significantly that Slyter thought of his horses, not his cattle.
"Get some sleep," he concluded. "Don't risk your tent tonight. Black men seldom or ever attack before dawn, but sleep under your wagon."
The cowboys piled packs and bundles outside of the wheels of their wagon. Then they crept under to stretch out on their blankets without removing coat or boots. Friday lay just outside of the wheels. When they rolled out, dressed to ride, rifles in hand, Larry was saddling horses, Drake and his three drovers drinking tea.
"How was the guard?" asked Sterl.
"Mob quiet. Horses resting. No sign of blacks. But we heard them on and off. Look sharp just before and at daylight."
"Boys," said Larry, when they reached the herd, "I'll drove the far end."
Sterl passed Dann's horses, patrolled by one rider, and a mile further down came upon another horseman, who turned out to be Cedric. He had been on guard for an hour and reported all well. Sterl rode back.
At intervals low blasts of the corroboree waved out across the plain. The campfires of the aborigines still glimmered. Dogs and dingoes had ceased their howling. Sterl recalled the first time he had stood guard on the Texas range when Comanches were expected to raid. They had done it, too, matchless and fleet riders, swooping down upon the remuda to stampede it and drive off the horses, leaving one dead Indian on the ground, victim of his rifle. He was sixteen years old then and that was his first blood spilling.
Every half hour of thereabouts he rode back to have a word with Red. The only time he accosted Friday the black held up his hand, "Bimeby!"
Now the chanting of the aborigines ceased, and the corroboree fires glimmered fainter and fainter to die out. The cattle slept. The silence seemed uncanny. The first streaks of gray in the east heralded a rumble of hoofs, like distant thunder. The mob of cattle belonging to Ormiston and his companions was on the run. Sterl galloped over to Red. Friday joined them.
"They're runnin', pard, but not stampeded," said Red, his lean head bent, his ear to the east.
"Slowing down, Red," returned Sterl, straining his hearing, "Friday, what happen alonga there?"
"Black fella spearum cattle," was the reply.
"Not so bad, thet. But a stampede of this unholy mob would be orful," declared Red. "Listen, Sterl, they're rollin' again, back the other way."
"Saw a gun flash!" cried Sterl, and then a dull report reached them.
"Wal, the ball's opened," said Red, coolly. "Take yore pardners."
Flashes and reports came from several points, widely separated.
"Aw, hell! Our cattle are wakin' up, pard. Heah comes Larry."
The young drover came tearing up, to haul his mount back onto sliding haunches. "Boys, our mob--is about to--break," he panted.
"Umpumm, Larry," replied Red. "They're jest oneasy."
Sterl calculated that a thousand or more cattle were in motion, less than a third of Ormiston's mob. The rumble of hoofs began to diminish in volume as the gunshots became desultory. But the lowing of Dann's mob, the cracking of horns, caused Sterl great concern, in spite of Red's assurance. The center of disturbance appeared to be back along the sector from which Larry had just come.
"Sterl, I'll go with Larry," said Red, wheeling Jester. "Jest in case. If we don't get back pronto come arunnin'."
Presently, when he halted King to listen, Sterl found that--the dull trampling from across the flat was dying out, and that the ominous restlessness of Dann's mob was doing likewise. A rapid thud of hoofs proved to be Red, riding back.
"Lost my matches. Gimme some," said the cowboy, as he reined in beside Sterl. Lighting a cigarette relieved Sterl. "They was movin' out up there, but easy to stop. This mob of Dann's fooled me. They've been so tame, you know, not atall like longhorns, thet I reckoned it'd take a hell of a lot to stampede them. But umpumm!--Say, I'll bet two pesos we'll be interested in what came off over there."
"Yes, All quiet now, though. And
"Get some sleep," he concluded. "Don't risk your tent tonight. Black men seldom or ever attack before dawn, but sleep under your wagon."
The cowboys piled packs and bundles outside of the wheels of their wagon. Then they crept under to stretch out on their blankets without removing coat or boots. Friday lay just outside of the wheels. When they rolled out, dressed to ride, rifles in hand, Larry was saddling horses, Drake and his three drovers drinking tea.
"How was the guard?" asked Sterl.
"Mob quiet. Horses resting. No sign of blacks. But we heard them on and off. Look sharp just before and at daylight."
"Boys," said Larry, when they reached the herd, "I'll drove the far end."
Sterl passed Dann's horses, patrolled by one rider, and a mile further down came upon another horseman, who turned out to be Cedric. He had been on guard for an hour and reported all well. Sterl rode back.
At intervals low blasts of the corroboree waved out across the plain. The campfires of the aborigines still glimmered. Dogs and dingoes had ceased their howling. Sterl recalled the first time he had stood guard on the Texas range when Comanches were expected to raid. They had done it, too, matchless and fleet riders, swooping down upon the remuda to stampede it and drive off the horses, leaving one dead Indian on the ground, victim of his rifle. He was sixteen years old then and that was his first blood spilling.
Every half hour of thereabouts he rode back to have a word with Red. The only time he accosted Friday the black held up his hand, "Bimeby!"
Now the chanting of the aborigines ceased, and the corroboree fires glimmered fainter and fainter to die out. The cattle slept. The silence seemed uncanny. The first streaks of gray in the east heralded a rumble of hoofs, like distant thunder. The mob of cattle belonging to Ormiston and his companions was on the run. Sterl galloped over to Red. Friday joined them.
"They're runnin', pard, but not stampeded," said Red, his lean head bent, his ear to the east.
"Slowing down, Red," returned Sterl, straining his hearing, "Friday, what happen alonga there?"
"Black fella spearum cattle," was the reply.
"Not so bad, thet. But a stampede of this unholy mob would be orful," declared Red. "Listen, Sterl, they're rollin' again, back the other way."
"Saw a gun flash!" cried Sterl, and then a dull report reached them.
"Wal, the ball's opened," said Red, coolly. "Take yore pardners."
Flashes and reports came from several points, widely separated.
"Aw, hell! Our cattle are wakin' up, pard. Heah comes Larry."
The young drover came tearing up, to haul his mount back onto sliding haunches. "Boys, our mob--is about to--break," he panted.
"Umpumm, Larry," replied Red. "They're jest oneasy."
Sterl calculated that a thousand or more cattle were in motion, less than a third of Ormiston's mob. The rumble of hoofs began to diminish in volume as the gunshots became desultory. But the lowing of Dann's mob, the cracking of horns, caused Sterl great concern, in spite of Red's assurance. The center of disturbance appeared to be back along the sector from which Larry had just come.
"Sterl, I'll go with Larry," said Red, wheeling Jester. "Jest in case. If we don't get back pronto come arunnin'."
Presently, when he halted King to listen, Sterl found that--the dull trampling from across the flat was dying out, and that the ominous restlessness of Dann's mob was doing likewise. A rapid thud of hoofs proved to be Red, riding back.
"Lost my matches. Gimme some," said the cowboy, as he reined in beside Sterl. Lighting a cigarette relieved Sterl. "They was movin' out up there, but easy to stop. This mob of Dann's fooled me. They've been so tame, you know, not atall like longhorns, thet I reckoned it'd take a hell of a lot to stampede them. But umpumm!--Say, I'll bet two pesos we'll be interested in what came off over there."
"Yes, All quiet now, though. And
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