CHAPTER IX.
TED GETS AN ASSIGNMENT.
To the horror-stricken onlookers it appeared that Ted's end had come. He lay prone upon the sod with his face turned to the sky, evidently stunned.
The bull, with all the ferocity of his kind when goaded to anger, was charging upon him, his needle-like horns a few inches from the ground, and the foam flecking from his lips.
Stella, her face white and drawn, was galloping toward him as fast as her pony could go, while Bud was lashing his pony to the height of its speed as he crossed the face of the herd. Billy Sudden was neck and neck with Stella, calling to her to hold back.
Suddenly Ted Strong came to life, and looked over his shoulder.
He saw his danger, and quick as thought he rolled over, away from the bull.
But that was all. Every one could see that it would do no good. He could not expect to escape from the infuriated beast in that manner, and a hollow groan escaped the lips of more than one.
Ted surely was doomed.
The bull's horns caught Ted in the side as he continued to roll away from it, and it stopped for an instant, settling itself to toss him. Stella turned her head away with a muttered prayer, and even the cowboys, used to accidents in the round-up, gasped.
But suddenly they saw a cloud of dust fly upward, and thought at first that Ted had fired his revolver into the face of the infuriated beast, and it seemed strange that they had not heard the report of the weapon.
Then, miracle of miracles, the bull, with a snort of pain, threw up its head, and Ted was not impaled upon its horns.
There was another cloud of dust, and the bull began backing away, slowly but surely, shaking its head, as if in pain.
"Screamin' catamounts, did yer see thet, Stella?" cried Bud Morgan, as he rode alongside the girl,
"What did he do?" asked Stella.
"He's saved hisself by blindin' ther bull. He throwed dust inter its eyes. I'm dinged if I see how thet feller kin think o' things like thet when he's down an' out. Look at him!"
As the bull rubbed its face in the grass Ted rolled over twice, then leaped to his feet and ran to where Sultan was awaiting him.
A mighty cheer went up from the boys, and the color came back into Stella's face with a rush, but she could not have uttered a sound to save her life.
In the meantime, the bull had recovered, having rubbed the dust from its eyes in the short grass, and looked about for its enemy.
It caught sight of Ted in the act of mounting, and sprang toward him with the swiftness of a deer.
Then Stella recovered her voice.
"Run, Ted! Run!" she cried.
But Ted had seen the necessity of that himself, and, wheeled Sultan and dashed off, looking over his shoulder at the enraged monster that was following him, while he rapidly uncoiled his lariat.
Having run several hundred yards and outdistanced the bull, he turned and stopped with his rope in his hand, closely calculating the animal's distance and speed.
Bud and Stella were following the bull closely, both of them preparing their lariats for the throw.
As the bull charged, Ted's rope was seen to leave his hand and go sailing through the air in graceful loops and curves that lengthened out one after the other.
One of the most difficult throws a cow-puncher can make with a lariat was that which Ted attempted. He had to calculate to a degree the speed with which the bull was advancing toward him, and that at which the rope was leaving him. To calculate the point where the two would come together would seem an almost impossible task.
But so nicely had Ted estimated it, that the open noose fell over the bull's head and settled down, and, turning swiftly, Ted spurred Sultan to one side, and the bull, shaking his head and emitting short, angry bellows, rushed past.
The intelligent pony had suddenly come to a stop, bracing himself for the shock, and when Gladiator came to the end of the rope he turned completely over, and landed on his back with a thud that shook the earth.
Bud had galloped forward, and was about to throw himself from the saddle to tie the brute, when, with the agility of a cat, the bull was on its feet, shaking its head and stamping the earth in a perfect fury of anger and desperation. But it was by no means beaten, and ran at Bud, who took to his heels. When again it arrived at the end of the rope, it went head over heels, much to its loss of wind and dignity.
This time it did not rise so briskly, and Ted gave it all the time it wanted.
Suddenly Stella dashed out and rode toward the bull, and when a few feet from it curved off, with the angry brute in full pursuit. Had her pony stumbled it would have been all up with her, for Gladiator was wild with rage, and when it was again thrown its fury knew no bounds.
"A few more throws like that will settle him, I think," shouted Ted. "Bait him again, Bud."
Again Bud rode out, and the bull took after him as before, and, when he was jerked onto his back by the rope, he lay there.
Ted rode rapidly up to him, and, detaching a rope which had been knotted around his waist, tied the bull's legs fore and aft, and the exhausted brute did not make an objection.
For several minutes the bull lay panting, then it recovered.
When it came to its normal condition at last, it struggled furiously to get to its feet, but each time it got up Ted jerked it to its side, standing close to it so that it could see him.
Time and again it thus fruitlessly struggled.
It seemed to realize suddenly that it had been a very foolish bull, and that it had met its master, who now stood over him ready to tumble him over at any moment.
So he lay quite still, following Ted's movements with its great, dark eyes, out of which all the ferocity had vanished.
Ted stepped up to it and patted its head, and it made no objection to these attentions. Then he began to untie the bonds that held its legs together.
"Look out fer him, he's treacherous," called Bud.
"He's all right," answered Ted. "I'll bet he'll eat out of my hand."
When it felt that it was free again, the bull got slowly to his feet and walked sedately in the direction of the herd.
"You've broken the spirit of that bull," said Stella.
"You bet I have," said Ted. "That's just what he needed. He'll be a good bull now. If he isn't, I'll give him some more."
Ted now rode to the head of the herd with Stella, and the other boys took their places.
"All right, Billy. Send them forward," shouted Ted to the rear of the herd.
Skillfully Ted set the herd to moving toward the south, where the other herds were gathering under the management of the boys.
At first Gladiator threw up his head arrogantly, and did not stir.
Ted again rode toward him, swinging his lariat. The bull saw him as well as the rope, and, recognizing the agents of his defeat, moved off briskly at the head of the herd.
"Say," said Bud, across the head of the herd, "yer could slap that old duffer across the face with your hat, and he'd apologize."
They were almost at the rendezvous, where thousands of cattle had been gathered into a huge herd, and in every direction could be seen dust clouds announcing that others were on the way.
"Here comes Carl hotfoot," said Stella. "He looks as if something had happened, and he was an extra edition with 'a full account of the terrible disaster.'"
"Hello, Carl! What is it?" asked Ted.
"Der United States marshal vaiting for you on der veranda iss," answered Carl solemnly.
"Well, what do I care?" asked Ted. "He's come at a mighty busy time if he just wants to swap a little conversation. Did he say what he wanted?"
"No, but he say it is very important vork, an' for you to hurry."
"My compliments to the marshal, and tell him I'm busy, and will see him as soon as I get through. You entertain him for a while."
"But he der boss iss."
"Not on this ranch. This is a free and unadulterated republic, where there are no bosses. Tell him to make himself at home, and I'll be there as soon as I can."
Now the cattle were all rounded up, and the cutting out of the two and three-year olds began.
This was intensely exciting work, in which Stella joined, as she was as skilled at it as any of the boys. Outside of the big herd, the cowboys were picking up the cut-outs and driving them to the branding pens, for many of them were acquired stock, and even many of the home yearlings had never been branded.
Then the cows with calves were cut out, so that the youngsters might get a touch of life by feeling the sting of the hot iron with the Crescent V brand on it.
The buyers were circulating in the herds, looking over the stock.
Several of the buyers had brought their own cow-punchers with them, and these went to work cutting out the selections of their employers.
The sky was thick with dust, and the air rang with the shouts of the cowboys and the lowing and bellowing of the cattle.
The rattle of countless hoofs on the hard soil added to the din, and the cattle weaving in and out ceaselessly, and the dashing riding of the cowboys as they swooped out of the mass occasionally to drive back an escaping steer, made a scene of excitement, movement, and noise never seen anywhere, except at a Western cattle round-up and cut-out.
Soon the work was pretty well in hand, and, leaving Bud Morgan as segundo, Ted went to the house to see the marshal.
He found that officer sitting on the veranda, quietly smoking a cigar, an interested witness of the proceedings.
"How are you, Mr. Easton?" said Ted, shaking hands with the marshal. "I must apologize for not coming sooner, but my hands were full."
"So I see," said the marshal cordially. "I was watching you work out there. Say, I believe I'd like to be a cow-puncher if I wasn't so old."
"It's a young man's job," said Ted, laughing; "and even at that it is about all a young fellow can stand at times. But this to-day is a mere picnic to what we are up against sometimes."
"Well, you seem to be right in it."
"Yes, I love my business. I wouldn't be anything in the world except a cow-puncher."
"But, remember, you are also a government officer."
"I never forget that. But, if it came to being compelled to quit one or the other of the occupations, I'd still be a cow-puncher, and let the marshalship go."
"That's the very thing I came to see about."
"You want my resignation?" asked Ted, his spirits falling to zero.
"By no means," laughed the marshal. "Not that, but to ask you to undertake a somewhat difficult job. It transpires that when the Soldier Butte bank was robbed the other night, a large amount of money belonging to the government was taken. I didn't know this until early this afternoon, when I received a telegram from Washington to go after the robbers and land them."
"That'll be somewhat of a job," said Ted, drawing his chair closer to the marshal, so that he couldn't be overheard by passing people.
"I'm well aware of that, and that's the reason I come to you. You and your boys must undertake the duty of clearing up the mystery of the robbery, and, if possible, recovering the money."
"I have a very probable theory as to who the robbers are, but it will be entirely another matter to fasten it on them."
"I leave it all to you. I don't want to have anything to do with it. All I want are results."
"But I shall not have time to tackle it for a day or two. Unfortunately our fall round-up is in progress, and, as this is the time we sell the product of our business, we can't leave it until everything is cleared up."
"That's all right, Mr. Strong. But when you do get busy, don't come back home until you land the thieves."