Fletcher, seeing an opening, made a desperate attempt to take it, but his wise pony wheeled, but not quickly enough to evade the scratch of a sharp horn. West, with a merciless dig of the spur that caused the blood to spurt from the horse’s side, made it leap clear off the ground and come down on four stiffened legs in the only open space among the steers. Practiced rider tho’ he was, he bounded high in the air, losing his hat and nearly losing the saddle. With swinging lariats, with hoarse shouts, with shots and yells, at last the circling herd were checked and slowly began to fall into line and through the openings into the corrals. When the last steer was safely behind the strong enclosure of the stockyards, West turned to his foreman with a face that showed desperate determination through the grime of dust and perspiration.
“You better go with the boys and get ready for supper. I have a little matter of business to attend to first.” Turning to the others, lifting his bare head high, and with a look of approval in his flashing eyes, he said, “Boys, you have proven yourselves equal to any occasion! I’m proud of each one of you!”
He waited till the cheers and waving hats of the cowboys had subsided, waited till he saw them lead the horses, with now drooping heads, to shelter and food, waited for James to follow the others, and then rode his horse over to the station platform. Riding up on the platform he rapped on the window with the loaded end of his quirt, and motioned to the man inside to come out. In a low, tense voice he asked: “Where’s the shipping agent?”
“I’m your man,” came from a large bunch of corduroys.
“I’m the shipper of that bunch of cattle in the yards. Perhaps you saw our averted catastrophe. Instruct your engineers hereafter to avoid whistles when wild steers are being driven.”
The corduroy man replied: “That engineer’s resignation has already been telegraphed to headquarters. A man with no better sense than he displayed is incapable of holding a job on this division.”
After a few more remarks incidental to the loading and shipping next morning, West turned his horse in quest of his sombrero. As he wheeled he came face to face with Fletcher, whose curiosity prompted him to follow West. For a moment neither spoke, and then James blurted out, “Well, I’ll be d—d, West; you always know just what to do and what’s more, do it!”
As they neared the spot where their serious trouble with the cattle occurred, a faint sound of distress reached West’s acute ear. Searching behind a huge pile of rock and brush, he discovered one of the best steers with its front legs broken. In the flash of an instant he had pulled his gun and the true and sure aim ended the dumb brute’s misery. All he remarked was, “Another feast for some hungry ‘Injun,’” and hurried to join the other men at supper.