“Say, that’s great!” exclaimed the big cowboy, good-naturedly resisting the appeals of the herder. “I used to have one like that when I was a boy. Oh, I’m a blower, all right––listen to this, now!” He puffed out his chest, screwed his lips into the horn, and blew again, loud and long.
“How’s that for high?” he inquired, glancing roguishly at his partner. “And I could keep it up all day,” he added, handing the horn back, “only I’ve got business elsewhere.”
“Oyez, amigo,” he said, bending his brow suddenly upon the Mexican herder, “remember, now––in three days!” He continued the sentence by a comprehensive sweep of the hand from that spot out 328 through the western pass, favored each of the three Chihuahuanos with an abhorrent scowl, and rode slowly away down the hogback.
“Notice anything funny over on that ridge?” he asked, jerking his head casually toward the east. “That’s Swope and Co.––the Sheepmen’s Protective Association––coming over to rescue companero.” A line of rapidly moving specks proved the truth of his observation, and Creede’s shoulders shook with laughter as he noted their killing pace.
“I tumbled to the idee the minute I set eyes on that cow’s horn,” he said. “It’s like this. Every boss herder has a horn; if he gits into trouble he blows it and all hands come a-runnin’ to shoot holes in Mr. Cowman––think I’ll make one myself.”
He halted behind a rock and scrutinized the approaching horsemen over the top.
“That’s Jasp, in front,” he observed impersonally. “I wouldn’t mind ownin’ that black mule of his’n, neither. We’ll jest wait until they dip down into the cañon and then double in back of him, and scare up them hombres over at the mouth of Hell’s Hip Pocket. We want to git ’em started out of that. I believe you’re right, though, Rufe––we can run this bunch out without firin’ a shot.”
That evening after the day’s riding Creede sat down on his heels by the fire and heated the end of 329 an iron rod. In his other hand he held a horn, knocked from the bleaching skeleton of a steer that had died by the water, and to its end where the tip had been sawed off he applied the red-hot iron, burning a hole through to the hollow centre.
“Jim,” he said, turning to one of the Clark boys, “do you want a little excitement to-morrow? Well then, you take this old horn and go play hide ’n’ seek with Jasp. Keep him chasin’, and while the rest of the boys are gatherin’ cattle Rufe and me will move a few sheep.”
“Well, say,” broke in Ben Reavis impatiently, “where do us fellers come in on this play? I thought there was goin’ to be a few shap lessons and a little night work.”