When Roy bent down and raised him to a sitting position he declared he knew nothing more than what was in the letter, except that a wandering horseman had told of a slide near Whirlpool River, which threatened to force the cattle into the water, should it reoccur, and would the boys “please give the bronc some water.” This was attended to, and the boys got ready to start.
Nick came to life suddenly at Sing Lung’s cry of “come an’ get ’um,” and started lurchingly for the mess house. After he was stoked with food and coffee, he aroused himself to an interest in life, and where he was taciturn before, he was a veritable spring of information now. The food acted as a stimulant, after his long fast and hard ride, and he talked willingly.
Teddy and Roy, eager as they were to set out, felt it would be worth their while to delay long enough to hear Nick’s story, so they waited for him to light a cigarette, settle himself comfortably on a bunk, and commence.
“We struck camp about seven last night,” Nick said, blowing out a swirling cloud of smoke. “The goin’ had been bad, on account of the rains, an’ we didn’t make such good time, ’cause the boss wanted to save the broncs. We hit that place on the other side of Harver’s Gully—forget the name of it—’bout twenty miles west of the gulch. Then we got set for the night.
“Long about nine o’clock, just when Slim Holiday was startin’ one of them dirges he calls a song, we hears a noise an’ up rides a hombre on a pony that looked like it was more use as a hat-rack than a horse. This waddy tells us something that sure makes us sit up an’ take notice.”
“The slide?” Teddy interrupted.
“Check! He says the whole top of Friendly Mountain has shifted, an’ part of it’s slid down into the valley almost to the edge of Whirlpool River. Says he saw it happen, an’ the rest of the mountain is likely to go any day now. Says if it does, it’ll about block up the river.”
“Just where on the river is this?” Roy asked excitedly. “That river is some long, runs into Thunder Canyon, I think. The slide may not be near our cattle.”
“May not, an’ then again it may. That’s the way yore dad feels about it. Last we heard of that bunch of dogies they was near Friendly Mountain. They may be there yet, or they may have wandered Pete knows where. But we can’t take no chances. We got to see that the cows get out quick. Yore dad says the pick of the whole bunch is in that herd.”
“They are, too,” Teddy mused. “All our best short-horns. Was dad worried, Nick?”