On the day following Johnny\'s message to Big Tom, Gunsight had awakened expectant, and had remained so all the morning, but to no end. Not a Bar H man had come in, so far as they knew, and the trio in Dave\'s changed from the belief each had retired with and discussed the situation from a different point of view.
"Big Tom is a wise ol\' owl," said Dailey. "He\'ll move when he gets ready. Just now he\'s on a nest, hatchin\' out somethin\' that is mebby tender, bein\' so young. He ain\'t layin\' down so easy. I know him."
"He reckons, mebby, that th\' man that dealt th\' hands has got an ace in a hole," replied Fanning. "It\'s an old sayin\' that you never want to buck another man\'s game. I don\'t know that Nelson has got an ace laid away, but he don\'t have to have any; Big Tom figgers he has, mebby, because them Double X hombres are so friendly with him; an\' it\'s what Big Tom thinks that counts with him. Mebby somethin\' will happen today, an\' mebby it won\'t; but it\'s goin\' to happen, just th\' same, some time."
"I\'m favorin\' th\' ace idea," said Dave, thoughtfully. "If I was Big Tom I\'d be plumb suspicious of any man that made th\' suggestion that Nelson made when he knew there was an outfit ag\'in\' him. I\'d figger he was[308] either a cussed fool or knowed just exactly what he was doin\', an\' all th\' time. Nobody down here believes that he is a fool, not now, anyhow; an\' I\'m dead shore he wasn\'t bluffin\'. He\'s got an ace, all right—an\' I\'m admirin\' Big Tom\'s waitin\' game. When he thinks he\'s figgered out how far th\' Double X will go we\'ll hear his answer. Besides, th\' Bar H has got to round up an\' brand that herd for McCullough. That may be holdin\' him back some."
"Slim\'s remarks slid in like they was made to fit," commented Dailey. "An\' he wasn\'t bluffin\', neither. If th\' Double X is backin\' Nelson, all th\' way, he\'ll win; if they ain\'t, he won\'t. But I\'m shore waitin\' to see, an\' hear."
Down on the Bar H dinner was over before the foreman had much to say, and he was careful not to reveal his personal experiences of the morning. He counseled patience, and gave good reasons for it. They had until fall to start on the SV herd, and many things could, and would, occur before then. The first thing to do was to get ready for the round-up of the trail herd, and in order to lull suspicions they would not work on the tabooed section. There was to be no branding done out there, and in order to show their fairness in not too noticeable a way, they would help the Triangle with its five hundred head. This over with, the Triangle punchers would have to hold the herd together until McCullough came along and, not being able to call on them for aid, the Bar H would have to appeal to the Double X for the loan of some of its men, who thus would be on the ground and see[309] what cattle were to be cut out for the trail. Nelson was to be ignored until the herd was sold and the money put in the bank at Sherman, after which he would be taken care of.
"Nelson is a good man," Big Tom assured them; "but he ain\'t good enough not to never make mistakes, an\' no man can take every trick. He\'s goin\' to miss one, th\' last he\'ll ever miss, or win, for that matter, but there ain\'t no use of any of us gettin\' killed unless we have to. We can get him without it, an\' without gettin\' any of his sudden new friends on th\' prod. I promise that. I know how we\'re goin\' to play it—an\' it\'s so easy it makes me laugh. He\'s a good man; but there are older heads than his\'n. You foller my orders an\' set tight. I\'ll handle this when th\' time comes, an\' it ain\'t here yet. Stay out of Gunsight unless you can go in peaceful, keep yore mouths tight shut, an\' stay sober. I\'ve said enough about him.
"Now, we got work ahead of us, an\' we start at it on th\' Triangle day after tomorrow. I\'m goin\' over to see Hank Lewis now. There\'ll be somebody from Twitchell an\' Carpenter comin\' up any day now to select th\' cattle an\' stay with \'em till McCullough counts \'em into his herd. After I see Hank I\'m ridin\' to town to leave word at Dave\'s for Sherwood to see if I can borrow some of his boys when we start our own round-up. Look over yore gear an\' be ready for workin\'."
His prophecy regarding the representatives of Twitchell and Carpenter was fulfilled at mid-afternoon, when two strangers rode up to the bunkhouse and[310] inquired for him and, being told that he could very likely be found in town, they explained who they were and rode on to Gunsight, accompanied by Fraser. To the saddle of each were fastened three stamping irons bearing their road brand.
Big Tom was in Dave\'s when they arrived and after a few rounds of drinks they settled down to discuss the herds and range topics in general.
"Th\' T an\' C sendin\' many over th\' trails this year?" Dave asked during a lull in the talk.
"Shore," replied the older and taller visitor, who answered to the name of Ridley. "We\'ve been busy since winter. We looked over a big herd of beeves south of th\' Grande for th\' first herd. There was over thirty-five hundred head and they was three- an\' four-year-olds. They went up north of th\' Yellowstone, on government contract. Another herd of three thousand two- an\' three-year-olds went past th\' Platte, bound west for new ranges. There was two more big herds went up to Dodge—one of \'em bein\' sold without th\' new owners even seein\' \'em. This bunch is goin\' to new range north of here, some of \'em. I don\'t reckon there\'ll be many more this year. There ain\'t an animal in them that McCullough\'s bringin\' up that\'s more than two years old, an\' those are th\' ones goin\' to range. We took \'em from four different ranches to get \'em choice, an\' they\'re all long-laigged long-horns an\' a purty sight to a cowman. I\'m bettin\' Mac won\'t lose a single head neither. He\'s a trail boss that is a trail boss. He knows every river an\' ford, water hole an\' dry section from here to Montanny. He took that[311] first herd north this spring, an\' here he is back in time to swing this drive. He has a knack of pickin\' good men for his trail outfits, an\' he\'s daddy to \'em all from th\' jump, without nobody knowin\' it."
Big Tom arose. "Well, friends," he said, shaking hands, "yo\'re welcome to stay at either ranch while yo\'re here; but I reckon Fanning can make you more comfortable. We start on th\' Triangle day after tomorrow—come down when you get ready. I told you how to get to th\' Double X. If you go over there before any of \'em come to town, let \'em know that I\'m countin\' on usin\' three of their men when I start my own round-up. See you later."
Dawn found activity on the range. The Double X, having rounded up its hundred head the day before, with a few additional to make up for possible rejections, held them apart from the SV herd, which also had extra cattle to offset any not up to the required standard. The majority of them, those which were certain to be accepted, had already been branded. The C and T inspectors watched the cutting out and indicated their choices as the cattle left the round-up herd, those rejected being turned aside and allowed to go back to freedom on the range, while those accepted were driven to the beef cut, which grew rapidly. A hundred and five finally were accepted, the odd five to make up for possible losses on the trail. Then the SV herd went through the same proceeding until four hundred and ten had been thrown into the beef cut. Because of Cimarron\'s discriminating judgment in making up the herd there were but few rejections; and, besides, the[312] standard was not high, for, broadly, a cow was a cow. The remaining SV cattle were not returned to their ranch, but were set free to wander where they would. The general round-up would find them later and throw them back then if Arnold wished, although with the coming of the new round-up conditions there would be no great reason to throw them over—the brand would protect his interests, no matter where it was found. There was some talk about the SV cattle, but Johnny was credited as representing Arnold, and the matter was settled by agreeing that the T and C should pay Arnold, direct. Then the road branding began, and when it was over the consolidated herd was held to await the arrival of McCullough. It was then that Sherwood turned to three of his men.
"Th\' Triangle ain\'t asked for no help, but you boys go down an\' give \'em a hand," he said. "We\'re introducin\' th\' comin\' of th\' general round-up out in this country, an\' we\'re doin\' it gradual. There won\'t be no thought of us watchin\' out for Arnold\'s interests over there, because these inspectors will do that anyhow. Go down an\' show that we\'re friendly; an\' from there go to th\' Bar H."
On the Triangle the following morning things were running in full blast. After a breakfast eaten by firelight, the outfit was in the saddle at the first flush of dawn, and rode far out on the range. At an agreed-upon point it spread out in a thin line, the riders spaced at irregular intervals, depending upon the nature of the ground, and as they turned and moved back in the direction of Rock Creek they were joined by the Bar H[313] contingent, which took up its position on one end of the line.
Draws, brush, and coulees shed cattle before the advance. A cow with a big, husky, and friskily independent calf arose to its feet and looked wonderingly at the disturbance. Gardner espied her and galloped forward, shouting and waving his hat as he rode. "G\'wan, you! Get goin\'!"
The cow stood irresolute, debating between the lessons of experience and her own wishes, and the pugnacious counseling of her indignant offspring. Deciding in favor of the former, she wheeled and moved away, the rebellious calf protesting by kicking up its heels and by the defiant erectness of its tail.
"Th\' devil you say!" grinned Gardner, watching them depart. "Yo\'re big enough to be weaned, you overgrown baby—an\' yo\'re shore goin\' to be, for yore ma\'s goin\' north."
Out of a clump of brush popped a group of two-year-olds, heads up, curious and mildly frightened. They stood defiant until Gardner was nearly upon them, and then his sudden whoop sent them whirling and off toward Rock Creek, discretion overbalancing valor. He gave them no further thought, for they would continue to travel unless crowded too much, and he was too old a hand to do that. A cow with a dogie he let slip through, pity joining hands with common sense in their behalf. It was not his purpose to bother with sickly, stunted youngsters, nor to take from them the maternal care so necessary to their sense of security.
By this time the outpouring of cattle had put a[314] respectable number in front of him, and as others were routed out they more willingly went forward, for the gregarious spirit urged them to join the little herd. Occasionally one having more spirit than the others would wheel around and attempt to escape, but in all instances, except one, the speedy dash of the trained cow-horse headed them off and sent them on the about-face. The exception was a five-year-old steer, crusty and sullen, his hide bearing mute witness to his combativeness. He planted himself on rigid legs, lowered his sweeping horns and without even a grunt of warning charged straight for the watchful horseman.
"Blasted mosshead," muttered Sam, avoiding the rush, and watching some of the cattle which had turned to see how the affair came out before making up their minds to duplicate it. Too old for the drive, Sam would have let him go, except for the bad effect it might have on the rest of the cattle, and except for his own aroused spirit. He swung his rope and it darted up and out, and caught a hind leg of the "mosshead" as the pony settled back. There was a blur of over-turning steer, a bellow of rage, injury, and surprise, and a resounding thump. Riding forward and taking up the slack as he went, Sam suddenly took two quick turns of the rope around his pommel, checked the horse, and grinned. Down went the mosshead again with another thump, and before the animal could get on its feet the rope was slipped off his leg, and when he arose he found himself alone. Gardner had seen the waverers start back to freedom and had to leave the craggy fighter to check a catastrophe. Hard riding won out[315] for him and again he went forward. Several weaners shot out of a draw and took great credit to themselves for outwitting the puncher; but Sam saw no use of collecting infants only to have them turned loose at the cut-out. One cow arose, spread its feet apart and moved its low-held head slowly from side to side. He gave it a pitying glance and let it alone. "Locoed," he muttered, and as he spoke it shied at a weed swaying in the wind and went cautiously around it. There came a sudden bellowing ahead and he dashed forward at the pair of bulls who were pawing streams of dirt into the air as they met in the dust cloud, head on, and locked for the fight, their great, muscular backs bowed under the power of straining legs. This was no time for masculine duels and he broke it up with quirt and hat, driving the testy combatants apart and sending them on their ways. Dust arose over the moving herd, under which was turmoil, confusion, the lowing of cows, and the bawling of calves; but it rolled steadily westward, slowly but surely. A rattler coiled swiftly and launched its venomous, dart-shaped head at the horse, which reared up with a snort of terror. Sam, stirred to sudden anger and recklessness, spurned a gun, and leaned over as the horse dropped to all four feet. His quirt whizzed viciously and a headless, splotched body writhed in the dust.
"I\'m purty bad, myself, when I\'m riled," he told it, and rode on. Shortly afterward a gray streak flashed from a heavy bit of brush, and Sam\'s Colt leaped into action, but in vain. The coyote punched a hole in the air and disappeared almost as though it had shrunk[316] into nothing. He grinned: "That slug will catch you when you stop, less\'n you turns out," he said.
Rock Creek coming into view, the long line of horsemen became a crescent, the ends moving forward at the center slowed, and soon a circle of riders held the herd on all sides. It slowed, grew compact, and stopped, shifting like a kaleidoscope, the different colors weaving in and out like patches of some animated, changing crazy-quilt. There was good grass here, plenty of water, and no more urging riders. Calves went bawling their panicky ways in frantic search for lost mothers, butting and worrying through the herd, receiving rebuffs and impersonal chastisements as they disturbed their elders. One stood outside the pre............