Ellis Edward Sylvester
The Great Cattle Trail

CHAPTER XXIV.
A STRANGE DELAY

Meanwhile Avon Burnet and Gleeson continued riding northward at an easy gallop, their eyes and ears on the alert for sounds of their friends or enemies.

“Do you remember this spot?” asked the elder, drawing his mustang down to a walk, after going some distance.

The youth looked keenly round in the gloom, but saw only the level plain, similar to that over which they had ridden since leaving the cabin. A dark object on the ground caused him to force his pony toward it.

“That must be one of our cattle,” he said inquiringly.

“It’s what is left of him; that’s the steer that the Comanche brought down when he took a shot at you.”

“Ah, this is the place where you joined me?”

“Percisely.”

“But where is he– that is, his body?”

“They’ve took it off; you know how hard the Comanches try to carry away their dead and wounded.”

“I saw a proof of that while hunting for Thunderbolt, but I didn’t think they would be able to find this one.”

“They must have heard the shot and his cry, and though we made things hum about them, they took time to look into it and bear the body away.”

“I wonder now whether that could have been Wygwind,” said Avon, referring to the notorious leader of whom we have spoken.

“No,” was the decisive reply of Ballyhoo.

“Why not?”

“He is a powerful brave Injin, but plenty of his warriors can outrun him. This one was too good on his feet to be him.”

The couple gave their horses rein again, and they broke into a gallop which carried them swiftly toward their destination. The glimmer of the camp-fire was discerned when they rode to the top of the next moderate elevation.

“Hark!” exclaimed Ballyhoo, abruptly checking his pony.

His companion did the same, for he had caught the sound, which was that made by many hoofs.

“The confounded beasts are still at it,” added the elder, allowing his steed to resume his walk.

“The boys may be driving them back to camp.”

“No; it doesn’t sound right.”

“Do you imagine the Comanches are taking any hand in this?”

“It doesn’t strike me so, but there’s no saying what those varmints will do; they’re so fond of stealing that they’ll run great risks.”

However, since the couple were able to locate the running animals, they felt it their duty to bear a hand in helping to bring them back to camp. There was danger that if they were not speedily brought under control, the start could not be made on time.

“Come on, Baby,” called Gleeson, wheeling his animal to the right, and sending him off at a dead run.

Thunderbolt knew what was expected of him, and without waiting for orders, stretched away in the same direction, with the old thrill stirring his rider at the prospect of exciting work at hand.

It was not long before they caught sight of the frightened animals, going as if a legion of wolves were at their heels. They were running from camp, and, unless their course could be changed, would be far from it before daylight.

In fact their presence so comparatively near proved that they were either another part of the main herd, or if the ones first stampeded, had broken off again, after being well on their way to their regular pasturing grounds.

“Look out! they may be Comanches!” called Ballyhoo to his youthful companion. “No, they are not either.”

The last remark was caused by the sight of two of their friends riding like mad, shouting and swinging their whips, which they had brought from camp. They were Madstone and Rickety, who were doing all they knew how to check the animals that seemingly would not be checked or turned aside.

It looked as if Ballyhoo and Avon must be trampled to death, for they were directly in front of the rushing herd, but they swung their arms, holding each his rifle aloft, and shouted loud enough to be heard miles distant.

The mustangs were a little nervous, but were used to such experiences, and they did not catch the contagion. They held their ground, though it was manifest they would have preferred to be somewhere else.

Suddenly, when the terrified beasts were almost upon them, they swerved to one side. The change of direction was slight, but it was important as a beginning. The cowboys were quick to take advantage of it, and redoubled their shoutings and gesticulations. The cattle trended further and further from the course they had been following, and ere long were headed toward the camp.

They were now on the run and the four men kept them there, determined that they should not get away again.

Madstone explained that they were the ones that took fright earlier in the evening, and were on a dead run, when Ballyhoo shot down the Comanche that was pursuing Avon Burnet. The cattle had drifted a considerable way, but they were soon brought under control and headed in the right direction.

All was going well, when off they went again at a more frantic rate than before. The cowboys were at loss to understand what caused the new outbreak, when, to their amazement, three Comanches appeared in their front.

The dusky scamps did their best to run them off, but it was evident they were afraid of the Texans, who made a dash for them, whereupon they disappeared.

But they had turned the cattle in a new direction, and the Texans had all their work to do over again. There was little prospect of success, until Ballyhoo and Avon added their efforts, when matters assumed a better shape.

But the trouble was by no means over. If these animals should plunge into the main herd at the rate they were now going, they were sure to spread the panic, with the probability that the whole two thousand would soon be on the run, and the difficulty of the ranchmen intensified ten-fold.

Accordingly, as the ground was approached, the four horsemen resorted to the well-known practice of what may be called rounding-up. They galloped back and forth, on the outer edge of the herd, and here and there, circumnavigating them continually and as fast as the fleetness of their mustangs would permit.

By this means they finally succeeded in turning the heads of the cattle toward each other, and they were crowded into a compact mass, whose members were obliged to stand still, since they were huddled in one heap, with the yelling cowboys careering back and forth, around the circumference.

This was not accomplished a moment too soon, for they were close upon the main herd, which showed a restlessness that might have broken forth into another stampede, but for the skill of the other cowboys who had them in charge.

When the reunion of the Texans took place near the camp-fire, and there was a general talk over the incidents of the evening, the arrangements were made for the night. All had been so actively engaged that rest would have been acceptable, but there was not one who would have murmured, had he been ordered to take his position and hold it for hours.

Indeed Avon Burnet volunteered to do his part in looking after the cattle that it was necessary to keep under watch through the darkness.

“No,” replied Ballyhoo, “I’ve fixed it. You and me will take a hand to-morrow night, when we’re likely to find it a blamed sight more unpleasant than now.”

“And why so?”

“That storm that we’ve been talking about is holding off, as though it finds it hard to make up its mind to come, but it will be here within twenty hours or less.”

“I am glad of it,” remarked the youth, thinking of his friends in the distant cabin, which had escaped burning by such a narrow chance.

It was now past midnight, and those who were to be off duty did not squander the precious hours; but, crawling into the covered wagon, bundled themselves up and slept the sleep which waits on rugged health.

At the earliest streakings of light the camp was astir. The man who served the party as cook had no light task on his hands. He generally carried a lot of wood in the wagon with him, for the reason that it was not always easy to obtain, and, by doing this, he was sure of always having enough dry fuel to burn readily when wanted.

Those Texans were satisfied at times to go without anything at all in the way of food, or to snatch a bite by checking their mustangs long enough to allow them to receive it, when they were off again; but whenever the opportunity for a “square meal” presented itself, they proved themselves full hands.

Gleeson, who acted as master during the absence of Captain Shirril, mounted his horse and rode out to inspect the herd. He was relieved to find them all in place. Most of them were lying down, drowsily chewing their cuds, but a few had risen and were cropping the grass, which grew quite abundantly in the neighborhood.

While employed in this duty, Ballyhoo cast frequent looks in the direction of Captain Shirril’s home. He expected to see their leader before it was light, but the sun was already showing in the horizon and he was not in sight.

The Texan galloped to the top of the adjoining elevation, from which he could see the low flat building in the distance. Shading his eyes with his hand, he peered long and earnestly, but without catching sight of a horseman galloping toward him.

“It’s very odd,” thought Gleeson, “that he doesn’t show up; something must have taken place. I wonder if those varmints have come back after Baby and I left last night.”

It seemed impossible that anything like this should have occurred, but it was beyond his power to explain the non-appearance of the “boss” on any other theory. He was prompt and energetic, and was more likely to be ahead than behind the time he set for his own appearance at a particular place.

Without giving expression to his fears, he joined the group at the wagon and partook of his breakfast, washing down his food with a cup of delicious steaming coffee. He avoided Avon for a time, because he plainly saw the young man was disturbed; but, when the meal was finished, the remarks became general over the absence of Captain Shirril.

“I’ve just come from the top of the swell,” said Madstone, who had been there since Ballyhoo, “and can’t see anything of him. I ’spose he has overslept himself, because of the flurry last night.”

“I wish I could believe it is nothing worse,” said Avon, walking thoughtfully out to where his mustang stood saddled and bridled.

“Why, what else could it be, Baby?” asked Ballyhoo, repressing his own uneasiness.

“That’s just what I want to find out; I tell you, I don’t think we ought to stay here, when it’s pretty sure something is wrong at the house; if the Comanches are going to keep this up, it will never do to leave the women alone; I shall have to go back and stay with them.”

“I can’t believe it’s that, but we shall soon know.”

He sprang into the saddle, and the two rode to the elevation which has already been referred to several times.

“I will wait here,” said the elder, checking his animals, “while you ride on to the cabin.”

Avon looked inquiringly at him.

“Don’t you think it best you should go with me?”

“No; I will keep you under my eye all the way; if you see anything out of gear, you need only to signal, and I will fetch two or three of the boys with me.”

It struck the youth as strange that Ballyhoo should stop after starting for the dwelling. The young man had made up his mind there was something wrong there, and it seemed to him like a waste of time for his friend to hold back.

However, he said nothing further in the way of protest, but, speaking briskly to Thunderbolt, sent him off at headlong speed toward the cabin.

“I am afraid this knocks all my plans to smithereens,” he said to himself; “for if there is the least danger of the Comanches putting in their appearance again, it would never do for me to leave home. It is bad enough for uncle to go, but there is no help in his case, while there is in mine.”

As he drew near the dwelling his feelings intensified, and all other thoughts went from him.

“I don’t see a sign of a living person,” he added, slowing the gait of his steed; “suppose the Comanches made a descent upon them in the night and managed to secure entrance–well, by gracious!”

CHAPTER XXV.
HEADING NORTHWARD

Avon Burnet’s misgiving increased as he drew near the cabin of his uncle, for the unwonted stillness was impressive to the last degree. The only sign of life which caught his eye was the horse cropping the grass near the mesquite bush.

It seemed dangerous to do as he did, but in his anxiety he sprang to the ground and walked hastily to the front of the dwelling. Observing the latch-string out, he gave it a sharp twitch and the door swung open.

Dinah confronted him with a look of surprise, and just beyond her, he saw his aunt preparing the morning meal.

“Why, Avon, you are frightened,” said she with a smile.

“So I am; where’s uncle?”

“He will be down in a minute; when I awoke, I saw he was asleep, and I concluded not to awake him. You know he had a hard time yesterday and last night, and I took the responsibility of not calling him. The poor man needs rest and it won’t hurt you folks to wait a while.”

The youth dropped into a chair and laughed.

“Well, now, that beats everything! We were worried half to death, and feared something dreadful had happened.”

“Nothing of the kind; we haven’t been disturbed since you and Gleeson went away. If we had, the captain would have been awake.”

The gentleman referred to was heard moving about overhead, and a few minutes later put in an appearance. He scolded his wife in a good-natured way for her well-meant kindness, and adding that no harm had been done, sat down to his morning meal.

The preliminaries were quickly finished, the good-by said, and leaping into his saddle, the captain joined his nephew in a smart gallop northward to camp, where they joined their anxious friends.

And so what promised to furnish a stirring sensation proved nothing at all. It was rare that the Texan allowed his weariness to get the better of him, but it had done so in this case, and none laughed more heartily over it than he.

A brief investigation showed everything to be in readiness, and the sun was not far above the horizon when the start on the long journey northward was made.

The cattle seemed to have recovered from the restlessness of the night before, and were as tractable as could be desired. They moved forward at a moderate pace, having browsed so fully on the succulent grass that it was easy to keep them going, until nearly the middle of the day. At this time a halt was made for an hour, during which the cattle spread out on the sides of the well-marked trail, and ate as though they had not partaken of food for days.

Shortly after resuming the journey a small stream was reached, which was easily forded, there being no portion where it was necessary for the beasts to swim. All drank heartily, and, upon climbing the sloping bank on the other side, another herd was observed several miles to the east.

“They haven’t got as many as we,” remarked the captain to Gleeson, who was riding by his side; “and I hope we shall keep far enough apart to prevent our cattle mixing.”

“He’s off the trail,” replied Ballyhoo, “but will come into it before long.”

“If we keep moving briskly, he must strike it behind us.”

It soon became evident that the other cattlemen were trying to force their herd to a point on the trail ahead of the larger drove, which was strung along for many yards. Since they were about equally far north, the struggle was an interesting one for some time; but the action of the smaller collection of cattle showed they were not as manageable as the larger one, and, before the close of day, they gave over the struggle and dropped back so far that, when they struck the trail, they were fully a mile to the rear.

The promised storm still hung off, though the sky was cold and lowering, and toward night a misty rain began falling. It did not become severe at any time, but it added to the dismal gloom. The wind blew in gusts, much the same as on the previous evening, and the temperature fell until, had the cowmen been less accustomed to exposure, they would have suffered more than their animals.

Our friends did not forget to keep a lookout for the Comanches, who were likely to show themselves, whenever a chance presented itself for a raid upon the herd.

If they had been too roughly handled to venture upon anything of the kind, there were plenty of others to take their places, if only the temptation was strong enough.

The misty rain shortened the view in every direction, but the horsemen who dashed hither and thither, when the cattle showed a disposition to stray off, reported no signs of their old enemies, who, however, might be keeping out of sight until darkness should settle over the earth.

Prudence required that the cattle should be treated considerately, especially at the beginning of the long journey, for it was to the interests of the owners that they should arrive at their destination in good condition. Like men in training for a pedestrian contest, particular care was needed at the start to prevent a general breakdown. After a few days the beasts, if well used, would be able to stand much more.

It, therefore, lacked considerable of night when the final halt was made, and the cattle were allowed to crop the grass until they became sated and chose to lie down.

The men in charge of the other herd were equally thoughtful, for they came to a pause about the same time, with nearly a mile separating the camps. It was hardly dark, indeed, when a horseman was seen approaching from the southward, on an easy gallop, and there was no doubt that he belonged to the other party.

“It’s my old friend Sclevinger,” said Captain Shirril, recognizing the visitor, as he saluted, and, checking his steed beside that of the old Texan, extended his hand, with the heartiest of salutations.

“I suspected it was you,” said the new arrival, whose pleasant countenance was covered by as shaggy a growth as that of the captain, “and I concluded I would run over and shake hands.”

“That’s right, pard. I’m mighty glad to see you; you must take supper with us.”

“Thank you, I guess I will,” replied Sclevinger, dismounting and accepting the invitation as readily as it was given; “I tried to run in my herd ahead of you this afternoon,” he added, with a twinkle of his fine eyes, “but I couldn’t quite make it.”

“We saw what you were up to, and we had to bestir ourselves to head you off. How many have you, colonel?”

“Only about twelve hundred–that is, I had twelve hundred, when I started from the ranch two days ago, but we lost nearly a hundred yesterday.”

“How was that?” asked the captain, as they reached the provision wagon, and paused while the cook made their meal ready.

“A confounded lot of Comanches cut out some of our cattle, and, despite all we could do, got off with them.”

“They have been hanging round us, but didn’t do anything. Seems to me, colonel, you shouldn’t have allowed that.”

“That’s what makes me so mad,” was the bluff response of the guest. “It was just after crossing the creek to the southwest, which doesn’t lie in your way. A lot of the beasts took fright at something, and away they went on a bee line for Arizona. I thought a couple of the boys would be able to bring them back, and I sent them off, while the other four looked after the main herd. Thank you,” said the colonel, as he took the hot coffee from the hand of his host.

“Well, I judge from what you said, they didn’t bring back the hoofs,” observed the captain, interested in the narrative of his friend.

“No, by George, it was worse than that. Three or four hours after the stampede, one of the men came in sight, riding like mad. There were no cattle with him, and he was alone. I saw that one of his hands was bleeding badly, and he had a woful story to tell. He said he and the other fellow were working like the mischief to turn the animals back, and had almost succeeded, when the first they knew a dozen whooping Comanches were right upon them.

“It was bang, bang, shoot, cut, yell, and whoop her up again, with no thought of doing anything but save themselves. The other chap fought like a Trojan, but his horse was killed and he went down with half the fiends on him, fighting as long as the breath remained in his body.

“The one who came back with the news was pretty badly cut up and had the closest kind of a call, but his horse was better than any of the others and he managed to escape.”

“Of course it was idle to think of getting your cattle after that,” remarked the captain.

“I was so infuriated that I gathered the rest of the men, intending to take the trail, but by the time I was ready, I became cooler, and saw it would never do. Haven’t you been troubled with the redskins?”

“Not in the manner that you have, but they stirred things up for us last night.”

Thereupon, Captain Shirril gave an account of his own experience in his cabin. His friend listened attentively to his story, for it was interesting. He remarked, at its conclusion, that the Indians had been more troublesome that spring than he had ever known them. Twice, within the preceding month, they attempted to steal a number of his cattle, but failed in each instance, with the loss of several of their warriors.

“And in my opinion we are likely to have more trouble before we get through the Indian country,” added the colonel.

“I think so, too; it will be well for us to get not too far from each other, for we ought to be in shape to give mutual support.”

“Of course; there must be other droves on the march, and we ought to get a twist on them that will make them squeal.”

The supper being finished, the two leading cattlemen sat down under the shelter of the covered wagon and smoked their pipes. They had been old army officers, though Colonel Sclevinger fought on the Union side in the war. The singular feature (and yet it was not so singular either), was that they had come in contact more than once during that period. It fell to the lot of the colonel to take the captain prisoner. He treated the brave Texan with so much consideration that a strong friendship was formed, which remained uninterrupted to the present time.

It was by Captain Shirril’s invitation that Colonel Sclevinger came to Texas on the return of peace. The Northern man felt an interest in the ranch business, but followed the counsel of the Texan, who warned him against going blindly into it. He took pains to give him points, and, when the proper time arrived, helped him to that extent that the gentleman avoided the disastrous blunders committed by those who fancy the ranch business offers a straight avenue to wealth, without any preliminary training in its many difficulties.

Enough has been told to explain the friendship between the two men. The colonel intended to make only a brief call, but he so enjoyed the company of his old friend that he sat a long time in the wagon, smoking and exchanging reminiscences of the war times, which theme must ever be deeply entertaining to those who were actors in that tremendous epoch of our nation’s history.

Finally the visitor bade his friend good-night, and, mounting his horse, galloped off in the night.

Avon Burnet had listened to a part of the conversation, for he was always interested in what this occasional visitor to their cabin had to say, but he could not remain as long as he wished. It was arranged that he should assume his place in helping to watch the herd, Ballyhoo Gleeson being one of those sharing the duty with him.

So it was that the youth rode out in the dismal rainy night to make a “full hand” at the calling of a cattleman.