The Pony Rider Boys in Texas Part 15

"Well, you won't call it a storm after you have. There ain't no name in the dictionary that exactly fits that kind of a critter. A stampede is a Sunday in a country village as compared with one of them Texas howlers.

You'll be wishing you had a place to hide, in about a minute after that kind of a ruction starts."

"Are they so bad as that?"

"Well, almost," answered the cowman. "I've heard tell," he continued, "that they've been known to blow the horns off a Mexican cow. Why, you couldn't check one of them things with a three inch rope and a snubbing post."

Tad laughed at the quaintness of his companion's words. The sky near the horizon was a dull, leaden hue, though above their heads the stars twinkled rea.s.suringly.

"It doesn't look very threatening to me," decided Tad Butler, gazing intently toward the heavens.

"Well, here's where we split," announced the cowboy, riding off to the left of the herd, Tad taking the right. Shortly after the lad heard the big cowman break out in song:

"Two little n.i.g.g.e.rs upstairs in bed, One turned ober to de oder an' said, How 'bout dat short'nin' bread, How 'bout dat short'nin' bread?"

Tad pulled up his pony and listened until the song had been finished. It was the cowpuncher's way of telling the herd that he had arrived and was on hand to guard them against trouble.

"Big-foot seems to have a new song to-night," mused Tad.

Now the lad noticed that there was an oppressiveness about the air that had not been present before.

A deep orange glow showed on the southern horizon for an instant, then settled back into the prairie, leaving the gloom about the young cowboy even more dense than it had been before.

"Feels spooky," was Tad's comment.

Not being able to sing to his own satisfaction, Tad shoved his hands deep into his trousers pockets and began whistling "Old Black Joe." It was the most appropriate tune he could think of.

"Kind of fits the night," he explained to the pony, which was picking its way slowly about the great herd. Then he resumed his whistling.

The guards pa.s.sed each other without a word, some being too sleepy; others too fully occupied with their own thoughts.

The night, by this time, had grown intensely still, even the insects and night birds having hushed their weird songs.

A flash more brilliant than the first attracted the lad's attention.

"Lightning," he muttered, glancing off to the south. "I guess Mr.

Stallings was right about the storm." Yet, directly overhead the stars still sparkled. In the distance Tad saw the comforting flicker of the camp-fire, about which the cowmen were sleeping undisturbed by the oppressiveness of the night.

"I guess the foreman knew what he was talking about when he said we were going to have a storm," repeated Tad. "I wonder how the cattle will behave if things get lively."

As if in answer to his question there came a stir among the animals on the side nearest him.

Tad began whistling at once and the cows quieted down.

"They must like my whistling. It's the first time anything ever did,"

thought the lad.

Far over on the other side of the herd Big-foot crooned to his charges the song of the "Two little n.i.g.g.e.rs upstairs in bed."

"Sanders' stock must be walking in their sleep, too. I wonder----"

A brilliant flash lighted the entire heaven, causing Tad Butler to cut short the remark he was about to make.

A deep rumble of thunder, that seemed to roll across the plain like some great wave, followed a few seconds later.

The lad shivered slightly.

He was not afraid. Yet he realized that he was lonely, and wished that some of the other guards might come along to keep him company.

Glancing up, Tad made the discovery that the small spot of clear sky had disappeared. By now he was unable to see anything. He made no effort to direct the pony, leaving it to the animal's instinct to keep a proper distance from the herd and follow its formation.

The thunder gradually became louder and the flashes of lightning more frequent. The herd was disturbed. He could hear the cattle scrambling to their feet. Now and then the sound of locking horns reached him as the beasts crowded their neighbors too closely in their efforts to move about.

Tad tried to sing, but gave it up and resumed his whistling.

"I'm glad Chunky is not out on this trick," thought the boy aloud. "I am afraid he would be riding back to camp as fast as his pony could carry him."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a flash, so brilliant that it blinded Tad for the moment, lighted up the prairie. A crash which, as it seemed to him, must have split the earth wide open, followed almost instantly.

Another roar, different from that caused by the thunder, rose on the night air, accompanied by the suggestive rattle of meeting horns and the bellowing of frightened cattle.

By this time Tad had circled around to the west side of the herd. The instant this strange, startling noise reached him he halted his pony and listened.

Off to the north of him he saw the flash of a six-shooter. Another answered it from his rear. Then a succession of shots followed quickly one after the other.

The lad began slowly to understand.

He could hear the rush and thunder of thousands of hoofs.

"The cattle are stampeding!" cried Tad.

CHAPTER IX

CHASED BY A STAMPEDING HERD

"Whoa-oo-ope! Whoa-oo-ope!"

The long soothing cry echoed from guard to guard.

It was the call of the cowman, in an effort to calm the frightened animals. Here and there a gun would flash as the guards shot in front of the stampeding herd, hoping thereby to turn the rush and set the animals going about more in a circle in order to keep them together until they could finally be quieted.

It was all a mad chaos of noise and excitement to the lad who sat in his saddle hesitatingly, not knowing exactly what was expected of him under the circ.u.mstances.

Off toward the camp a succession of flashes like fireflies told the cowpunchers on guard that their companions were racing to their a.s.sistance as fast as horseflesh could carry them.