That was as quickly done as said. Away the three spurred through the shallow water and on.
“We’ll have short ribs and roast hump to-night, boys,” shouted back Charley. He and Andy and Kentuck were good hunters.
This left Yank in charge of the train. He had not been pleasant since that scene at Kearney, when he and Charley had the row; just now he was more irritable and mean, because he had to walk. He grumbled and snarled, and said a number of unkind things about Charley which Dave knew were not true.
“Wants to take the huntin’ himself, that feller does,” grumbled Yank, “an’ leaves us other fellers to hoof it. Who ever heard of an assistant wagon boss havin’ to walk? I didn’t hire out to walk, you bet.” And he yelped out to Joel: “Hurry on your bulls there, you lead team man. Give ’em the gad or you’ll get stuck.”
For the head of the train had reached a sandy hollow, and Joel’s team were tugging through it. The sand rolled in a stream from the tires and from half way up the spokes; but the twelve bulls—the ten blacks, and the two burly reds forming the pole yoke—were pulling together nobly.
“They don’t need it,” returned Joel, shortly. “They’re doing well. Let ’em alone.”
“You’ve held the lead so long and done as you please that you’ve got sassy,” sneered Yank. “You need a new boss, an’ now you’ve got him, see? I tell you to hustle those fat pets o’ yourn along an’ give somebody else a chance in here. Do you call that pullin’? Which way you movin’? Touch ’em up, my man; touch ’em up.”
“I’m driving this team,” answered Joel, roundly, “and I don’t need advice from any assistant wagon master as to how to drive. They pull better without the lash.” And he sung out vigorously: “Buck! Muley! Hep, now! Hep with you!”
The wagon moved steadily, ploughing through the sand and encouraging the teams behind. But Joel’s reply seemed to enrage Yank—who had been waiting for just such a chance.
“Oh, gimme that whip!” he snarled, and snatched it from Joel’s hand. “Get out o’ there with you!” he yelled. The lash flew hissing; the snapper landed with a distinct “thut!” on the haunch of the right lead ox; it jerked smartly back and out-sprang at the spot where it had struck a rim of blood on the sweaty, dusty black hide. The whip end had cut through to the quick!