the wall.
"But suppose those big Texas beeves had stampeded, then what?" There waschallenge in Dell's voice, but the brother vouchsafed no answer. Aseniority of years had given one a twelve hours' insight over the other,in range cattle, and there was no common ground between sleepybedfellows to justify further converse. "I piloted in the doctor,anyhow," said Dell defensively. No reply rewarded his assertion.
Morning brought little or no change in the condition of the wounds. Thedoctor was anxious to return, but Priest urged otherwise. "Let's call itSunday," said he, "and not work to-day. Besides, if I overtake the herd,I'll have to make a hand. Wait until to-morrow, and we'll bear eachother company. If another herd shows up on the trail to-day, it may havea cow. We must make these boys comfortable."
The doctor consented to stay over, and amused himself by quarreling withhis patient. During the forenoon Priest and Joel rode out to thenearest high ground, from which a grove was seen on the upper Beaver."That's what we call Hackberry Grove," said Joel, "and where we get ourwood. The creek makes a big bend, and all the bottom land has grown upwith timber, some as big as a man's body. It doesn't look very far away,but it takes all day to go and come, hauling wood. There's big springsjust above, and the water never fails. That's what makes the treesso thrifty."
"Too bad your father didn't start a little ranch here," said Priest,surveying the scene. "It's a natural cattle range. There are the sandhills to the south; good winter shelter and a carpet of grass."
"We were too poor," frankly admitted the boy. "Every fall we had to goto the Solomon River to hunt work. With pa's pension, and what we couldearn, we held down the homestead. Last fall we proved up; pa's servicein the army counted on the residence required. It doesn't matter now ifwe do leave it. All Dell and I have to do is to keep the taxes paid."
"You would be doing wrong to leave this range," said the trail boss infatherly tones. "There's a fortune in this grass, if you boys only hadthe cattle to eat it. Try and get a hundred cows on shares, or buyyoung steers on a credit."
"Why, we have no money, and no one would credit boys," ruefully repliedJoel.
"You have something better than either credit or money," frankly repliedthe cowman; "you control this range. Make that the basis of yourbeginning. All these cattle that are coming over the trail are hunting amarket or a new owner. Convince any man that you have the range, and thecattle will be forthcoming to occupy it."
"But we only hold a quarter-section of land," replied the boy in hisbewilderment.
"Good. Take possession of the range, occupy it with cattle, and everyone will respect your prior right," argued the practical man. "Range isbeing rapidly taken up in this western country. Here's your chance.Water and grass, world without end."
Joel was evidently embarrassed. Not that he questioned the older man'sadvice, but the means to the end seemed totally lacking. The grind ofpoverty had been his constant companion, until he scarcely lookedforward to any reprieve, and the castles being built and the domainsurveyed at the present moment were vague and misty. "I don't doubt youradvice," admitted the boy. "A man could do it, you could, but Dell andI had better return to the settlements. Mr. Quince will surely bewell by fall."
"Will you make me a promise?" frankly asked the cowman.
"I will," eagerly replied the boy.
"After I leave to-morrow morning, then, tell Forrest that you arethinking of claiming Beaver Creek as a cattle range. Ask him if he knowsany way to secure a few cows and yearlings wit
h which to stock it. Inthe mean time, think it over yourself. Will you do that?"
"Y-e-s, I--I will," admitted Joel, as if trapped into the promise.
"Of course you will. And ask him as if life and death depended onsecuring the cattle. Forrest has been a trail foreman and knows all thedrovers and their men. He's liable to remain with you until the seasonends. Now, don't fail to ask him."
"Oh, I'll ask him," said Joel more cheerfully. "Did you say that controlof a range was a basis on which to start a ranch, and that it hada value?"
"That's it. Now you're catching the idea. Lay hold and never lose sightof the fact that a range that will graze five to ten thousand cattle,the year round, is as good as money in the bank."
Joel's faculties were grappling with the idea. The two turned theirhorses homeward, casting an occasional glance to the southward, but wereunrewarded by the sight of a dust cloud, the signal of an approachingherd. The trail foreman was satisfied that he had instilled interest andinquiry into the boy's mind, which, if carefully nurtured, might resultin independence. They had ridden several miles, discussing differentmatters, and when within sight of the homestead, Joel reined in hishorse. "Would you mind repeating," said he, "what you said awhile ago,about control of a range by prior rights?"
The trail foreman freely responded to the awakened interest. "On therange," said he, "custom becomes law. No doubt but it dates back to thefirst flocks and herds. Its foundations rest on a sense of equity andjustice which has always existed among pastoral people. In America itdates from the first invasion of the Spanish. Among us Texans, a man'srange is respected equally with his home. By merely laying claim to thegrazing privileges of public domain, and occupying it with flocks orherds, the consent of custom gives a man possession. It is an asset thatis bought and sold, and is only lost when abandoned. In all humanmigrations, this custom has followed flocks and herds. Title to land isthe only condition to which the custom yields."
"And we could claim this valley, by simply occupying it with cattle, andhold possession of its grazing privileges?" repeated the boy.
"By virtue of a custom, older than any law, you surely can. It's primalrange to-day. This is your epoch. The buffalo preceded you, the settler,seeking a home, will follow you. The opportunity is yours. Go inand win."
"But how can we get a start of cattle?" pondered Joel.
"Well, after I leave, you're going to ask Forrest that question. Thatold boy knows all the ins and outs, and he may surprise you. There's anold maxim about where there's a will there's a way. Now if you have thewill, I've a strong suspicion that your Mr. Quince will find the way.Try him, anyhow."
"Oh, I will," assured Joel; "the first thing in the morning."
The leaven of interest had found lodgment. A pleasant evening was spentin the tent. Before excusing the lads for the night, Priest said to thedoctor: "This is a fine cattle range, and I'd like your opinion aboutthese boys starting a little ranch on the Beaver."
"Well," said the old physician, looking from Joel to Dell, "there aretoo many lawyers and doctors already. The farmers raise nothing outhere, and about the only prosperous people I meet are you cowmen. Youride good horses, have means to secure your needs, and your generalhealth is actually discouraging to my profession. Yes, I think I'll haveto approve of the suggestion. A life in the open, an evening by acamp-fire, a saddle for a pillow--well, I wish I had my life to liveover. It wouldn't surprise me to hear of Wells Brothers making a bigsuccess as ranchmen. They have health and youth, and there's nothinglike beginning at the bottom of the ladder. In fact, the proposition hasmy hearty approval. Fight it out, boys; start a ranch."
"Come on, Dell," said Joel, leading the way; "these gentlemen want tomake an early start. You'll have to bring in the horses while I getbreakfast. Come on."
