The Outlet

by Andy Adams

  CHAPTER XI. ALL IN THE DAY'S WORK

  The next morning the herds moved out like brigades of an army ondress-parade. Our front covered some six or seven miles, the Bufordcattle in the lead, while those intended for Indian delivery naturallyfell into position on flank and rear. My beeves had enjoyed a splendidrest during the past week, and now easily took the lead in a steadywalk, every herd avoiding the trail until necessity compelled us toreenter it. The old pathway was dusty and merely pointed the way, anduntil rain fell to settle it, our intention was to give it a wide berth.As the morning wore on and the herds drew farther and farther apart,except for the dim dust-clouds of ten thousand trampling feet on a rawprairie, it would have been difficult for us to establish each other'slocation. Several times during the forenoon, when a swell of the plainafforded us a temporary westward view, we caught glimpses of Forrest'scattle as they snailed forward, fully five miles distant and barelynoticeable under the low sky-line. The Indian herds had given us a goodstart in the morning, and towards evening as the mirages lifted, not adust-signal was in sight, save one far in our lead.

  The month of June, so far, had been exceedingly droughty. The scarcityof water on the plains between Dodge and Ogalalla was the dread of everytrail drover. The grass, on the other hand, had matured from the firstrank growth of early spring into a forage, rich in sustenance, fromwhich our beeves took on flesh and rounded into beauties. Lack of waterbeing the one drawback, long drives, not in miles but hours, became theorder of the day; from four in the morning to eight at night, even atan ox's pace, leaves every landmark of the day far in the rear atnightfall. Thus for the next few days we moved forward, the monotonyof existence broken only by the great variety of mirage, the glare ofheat-waves, and the silent signal in the sky of other voyageurs likeourselves. On reaching Pig Boggy, nothing but pools greeted us, whilethe regular crossing was dry and dusty and paved with cattle bones. Mycuriosity was strong enough to cause me to revisit the old bridge whichI had helped to build two seasons before; though unused, it was stillintact, a credit to the crude engineering of Pete Slaughter. Afterleaving the valley of the Solomon, the next running water was PawneeFork, where we overtook and passed six thousand yearling heifers in twoherds, sold the winter before by John Blocker for delivery inMontana. The Northwest had not yet learned that Texas was the naturalbreeding-ground for cattle, yet under favorable conditions in bothsections, the ranchman of the South could raise one third more calvesfrom an equal number of cows.

  The weather continued hot and sultry. Several times storms hung on ourleft for hours which we hoped would reach us, and at night the lightningflickered in sheets, yet with the exception of cooling the air, availedus nothing. But as we encamped one night on the divide before reachingthe Smoky River, a storm struck us that sent terror to our hearts. Therewere men in my outfit, and others in Lovell's employ, who were from tento twenty years my senior, having spent almost their lifetime in theopen, who had never before witnessed such a night. The atmosphere seemedto be overcharged with electricity, which played its pranks among us,neither man nor beast being exempt. The storm struck the divide abouttwo hours after the cattle had been bedded, and from then until dawnevery man was in the saddle, the herd drifting fully three miles duringthe night. Such keen flashes of lightning accompanied by instant thunderI had never before witnessed, though the rainfall, after the first dash,was light in quantity. Several times the rain ceased entirely, when thephosphorus, like a prairie fire, appeared on every hand. Great sheets ofit flickered about, the cattle and saddle stock were soon covered, whileevery bit of metal on our accoutrements was coated and twinkling withphosphorescent light. My gauntlets were covered, and wherever I touchedmyself, it seemed to smear and spread and refuse to wipe out. Severaltimes we were able to hold up and quiet the cattle, but along theirbacks flickered the ghostly light, while across the herd, which occupiedacres, it reminded one of the burning lake in the regions infernal. Asthe night wore on, several showers fell, accompanied by almost incessantbolts of lightning, but the rainfall only added moisture to the groundand this acted like fuel in reviving the phosphor. Several hours beforedawn, great sheets of the fiery elements chased each other across thenorthern sky, lighting up our surroundings until one could have readordinary print. The cattle stood humped or took an occasional stepforward, the men sat their horses, sullen and morose, forming newresolutions for the future, in which trail work was not included. Butmorning came at last, cool and cloudy, a slight recompense for the heatwhich we had endured since leaving Dodge.

  With the breaking of day, the herd was turned back on its course. For anhour or more the cattle grazed freely, and as the sun broke through theclouds, they dropped down like tired infantry on a march, and we allowedthem an hour's rest. We were still some three or four miles eastwardof the trail, and after breakfasting and changing mounts we roused thecattle and started on an angle for the trail, expecting to intercept itbefore noon. There was some settlement in the Smoky River Valley whichmust be avoided, as in years past serious enmity had been engenderedbetween settlers and drovers in consequence of the ravages of Texasfever among native cattle. I was riding on the left point, and whenwithin a short distance of the trail, one of the boys called myattention to a loose herd of cattle, drifting south and fully two milesto the west of us. It was certainly something unusual, and as every manof us scanned them, a lone horseman was seen to ride across theirfront, and, turning them, continue on for our herd. The situation wasbewildering, as the natural course of every herd was northward, but herewas one apparently abandoned like a water-logged ship at sea.

  The messenger was a picture of despair. He proved to be the owner of theabandoned cattle, and had come to us with an appeal for help. Accordingto his story, he was a Northern cowman and had purchased the cattle afew days before in Dodge. He had bought the outfit complete, with theunderstanding that the through help would continue in his service untilhis range in Wyoming was reached. But it was a Mexican outfit, foremanand all, and during the storm of the night before, one of the men hadbeen killed by lightning. The accident must have occurred near dawn,as the man was not missed until daybreak, and like ours, his cattle haddrifted with the storm. Some time was lost in finding the body, and toadd to the panic that had already stricken the outfit, the shirt of theunfortunate vaquero was burnt from the corpse. The horse had escapedscathless, though his rider met death, while the housings were strippedfrom the saddle so that it fell from the animal. The Mexican foremanand vaqueros had thrown their hands in the air; steeped in superstition,they considered the loss of their comrade a bad omen, and refused to gofarther. The herd was as good as abandoned unless we could lend a hand.

  The appeal was not in vain. Detailing four of my men, and leaving JackSplann as segundo in charge of our cattle, I galloped away with thestranger. As we rode the short distance between the two herds and Imentally reviewed the situation, I could not help but think it wasfortunate for the alien outfit that their employer was a Northern cowmaninstead of a Texan. Had the present owner been of the latter school,there would have been more than one dead Mexican before a valuableherd would have been abandoned over an unavoidable accident. I kept mythoughts to myself, however, for the man had troubles enough, and onreaching his drifting herd, we turned them back on their course. It washigh noon when we reached his wagon and found the Mexican outfit stillkeening over their dead comrade. We pushed the cattle, a mixed herdof about twenty-five hundred, well past the camp, and riding back,dismounted among the howling vaqueros. There was not the semblance ofsanity among them. The foreman, who could speak some little English,at least his employer declared he could, was carrying on like a madman,while a majority of the vaqueros were playing a close second. The deadman had been carried in and was lying under a tarpaulin in the shadeof the wagon. Feeling that my boys would stand behind me, and neveroffering to look at the corpse, I inquired in Spanish of the vaqueroswhich one of the men was their corporal. A heavy-set, bearded man waspointed out, and walking up to him, with one hand I sla
pped him in theface and with the other relieved him of a six-shooter. He staggeredback, turned ashen pale, and before he could recover from the surprise,in his own tongue I berated him as a worthless cur for deserting hisemployer over an accident. Following up the temporary advantage, Iinquired for the cook and horse-wrangler, and intimated clearly thatthere would be other dead Mexicans if the men were not fed and the herdand saddle stock looked after; that they were not worthy of the name ofvaqueros if they were lax in a duty with which they had been intrusted.

  "But Pablo is dead," piped one of the vaqueros in defense.

  "Yes, he is," said G--G Cederdall in Spanish, bristling up to thevaquero who had volunteered the reply; "and we'll bury him and ahalf-dozen more of you if necessary, but the cattle will not beabandoned--not for a single hour. Pablo is dead, but he was no betterthan a hundred other men who have lost their lives on this trail. If youare a lot of locoed sheep-herders instead of vaqueros, why didn't youstay at home with the children instead of starting out to do a man'swork. Desert your employer, will you? Not in a country where there is nochance to pick up other men. Yes, Pablo is dead, and we'll bury him."

  The aliens were disconcerted, and wilted. The owner picked up courageand ordered the cook to prepare dinner. We loaned our horses to thewrangler and another man, the remuda was brought in, and before we satdown to the midday meal, every vaquero had a horse under saddle, whiletwo of them had ridden away to look after the grazing cattle. With orderrestored, we set about systematically to lay away the unfortunate man.A detail of vaqueros under Cederdall prepared a grave on the nearestknoll, and wrapping the corpse in a tarpaulin, we buried him like asailor at sea. Several vaqueros were visibly affected at the graveside,and in order to pacify them, I suggested that we unload the wagon ofsupplies and haul up a load of rock from a near-by outcropping ledge.Pablo had fallen like a good soldier at his post, I urged, and it wasbefitting that his comrades should mark his last resting-place. Toour agreeable surprise the corporal hurrahed his men and the wagon wasunloaded in a jiffy and dispatched after a load of rock. On its return,we spent an hour in decorating the mound, during which time lament wasexpressed for the future of Pablo's soul. Knowing the almost universalfaith of this alien race, as we stood around the finished mound,Cederdall, who was Catholic born, called for contributions to procurethe absolution of the Church. The owner of the cattle was the first torespond, and with the aid of my boys and myself, augmented later by thevaqueros, a purse of over fifty dollars was raised and placed in chargeof the corporal, to be expended in a private mass on their return to SanAntonio. Meanwhile the herd and saddle stock had started, and reloadingthe wagon, we cast a last glance at the little mound which made a newlandmark on the old trail.

  The owner of the cattle was elated over the restoration of order. Mycontempt for him, however, had not decreased; the old maxim of foolsrushing in where angels feared to tread had only been again exemplified.The inferior races may lack in courage and leadership, but never incunning and craftiness. This alien outfit had detected some weaknessin the armor of their new employer, and when the emergency arose, wereready to take advantage of the situation. Yet under an old patron, thesesame men would never dare to mutiny or assert themselves. That therewere possible breakers ahead for this cowman there was no doubt; forevery day that those Mexicans traveled into a strange country,their Aztec blood would yearn for their Southern home. And since theunforeseen could not be guarded against, at the first opportunity Iwarned the stranger that it was altogether too soon to shout. To hisanxious inquiries I replied that his very presence with the herd was amenace to its successful handling by the Mexican outfit. He should throwall responsibility on the foreman, or take charge himself, which wasimpossible now; for an outfit which will sulk and mutiny once will doso again under less provocation. When my curtain lecture was ended,the owner authorized me to call his outfit together and give them suchinstructions as I saw fit.

  We sighted our cattle but once during the afternoon. On locating theherd, two of my boys left us to return, hearing the message that therest of us might not put in an appearance before morning. All duringthe evening, I made it a point to cultivate the acquaintance of severalvaqueros, and learned the names of their master and rancho. Taking mycue from the general information gathered, when we encamped for thenight and all hands, with the exception of those on herd, hadfinished catching horses, I attracted their attention by returning thesix-shooter taken from their corporal at noontime. Commanding attention,in their mother tongue I addressed myself to the Mexican foreman.

  "Felipe Esquibil," said I, looking him boldly in the face, "you wereforeman of this herd from Zavalla County, Texas, to the Arkansaw River,and brought your cattle through without loss or accident.

  "The herd changed owners at Dodge, but with the understanding that youand your vaqueros were to accompany the cattle to this gentleman's ranchin the upper country. An accident happens, and because you are not infull control, you shift the responsibility and play the baby act bywanting to go home. Had the death of one of your men occurred belowthe river, and while the herd was still the property of Don Dionisio ofRancho Los Olmus, you would have lost your own life before abandoningyour cattle. Now, with the consent and approval of the new owner, youare again invested with full charge of this herd until you arrive at thePlatte River. A new outfit will relieve you on reaching Ogalalla, andthen you will be paid your reckoning and all go home. In your immediaterear are five herds belonging to my employer, and I have already sentwarning to them of your attempted desertion. A fortnight or lesswill find you relieved, and the only safety in store for you is to goforward. Now your employer is going to my camp for the night, and maynot see you again before this herd reaches the Platte. Remember, DonFelipe, that the opportunity is yours to regain your prestige asa corporal--and you need it after to-day's actions. What would DonDionisio say if he knew the truth? And do you ever expect to faceyour friends again at Los Olmus? From a trusted corporal back to asheep-shearer would be your reward--and justly."

  Cederdall, Wolf, and myself shook hands with several vaqueros, andmounting our horses we started for my camp, taking the stranger with us.Only once did he offer any protest to going. "Very well, then," repliedG--G, unable to suppress his contempt, "go right back. I'll gamble thatyou sheathe a knife before morning if you do. It strikes me you don'tsabe Mexicans very much."

  Around the camp-fire that night, the day's work was reviewed. My ratherdrastic treatment of the corporal was fully commented upon and approvedby the outfit, yet provoked an inquiry from the irrepressible Parent.Turning to the questioner, Burl Van Vedder said in dove-like tones:"Yes, dear, slapped him just to remind the varmint that his feet wereon the earth, and that pawing the air and keening didn't do any good.Remember, love, there was the living to be fed, the dead to bury,and the work in hand required every man to do his duty. Now was thereanything else you'd like to know?"