“Oh, the cattle! The cattle! You give me a pain! Can’t you think of anything but cattle, cattle, cattle? I guess there’s people in the world as well as cattle, cattle!”
“So there are, miss, but at this time of year we got to think of the cattle first, or they’ll get thinking with their own feet and first thing we know they’ll wander off somewheres where you ain’t goin’ to see them no more. Just let ’em get awandering up in them hills near Broken Nose Lake, and I betchu that’ll be the last of ’em. Besides, I heered down in Cochrane that there’s a sight of rustlers prowlin’ around this year, and the Indians ain’t any too scrupilous and when they’re hungry, they ain’t depising no handy beef. Why, Jim Lame-Leg’s doin’ time now for as slick a trick as ever I heerd of. Drive a cow over a canyon, and then git the job of haulin’ her out, and when she’s out she’s got her leg broke and she dies on his hand, and the owner pays for the haulin’ of the cow out with the dead carcass. Lee caught ’im breakin’ a leg of one of the Lazy L’s stock and the boss told him to go ahead and shoot her and keep the carcass, till someone put him wise, and he had the Mounty down from the Reserve and Jim Lame-Leg’s doin’ time now. If we don’t look out there’ll be others just as smart as Jim and when we come to countin’ up stock, I betchu we’ll be out a dozen head and more.”
“Well, it’s pretty bad, I know, but I won’t have Dad bothered about cattle. He’s got enough on his mind right now. Anyway, I believe the cattle are all right. What’s the matter with the herders, anyway? They’re still out, aren’t they?”
“Herders! My foot! Excuse my cussing, miss, but when you talk of herders,—my gosh! Herders ain’t a bit of good when the cold snap comes. They keep in their tents and holler for the riders and that’s what the riders is for.”
“But then, look at the weather this year. The cattle’ll get along for a month yet, I do believe. Last year we had soft weather clear up till Christmas. You know that and lots of cattle people were sorry they hadn’t taken advantage of the weather and left the cattle on the range. Anyway, they’ll come trailing home gradually themselves. Have all the gates down.”
“Some’ll come home, sure enough, but we got a lot of new stuff and they ain’t broke to this range. We threw some of the best stock you ever set eyes on over to the north of Loon Lake. If a storm comes up——”
Holy Smoke, plaiting a long cowhide bullwhip had taken no part in the conversation, but his ears were pricked up and his crafty eyes scarcely left the girl’s face.
“I tell you what you’d better do,” suggested Hilda, “get your men together and start on off. Dad won’t mind, and it’s the only thing to do.”
“He won’t mind! He threw a million fits last year when I just gathered in the lighter stuff before he said the word—stuff that was right at the gate, at that. Orders is flat, nothing doing till he says the word. He’s God Almighty on the O Bar O—begging your pardon, Miss Hilda—and he wants every Son-of-a-Gun on the place to know it.”
“I’ll say so!” declared P. D.’s daughter with pride. “Go along in, then, and put your cards on the table before him.”