Oscar rode out so that he could take a survey of the water-hole, and saw four men standing in line in front of it, holding their rifles in their hands. On the opposite bank stood their drivers and after-riders, all armed, and ready to lend assistance in case Oscar and his men showed a disposition to be belligerent.
Everything seemed to indicate that there was trouble ahead, and Oscar was in just the right frame of mind to meet it.
"I'd be willing to give something handsome if McCann had just half Big Thompson's pluck," thought the young hunter, who wasted not a moment in deciding upon his course. "But I am alone, and how I am going to come out it is hard to tell. Johnson," he shouted, "you and Ferguson run around in front of those oxen and hold them where they are. When I give the word drive them to the fountain, and I will see that the way is clear. Come on, Thompson. I want you to tell them that I have something to say about this business."
"Oh, Mr. Preston!" cried McCann in great alarm, "mind what you are about."
"I will," answered Oscar.
"You don't know what a determined lot they can be if they once make up their minds to it," continued McCann. "They would just as soon shoot as eat."
"I don't care how determined they are," was the boy's reply. "And as for shooting, that is a game two can play at. I am not going to stand by and see my stock suffer from thirst when there is plenty of water close at hand, you may depend upon that. Come on, Thompson!"
In spite of the entreaties and remonstrances of McCann, who earnestly, almost tearfully, declared that his employer would surely bring himself into serious trouble if he attempted to combat the Boers' resolution to hold the fountain for the exclusive use of their own stock, Oscar rode away, first satisfying himself that his driver and fore-loper had obeyed his orders to stop the oxen.
When he arrived on the bank above the fountain the Boers drew closer together for mutual protection, and one of them, a gray-headed old patriarch, raised his hand as a signal for him to halt. Instead of obeying Oscar motioned to the Boers to get out of his way, at the same time cocking both barrels of his rifle, which he held in such a way that its threatening muzzle pointed straight at the patriarch's breast.