“I could if I wanted to,” Don shouted back.
“Eh, lad,” his father said. “Hold up a bit, and to-morrow Archie and Neil will help you show off.”
“It must be splendid to watch you roping cattle,” Polly said. “I’d like to see that.”
“You’ll see that over at Sandy’s,” Mr. Murray promised. “Sandy’s the only one of us old timers who sticks to tradition. His place is the same to-day as it was twenty years ago. He has the only long-horned Texan steers in the county, I think. When I put sheep in here at the Crossbar, Sandy said he wouldn’t depend for a living on any herd of huckle-backed lambies for all the country east of the Mississippi. He’s very set in his opinions and habits, Sandy is.”
“Father,” interrupted Jean. “Do you remember the day the timber fire got in the Pine Ridge stretch, and the cattle stampeded?”
“I didn’t know you had timber fires up here,” Ruth exclaimed seriously. “There doesn’t seem to be much timber to burn.”
“Which makes what there is more precious, child,” laughed Mr. Murray. “Anyhow, it’s true. We don’t have them as a usual thing, but now and then they’ll start in spring and fall when the dry leaves and underbrush are like excelsior for blazing up over nothing. This one on Pine Ridge happened about eight or nine years ago. The lads were home then, but our Jeanie was at school down at Laramie, taking her Normal course. Somehow a fire started off yonder on the Pine Ridge range, southwest of here, just behind old Topnotch Mountain. Archie saw the smoke pouring up, and called out to me. I had the herd grazing around the shoulder of Topnotch. The leader was a fine old chap. He knew more about herding than any steer I ever saw, but he didn’t know a thing about timber fires. This one was jumping from dry brush and grass straight for spruce clumps, and scrub pine, and while the ranch wasn’t in danger, the herd was, because that leader stampeded the wrong way, and all the rest after him. Instead of making for the valley and home, he went on a dead run straight for a line of buttes, and a drop of two hundred feet down over the rocks.”
“Like enough you and Archie would have gone over with the cattle, too, father,” interposed Mrs. Murray, placidly.
“Oh, how did you stop them?” broke in Ted, anxiously.
“Archie did the neatest bit of rope play I ever saw. He raced alongside on his pony, and slung the rope fair around the old lad’s horns, and turned him. Stop him? Indeed, and he never stopped till he reached the home valley, but it turned him in the right direction. Sandy always reminds me that is a rare bit of telling, but I saw it happen. Now, girls, early to bed with you all, if it’s trolling you’ll be to-morrow early.”