Bert Wilson in the Rockies Read online

  CHAPTER III

  "Busting" a Broncho

  The boys slept that night the dreamless sleep of wholesome fatigue andperfect health, and awoke the next morning as fresh as daisies. Life isastir early on a ranch, and the day's work had fairly begun when theycame down to breakfast. The smell of hot coffee and frying bacon hadwhetted their appetites, and they needed no urging from their hosts to dofull justice to the ample meal that awaited them. Then they hurriedoutdoors to make acquaintance with this new life that they had lookedforward to so impatiently.

  It was a glorious morning. There was not a cloud in the sky and a lightbreeze tempered the heat of the sun. At that high level it was seldomsultry, and the contrast to the heat of the sun-baked plains below wasrefreshing. It amply justified, in the boys' opinion, Mr. Melton's wisdomin the choice of this airy plateau as a location for his home.

  The mountains hemmed them in on the north, but on the west and east andsouth stretched grassy plains and rolling slopes as far as the eye couldreach. Great herds of cattle dotted the expanse, and here and there couldbe seen a mounted cowboy, winding in and out among the stock. Dark linesat short intervals marked the course of artificial canals, that were fedby a series of pipes from brooks back in the mountains. There was aninexhaustible supply of sparkling water, and it was evident that thefortunate owner of this ranch was forever secure against drought--thatscourge of the Western plains.

  "It must have cost a mint of money to do all that piping and digging,"suggested Bert as his eyes took in the vast extent of the operations.

  "Yes, a good many thousands," assented his host, "but it pays to dothings right. I've already got back a good many times over all that itcost. A single hot barren summer would destroy thousands of head ofcattle, to say nothing of the suffering of the poor brutes. And thosethat didn't die would be so worn to skin and bone that they'd hardly paythe expense of shipping them to market. The only way to make money inranching nowadays is to do things on a big scale and take advantage ofall up-to-date ideas.

  "A good many people," he went on, "have an idea that if a man has a goodranch and a few thousand head of stock he's found a short and easy way toriches. That doesn't follow at all. There are just as many chances, justas many ups and downs as in any other business. I know lots of men thatonce were prosperous ranchers who to-day are down and out, and that toothrough no fault of their own. Sometimes it's a disease that comes alongand sweeps away half of your herd at a single stroke. The drought getsthem in summer and a blizzard covers them up in winter. Then, too, thereare the cattle rustlers that, in the course of a season, often get awaywith hundreds of them, change the brand and send them away to theirconfederates. Many of them are stung by rattlesnakes. The wolves, in ahard winter, pull down a lot of the cows, and sometimes, though not sooften, the grizzlies get after them. Take all these things into account,figure up the payroll for the help, the freight charges on yourshipments, and it's no wonder that many a man finds a balance on thewrong side of the ledger in lean seasons. No, it isn't all 'peaches andcream' in ranching."

  "You spoke of grizzlies a minute ago," said Dick, whose sporting bloodhad tingled at mention of the name. "Are there many of those fellowsaround here?"

  "Not so many as there used to be," replied Mr. Melton. "They're beingpushed further and further north as the country gets more settled. Stillthere are enough around to make it advisable to keep your eye peeled fortrouble whenever you get a little way further up in the mountains. Everyonce in a while we find the body of a steer partly eaten, and we canalways tell when a grizzly has pulled it down."

  "How's that?" asked Tom.

  "By the way he covers it up," answered Melton. "He always heaps up a pileof brush or dried grass over the carcass. I reckon it's his sign manualto tell other animals who may be skulking around that it's his kill, andthat there'll be trouble if any of them go monkeying around it. At anyrate, they don't fool with it. They know he's king in these parts.Wherever the grizzly sits is the head of the table."

  "Are they really as savage as they are cracked up to be?" asked Bert. "Ifso, it must be great sport hunting them."

  "Are they savage?" echoed their host pityingly. "Say, son, there'snothing on four feet as full of hate and poison, unless perhaps agorilla. And if it ever came to a tussle between them two, my moneywould go on the grizzly every time.

  "As to it's being great sport hunting them, it's the grizzly that usuallydoes the hunting. For myself, I haven't any ambition that way. I'mperfectly willing to give him his full half of the road whenever we meet.And we won't meet at all, if I see him first. I've had more than onetussle with an old silver-tip, and I've got a few hides up at the houseto serve as reminders. But it's always been when it was more dangerous torun than it was to stay and fight it out. There ain't many things on fourfeet or two that I'd go far out of my way to keep from meeting, but whenit comes to a grizzly I haven't any pride at all. There are less excitingforms of amusement. No, my boy, if you're thinking of tackling a grizzly,take a fool's advice and don't do it."

  "But a bullet in the right place would stop them as surely as it wouldanything else, I should think," ventured Tom.

  "That's just the point," said Melton. "It's mighty hard to put a bulletin the right place. If you're on horseback, your horse is so mortallyscared at sight of the brute that he won't let you get a steady aim.There's nothing on earth that a mustang fears so much as a bear. And, ifyou're on foot, he moves so swiftly and dodges so cleverly, that it'shard to pick out the right spot to plunk him. And all the time, you knowthat, if you miss, it's probably all up with you. Even if you get him inthe heart, his strength and vitality are such that he may get to you intime enough to take you along with him over the great divide. And itisn't a pleasant way of dying. He just hugs you up in those front paws ofhis, lifts up his hind paw with claws six inches long, and with one greatsweep rips you to pieces. There's no need of a post-mortem to find outhow a man has died when a grizzly has got through with him. I've comeacross such sights at times, and I didn't have any appetite for a day ortwo afterward.

  "But there's no use warning you young rascals, I suppose," he grinned."You're the kind that looks for trouble as naturally as a bee huntsfor clover. I'll bet at this very minute you're honing to get after asilver-tip. Own up, now, ain't you?"

  The boys laughed and flushed a little self-consciously.

  "Hardly that, perhaps," answered Bert. "But if you should happen by anychance to come across one, I wouldn't mind being along."

  "Righto," said Dick emphatically.

  "Same here," echoed Tom.

  "Hopeless cases," said Mr. Melton quizzically, shaking his head. "Isuppose there's no use arguing with you. I was that way once myself, butI've learned now to keep out of trouble as much as I can."

  "Just as you did down in Mexico," suggested Dick slyly.

  The boys roared and Melton looked a little sheepish.

  "You scored on me that time," he laughed. "But come along now down to thebunk house and meet some of the boys. A good many are away riding herd,but the foreman is here and two or three of the others, and a lot morewill come in when it's time for grub."

  "How many men do you need to run the ranch?" asked Dick.

  "Oh, about twenty, more or less," answered Melton. "In the busiest seasonI usually take on a few more to help out, especially when I'm gettingready to ship the stock.

  "Pretty good set of fellows I have now," he went on as he led the waytoward the men's quarters. "Not a trouble maker in the bunch, except ahalf breed that I'm not particularly stuck on, and that I'm going to getrid of as soon as work gets slack. But take them all together I haven'tgot any kick coming.

  "Of course," he qualified as he stopped to light his pipe, "they ain'twhat you could call angels, by a long shot. If any one's looking foranything like that, they won't find it on a ranch. Some pretty roughspecimens drift out here from the East, who perhaps have had reasons formaking a quick getaway. But as long as a man does his work and does itright, we don't ask a
ny more about their past than they care to tell. Itain't etiquette out here to do that, and then too it sometimes leads to aman getting shot full of holes if he's too curious. Their language isn'tapt to be any too refined and their table manners leave a lot to bedesired. When pay day comes, most of their money goes to the saloons anddance halls in the towns. They're usually a pretty moody and uselessbunch for a day or two after that. But in the main they're brave andsquare and friendly, and they sure do work hard for their forty-fivea month and found. And if you get into a scrap they're a mighty handy lotof fellows to have at your back."

  By this time they had reached the bunk house. As its name implied, itserved as sleeping quarters for the men. It was a long one-story buildingcovering a large area of ground. All one end of it was partitioned offinto bunks to the number of thirty or more. The other half was used as adining and living room. A long table, spread with oilcloth, extended downthe center, with a row of chairs on either side. The walls were decoratedwith gaudy lithographs, circus posters and colored sheets taken from theSunday papers that occasionally drifted out that way. On a side tablewere a number of well-thumbed magazines that Mrs. Melton had sent downfor the men to read in their rare moments of leisure. Saddles and harnessand lariats were hung on nails driven into the logs. Everything was rudeand simple, but scrupulously clean. The floor had been recently swept andthe oilcloth on the table was shining.

  In a little extension at the southern end of the shack the cook wasclearing away the dishes from breakfast and making ready for thenoon-day meal. A couple of great dogs basked in the sunshine thatstreamed through the open door. They jumped to their feet as their ownerapproached and capered about him joyously in a manner that bespoke theirattachment.

  A lank, muscular man at this moment came around a corner of the house.His face was tanned to the color of mahogany and around his eyes were thetiny wrinkles that come to men accustomed to peer into the wide spaces.He had on a pair of sheepskin trousers with the fleece still adhering,and his long legs had the slight crook that spoke of a life spent almostentirely in the saddle. A buckskin shirt, a handkerchief knotted looselyaround his neck and a broad slouch hat with a rattlesnake skin encirclingit for a band completed his costume. There was about him the air of a manaccustomed to be obeyed, and yet there was no swagger or truculence inhis bearing. His glance was singularly fearless and direct, and the boyswarmed to him at first sight.

  "Just the man I wanted to see, Sandy," said his employer. "I want you tomeet these three young friends of mine."

  As their names were spoken the boys stepped forward and shook handsheartily.

  "Mr. Clinch is one of the best foremen that ever rode the range or ropeda steer," went on Melton, "and what he don't know about a ranch isn'tworth knowing. I've got to go up to the house now to look over someaccounts and I'm going to leave you in his care. You remember, Sandy,that little scrap in Mexico I told you about? Well, these are the boysthat stood at my back. They've got a knack for getting into a shindy onthe slightest provocation and I look to you to keep them out of trouble.I warn you though that it is a man's job."

  "I guess I'm up to it, boss," grinned Sandy. "There ain't much chance fortrouble round here, anyhow. There may be a look in if those orneryrustlers don't quit fooling with our cattle. But just at this minutethings is plumb peaceful. I'm going up to the corral where the wranglersare breaking in some of the young horses, and perhaps these young fellerswould like to come along."

  Nothing possibly could suit them better, and while Mr. Melton retracedhis steps to the house they followed the foreman to the corral.

  There everything was animation and apparent confusion. The clatter ofhoofs, the swish of lariats, the shouts of the "wranglers" as theysought to bring their wayward charges under control, while a matter ofeveryday routine to the cowboys themselves were entirely new to the boys,who leaned against the log fence and watched the proceedings withbreathless interest.

  There were two corrals of almost equal size, each covering several acresof ground, and a broad gate connected the two. In one of them were fortyor more young horses who up to now had been running wild on the range.They had never known the touch of a whip or a spur, nor felt the weightof a rider. The nearest approach to constraint they had ever experiencedwas that furnished by the encircling fence of the corral into which theyhad been driven yesterday. That this was irksome and even terrifying wasevident by their dilated nostrils, their wild expression, and the waythey pawed at the bars and at times measured the height of the fence, asthough contemplating a leap over it into the wide spaces beyond. Buttheir instinct told them that they could not make it, and they ran aroundrestlessly or pawed the ground uneasily, waiting their turn to be ropedand broken.

  When the boys reached the outer fence, one of them had just been caughtby a whirling lariat and dragged, stubbornly protesting, into theadjoining corral. Once there he made a wild dash to escape and lashed outfiercely with his heels at the men who held him. But with a skill born oflong experience they eluded him, and one of them, watching his chance,suddenly leaped on his back. The men, on either side, relinquished theirhold, and retreated to a safe position on the fence.

  Then commenced the most exciting struggle for mastery between brute andman that the boys had ever seen.

  For a moment the broncho stood stock still, paralyzed with surprise andfright. Then he gave a mighty leap into the air in a vain endeavor tounseat the rider. This failing, he snapped viciously at the horseman'sleg, which was instantly thrown up out of reach. Then the maddened bruterushed against the bars of the corral in an effort to crush the rider.But again the uplifted leg foiled the maneuver, and the severe scrapingthat the horse himself received took away from him all desire ofrepeating that particular trick.

  All this time the cowboy showed the most extreme nonchalance. Ifanything, he seemed rather bored. And yet, despite his apparentstolidity, the boys noticed that he watched his mount like a hawk andalways discounted each trick a second in advance. It was a fight betweenbrute strength and human intelligence and the struggle was unequal.Barring accidents the latter was bound to win.

  Like a flash the horse changed his tactics and went to the ground,intending to roll over and crush his rider. The movement was almost tooquick to be followed by the eye. But the man was off at a bound and, whenthe astonished broncho struggled to his feet, his tormentor had againsprung on his back and was lashing him with the end of the rope thatserved as a halter.

  Then the pony tried his last resource. Springing into the air he camedown with all four feet held closely together. It would have jarred anovice out of his seat at once. But the superb horsemanship of the manon his back absorbed the shock with his tightly gripped legs as hedescended, and he settled into his seat with the lightness of a feather.

  For half an hour the battle was prolonged, and, to the breathlesslywatching boys, it seemed that the daring rider escaped death a dozentimes almost by a miracle. All that they had ever seen in Wild West showsseemed pale and weak by comparison with this fight out in the open, wherenothing was prearranged and where both parties to the combat were indeadly earnest. It was life "in the raw" and it stirred them to thedepths.

  And now the horse was "all in." His flanks heaved with his tremendousexertions, and he was dripping with sweat and foam. He had made a gallantfight, but the odds were against him. His ears were no longer flattenedviciously against his head, but drooped forward piteously, and into hiseyes came the look that spelled surrender. He had learned the hard andpathetic lesson of the brute creation, that man was the master. Thisstrange being, who so easily defied his strength and thwarted hiscunning, was stronger than he, and at last he knew it.

  The rider, now that he had won, could afford to be kind. He patted hismount's head and spoke to him soothingly. Then he drove him withoutdemur a few times more about the corral and dismounted. A stableattendant led the conquered brute to a stall, and the victor, breathing alittle hard, but bearing no other traces of the struggle, repaired to thefence, squatted on th
e top rail and lighted a cigarette.

  "That was horsemanship, all right," breathed Tom in admiration.

  "You bet it was," said Dick. "If I'd been insuring that fellow's life I'dhave wanted a premium of ninety-nine per cent."

  "He earns his money," remarked Bert. "A man hasn't any chance to'soldier' on a job like that."

  Another cowboy took the place of the first one, and the scene wasrepeated, in each case with variations that kept the interest of the boysat fever heat. The time slipped by so rapidly that they were genuinelyastonished when the blowing of a horn announced that it was time fordinner.

  Sandy approached them as they were turning away reluctantly.

  "I'd shore like to have you young fellers take dinner with us at thebunkhouse, if you care to," he said. "I'd like to have the boys getacquainted with yer. Maybe we won't have all the trimmin's that you'd getat the boss's table, but I guess we can manage to fill yer up."

  "That's a pretty big contract, Sandy," laughed Bert; "but we'll be onlytoo glad to come. Just let me speak to Mrs. Melton, so that she won'twait for us and we'll be with you in a jiffy."

  Mrs. Melton smilingly acquiesced, and Melton himself, who knew how muchof the boys' enjoyment of their visit would depend upon friendlyrelations with the men about the ranch, gave his hearty approval.

  A dozen or more of the cowboys were at the house when they arrived, allravenous for "grub." Outside of the door was a broad bench on which was abasin, which the men in turn replenished from a hogshead standing near,and in which they plunged their hands and faces, emerging dripping to drythemselves on a roller towel behind the door. The boys did the same, andas they came in were introduced by Sandy to the rest of the men. Therewas a breezy absence of formality that was most refreshing after the moreor less artificial life of the East, and the boys warmed at once towardthese hardy specimens of manhood, who looked them straight in the eyesand crushed their hands in their hearty grip. This wild, free spirit ofthe plains was akin to their own, and although their mode of life hadbeen so different, a subtle free masonry told them that in substancethey were members of the same brotherhood.

  The cowboys also were "sizing up" the newcomers. Physically they had nocriticism to make. These stalwart, athletic young fellows were splendidspecimens, who looked as though they were fully capable of giving a goodaccount of themselves in a tussle. Most of them had heard in a more orless fragmentary way about the adventure in Mexico, and Melton'sunstinted praise of them had gone a long way in their favor. Still, thathad been a scrap with "greasers," and the contemptuous attitude that mostof them held toward the men south of the Rio Grande, led them to attachless value to the exploit. Then, too, when all was said and done, thesevisitors were "tender-feet," and as such would bear watching. So that,while perfectly free and friendly and admitting that they were a "likelybunch," they were inclined to reserve judgment, and observe them further,before admitting them fully into their fraternity.

  The meal proceeded amid a clatter of dishes and a buzz of conversation,abounding in rough jests and repartee. The boys took their part in frank,good fellowship and were hearty in their praises of the hard riding theyhad seen that morning. The ranchmen deprecated this as only "part of theday's work," but were pleased none the less at the sincere appreciation.

  The meal, although, as Sandy had hinted, wanting in "frills," was wellcooked and abundant, and the food disappeared before those healthyappetites in a way that would have struck terror to the heart of aboarding-house keeper. Before it was quite over, a belated cowboygalloped in from town. He dismounted, threw his saddlebags on the bench,and, after sousing his heated face in the friendly basin, sat down to thetable and proceeded to make amends for lost time.

  "Bring a paper with you, Pete?" asked one of his friends as he pushedback his chair and lighted his pipe.

  "Yes," answered Pete between mouthfuls. "Got a copy of the Helena'Record.' You'll find it in the saddlebag."

  The first speaker rose leisurely, hunted up the newspaper and seatedhimself on the step of the bunkhouse. He looked over it carelessly fora moment and then a headline caught his attention. He read on for a fewlines and then called to his mates.

  "Look here, fellows," he exclaimed. "I see that they've jugged 'Red'Thompson and 'Shag' Leary. Caught them trying to hold up a train."

  There was a stir at this and they crowded round the speaker.

  "Tell us about it," they begged excitedly, for all of them knew of theevil fame and numerous exploits of these celebrated ruffians.

  "I knew the sheriff would bag them fellers before long," said one.

  "Sheriff nuthin," snorted Pete disgustedly. "Them guys ain't good furnuthin but to wear tin stars and put up a bluff. It was a bunch oftender-feet that nabbed 'em."

  "Have a heart," said "Buck" Evans incredulously. "Don't fill us up withanything like that."

  "Them newspaper fellers is awful liars," sagely commented "Chip" Bennett.

  "But it gives the names," persisted Pete. "They wouldn't go as far asthat if it wasn't so. Let's see," he went on as his stubbed finger movedslowly over the lines. "Here they are--Wilson, Trent, Henderson--say," heexclaimed with a quick look at the boys, "ain't them the handles youfellers carries?"

  All eyes were fixed in astonishment on the visitors, who blushed asthough they had been detected in a fault. Their embarrassment carriedconviction. The paper was thrown aside and the men gathered about them ina chorus of eager questionings. They made them tell in every detail thestory of the fight, which the boys tried to minimize as much as possible.

  "And yer never said a word about it," commented Pete when they hadextracted the last scrap of information.

  "Why should we?" retorted Dick. "As you said about the broncho busting,it was 'all in the day's work.'"

  They tore themselves away at last, leaving the cowboys grouped about thedoor and looking after them with eyes from which the last vestige ofdistrust and reserve had vanished.

  "Not a maverick in the bunch," commented Pete.

  "Every one of them carries the man brand," added Chip.

  "They shore can warm their beans at my fire," concluded Buck.