And Adrian, hearing him give utterance to an ejaculation, jumped to the conclusion that he had been in a measure successful.
“Get it, Donald?” he called out, eagerly.
“Just what I do,” came the immediate answer, in a tone of triumph; “and from the indications I reckon the cattle are about used up, so far as running goes. If you listen right smart you can hear the rustlers urging them on, which shows they haven’t yet got to where they mean to stop, though it must be close by, I feel sure!”
[CHAPTER VIII.—THE CORRAL IN BITTERSWEET COULIE.]
“Thank goodness!” Billie was heard to mutter in the rear, which remark plainly proved that he must have caught what his comrades were saying.
“We seem to be overtaking them faster now, Donald,” Adrian spoke up several minutes afterwards, when he could hear the shouts ahead more plainly, as well as the confusion attending the rush of the bunched cattle.
“Yes, because they’ve slackened up, and looks like they might be close to the end of the run. P’raps
we’d better draw rein some too, Ad; because it won’t do for us to get too close, you know. I notice that the country changes around here.”
“We’ve run on the rough section, where coulies and ravines can be found,” the owner of the Bar-S Ranch told him. “I remember this place pretty well; because, unless I’m mistaken, I once had something of an adventure near by, when a wild bull suddenly swung on me, upset my pony, and came near giving me a nasty dig with his horns. Only for a swift fling of a rope on the part of a puncher I might have been badly hurt.”
“Well, I wondered if we wouldn’t run across some rough country soon,” Donald remarked; “because it’s always been my experience with these rustlers that whenever they do run off with a bunch of cattle, they want to get away from the open plain, in order to do their dirty work of altering brands. If there’s a big coulie near by, take my word for it that’s where they are heading for right now.”