CHAPTER XVI
UNAVAILING EFFORTS
Dave, who had heard this talk, leaped on the back of Crow, and followed
Mr. Carson and the cowboy who rejoiced in the euphonious title of
"Skinny."
"What do you mean by retaliation, Dad?" he asked. "Has it anything to do with the Molicks?"
"A whole lot to do with them, Dave, I'm afraid," was the reply.
"You mean they have diverted some of your water?"
"Some of it! Better say all of it!" exclaimed the disgusted Skinny. "There ain't enough comin' down Rollin' River, over where I come from, t' make a cup of coffee."
"As bad as that?" asked Mr. Carson in alarm.
"Well, almost. I got skeered and made up my mind I'd come and tell you about it."
"You did just right, Skinny. We may be able to get ahead of these chaps after all."
"I hope we can," murmured Dave.
Though Dave had seldom, for any length of time, lost sight of the fact that he was a "nobody," still he could not help feeling an interest in the ranch, which had been the only home he had known for a long time. In fact it was really the only home he knew, for he did not, of course, recall his days of babyhood. And now, though Dave knew that he was not Mr. Carson's son, though he realized that he might never inherit the broad acres over which roamed thousands of cattle, still he retained the feeling of loyalty and fealty that caused him to hope for the best.
"I wonder if I'll ever find my real folks," mused Dave, as he rode on with
Mr. Carson and Skinny. "It's hardly possible, after all these years."
Over the rolling plains they rode, now and then catching sight of distant herds of cattle under the guard of cowboys, again gaining a view of the distant Centre O ranch. But they saw no sign of Molick or Len, nor could they catch, in the direction they were going, a glimpse of the place where the fence work and dam building had been going on.
A little later they topped another rise, and began to descend into a sheltered and fertile valley where Mr. Carson usually sent his choice cattle to fatten before shipping them to the dealers in Chicago and elsewhere.
As the three came within sight of this valley they saw a strange sight Instead of the cattle quietly grazing, with perhaps small bunches of them wandering now and then to the banks of the stream to get a drink, the whole herd seemed scattered along the water course. And instead of quietly drinking the cattle seemed fighting among themselves. Pushing, struggling, rearing with heads up against one another, bellowing and stampeding.
On the outside vainly rode two or three cowboys who were doing their best to keep the rearmost cattle from rushing over those in the front rank, who were nearest the water.
"What does it mean?" demanded Mr. Carson of Skinny, as he urged his horse forward. "What does it mean?"
"It's a stampede!" cried Dave. "Maybe Len is trying some of his mean tricks again."
"It's a trick, but it isn't any like that," said Skinny. "None of that
Molick crowd is around here now."
"But what's the matter?" demanded the ranchman.
"Water—or, rather lack of water," said the cowboy briefly. "The cattle are half mad with thirst I expect. And I guess maybe it isn't so much of a real thirst as it is the fear that there won't be any water left after an hour or two. Cattle know more that way than we give 'em credit for."
"This is serious!" exclaimed Mr. Carson.
"I thought you'd think so. That's why I come for you," Skinny explained.
The three rode down the slope, the confusion among the cattle increasing every moment.
"What can you do?" asked Dave.
"Have to drive 'em over to the other range, there's water there, I should think," Mr. Carson answered. "That is, if Molick and his bunch haven't tried any of their tricks there."
"No, they can't stop the supply there," said Skinny. "It's only here, where the river takes a sharp turn above us, that they could cut off the supply."
"Then you think there's no question but that they did it?" as had Dave of
Mr. Carson.
"Hardly any doubt," was the reply. "But of course I'll look into it. Watch out now, Dave. Those cattle are fairly wild, and I don't want you to be hurt."
The ranchman looked affectionately at the youth, and Dave felt a warm spot in his heart for the man who had done so much for him.
"I don't believe we can drive 'em back until they've licked up every last drop," said Skinny. "Then they'll know there's no use in stayin' and we may be able to do somethin' with 'em."
"Is it drying up as badly as that?" asked Mr. Carson.
"You'll soon see," was the answer.
Only skillful cowpunchers could have made their way through that maddened, seething, wild herd of cattle. But Dave, Mr. Carson and Skinny were more at home in the saddle than afoot. Their intelligent ponies pushed their way through the heaving mass of steers until the three of them stood on the brink of what had been a fair-sized branch of the Rolling River but a few hours before.
Now all that showed was a small, narrow ribbon of muddy water, in the clay-like expanse of what had been the bed of the original stream.
"Whew!" whistled Mr. Carson. "This sure is bad!"
"I should say so!" exclaimed Dave.
A sharp bend in the course of the stream above them cut off all but a very limited view. But, as far as they could see, the same conditions prevailed. There was only a small trickle of water. It was in the very middle, the lowest point of the stream, and up to the very edge of this the thirst-tortured cattle pressed, sinking down deep in the soft mud.
"We've got to get 'em out of that," declared the ranchman. "A lot of 'em will be mired if we don't."
"There are some mired now," said Skinny, pointing. "Ed and Foster are trying to yank 'em out."
He indicated two cowboys who, with ropes around the mired steers, were trying to drag them to solid ground. Other animals, though, were pressing in to make their way to the water.
It was a hot day, and bore a promise of being hotter. It needed but a glance to show that the water would soon fail entirely. And it was evident what had caused it. At some point, higher up, the supply had been cut off or diverted.
"Well," said Mr. Carson quickly, like a general on the field meeting a reverse, and deciding on the best way to save the day, "well, the only thing we can do is to get the cattle off this range. Take 'em over to the spring, Skinny-you and the rest of the boys. Fight 'em hard-it's the only way. I'll ride on up and see what's happened to our water supply. Dave, you ride back and get Mr. Bellmore. Maybe he can tell us a way out of this trouble. He's a water engineer."
Thus were the orders issued, and the cowboys and Dave prepared to carry them out. Hardly had Mr. Carson ceased speaking than Skinny rode off with a whoop to aid his fellows.
Dave watched for a moment as the cowboys prepared to move the herd of valuable cattle. It would be hard work to get them away from the water while a drop yet remained in the muddy pools. But it must be done, for if the steers were allowed to remain there many of them would be mired, and in the fight for water others would be trampled on and killed.
As Dave galloped back to the ranch to summon the irrigation engineer he saw Mr. Carson head his pony for the bend, above which was the beginning of the Centre O ranch.
Then the young cowpuncher gave a look at the strenuous efforts of the cowboys to move the maddened cattle.
"They'll have their own troubles," Dave reasoned. "I'll help them as soon as I get back."
He covered the distance to the ranch in record time, and found Mr.
Bellmore busy over some calculations. The engineer was surprised to learn
what had happened, and at once jumped on his horse and galloped off with
Dave.
When they again reached the valley Mr. Carson had not yet returned from his trip to the bend, but the cattle were in a worse tangle than before. The cowboys efforts to drive them away from what was now nothing but a long mudhole, were unavailing.
"Something's got to be done!" cried Skinny. "We've lost some already, and more will die soon. We've got to get 'em away from here. But we can't as long as they smell even the mud. What's to be done?"
Dave looked gloomily on, but could not answer. Could the engineer solve the problem?