Cattle-Ranch to College Part 25

THE GRa.s.s OF UNCLE SAM.

Now, people of the Eastern towns, It's little that you know About the Western prairies: Where the beef you eat does grow; Where the horses they run wild With the mountain-sheep and ram; And the cow-boy sleeps contented On the gra.s.s of Uncle Sam.

We go out onto the round-up To brand the sucking calf.

The stranger gets the bucking horse (You bet then we all laugh).

He flings his arms towards the sky, His legs get in a jam; He turns a flying somersault On the gra.s.s of Uncle Sam.

The angry bull takes after us With blood in both his eyes; We run, but when his back is turned He gets a big surprise.

Our ropes jerk out his legs behind And he goes down _kerslam_!

We drag the fighting out of him On the gra.s.s of Uncle Sam.

The horse-thief comes along at night To steal our ponies true We're always looking out for him, And sometimes get him, too.

We ask him if he's ready And when he says "I am,"

The bottoms of his feet they itch For the gra.s.s of Uncle Sam.

And when the round-up's over To town we go for fun.

The dollars we have h.o.a.rded up Are blown in, every one.

Then broke, we hit the trail for camp But we don't care a ---- Wages are good when the gra.s.s is good, The gra.s.s of Uncle Sam.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Bunch Gra.s.s.]

By the time the singer was half-way through most of the impromptu audience were singing the familiar air too. Their voices were none too sweet or soft, for the icy blasts of winter and the dust-laden breezes of summer did not tend to improve them; but it was with a right good will that they applauded Frank when he finished. The song over, the talk began again, quietly, with long pauses, while this man puffed his pipe or that rolled a cigarette. The light had entirely gone out of the sky now, and only the dim glow of the shack lamp through the open door showed one man to the other.

"Well, kid, think you can tame the buckskin?" drawled Jerry lazily.

"Sure--after a fashion. 'Lite' 'll never be an easy thing; he's got too much life in him, but we have got to know each other pretty well now and we'll get along all right."

"You get that little horse so's you can ride him and you'll have the best pony goin'." Matt spoke with conviction.

The talk grew more and more disjointed, and finally stopped altogether.

Then one by one the men stalked without a word into the cabin, and in a few minutes all hands were drinking in the sleep as only thoroughly tired, healthy men can.

CHAPTER XVII.

A COW-PUNCHER IN EARNEST.

The round-up was now at hand--that great account of "stock taking,"

literally, the closing of the year's books as it were, on the cattle range. At its conclusion the ranchman would know whether the previous winter's storms and cold had allowed him any increase or not. The cattle roam at will over great tracts of country bounded only by watercourses and the wire fences along the railways; the herds of one ranchman mingle with those of another, and only during the round-up are they separated and the calves marked with their respective owners' brands.

The date of the round-up is fixed beforehand and all the details arranged, so that when the day arrives every man is ready to take the field. As several owners have cattle on the range, each sends his quota of cowboys to do the riding, and all work together under a general head or round-up boss.

The Sun River Ranch had perhaps the largest number of cattle out, and its outfit consisted of twenty-five men, with two cook wagons and several other vehicles to carry beds and various necessaries.

The morning of May 25th, the day set for the rendezvous of the round-up, was as near perfect as one could wish. With the first streak of light in the east all hands were routed out, and after a hasty breakfast, everyone at once set about making the last preparations to take the field. Some helped the cooks load up their wagons and pack the utensils; some were busy piling the beds into their places, and the rest were occupied with their own riding outfits or looking after the large saddle band.

It was a gay crowd; you would have thought it was a gang of boys off for a swim instead of a party of men bound on a very serious undertaking, accompanied, as it was sure to be, with a good deal of danger and no end of hard work and privation.

John was in the thick of it, looking after the horses he had helped to break. Of these there were a goodly number, for from six to eight were required for each man. He noted with pride that "Lite's" bruises had entirely healed and that his bones were almost wholly hidden by the firm flesh and muscle he had gained under his new master's watchful care.

The boy was to be one of the gang that represented the Sun River Ranch, and he looked forward to the round-up as an opportunity to show what was in him.

At last the procession was ready to move, and amid a chorus of "so longs" to those left behind, the shouts of men, the whinny of horses, the rattle and bang of wagons and cooking utensils, the snapping of whips, and the beating of hoofs, it started.

Little time was wasted in making the journey to the camping place, for all were anxious to get to work. At this time, men gathered together from widely separated points, acquaintanceship was renewed and gossip exchanged. The following morning found them at the appointed camping ground in convenient proximity to a stream, and at about the centre of the territory which it was proposed to sweep clean of cattle. Already the triangle bar ([Symbol: Triangle over bar]) and the M T outfits had arrived; their cook wagons were unpacked and their fires built. It was not long before the Sun River boys, called the Three X outfit, from their brand (x.x.x), were likewise settled. The settling in order was not a very elaborate proceeding; there were no carpets to be laid--"the gra.s.s of Uncle Sam" served that purpose admirably--the bric-a-brac consisting of saddles, bridles, and some harness, which was slung carelessly on the ground; and the furniture, if the rolled-up blanket beds could be called such (and there was no other), were left in the wagons till wanted.

A hole a foot or so deep and a few feet in diameter was dug in the ground to hold the fire and at the same time prevent it from spreading to the surrounding prairie--a thing to be dreaded. The tail of the cook's wagon was let down, thus forming a sort of table and disclosing a cupboard arrangement. An awning was spread over the whole and it was ready for business.

As soon as these arrangements were completed the men broke up into little groups, renewing old friendships and exchanging the bits of news that one or the other had learned. John hung round the cook's wagon, making friends with that important individual. He was no poor hand with the frying-pan himself, and the appreciation of the cook's efforts soon won over this personage.

"Well, Billy," John was saying, "you'll be kept pretty busy this trip, I guess."

"Yes, it'll be no easy thing," he answered. "It's a big round-up, and it's so terrible dry for this time of year and so dusty that the boys'll be weary and lookin' for trouble--and it'll all come back on me."

"Oh, I guess not," said John consolingly, as he walked about, kicking the tufted buffalo gra.s.s and swishing his quirt about aimlessly. "I tell you what, Billy, it wouldn't take much to start a fire in this"--he slapped the gra.s.s with his lash. "With a wind like this we'd have a blaze in a minute that would be harder to stop than----Look out!"

John rushed over to the shallow firepit, shouting warnings as he ran, and began stamping down the thin edge of fire that was eating its way into the bone-dry gra.s.s. While the two were talking, a gust of wind had blown a brand out of the pit and into the tinder-like hay. John kept stamping frantically, and in an instant Billy had joined him and was also vigorously engaged in crushing out the dreaded flames. They both shouted l.u.s.tily, and soon a number of the punchers, seeing the thin smoke and realizing the danger, came over to help.

Fire is perhaps the thing of all others that the plainsman dreads; a prairie blaze once fairly started and sweeping over an expanse of territory is almost impossible to stop, and there is nothing to do but run before it; man and beast, tame and wild, flee from it. Only charred and blackened ashes lie behind the swiftly advancing thin line of flame.

All this came into the minds of the men as they tramped out the red tongues of flame that lapped ever further along and around. There was no time to plough round (even if such an aid as a plough could be had) and so check the fire by turning under what it fed upon. Soon it was seen that it would take more than the trampling of men's feet to put it out, and a line was started down the creek with buckets. Then blankets and gunny sacks were wet and beaten against the flames.

The smoke choked and blinded, and the heat was almost unbearable, but the men kept the blankets going until the spiteful red tongues drew back defeated, and died. It was a hard fight for a couple of hours, and when it was over those who took part were hardly recognizable--faces blackened and eyes reddened by smoke, hair, beards, and mustaches singed.

John, who had drawn his smoke-begrimed fingers over his cheeks and forehead, was a sight; Frank saw him thus and said he looked like a cross between a tiger and an ourang outang.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ROPED.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: THROWN.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: WHOSE IS IT? A QUESTION OF OWNERSHIP.]

For a day or two after all the outfits came into camp the time was spent in organizing the round-up and planning the campaign. The ranchmen or foremen, as the case might be, were extremely busy during this time, but for once the punchers were at liberty to do as they pleased. All sorts of cowboy sports were indulged in; horse-racing (where "Lite," like Baldy, generally came out ahead, under John's understanding jockeyship), rope-throwing, and feats of horsemanship. What to an Easterner would appear impossibilities were commonplace acts of good riding for a cow-puncher. Picking up a hat from the ground while riding at full speed was a feat of good but not at all extraordinary riding.

The men were full of life and energy--skylarking was going on continually. It was no place for the seeker of peace and quietness; the air was filled with cowboy yells and shouts of laughter. The unwary one, afoot or on horseback, was likely to hear a sudden swish and in a second find himself hugging mother earth and acting as if he was trying to pull a peg with his teeth, the result of some rope throwing in his rear.

As evening draws near the word is pa.s.sed that "real work will begin to-morrow," and all hands quiet down, realizing that they will need all the strength that rest can give them. Soon after supper the men pull out their bed rolls, spread them, and, using their saddles as head rests, turn in.

The Sun River round-up is in camp. The moon beams placidly down and shows in high relief the white-topped wagons and tents huddled together.

Beds are scattered here and there upon the ground, and from each comes the sound of tired men's breathing. Half a dozen saddled and picketed horses crop the gra.s.s near by, and a small bunch of cattle, guarded by a single rider, who lolls sleepily in his saddle, lie a little further off, their heavy bodies appearing strange and shapeless in the half light. A coyote from a little distance barks and howls, but even its voice is drowsy. The only animated sound comes from a bell on a horse tinkling as he feeds.

At four o'clock a little red spark appears near the x.x.x outfit and the cook can be dimly discerned moving round his wagon. Soon the smoke begins to pour from his fire, and then the cooks of other outfits also show signs of life. Tin pans and kettles are heard to rattle, and breakfast is under way. At a quarter to five the cooks begin the _reveille_ of the plains; dishpans in hand they move about among the sleeping men beating an awakening call neither musical nor poetic, but most effective. Between the strokes comes the long-drawn cry, "Grub p-i-l-e! Grub p-i-l-e!"

Apparently it is no easier to rouse up from the rough couch, k.n.o.bbed as it is with the inequalities of the surface of the ground beneath, than it is to rise from "flowery beds of ease."

"Cow-punching ain't what it's cracked up to be," said Jerry grumblingly to John as they lay near a x.x.x wagon. "I'm goin' to quit after this round-up and drive a horsecar."