Ranching for Sylvia Part 13

They were very busy for a while. Their horses were hard to manage, the timber was thick, and the herd attempted to break away through it; but at last they reached the steep dip to the waterside. One beast plunged in and vanished, more followed, and George, plying his quirt and shouting, rode in among the diminishing drove. He felt the water lapping about his boots, and then the horse lost its footing. George dropped from the saddle and seized a stirrup. For some minutes he could see a few dark objects about him, but they disappeared, and he and the horse were swept away down-stream.

He kept hold--the animal was swimming strongly--and after a time a lurid flash of lightning showed him a black ma.s.s of trees close ahead.

They vanished, the succeeding darkness was impenetrable, and the crash of thunder was deadened by the roar of water. For a moment or two his head was driven under, but when he got it clear, another dazzling flash revealed a high bank only a few yards away, and when thick darkness followed he felt the horse rise to its feet. Then he touched soft bottom, and a little later scrambled up an almost precipitous slope with the bridle in his hand and the horse floundering behind him. They reached the summit, and, stopping among thin timber, it was with strong relief that he heard Edgar's shout. Shortly afterward the lad appeared, leading his horse.

"There's some of the drove on this side; I don't see the rest," he said, glancing toward the opposite bank, where dark trees stood out against a strong red glare.

"It strikes me we only got across in time."

Then torrential rain broke upon them, and while they stood, unable to move forward, a cry reached them faintly through the roar of the deluge. It came again when George answered, and was followed by a crackling and snapping of underbrush. Then, as a blaze of lightning filled the bluff with radiance, two men appeared for a moment, leading their horses among the slender trunks. They were immediately lost to sight again, but presently they came up, and George recognized Grant by his voice.

"So you have got through, Lansing," he cried. "I met Constable Flett on the trail, and, as he told me the river was rising and there was a big fire west, I figured you must be up against trouble."

He asked a few questions and then resumed:

"As you got the stock started, they'll have swum across; but we can't round them up until it's light. There's a deserted shack not far off, and I guess we'll head for it."

The constable agreed; and, mounting when they had got out of the timber, they rode off through the rain.

CHAPTER VIII

CONSTABLE FLETT'S SUSPICIONS

It was nearly six o'clock in the evening when George and his companions, who had spent part of the day looking for the straying stock, rode up to the Grant homestead through a vast stretch of grain.

This grew on the rich black soil they call "gumbo" in the West; but here and there a belt of dark-colored summer fallow checkered the strong green of the wheat and oats. Though he clung to the one-crop system, Alan Grant was careful of his land. The fine brick house and range of smart wooden buildings, the costly implements, which included a gasoline tractor-plow, all indicated prosperity, and George recognized that the rugged-faced man beside him had made a marked success of his farming.

When the cattle had been secured, Flora Grant welcomed the new arrivals graciously, and after a while they sat down to supper with the hired men in a big room. It was plainly furnished, but there was everything that comfort demanded, for the happy mean between bareness and superfluity had been cleverly hit, and George thought Miss Grant was responsible for this. He sat beside her at the foot of the long table and noticed the hired hands' att.i.tude toward her. It was respectful, but not diffident. The girl had no need to a.s.sert herself; she was on excellent terms with the st.u.r.dy toilers, who nevertheless cheerfully submitted to her rule.

When the meal was over, Grant led his guests into a smaller room, and produced a bag of domestic tobacco.

"The stock have gone far enough," he said. "You'll stay here to-night."

Flett looked doubtful, though it was obvious that he wished to remain.

He was a young, brown-faced man, and his smart khaki uniform proclaimed him a trooper of the Northwest Mounted Police.

"The trouble is that I'm a bit late on my round already," he protested.

"That's soon fixed," said Grant.

He opened a roll-top desk, and wrote a note which he read out:

"'Constable Flett has been detained in the neighborhood of this homestead through having rendered, at my request, valuable a.s.sistance in rounding up a bunch of cattle, scattered in crossing the flooded river.'"

"Thanks," said Flett. "That kind of thing counts when they're choosing a corporal."

Grant turned to George with a smile.

"Keep in with the police, Lansing--I've known a good supper now and then go a long way. They may worry you about fireguards and fencing, but they'll stand by you when you're in trouble, if you treat them right. If it's a matter of straying stock, a sick horse, or you don't know how to roof a new barn, you have only to send for the nearest trooper."

"Aren't these things a little outside their duties?" Edgar asked.

The constable grinned.

"Most anything that wants doing badly is right in our line."

"Sure," said Grant. "It's not long since Flett went two hundred miles over the snow with a dog-team to settle a little difference between an Indian and his wife. Then he once brought a hurt trapper a fortnight's journey on his sledge, sleeping in the snow, in the bitterest weather.

They were quite alone, and the hurt man was crazy most of the time."

"Then you're supposed to look after the settlers, as well as to keep order?" suggested Edgar, looking admiringly at the st.u.r.dy young constable.

"That's so," replied Flett. "They certainly need it. Last winter we struck one crowd in a lonely shack up north--man, woman, and several children huddled on the floor, with nothing to eat, and the stove out--at forty degrees below. There was a bluff a few miles off, but they hadn't a tool of any kind to cut cordwood with. Took us quite a while to haul them up some stores, though we made twelve-hour marches between our camps in the snow. We had to hustle that trip."

He paused and resumed:

"Better keep an eye on that bunch of young horses, Mr. Grant; bring them up nearer the house when the nights get darker. Those Clydesdales are mighty fine beasts and prices are high."

Grant looked astonished.

"I've been here a good many years, and I've never lost a horse," he declared.

"It doesn't follow you'll always be as lucky," the trooper said pointedly.

"I was told that property is as safe in the West as it is in England,"

Edgar broke in.

"Just so," remarked the trooper. "They say that kind of thing. I never was in the old country, but young mavericks aren't the only stock to go missing in Alberta, which isn't a long way off. The boys there have their hands full now and then, and we have three or four of the worst toughs I've struck right in Sage b.u.t.te."

Grant leaned forward on the table, looking steadily at him.

"Hadn't you better tell me what you have in your mind?"

"I can't give you much information, but we got a hint from Regina to keep our eyes open, and from things I've heard it's my idea that now that the boys have nearly stopped the running of Alberta cattle across the frontier, some of the toughs they couldn't track mean to start the same game farther east. Some of you ranchers run stock outside the fences, and I guess one could still find a lonely trail to the American border."

"Well," said Grant, "I'm glad you told me." He turned to George. "Be careful, Lansing; you would be an easier mark."

They strolled outside; and after a while George joined Flora, and sauntered away across the gra.s.s with her. It was a clear, still evening, and the air was wonderfully fresh.

"Though he wouldn't let me thank him, I feel I'm seriously indebted to your father, Miss Grant," he said. "Our horses were worn out, and the stock had all scattered when he turned up with the trooper."

"I believe he enjoyed the ride, and the night in the rain," replied Flora. "You see, he had once to work very hard here, and now that things have changed, he finds it rather tame. He likes to feel he's still capable of a little exertion."

"I shouldn't consider him an idle man."

Flora laughed.