“Probably the men are driving them all in to a central point to take account of stock, or something like that,” was Jerry’s answer. “But, instead of standing here talking of it we’d better be doing something. What do you advise, Professor?”
Uriah Snodgrass, who had discovered some queer kind of a jumping bug in the grass, had lost all interest in the approaching steers, but, at this question, he looked up.
“What did you ask?” he said, making a grab for the bug, and catching it.
“What do you think we’d better do?” asked Ned. “This is getting serious.”
“What is? Oh, the steers. Why, they are getting a little too close, aren’t they?”
They were, for a fact, and the animals in the foremost ranks, catching sight of the little party on the hill, broke into awkward gallop. As far as the boys could see, they beheld nothing but waving tails, heaving heads, armed with long sharp horns, and the movement of brown bodies, as the thousands of steers came on with a rush.
“We’d better—” began the professor, who was walking slowly along, his eyes fixed on the ground, in search for another of the queer bugs. “Look out!” he suddenly cried. “Stand back boys!”
Hardly had he spoken than there sounded, high and shrill above the dull rumble of the oncoming cattle, a queer, buzzing noise.
“Rattlesna” exclaimed Ned.
“Yes, a whole nest of them, in a prairie dog’s hole,” added the professor. “I nearly stepped into them. There must be thirty or forty.”