It happens now and then that some of the cattle stray off before they are branded. The difficulty of their owners identifying them will be understood. Such cattle are mavericks, and whoever comes upon them loses little time in scorching his brand into their shoulders or hips, after which no one cares to dispute their ownership.
The cowmen whose duty it was to look after the large herd browsing over the thousands of acres composing Bowman's ranch had two annoyances to guard against. It was their duty, as may be said, to keep the animals well in hand. But for this precaution hundreds of them would gradually drift apart until, when the time came for rounding them up, they would be gone beyond recovery. Great loss, therefore, was averted by looking after them.
A more aggravating annoyance, however, brings loss to the owners of the herds. Despite the stringent law, there is always a certain number of desperate men who take perilous chances in stealing cattle and running them off beyond recovery by their owners. This practice is not so prevalent as formerly, for since the brands are registered, and the agents well known at Cheyenne, Helena, and other shipping-points, the thieves find it hard to explain their possession of the carcasses thus marked and escape the arrest and imprisonment provided as a penalty.
One feature of this annoyance comes from the Indians. By far the greater majority of those on the reservations are law-abiding. Under the patient and skilful tutorship of the Government agents they are advancing in civilization, and in a knowledge of the trades and of agriculture. Rarely is there any trouble with them; but it would be strange indeed if, among these people not yet fairly emerged from barbarism, there were not a number sullen because of the change, and who cling to the traditions and practices when the Indian looked upon every white man as his enemy, whom it was his duty to kill upon the first opportunity. The watchfulness of the authorities prevents grave crimes, but no vigilance can keep the dusky thieves from stealthily raiding upon the cattle and property of their white neighbors.
One of the tasks, therefore, of the cowmen of Bowman's ranch was to guard against aboriginal thieves. Since those fellows were sure to have the same trouble as white pilferers in disposing of their stolen stock, they were fond of stampeding the cattle when not under the eyes of their caretakers. About all that resulted from this amusement was extra exasperation and work on the part of the cowmen.
A more serious mischief was that of killing the animals. Having satisfied themselves that they were safe from detection, three or four Indians would entertain themselves for an hour or two in shooting down cattle in pure wantonness, and then making off before they were seen. True, this brought the dusky scamps no gain, but it served as a partial outlet for their enmity of the white man, and that sufficed.
That this peculiar feature of ranch life sometimes assumed grave phases was proved by several narrations made by the cowmen to the boys on their first night at the ranch. Less than a year previous, Kansas Jim shot from his horse an Indian whom he caught killing his cattle; and, not many months previous, the five cowmen, under the leadership of Hank Hazletine, had a running fight for half an afternoon with a dozen Bannocks, engaged in the same sport. At that time Barton Coinjock and Kansas Jim were severely wounded, but three of the marauders were slain, and the mischief nearly ended for a time.
But Jack and Fred were tired, and, though interested in the reminiscences of the cowboys, they longed for rest. The house consisted of four rooms, one being generally reserved for visitors or to serve as a spare apartment. This contained a wooden bedstead and some simple furniture, for luxuries are not popular on cattle-ranches. Surely no bed ever felt more luxurious, however, than the blankets upon which the wearied youths flung themselves, sinking almost immediately into deep, dreamless sleep. There were no wolves or dog Indians to guard against now, and their sense of security was as strong as if in their own beds at home.
The night was well past, when both lads were awakened by the sound of rain pattering upon the roof, which, although they were on the ground floor, was but a brief space above their heads. The storm foretold by Hank Hazletine had come.
There are few sounds more soothing at night than the falling of rain-drops upon the shingles over one's head, but in the present instance the music was anything but welcome to Jack and Fred. It meant that there could be no hunting on the morrow, and probably not for several days. Their time in Wyoming was so limited that they begrudged an hour of enforced idleness.