Jack Ranger's Western Trip Part 42

They turned, to see Mr. Kent riding toward them.

"Oh," said Nat, a little confused. "We thought you'd want us to go to learn how to manage a herd of cattle."

"Manage stampeding cattle," muttered Mr. Kent. "You boys must be crazy. But it's too late to send you back, I suppose. Only don't ride your horses to death the first thing. You've got lots of work ahead of you."

With this encouragement the chums dropped back, listening to the talk of the cowboys about what was ahead of them.

"Remember the last stampede," one tall lanky rider asked his neighbor, who was nearly the same build.

"The one where Loony Pete was trampled to death?"

"That's the one. The steers sure made mincemeat of him all right.

Hope no one gets down under foot this trip."

The boys looked at each other. This was a more dangerous undertaking than they had antic.i.p.ated.

The riders advanced at an even, if not rapid pace. The cowboys as their horses ambled on were loading revolvers, looking to their lariats, tightening the packs which they carried on the back of their saddles, and making ready for the hard task ahead of them.

From listening to the talk, the boys learned that the upper range was about five miles distant, and was where the choicest cattle were herded, preparatory to being shipped away. The range was a big one, but, about ten miles from it, was a deep and dangerous canyon, at the beginning of the hills, which as they grew larger became the range of Golden Glow mountains. It was toward this canyon that the steers were headed, in a wild, unreasoning rush.

It seemed impossible for the cowboys to get ahead of them in time to head them off. But the cattle had a longer way to travel than did the men, and the latter could take a diagonal course and, if they had luck, reach the edge of the canyon first. It was planned to get between the oncoming herd and the edge of the gulch, and turn the steers back, if possible.

"Better hit up the pace!" exclaimed Mr. Kent, when they had ridden several miles. "We don't want to be too late."

The boys, realized, as did the men, that if the cattle, in their rush, reached the canyon, they would pile up in the bottom, and hundreds would be killed.

The horses were now galloped and the cavalcade raised quite a dust as it hastened over the prairie. The men began lossening the revolvers in their belts, and several unslung their lariats, ready for instant use. In about half an hour they began to ascend a slight rise that led to a plateau which extended into the range. Ahead of them, and about two miles to their right, lay the gulch.

"Well, we're here first!" exclaimed Mr. Kent, as he topped the rise and glanced to the left.

"Hark!" cried Rattlesnake Jim, who rode next to him. "I hear 'em!"

A noise like distant thunder sounded over the plain. Then, about three miles away, there arose something that looked like a dark cloud.

The sound of thunder came nearer. The dust cloud was plainly to be seen. Right ahead, so as to cross it on the slant, rode the group of men. The boys were in the rear. Mr. Kent gave a glance back and saw them. He shouted something but the chums could not hear him amid the pounding of hoofs. They saw the ranchman make signals, but did not understand them.

Then they saw several men from the front rank of the cowboys circle around and come up behind them.

"You young rascals!" exclaimed Rattlesnake Jim. "You ought to be spanked for coming along! Mr. Kent says to keep in the middle now.

We're going to ride behind and keep your horses on the go. If they lag behind you're liable to be killed!"

Things began to look serious now. The lads found themselves in the midst of a throng of cowboys, and the horses of the chums, being surrounded by steeds ridden by experienced cattlemen, picked up their pace and went forward on the rush.

Closer and closer approached the dark cloud. Nearer and nearer sounded the thunderous pounding of hoofs. Then, as the boys looked, they could see through the dust that was blown aside by a puff of wind, thousands of cattle, with heads on which flashed long, sharp, wide-spreading horns, rushing madly along.

"Wow! Wow! Wow!" yelled a score of cowboys.

Bang! Bang! Bang! spoke a score of big revolvers.

"Right across now!" yelled Mr. Kent. "Try and turn 'em! If we don't do it, then back again, once more!"

Then began such a ride as the boys had never dreamed of. Across the ragged front of the maddened animals the men urged their horses on a long slant. Lying low in their saddles, holding on with one hand, and firing revolvers with the other, the cowboys rode, there being no need to guide the trained horses.

Bang! Bang! Bang! It was like a skirmish line firing on the enemy.

The boys, who had secured revolvers as they rushed to the stables, fired as the men did, right in the faces of the advancing steers. The cartridges were blank, but so close were some of the men that the burning wadding struck the cattle.

Could they stop the rush? Could the maddened and frightened steers be halted before they plunged over the cliffs?

The line of cattle was about a quarter of a mile wide. In less than two minutes the cowboys, with the three chums in their midst, had swept across it. But the steers had not stopped. They were several hundred feet nearer the canyon, which now was but a mile away. There would be time for but one, or possibly two more attempts, and then it would be too late.

But the cowboys never halted. Wheeling sharply, they dashed once more across the front of the steers. Their yells were wilder than ever, and the shooting was a continuous rattle.

"Rope some on the edges!" yelled Mr. Kent.

At that some of the cowboys rode back and, whirling their lariats above their heads, sent the coils about the horns of some on the left fringe. The animals went down in a heap, right in the midst and under the hoofs of the others. Of course they were trampled to death, but this was the means of causing a number to stumble and fall, and so halt those back of them.

This could only be done on the two outer edges. To have attempted this in the center of the stampeding herd would have meant death for the cowboy who tried it.

The second dash across the front had been made, and the frightened cattle had not been more than momentarily stopped. They were still rushing toward the cliff.

"Once more!" called Mr. Kent. "This is our last chance!"

The canyon was hut a quarter of a mile away, If the rush was not stopped now, it meant the death of many valuable animals, and the possible scattering of the herd.

Again across the front, bristling with waving horns, rode the brave men. Their revolvers spat out fire and the smoke almost obscured the oncoming steers. The men yelled until their throats were parched.

"Make a stand! Make a stand!" yelled Mr. Kent.

The cowboys bunched together, riding their horses in a circle, the center of which was the boys. For a moment it seemed as if death was coming to meet them on the wings of the wind.

CHAPTER XXVIII

HUNTING MOUNTAIN LIONS

"Wow! Wow! Wow!" yelled the cowboys, in desperation.

To the noise John added his Indian warwhoop, and again the men began firing revolvers, which had been rapidly reloaded. It was a critical moment. It was the turning point of the stampede. Back, back, back the rushing cattle forced the men, who still kept circling. Now the canyon was but two hundred feet away.

And then, almost as suddenly as it had been started, the stampede was over. The foremost cattle slowed up. They raised their heads, and bellowed. For a few seconds the front line was pushed ahead by those behind. Then all through the herd seemed to go a message that the run was over.

Plowing the dirt up with their feet, as they vainly tried to stop, but could not because of the push that still was exerted behind them, the foremost cattle advanced nearly to the knot of hors.e.m.e.n. But the cowboys did not budge, knowing it was ended now. Then, with loud shouts and waving hats they turned the herd so that it circled around and was started back toward the range.

So close were the rear men to the canyon, when this had been done that they could have tossed a stone down into the depths.

"Narrow squeak, that!" observed Rattlesnake Jim, as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with a big red handkerchief. "'Bout as close as I want 'em," observed Mr. Kent. "I wonder what started 'em off this way."