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CHAPTER XIII.
AT WASHOUT COULIE
“Is it very far we have to go for our herd, Ned?” asked Jimmy, as he galloped along briskly at the side of his chum, managing the calico pony pretty fairly for one who had never been used to range riding and knew very little about the tricks of cow ponies.
“Yes, I believe further than any others of the lot,” Ned told him.
“I heard some mention of a Washout Coulie; is that where we’re headin’ right now; and why d’ye reckon they give it such a funny name?” Jimmy continued.
“We’re making for a place of that name, I understood Chunky to say,” the accommodating scout master replied, “and he spoke as though their best herd might be using that section for a feeding ground just now; but why they call it Washout Coulie, I’m unable to say.”
“A coulie is always connected with some sort of hill, isn’t it, Ned?”
“Strikes me that way, Jimmy, and, as you know there are hills over this way, for we could see them when we came from the west and struck the ranch. It might be the name came from a washout that happened some time ago. They don’t get much rain in this region, but once in a long time there’s a regular cloudburst and a flood.”
Jimmy might have tried to keep the conversation going, for there were a number of things he wanted to ask the scout master; but it happened that the obstreperous calico pony developed a streak of ugliness just about that time and, consequently, Jimmy had all he could do to manage the beast so as to keep his seat in the cowboy saddle.
The sun had set shortly after they started away from the ranch, and the sky took on the brightest red colors that could be imagined. But neither of the boys felt in a humor to admire the view. They had business on their hands of a nature to engross their every thought – Jimmy, with the control of his vicious mottle mount; and Ned, in calculating what the ill-natured suspect might attempt, in order to outwit those who were pitted against him.
Night settles down promptly after sunset in this far southern country, there being very little gloaming, such as people living in more northern latitudes are accustomed to. But as the moon was due to peep above the eastern horizon in short time this was not apt to give them any trouble.
Besides, Chunky and his riders knew every rod of the plain and could easily avoid such places, where the prairie dogs had their underground homes and which have been the means of breaking the legs of many valuable horses.
Ned had already noticed how careful Chunky was to keep in a certain position on the gallop. Here he could watch Sloper and at the same time be ready to draw quickly upon him should the suspect attempt any crooked business.
“He doesn’t trust the man any further than he can see him,” Ned was telling himself, as he noticed this game that was being played between the two men; and, at the same time, he meant to try and keep his own eye on the slippery customer, in so far as the conditions would allow.
The evening star shone in the western sky and they were making in a straight line away from it, Ned noticed. This told him what the course was. While Jimmy was apparently paying not the least attention to such things, content to trust himself in the hands of the puncher guide, Ned believed in knowing for himself. There might arise an occasion where he would be thrown on his own resources; and, in such an event, it would be a valuable asset to know just which way to head, in order to fetch up at the ranch house.
That was scout tactics and scout practice – being prepared against possible need.
And now over the low rim in the far east, where the squatty hills lay against the sky line, a yellow glow began to appear. It was the moon rising to fulfill a night’s vigil as sentinel while men slept.
Ned greeted it as an old friend, and Jimmy, too, expressed his satisfaction over seeing it come upon the scene, for Jimmy and darkness never did agree, and that was one reason he always wanted to keep the fire burning through the night while in camp, during the period when there was no moon.
As they drew closer to the hills, Ned began to calculate just about how many miles they would have to drive the herd once they managed to round it up and get it on the run for home. He knew from what he had been told that what had taken them not more than an hour to cover, as the crow flies, would mean at least four times that length of time with the cattle.
Perhaps, they would not be in until midnight had come and gone. And who could say what might not happen in the long interval.
He wondered how far the rustlers were ready to go, in order to run off a herd that had excited their cupidity and, whether in case they happened to come up while the punchers were busily engaged, they might not attempt something like a stampede, hoping to frighten the few cowboys off, when they could make way with the cattle.
“I’m glad we brought our rifles along with us,” Ned was telling himself, as he studied out these things and tried to imagine what it would seem like to actually find himself engaged in a regular battle with cattle thieves.
He urged his pony forward enough to bring him close to Chunky.
“How much further do we have to go, Chunky?” Ned inquired.
“Be there in about ten minutes or so,” came the reply. “Gotter kinder sheer off a bit hereabouts on ’count of them ornery marmots what makes it unsafe for a pony to run over their holes. Been tryin’ to clean this village out a long time, but they seem too smart for the hull lot o’ us. If so be ye wanter practice usin’ a rifle ye’ll find plenty to shoot at in knockin’ these little runts over; and do the stockmen a big favor in the bargin.”
“We’ll remember that,” Ned told him, though he rather fancied that during their stay at Double Cross Ranch he and his three chums would want to do most of their hunting for larger game than poor little harmless prairie dogs.
Jimmy had forged ahead slightly, or rather his impatient and ambitious mount had taken the bit in its mouth and pulled a little harder than usual. It may have been accident, but to Ned it seemed as though Ally Sloper must have some vicious idea in his mind when he suddenly flung his quirt vigorously out, apparently intending to give his own pony a cruel cut, and then struck the calico mount ridden by Jimmy.
Perhaps he thought to create a little excitement if the beast ran away with its rider, during which he might find a chance to slip off unobserved. Ned, as quick as a flash, dug his heels into his own pony, and was alongside Jimmy almost as soon as the spotted beast started to leap wildly forward under the impetus of that blow from the quirt, something he had never stood for in the past.
When he bent down and seized hold of the bridle close to the pony’s mouth Ned was uttering soothing words. Between his efforts and those of the rider, the pony was kept from bolting, though it snorted and acted ugly.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to pay dear for picking out that calico nag, Jimmy,” Ned told his chum, when they were riding along side by side after the little matter had been settled for the time being.
“’Tis too late to make any difference,” replied the other scout; “and do you remember tellin’ me once that it’s no time to change mounts when crossin’ a stream? Now that I’ve started on this painted pony I’ll stick to the same through good winds and foul. If the little cayuse c’n dump me, he’s welcome to try, that’s all.”
Evidently Jimmy’s old stubborn nature was on deck again. He did hate to give anything up the worst kind; though he admitted that there were some exceptions to this rule and one of them was whenever he found himself on a sickening heaving sea.
“I hope the cattle will be found feedin’ in the place they called a coulie?” Jimmy went on to say a minute later, as he strove earnestly to make out the conformation of the low hills they were approaching.
Now Ned had just been wondering on his own account what Chunky expected to do in case the herd had wandered away. Would he start to follow them, making use of his training as a tracker in order to stick to the trail the animals would have left behind them?
Ned believed so. He had studied the lanky puncher well, and found evidences of great pertinacity in his make-up. Chunky would not be the one to quit easily. On the contrary, Ned felt positive he would keep moving if it took the remainder of that night.
“Chances are they’ll not wander far away, Jimmy,” he told the other scout, who was evidently beginning to cross bridges before he came to them, as was his habit, and so attempt more or less unnecessary work.
“But I don’t hear any signs of the critters, do you, Ned?” continued Jimmy.
“Why no, and you couldn’t hardly expect to, what with all the noise we’re making,” Ned replied, shortly; “though the wind is coming almost in our faces, and seems like we might hear if a bull bellowed. But leave all that to Chunky. He knows what to do, Jimmy. Just look out for your pony, and keep close by; that’s all you’ve got to do.”
Gradually the hills assumed more shape, and they could even make out the trees that covered their sides in most quarters.
“That dark place ahead must be the coulie opening,” Ned suggested.
“Just what it is,” replied the lanky rider, “You foller it up a ways and all of a sudden-like you drop in on one of the finest little valleys that cattle ever nosed about in, knee-high in grass that ain’t the buffalo stripe neither, and with a fine spring that sends its water down the hull place. We ain’t got anythin’ ekal to it for a harbor for cattle this side o’ the Colorado. That’s why we turned our prize herd in here, to pick up a little fat before the Kunnel he ships the same off to a show.”
That was quite a long talk for Chunky to make. He was a man of few words as a rule and bit his sentences off as though it pained him to run on for any great length of time.
Ned understood. And he was glad that he had come with the man who was now temporarily in charge of Double Cross Ranch. Where Chunky happened to be things were more apt to take place than elsewhere.
Now it was very likely that the waiting rustlers must have known all about this unusually fine herd. Even if they had failed to locate it on their own account, while galloping around the country, Ally Sloper would have put them wise.
If they were figuring on making way with any portion of the Double Cross property shortly, it stood to reason that they would turn their attention first of all to this valuable drove.
The moon had risen above the horizon and was pouring a flood of light upon the scene. Ned could not remember when it had appeared more radiant. He fancied that they would have very little trouble in making the round-up and drive, if only nothing happened to break up their well laid plans.
No doubt when they had arrived at the bottom of the coulie Chunky would order a short halt, in order to let the ponies get their wind again. And during that time they could be using their ears to catch any sounds that might come from up the gully, such as the mooing of cows that had calves, the bellowing of a bull, or the clashing as horns beat against horns in a fierce fight for possession.
Sloper was still in line. He had not turned his face once toward Chunky since starting from the ranch, and it was natural that he should be laboring under a high tension, possibly arranging scheme after scheme, only to cast them away when he discovered weak points.
Ned believed the fellow was only waiting to see what circumstances would do for him; and he felt that should the opening come he would be as quick as a flash to avail himself of it.
Well, here they were now at the foot of the hills, and apparently their fast gallop must be near its end. Jimmy would not be sorry. He was sore with being bounced about in that hard saddle, though no one could have forced him to admit that he was having anything but a glorious time. But Jimmy was always full of grit, and disdained to call for help unless it could not possibly be avoided. He would master that fancy calico pony, or know the reason why.
“Hold up!”
When Chunky called this out every one drew rein. They were undoubtedly in the mouth of a coulie, which was merely a gully through which at various times in the ages that had passed floods had swept down the side of the hills, and following a set course washed this bed clear. Later on bushes and even trees had managed to obtain a foothold and seemed to thrive.
The horses were breathing heavily, as the six riders sat in their saddles and listened eagerly to catch any sounds that might come down from the feeding plateau above.
There was no lack of noise, as the two scouts quickly understood. And if cattle made all those sounds while feeding Ned wondered what it would be under stress of excitement and panic, when stampeded by a storm, or from some other cause.
He could hear much trampling, low bellowing, the mooing of cows fearful lest they be separated from their calves, and a confusion of other sounds of which, being more or less of a greenhorn on the range, he could make nothing.
But it was different with Chunky and the other punchers. Their trained ears, accustomed to detecting even uneasiness in feeding stock, and guessing the cause, instantly picked up several things that told them the startling truth.
When Ned himself plainly heard the neigh of an excited horse, and then what appeared to be a half suppressed shout, he jumped to a sudden conclusion that very nearly took his breath away.
Something not down on the hills was certainly going on up there, where the prize herd fed. There were men there and they were stirring up the cattle, for the snap of whips could be heard together with various other sounds such as Ned fancied might accompany the start of a drive.
He could give a pretty good guess what it all meant, and did not have to wait for Chunky to pass the information along. Some other persons besides themselves had taken a notion to start a round-up that was not ordered, and right then were busily engaged in getting things moving.
Apparently the punchers had not arrived any too soon, for the rustlers were undoubtedly abroad; and had the range riders been delayed another half hour they must have arrived at Washout Coulie to find the feeding grounds bare, and discover that the herd had mysteriously vanished!
CHAPTER XIV.
STAMPEDING THE PRIZE BUNCH
“Steady, Ally, and don’t try it!” Chunky was saying in a low but tense voice. He seemed to have suspected that the treacherous puncher would be greatly excited over the fact that his friends were at work above, and might take considerable chances in order to let them know the men from the Double Cross had arrived on the scene of action unannounced.
They gathered in a little clump. The other two punchers must have guessed why Chunky was acting in this way toward Sloper, for they eyed the latter suspiciously, and Ned could see that Arizona Tom had his heavy gun in his hand, as though ready to use it promptly should the other try to dash away without authority.
“Seems like we didn’t get here any to soon, hey, Ned?” ventured Jimmy, with one of his hoarse whispers.
“Same old luck keeps after us,” was the reply of the scout master; “as long as that holds good I should worry more for the other fellow than on our account.”
“It’s them pesky rustlers that have hit up a hot pace, and got on the ground ahead o’ us,” Chunky was growling; and then, as though his humor changed, he went on to add: “but say, mebbe we won’t give ’em the surprise o’ their lives.”
“Then you’ll tackle the bunch, even if they number more than we do?” asked Ned, seeking information while they waited for a move on the part if those who were so busily engaged up the coulie.
“Shucks! it wouldn’t stop us if they was three to our one,” Chunky answered, with the freedom from concern that usually marks the true cowman. “If we can surprise the critters the advantage’ll lie with us. And let me say right now that it won’t be safe for any feller to get gay, and give a yip, or let his gun go off by accident, ’cause another is apt to drop into the habit, which is a bad one.”
That last was undoubtedly meant for Ally Sloper. He could be heard gnashing his strong white teeth in sullen anger, but he did not venture to let out a warning whoop so as to tell his friends they were up against it.
Ned could not blame him, for he fancied that it might have been the last shout Ally would ever make, because this was a serious business, betraying the interests of his employer, and should he be shot no blame would ever be attached to the one carrying out the punishment.
“Move over this way a leetle,” said Chunky, presently, as though he knew just how the cattle and their drivers must issue forth from the mouth of the coulie when the time came, and meant to set the trap so as to take the rustlers off their guard.
“Whew! tell me about this, will you?” Jimmy was breathing in the ear of his companion scout, as they tried to keep their ponies quiet, sitting in the shadow of the trees, and listening to all the clamor that arose further up the slope of the hill.
“If you think this is exciting, Jimmy,” remarked Ned, “wait till the climax comes along, and then see what happens. To think of our getting in a lively affair like this the very first night we’re at the ranch. And somebody said all the fun was in the past. Looks like we find it wherever we go.”
“Well, you never spoke truer words, Ned,” admitted Jimmy; “and honest now, I’m tremblin’ all over right at this minute, not because I’m scared a whiff, for you know I ain’t, but just on account of the strain. Oh! I hope they don’t take a notion to slip away up the coulie ’stead of droppin’ down and takin’ their medicine like men.”
“Listen! they’re coming, I do believe, Jimmy!”
“Sounds like it, Ned. I never had the pleasure of handin’ it out to a cattle rustler, but I’ve heard they are pretty tough citizens; and in case I do have to puncture a few with disabling wounds it needn’t keep me awake nights. Them longhorns has got to be saved, and we’re here to do it.”
“Stow your gab, Jimmy, and be ready to do what you’re told. Chunky gives the orders for the entertainment, remember, and be quick to act. Yes, the cattle have been headed this way. They’re running down the coulie right now!”
With the increasing noise the excitement grew apace. Both scouts shut their teeth hard together, and awaited the breaking of the crisis. The oncoming herd was drawing closer with every second that passed. Undoubtedly those who were driving them out of the feeding ground knew that this was the only way by means of which the herd could be started, because further up the coulie merged into a blind canyon that must have proven a trap.
If there had been the slightest doubt in any one’s mind before now concerning the truth, it would have been dissipated when the loud voices of men came floating down, with the crash of many cloven hoofs and the protestations from the unwilling cattle, doubtless preparing to settle down for the night when this drive was started.
Chunky must have been aware of the fact that it would be next to impossible to keep watch over Ally Sloper when the crisis dawned. Perhaps he really did not care so much, whether the other escaped or not, since he could no longer upset the plans they had laid, by giving warning.
And on his part Sloper may have figured that he could not afford to openly prove himself a traitor by fleeing. He could not know that they had any positive proof of his double dealing, and just suspicion he could live down. So he might even act as though he were an honest man and carry out his part in the work of saving the threatened herd. His life counted for more than the success of his allies in the raid. He could make new connections with other schemers; but once he had been strung up to a telegraph pole by furious punchers he could not get a new life.
The noise grew more distinct, and at any minute now Ned expected to see a mass of moving animals come out of the dark mouth of the coulie.
He took it for granted that the cattle raiders were to be treated harshly, for he knew what a contempt honest punchers felt toward those who would carry off four-footed property belonging to others, and changing the brand, sell it as if it were their own.
That meant more or less gunfire; it might be that wounds would be received as well as given, for these rustlers were a dare-devil lot, and no doubt ready to fight desperately before giving up their ill-gotten gains.
This did not cause Ned to quail. He had received his baptism of fire long ago, and for one of his age had been through so much of excitement that he might almost be called a veteran. Nevertheless he was thrilled with the thought of surprising the thieves, and his heart beat much more rapidly than usual as he sat in his saddle, keeping a firm grip on his pony, and holding his rifle ready for quick action.
Yes, they are coming very fast now. The clatter of cloven hoofs, and all those other accompanying sounds, told this plainly. Ned wondered how many of the raiders there might turn out to be. He tried to count the different kinds of shouts and whoops, but found this next to impossible.
“What does it matter,” he told himself, finally; “just as Chunky said, if we take them by surprise the advantage is all with us? Five or ten, we’ll send them flying over the plain, thinking they’ve run foul of the whole Double Cross outfit. Jimmy, when the time comes to cut loose yelpt like a Fiji Islander, or anything else that makes a big noise; get that?”
“You wait,” was all Jimmy replied, but there was a world of meaning back of the words, and Ned knew he would do his duty.
“There they come!” said one of the cow punchers just then.
Out from the shadows of the coulie burst a string of cattle on the run. They had been started with difficulty, but once the excitement began to work there would be no restraining them until weariness caused them to stop their flight.
Chunky was eagerly watching to see how they turned. He doubtless anticipated that one or more of the rustlers would be seeking to head off, and then would be the time to open fire, so as to create a small-sized panic among the cattle raiding crowd.
“Gee whiz! but I’m awonderin’ what this beast’ll do when I let go with the gun right over his head!” Jimmy remarked just about that time, which seemed to indicate that he believed he had cause for worry.
“Keep a tight hold of your bridle; that’s all you can do,” the scout master advised, without removing his eyes from the picture that was enlarging with each passing second, as more cattle came running out of the coulie, and followed the leaders.
From the midst of the lowing herd there suddenly burst two horsemen. They were swinging their hats, waving their arms, and evidently shouting at the top of their shrill voices, with the object of turning the running herd in the direction they wished it to go.
Many miles lay between Washout Coulie and the ranch buildings, and there was little danger that this racket might be carried there on the wings of the wind; even though it were faintly heard, chances were that the punchers would conclude not to bother, under the impression that it must be a round-up on some neighboring stock farm.
“Now! give’em Hail Columbia!”
Ned could hear Chunky shouting these words, or something that sounded very similar. He was paying little attention to anything that was said, however, for his whole mind seemed to be taken up with following the rapid drama that was being unfolded before his eyes.
There began to sound the discharge of firearms. Arizona Tom, Dutch and Chunky each took a shot, and Jimmy not to be outdone, managed to get his gun half-way to his shoulder before he pulled the trigger. Then his calico pony began to act in such an extraordinary manner that it took all Jimmy’s attention, and for the time being he did not care a particle whether the two rustlers ran away, or were made to bite the dust, for it was a case of winding his arms around the neck of that bucking broncho or else measuring his length on the ground, after flying for a dozen or two feet through the atmosphere.
The rustlers might never have known they were being fired upon if it depended on the noise alone; but then there was the flash of the several discharges; and the whistle of flying lead past their ears to warn them of the fact that they were in the danger zone.
They looked that way and must have made a discovery that was far from pleasant. Still they were not ready to give up so easily, when it had seemed that everything was coming their way.
“They mean to make a fight for the prize!” Ned told himself, when the saw a sudden flash from the spot where the two rustlers had been mixing with the herd, and which must mean that one of them was using his gun.
At that he raised his rifle. Others of the lawless tribe would be pushing into view shortly, and it was policy to scatter them in the start, so as to cut down the advantage they would have from greater numbers.
Ned had never learned how to shoot from the back of a prancing pony; but he was able to use good judgment, and pull the trigger when there was a temporary lull in operations.
He must have managed to strike the mount of one of the rustlers, much to his regret, for immediately it started madly off, despite all efforts of the rider to hold the beast in. The other man finding that he alone faced the fire of the enemy made haste to tum and flee.
This, however, was only the beginning. There were others near by, and loud yells attested that they were about to burst into view, when the whole operation must be repeated.
Meanwhile the cattle continued to pour in a living stream out of the coulie. No wonder these reckless rustlers had taken great chances in order to secure this bunch, which consisted of the pick of the Double Cross herds. They had undoubtedly been kept in close touch with all that was going on by the spies who were employed on the ranch, and doubtless knew the number and value of each separate herd.
Then came whooping riders, this time some half dozen, scattered about so as to cover considerable ground. In the bright moonlight the picture was a thrilling one, and Ned believed he must often recall it in future days. The surging longhorns, the active cow ponies and their riders keeping up a continual racket, which seemed to be an essential part of the performance – all these impressed Ned greatly.
Then he heard a loud explosion close to his head.
“Give it to the night riders! Let ’em have hot lead! Show ’em how the boys of Double Cross Ranch can stand up for Kunnel Job!”
With each short sentence Chunky was discharging his gun; and as the others kept pace with his activity there was a warm session around that quarter. Even Ally Sloper added to the din by shooting several times, and yelling, though Ned saw if none of the others did, that he aimed high, apparently not caring to take the chances of hitting one of his friends.
The utmost consternation attacked the surprised rustlers. They must have fancied that the whole force of the ranch was upon them, if noise counted for anything.
One man was seen to sway in his saddle, so that another had to help hold him in his seat. Ned himself felt sure that with one of his shots he had wounded another rustler in the arm, for he changed the bridle grip to the other hand, and dashed off at full swing, plainly demoralized.
There was no holding them, because they knew they were in the wrong, and that if their identity chanced to be discovered, in spite of the bandanas with which the lower part of their faces were concealed, the law would step in and deal with them harshly.
And so it came about that the raid on the Double Cross herd turned out to be a fizzle; though only for the prompt way in which the defenders of the prize herd started out to meet the situation there must have been a different story to tell.
“Get the cattle headed for home!” was the slogan that went the rounds; and with Chunky still keeping close to the suspect this difficult job was undertaken. Being experts at the rounding-up process they soon had the herd headed off, and started on a new tack, now making in the direction of the ranch home.
Ned had meant to lend a hand at this work, but something that came up kept him from taking any great interest in the driving of the steers and cows. This was the strange disappearance of his chum, Jimmy McGraw!
