ON A WILD NIGHT RIDE
"Your fat friend, over there, is making queer noises, Master Tad. Must be having a bad dream."
Big-foot had reached a ponderous hand from his blankets and shaken Tad roughly.
"Mebby the gopher's having a fit. Better find out what ails him."
The rain was falling in torrents. The men were soaked to the skin, but it did not seem to disturb them in the least, judging by the quality of their snores.
Tad listened. Stacy Brown surely was having trouble of some sort. The lad threw off his blankets and ran over to where his companion was lying.
"Chunky's drowning," he exclaimed in a voice full of suppressed excitement.
Big-foot leaped to his feet, hurrying to the spot.
Stacy was lying in a little depression in the ground, a sort of puddle having formed about him, and when Tad reached him the lad had turned over on his face, only the back part of his head showing above the water. He appeared to be struggling, but unable to free himself from his unpleasant position.
They jerked him up choking and coughing, shaking him vigorously to get the water out of him.
"Wha—what's the matter!" stammered the boy.
"Matter enough. Trying to drown yourself?" growled the cowboy.
"Di—did I fall in?"
"Did you fall in? Where do you think you are?"
"I—I thought I fell in the river and I was trying to swim out," answered the boy, with a sheepish grin that caused his rescuers to shake with merriment.
"Guess we'll have to get a life preserver for you," chuckled Big-foot. "You ain't safe to leave around when the dew is falling."
"Dew? Call this dew? This is a flood."
"Go find a high piece of ground, and go to bed. We haven't got time to lie awake watching you. Be careful that you don't step on any of the bunch. They ain't likely to wake up in very good humor a night like this, and besides, Lumpy Bates is sleeping not more'n a rope's length from you. You can imagine what would happen if you stepped on his face to-night."
Chunky shivered slightly. He had had one experience with the ill-natured cowpuncher that day and did not care for another.
"I'll go to bed," he chattered.
"You'd better. What's that?" exclaimed the cowpuncher sharply, pausing in a listening attitude.
"Some one coming," answered Tad. "They seem to be in a hurry."
"Yes, I should say they were. I reckon the trouble is coming, kid."
A horseman dashed up to the camp that lay enshrouded in darkness, save for the lantern that hung at the tail board of the chuck wagon.
"Roll out! Roll out!"
It was the voice of Curley Adams.
The cowpunchers scrambled to their feet with growls of disapproval, demanding to know what the row was about.
"What is it, a stampede?" called Big-foot, hastily rolling his blankets and dumping them in the wagon.
"No; but it may be. The boss wants the whole gang to turn out and help the guard."
"For what?"
"The cows are restless. They're knocking about ready to make a break at any minute."
"What? Haven't they bedded down yet?" asked Big-foot.
"No, nary one of them. And they ain't going to to-night."
"I knew it," announced the cowman, with emphasis.
"Knew what?" asked Tad.
"That we were in for trouble. And it's coming a-running."
By this time the horse wrangler had rounded up the ponies, and the cowboys, grumbling and surly, were hurriedly cinching on saddles. A few moments later the whole party was riding at full gallop toward the herd.
"Where's the gopher?" inquired Big-foot, after they had ridden some distance. "Did we leave him behind?"
"I guess Chunky is asleep," laughed Tad.
"Best place for him. He'd have the herd on the run in no time if he was to come out to-night. Never knew a human being who could stir up so much trouble out of nothing as he can. We're coming up with the herd now. Be careful where you are riding, too."
All was excitement. The cattle were moving restlessly about, prodding each other with their horns, while guards were galloping here and there, talking to them soothingly and whipping into line those that had strayed from the main herd.
Bunches of fifteen or twenty were continually breaking through the lines and starting to run. Quirts and ropes were brought into use to check these individual rushes, the cowmen fearing to use their weapons lest they alarm the herd and bring on a stampede.
"What's the trouble!" demanded Big-foot as they came up with the foreman.
"I don't know. Bad weather, I guess. The evil one seems to have gotten into the critters to-night. Lead your men up to the north end of the line. We will take care of these fellows down here as best we can."
The men galloped quickly to their stations. Then in the driving rain that soaked and chilled them the cowmen began their monotonous songs, interrupted now and then by a shout of command from some one in charge of a squad.
There was no thunder or lightning this time. The men were thankful for that; it needed only some sudden disturbance to start the animals going.
The disturbance came after an hour's work. The cowmen had brought some sort of order out of the chaos and were beginning to breathe easier. Stallings rode up to the head of the herd giving orders that the cattle be pointed in and kept in a circle if possible. To do this he called away all the men at the right save Tad Butler and Big-foot Sanders. As it chanced, they were at the danger spot when the trouble came.
Chunky had been awakened by the disturbance in camp, not having fully aroused himself until after the departure of the men, however. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, grumbling about the weather and expressing his opinion of a cowpuncher's life in no uncertain terms.
Finding that all had left him, the lad decided to get his pony and follow.
"What's the matter, Pong?" he called, observing the Chinaman up and fixing the curtains about his wagon.
"Allee same likee this," answered Pong hopping about in imitation of an animal running away.
"He's crazy," muttered Chunky, going to his pony and swinging himself into the saddle.
Chunky urged the animal along faster and faster. He could hear the cowboys on beyond him though he was able to see only a few yards ahead of him. However, the boy was becoming used to riding in the dark and did not feel the same uncertainty that he had earlier.
"I'll bet they are getting ready to run away," he decided.
In that, Stacy was right. Before he realized where he was he had driven his pony full into the rear ranks of the restless cattle.
Chunky uttered a yell as he found himself bumping against the sides of the cows and sought to turn his pony about.
The startled steers nearest to him fought desperately to get away from the object that had so suddenly hurled itself against them. Instantly there was a mix-up, with bellowing, plunging steers all about him.
"Help! Help!" shouted the boy.
Now his pony was biting and kicking in an effort to free itself from the animals that were prodding it with horns and buffeting it from side to side.
Only a moment or so of this was necessary to fill the cattle with blind, unreasoning fear. With one common impulse they lunged forward. Those ahead of them felt the impetus of the thrust just as do the cars of a freight train under the sudden jolt of a starting engine.
"What's up?" roared the foreman.
"They're off!" yelled a cowman.
"Head them!"
"Can't. They're started in the center of the herd."
With heads down, the entire herd was now charging straight ahead. Big-foot Sanders and Tad Butler, nearly half a mile ahead, felt the impetus, too.
"Keep your head, boy," warned the cowpuncher. "We are in for a run for our money, now."
It came even as he spoke. With a bellow the cattle started forward at a lively gallop.
"Whoa-oo-ope!" cried Big-foot, riding in front of the plunging leaders.
He might as well have sought to stay the progress of the wind. The leaders swept man and boy aside and dashed on.
"Better keep them straight and not try to stop them, hadn't we?" shouted Tad, with rare generalship.
"That's the trick! Can you hold your side?" roared Big-foot in reply.
"I'll try," answered the boy, riding so close to the leaders that they rubbed sides with his pony. The latter, understanding what was wanted of him, pushed sturdily on holding the cattle with his side, leaning toward them to give the effort the benefit of his entire weight.
One end of Tad's neckerchief had come loose and was streaming straight out behind him, while the broad brim of his sombrero was tipped up by the rushing breeze.
It was a wild and perilous ride. Yet the lad thought nothing of this. His whole thought was centered on the work in hand, that of keeping the cattle headed northward. Tad was unable to tell whether they were going in a straight line or not, but this time he had the big cowman to rely upon.
"Give way a little!" warned Big-foot.
"Right!" answered the lad, pulling his pony to one side, then straightening him again.
"We'll hit the Injun Territory by daylight if we keep on at this gait! You all right?"
"Yes. But I think the herd is spreading out behind me," answered Tad.
"Never mind that. They'll likely follow the leaders."
Off to the rear they could hear the sharp reports of the cowboys' revolvers as they sought to stay the mad rush. Big-foot, however, had thought it best not to resort to shooting tactics. They were making altogether too good headway. If only they were able to keep the cattle headed the way they were going the herd would be none the worse off for the rush and the outfit would be that much further along on the journey. The thundering hoof-beats behind them as the living tide swept down upon them, was not a pleasant sound to hear. Yet Big-foot and Tad were altogether too busy to be greatly disturbed by it.
They had gone on for fully half an hour, after that, with no apparent decrease in the speed of the stampede. The ponies were beginning to show their fatigue. Tad slowed down a little, patting his faithful little animal to encourage it and quiet its nerves.
As he did so, the boy's attention was again called to the fact that a solid wall of cattle had apparently closed in behind him.
"Big-foot!" he shouted.
"Yes?" answered the cowboy, in a far away voice, for some distance now separated the two.
"It looks to me as if they were closing in on us. What do you think?"
"Wait! I'll see."
The cowboy pulled up a little and listened.
"Right you are. They have spread out in a solid wall."
"What shall we do?"
"Ride! Ride for your life!" came the excited reply.
"Where?"
"To your right. Don't let them catch you or you'll be trampled under their feet. They'll never stop, now, till they get to the river."
"Is it near here?"
"Only a few miles ahead. I can hear it roar now. A flood is coming down it. Hurry!"
Tad had barely heard the last word. Already he had swung his pony about and was galloping with all speed to the right in an effort to get free of the herd before they crowded him and his pony into the turbulent, swollen river.