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  CHAPTER XVIII.

  A MIDNIGHT STAMPEDE.

  On a wide flat the round-up outfit commenced working the big bunch. Asthe cutters-out dart here and there, whirling, dodging, and following,the small individual bunches slowly increase in size, while the mainbunch correspondingly dwindles.

  John and his Lightning work away with other riders until only thenucleus of the herd remains, and in five minutes this too has vanished.Each outfit pauses to rest a few minutes before the counting andbranding begin; in the meantime Jerry is coaxing the fire in which thebranding irons are heating.

  "What'll you give for the buckskin now?" said John with pardonablepride, as he drove in the last animal bearing the XXX brand.

  "He'll do; but I want to see you rope with him before I take back allI've said," answered Jerry, "He cuts out pretty well, but you get a calfon your string and the string under his tail and he'll dizzy you," andJerry began to poke the fire, chuckling the while.

  "Oh, you're jokin'; I can ride him now without stirrups. I tell you he'sa broke horse."

  "The iron is hot now," broke in Jerry, as he rolled up his sleeves."Let's see what your horse can do. Bring in your calves."

  It was John's duty, with two other men, to rope the calves belonging tohis ranch by the hind legs and yank them along the smooth grass to thebranding fire, where Jerry applied the hot iron. He started Lightning ona run to rope the first calf, eager to prove his horse's ability.

  One sleek little fellow stood on the edge of the XXX bunch, gazing inwonder at the horse and his rider. Doubtless the calf thought this astrange creature, able to separate into two parts and reunite withoutthe slightest inconvenience. John went straight for it and broke off itscogitations suddenly by whirling his rope and throwing it under thelittle fellow. The calf started and jumped into the loop, and Johnquickly drew the rope tight, pulling its hind legs from under it andthrowing the little animal heavily. Lightning was checked and the calfrolled over and began to struggle and bleat piteously. A green horse isnearly always frightened the first time he pulls on a rope: he does notunderstand it, and Lightning was no exception to the rule. The ropetouched his shifty hind legs and he kicked out with all his might; itrubbed harder as the calf struggled, and the horse began to whirl andplunge viciously in his efforts to get rid of the line that scraped hissensitive sides.

  DRAGGED IT UP TO THE FIRE.]

  ... WHILE THE IRON WAS APPLIED. (_Page 292._)]

  Fortunately the little creature got loose at this juncture and escaped.True to prediction, the rope got, under "Lite's" tail and now the funcommenced in earnest. He bucked as he had never bucked before, and allbut stood on his head. The other outfits stopped work for the moment tosee the sport.

  Lightning fairly foamed in his rage and fear; he bucked continuously,and every time he struck the ground he gave a hoarse squeal--shrill andwicked. John's strength was sorely tried; but after his boasting itwould never do to be "piled up," so he set his teeth and vowed he wouldstick, no matter what happened. The fury of the effort made it a shortone, but it seemed to John plenty long enough, for during the fiveminutes the saddle was like unto a hurricane deck in a raging sea. Butthrough it all John came out triumphant. In the words of a bystander:"The little horse bellered and bucked and the kid never pulled leather"(did not hold on to the horn of his saddle). Which was high praise froma cow-puncher to a cow-puncher.

  "What'll you take for him?" called Jerry, as John dismounted to untanglethe rope from "Lite's" heels.

  "Money can't buy him," was the reply. John was bruised and stiff, buthis pride was not broken and his faith in his horse was undiminished,though it must be confessed it had received a severe shock. "He'll bringthat calf in or I'll kill him tryin'," he said sturdily, and he mounted"Lite" again and went back. He found the same calf, roped it, and"Lite," after a few futile plunges, dragged it up to the fire, where hestood with heaving, sweat-covered sides while the iron was applied. Thehard lesson had been taught and learned for all time.

  "He's got the making of a good cow-horse," admitted Jerry. "But, ohLord! such a making!"

  The way John worked the little horse that day would have seemed cruel toa novice, but he intended that he should never forget the experience ofthe morning, and he never did. The last calf was branded at dusk, and bythe time this necessary torture was completed poor "Lite" was about doneup.

  The bunch was allowed its freedom for another year and the cattle beganat once to wander off, the old cows licking the disfigured sides oftheir offspring, the calves shaking and writhing with pain, failingutterly to understand why they should be tortured thus. The wound soonheals, however, and though the soreness disappears the scar remainsalways.

  The day's work was over; the coolness of evening succeeded the heat ofthe day; the men stopped work and rode slowly into camp by star-light.

  John and Jerry unsaddled their tired horses and turned them over to thecare of the night herder.

  "I'm dead tired, stiff, and sore to-night," said John, as he and hiscompanion hustled for cups and plates in the dish box.

  "It's a dog's life," returned Jerry, taking the cue. "If I'm ever caughton a round-up again I hope they'll tie me on a broncho and turn himloose." He grumbled on as he sipped his steaming coffee.

  The two ate heartily and then strolled over to the main campfire, whereperhaps fifty men lay sprawling upon the ground smoking, talking, andresting.

  "Hullo, there's the three X kid!" some one shouted. "How's the legs,kid?" "How d'ye like astronomy?" said another.

  And so the bantering went round, but John took it good-naturedly andeven responded in kind. Soon a song was started, but the men were tootired to listen, and the singer stopped for lack of encouragement. Abouttwo hours after the day's work had ended all hands were rolled up intheir beds and asleep, Jerry ending this first day on the round-up as hebegan it--grumbling.

  "Cow-punching is a job for a Chinaman," said he, dropping off to sleep.It was the most scathing condemnation his imagination could frame.

  This was but the first of a succession of days much alike, some easier,some harder, some full of incident and narrow escapes, others lessexciting. The long dry spell had given way to a series of rainy daysthat were harder to bear than heat and dust. The wind-driven rain had apenetrating quality that nothing could withstand. The rider, after beingin the rain all day, came into camp to find his bed saturated. Thetrying weather affected tempers, not only of the men but of theircharges, the cattle, as well; they were nervous and restless, and thiswas especially true when electricity was in the air. As Jerry had said,it was "regular stampede weather."

  John had seen small bunches of stock break and run, and had followedthem over ticklish country, but a big stampede had not yet beennumbered among his experiences. He had often sat listening to some oldveteran of the range tell of the horrors of a midnight stampede, whenthe great herds became an irresistible torrent of animal life driven onby unreasoning terror.

  He knew that some time he would become an actor in such a scene anddreaded it in anticipation.

  The sky was threatening when the riders were sent out one day to makethe "big circle," as the gathering of cattle was called, a week or soafter the organization of the round-up. By the time the bunch wascollected it was raining heavily, and at intervals hailstones pelted manand beast viciously. The bunch was large that day, and as the stormcontinued the ground became too slippery and the cattle too crazy toattempt to work them. Nothing could be done but hold them together untilthings dried up a bit. The nervousness of the cattle was such that thisrequired the activity of all hands.

  John and Jerry were out in all this stress of weather, and, strange asit may seem, the older cowboy was almost happy: he had a really new andgood chance for grumbling. "Even a coyote can hunt his hole and keepdry, but a cow-puncher has to sit up straight and take his medicine,"said Jerry, almost triumphant in his feeling of just resentment. "Theworse the weather the more he has to brave it," he continued. "If I'mever caught on a round-up----"


  "That's the tenth time you've said that to-day," said John, laughing inspite of his own discomfort. Jerry made a queer picture. His long,yellow oilskin slicker reached to his heels and was just running withwater; the felt hat that almost entirely obscured his woebegone featuresdripped water down his neck. He looked as forlorn as an equestrianstatue decorated with cheap bunting and paper flowers and thoroughlywater-soaked.

  Everybody was out of humor and no opportunity was lost to register a"kick."

  "Say, you three X men," said the foreman, "scatter out there; d'yer takethis for a conversation party?"

  "The horses is stupid and the cattle is worst. If I don't miss my guessthere'll be trouble to-night. If ever I get caught in a----" Jerry'svoice died away in a mere growl as he rode off to his post.

  Left alone, John turned his eyes to the sea of backs swirling up anddown and around like an eddy in a troubled sea. Even now the half-crazedanimals threatened to break through the frail line of men and scatterto the four winds.

  And still the driving rain continued. A night in the saddle wasinevitable--a dreary enough prospect. As evening drew near, flashes oflightning and peals of thunder added to the terror of the almostunmanageable cattle.

  "Look at 'em steam," said John to himself, as he noted the vapor thatrose from the acres of broad backs. "That's bad," said Jerry, as he camewithin earshot on his beat. "Steam brings down the lightning, men arehigh on horseback; steel saddles, metal spurs, six-shooters, and bucklesmake a man liable to catch it," and he disappeared in the mist, droningout as he went a verse of "The Grass of Uncle Sam" to quiet the cattle.It seemed futile to attempt to soothe the creatures by the sound of thehuman voice--they were in a tumult, and the slightest thing would setthem off. For an instant there was a lull, and not only Jerry's but thevoices of other riders could be distinctly heard singing and callingquietly to the cattle.

  Suddenly there came a fearful flash directly overhead and streams ofliquid fire seemed to flow in every direction. This was followedimmediately by a tremendous clap of thunder. The effect wasinstantaneous. Each animal seemed to be possessed of a demon and rushedheadlong in whichever direction its head happened to be pointed. In aninstant the orderly herd was changed to a panic-stricken rout, and theriders were swept irresistibly with it. The lightning flash wasblinding, and the darkness which ensued was intense; through this menand beast rushed pell-mell without a pause, recklessly.

  John, with the other riders, was in the very midst of the mad, surgingcreatures, their eyes rolling in a perfect frenzy of fear, their verybreaths in his face, their horns rattling together close beside and infront of him. It was every man for himself, but even in the midst ofthis frightful chaos the cow-puncher's sole thought was for his stock.John looked for a bunch to follow--to follow to death if need be, but ifpossible stop it. That was the plan in John's mind, but it seemedutterly impossible of fulfilment. There was no bunch; each animal foronce went off on its own hook and the confusion was fearful.

  "I'll follow one then," said John to himself. Then to his horse: "Standup now, old 'Lite.' If you fall you're a goner."

  One big steer alongside ran strongly, and John let "Lite" know that itin particular was to be followed. He couldn't be seen in the darkness,but "Lite" could smell him and kept at his flank. Away they wentthrough mud and sage brush, over badger holes and boggy places. What layin their path was a mystery, but "Lite" stuck to his leader like aleech. There was no time to reckon chances, if such a thing werepossible.

  As vapor forms into raindrops, the running cattle began to draw togetherinto groups which enlarged momentarily. John was now following one ofthese groups, but in the pitchy darkness he could not tell how many itnumbered. As pursued and pursuers rushed on, the smooth, rolling prairiewas left behind, and rough, broken country was encountered. Upsteep-sided gullies they struggled and down slippery hillsides theyscrambled after the terror-stricken cattle. "Now's our chance," saidJohn, speaking, as was his wont under strong excitement, to his horseand patting his neck in encouragement for the supreme effort that was tocome. He spurred to the front and began to turn the leaders around. Hestruck them on the nose with his quirt, slapped them with his hat, andyelled at them.

  Slowly one leader, then another, turned; others immediately behindfollowed, until the leader caught up with the tail of the bunch andround they went in a circle. "They're milling beautifully now, 'Lite,'"said John to his horse again. "We'll keep 'em at it till they're tootired for funny business."

  The circle gradually slowed to a trot, then a walk, then stoppedaltogether. The cattle were utterly exhausted, heads down, sides heavingand steaming.

  John leaned over in his saddle and patted his little horseaffectionately. His feeling was one of fondness mixed with gratitude forthe pony whose wiry limbs, sure feet, good bottom and intelligence hadcarried him safely through a difficult and dangerous duty. He thought ofwhat had passed, and marvelled that he was alive. To make such a journeyamid the tossing horns and thundering feet of the cattle, overtreacherous ground, in total darkness, seemed an impossible feat, andyet here were horse and rider covered with mud, saturated with water,almost unbearably weary, it is true, but without a scratch. John beganto realize the danger, now it had passed, and appreciated the fact thatto his game little horse was his safety due. "Lite" received thecaressing pat on his nose and the words of praise his master gave himwith commendable modesty.

  The cattle were willing now to stand and rest; they all were tremblingwith fear and exhaustion and seemed in no condition to continue theirflight. "Lite," too, was pretty well done up, so John dismounted andunsaddled him; then, after putting one blanket over him, he wrappedhimself in the other and lay down in the mud to sleep. It was cold andsopping wet, but John's inward satisfaction made outward discomforttrivial.

  The hours were long before daylight--longer, the boy thought, than heever knew them to be before. He was glad enough when the sun came and hewas able to size up his capture. They numbered fifty head, and proudenough he was.

  "Lite" was feeding near; at John's call he came up and, without hisusual capers, allowed himself to be saddled. The two started the bunchtoward camp--weary, hungry, sleepy, wet, and cold, but triumphant.

  "My first stampede and back with fifty head," said John to his horse."Not bad work, and I couldn't have done it but for you."

  The storm had spent itself during the night and morning broke gloriouslyfine. John and Lightning kept the cattle going as fast as their strengthwould allow, which was all too slow for the boy, who was anxious to showhis work to Jerry--his chum, his friend and counsellor, Jerry thegrumbler, the good-hearted. He knew that he would appreciate it, thoughhe might joke.

  As the bunch appeared on a little rise a short distance from camp, ahorseman galloped out to meet them and to help drive them into camp."Hullo, kid!" said the man, when he got within earshot. "You've donepretty well; biggest bunch that's come in yet."

  "Oh, I've had a great old time," John began jubilantly, feeling as if hehad not seen a human being for a month and must talk. "See that bigspotted steer there, leadin'? Well, I follered that feller eight milesin the dark last night an' he set me a red-hot pace, you bet--but thebuckskin here," patting Lite's mud-spattered shoulder, "followed himclose all the way."

  "Well, you look it; got enough mud on yer to weigh down a team of ironhorses."

  "How many cattle back?" asked John.

  "Only 'bout half the bunch."

  "That's too bad," sympathized the boy.

  "That's not the worst."

  The man stopped, and John noticed for the first time a peculiarexpression on his face.

  "What's the matter?" said he.

  "One of your men----" he hesitated.

  "Well?"

  "One of your men," he repeated, "went down last night."

  "It wasn't Jerry?" cried John anxiously, having a premonition suddenlyof something dreadful. "Say it wasn't Jerry!"

  "Yes, it was Jerry." The man spoke the words slowly and solemnly."H
orse's leg went into a badger hole and the cattle trampled him."