The Boy Ranchers at Spur Creek: or, Fighting the Sheep Herders

"I say!" he sung out. "This won't do!"

"What won't?" asked Nort.

"All of us going off this way. We've got to leave some one here to hold the fort, boys. Them onery sheep herders may steal in on us while we're away, and take possession. An' you know," went on Billee with a momentous shake of his head, "possession is nine points of th' law. Somebody's got t' stay here," he decided. "You two fellers'd better do it," and he pointed to two cowboys who had recently come from Diamond X to augment the guard at Spur Creek.

"Aw, Billee!" objected one. "We don't want t' stay here!"

"Have a heart, old man, an' let us come with you!" pleaded the other. "They won't be nothin' doin' here! Them sheep herders have just seen that we're on guard an' they've gone back home t' report. They won't arrive an' be able t' git any sheep here 'fore we can mosey back if we have to."

"That's right!" joined in the first newcomer who had spoken. "Take us along, Billee!"

"Wa'al," said Billee slowly, as if in doubt, "I don't know how much help they'll need back at Diamond X – "

"Better not take any chances," said Snake Purdee.

"I don't believe the sheep men will come back here again very soon," was Yellin' Kid's usual loud-voiced opinion.

"All right – come along then," conceded Billee, and the two cowboys who were on the verge of being left behind rode with the others. It was fast riding, too, for when word comes in that cattle stealers are in the neighborhood of any ranch, it behooves those charged with the safety of men and animals to be on the "jump." There is always more or less theft going on among the western cattle ranches but most of it is on such a small scale that drastic action is not often taken. No ranchman missed an occasional animal, which may be "lifted" because of dire hunger, perhaps, on the part of some needy person.

But when a "bunch" of valuable steers is driven off and when there are indications that an organized attempt is being made to steal more, this shows the presence of cattle rustlers, and concerted action must be taken against them.

It was this thought that was in the minds of all who thus rode "sweatin' leather" from Spur Creek toward Diamond X ranch, and from the glances that each member of the party cast, now and then, at the weapons swinging at their sides in the big holsters, it was evident that if shooting was to be a part of the game, they would be ready for it.

"Things are livening up a bit, aren't they?" remarked Nort to Bud as the boys rode side by side.

"That's the way they ought to be," declared Dick. "I hate sitting around and waiting for something to happen."

"We didn't have to wait very long," chuckled Bud.

"That's right," agreed Nort. "Wonder who it is that's been after your dad's cattle now?" he ventured.

"Maybe some of the old gang – maybe a new one," replied Bud. "You never can tell."

"You mean Del Pinzo's old gang?" asked Dick.

"He's the worst of the lot – always was and always will be," declared Bud.

"But how does he keep out of jail?" Nort wanted to know.

"That's one of the mysteries of it," went on Bud. "We've had him sent up more than once, but he gets out again by some sort of lawyer's trick. Either that or he breaks jail. The jails around here aren't anything to boast of," he said with a laugh. "They're more a joke than anything else."

"Do you reckon Del Pinzo is out now?" asked Nort.

"Shouldn't wonder a bit," Bud assented. "We can tell whether he had a hand in this or not as soon as we hear dad tell what happened."

Musing on the wily, mean and desperate tricks of this renegade Mexican half-breed, if such was his nationality, the Boy Ranchers and their friends galloped along over the trail to Diamond X. On the way they looked for signs of any cattle raids, but saw none. And these signs are very plain when they do occur.

Generally they were in the shape of the half-eaten carcass of some steer, for the raiders were generally desperate and hungry men, and before driving off a bunch of cattle they would kill one and cut off enough to roast over a hastily built fire.

But there were no indications of that now, and, in fact, there were none of Mr. Merkel's cattle pastured in the section our friends rode over to get to the ranch headquarters.

"Most of the herds are farther north," explained Billee, "an' I reckon that's where th' rustlin' took place."

This proved to be the case when they arrived at Diamond X and had a chance to get some information. Mr. Merkel was out at one of the corrals, talking to some of his men, when his son and nephews rode up with the cowboys from Spur Creek.

"What's the good word, Dad?" greeted Bud.

"Sorry there isn't any good word – it's mostly bad," was the reply. "I didn't like to pull you off from down there," he went on, "but as you didn't seem to be very busy, and as we needed you up here, there didn't seem to be anything else to do."

"Oh, we were glad to come!" Nort hastened to say.

"What's doin'?" asked Billee.

"They're after us again – the rustlers," announced Mr. Merkel.

"Same old gang?" asked Bud.

"I reckon so," his father answered. "It looks like the hand of Del Pinzo. You have to give that rascal credit for knowing just how and when to strike."

"Then he's out of jail again?" asked Yellin' Kid.

"That's what some of the boys seem to think," replied Mr. Merkel. "Here's what happened."

Briefly he told how during a time when many of his men were driving to the nearest railroad station a bunch of choice steers for shipment to Kansas City, a raid was made on an outlying herd that was being fattened in a sheltered valley for future shipment. Not only were a hundred or more steers driven off, but one cowboy of Diamond X was killed and another wounded.

"And didn't our boys shoot back?" demanded Bud indignantly.

"Oh, yes, they gave a good account of themselves," his father replied. "They got three of the Greasers. That's how we made pretty sure it was Del Pinzo again. They were just his type of rascals.

"And so, because I didn't have men enough here to take after the crowd and get my cattle back, and, at the same time, run things on the ranch, I had to send for you. We'll have to let Spur Creek look after itself for a while."

"I reckon it can, Dad," said Bud. "The sheep herders won't come up for a few days yet, I guess," and he told of the latest development in which Professor Wright was concerned.

"Hum! So he was lost again, was he!" mused Mr. Merkel. "Seems to me he's getting into a regular habit that way."

"Does look so," chuckled Nort. "He's all right in his own way – "

"But he doesn't weigh much!" laughed Bud, perpetrating an old joke at the expense of the professor's thin frame, for he did not have much flesh on his bones. More than one cowboy privately recommended to Bud that his father "pasture" the professor out on some good grass for a season.

"Well, now you know as much as I do," went on Mr. Merkel. "Our cattle have been stolen, and the gang – Del Pinzo's, I'm pretty certain – is driving them south. It's up to us to get after them."

"And we will!" cried Bud. "As soon as we have a bite to eat and can pack up some grub – "

He paused, for the telephone began ringing violently.

CHAPTER XI

COWBOY FUN

Bud, being the nearest to the instrument which was sending out its call from a small shed near the corral – an extension line having been established there – Bud sprang to answer it.

"Hello! Hello!" he called, in his excitement his voice resembling that of Yellin' Kid. "This is Diamond X," Bud went on. "What's the trouble?"

He listened for a moment and then called:

"We'll be right over!"

Hanging up the receiver with a bang on the hook, Bud hurried out of the shed and cried:

"They're at it again! Rustlers just cut out a bunch at North Station and they're hazing 'em off!"

"Whew!" whistled Mr. Merkel. "This is getting serious!"

Little time was lost. Instead of stopping for a "bite," the boy ranchers and their companions hastily swallowed some coffee that "Ma" Merkel and Nell made ready for them. Some "grub" was hastily packed, for the expedition might be out all night – very likely would – and then, saddles, girths and guns having been hastily inspected, the cowboys set forth.

To the bunch that had been on guard at Spur Creek was added some other punchers from Diamond X – as many as could be spared. This was not a large number, for, as Mr. Merkel had said, he had sent some of his men to drive his shipment of steers to the railroad.

This latest raid, word of which had been telephoned in from a distant place by a cowboy who had witnessed it, had taken place at what was called "North Station." This was a sort of auxiliary ranch Mr. Merkel had started when he secured more range land in the spring. By pasturing some cattle around there, several miles were saved in shipping his steers after fattening them up. And, as I have told you, nothing so soon takes valuable fat off cattle as driving them long distances to feed, to water or to a shipping point.

The boy ranchers knew little of North Station, having been there but once, though the trail to it was plain. And as they rode they talked of what might have taken place there.

"Guess whoever was in charge wasn't keepin' a very good lookout, or he'd have stopped the rustlers," observed Snake Purdee.

"Oh, you can't tell," said Billee Dobb. "Accidents will happen, and Del Pinzo is as slick as they come."

They all knew this to be true.

"Well, there's one thing in our favor," remarked Bud, as he urged his horse up between the steeds of Nort and Dick.

"What's that?" asked the latter.

"We're after the rustlers right quick," went on Bud. "Red Dugan, who telephoned in, said the gang driving off our cattle was still in sight as he was talking. So we ought to overtake them by dark."

"Not much fun fighting after dark," observed Dick dubiously.

"That's right," agreed his brother. "You can't tell who you're shooting at or who's shooting at you. How did Red come to be on the job so quickly?" he inquired of Bud.

"Well, you know dad has a lot of telephones set up at different places over his range," the owner's son explained. "He says it doesn't cost much to string a line of his own, and it's mighty handy when you want to send word back to headquarters. It proved so in this case. For Red was out on a distant part of the range, where there happened to be a branch telephone in a box on a pole, and he shot in word of the raid."

"Mighty lucky he did," observed Nort.

"Yes, for we're on the trail almost as soon as the rustlers took it," said Bud.

And indeed the boy ranchers were on the trail, riding hard; for they were some miles from where the raid had taken place, and they knew the rustlers would not spare the cattle they were driving away. For the thieves cared little about running fat off the stock they had "lifted." All they desired was to get what animals they could, to be sold to some other unscrupulous band, or used for food. Little consideration would be given to the steers.

After keeping to the main trail for some distance, the pursuers struck off to the right, heading more to the south, for it was in this direction they might expect to overtake the rustlers.

Old Billee, who was riding ahead with Yellin' Kid, keeping an anxious lookout for any signs of the rustlers, suddenly raised his hand as a signal to stop. Those following him, including the boy ranchers, pulled in their steeds.

"What's the matter?" called Bud. "See something?"

"No, but I feel something," was the somewhat strange answer.

"What do you mean?" asked Yellin' Kid.

"I mean I'm hungry!" and Old Billee chuckled. "If, as they say, an army fights on its stomach, the same is true about a cowboy. If we're goin' to do any fightin' – an' I reckon we are – then I got to eat!"

"I'm right glad to hear you disperse them there sentiments!" chuckled Snake Purdee. "I was goin' t' tighten up my belt another hole or two, to make my stomach take up less room, but if you're goin' t' eat – "

"Might as well, an' rest the hosses a bit," said Billee. "We'll do all the better afterward."

Accordingly they halted, the horses were turned out to graze, and a fire was built over which bacon could be sizzled and coffee made. These two staples formed the basis of most meals when the cowboys were on the trail, as they were now.

No time was wasted, but Billee knew how to handle his men, and he did not insist on an immediate start after the meal. He knew the value of a little rest after food had been taken. The horses, too, would be fresher for a wait.

But while the afternoon was still young they were on their way again, and before dark they had reached the headquarters of North Station, an auxiliary to Diamond X ranch.

"You fellows got here pretty quick," observed Sam Tod, the foreman at North Station.

"Well, we didn't stop to play mumble-th'-peg along th' way," chuckled Billee. "Now let's hear the yarn straight."

It was hastily told, bearing out what had already been learned of it over the telephone.

"Pack us up a little more grub and we'll keep on," said Billee Dobb to Sam, when the narration was ended.

"You'd better call it a day and stay here for the night," counseled Sam.

"Nothin' doin'!" declared Billee earnestly. "We're goin' t' hit th' trail hard!"

"Now listen a moment," begged Sam. "I know this part of the country better 'n what you do, Billee, though I give in to you on lots of points. This section is pretty rough, an' them rustlers won't be able to make any kind of speed with th' cattle. You can catch up t' 'em better if you make an early mornin' start than if you keep on now."

"You think so?" asked Billee, who was not "sot in his ways," as he often said.

"I'm sure of it," declared Sam.

"Wa'al, mebby you're right," conceded the veteran cowboy. "What say, fellows?" and he appealed to Bud and the others.

"I say let's stay here for th' night," decided Yellin' Kid. "As Sam says, we can make better time in th' mornin'. Th' rustlers can't drive cattle only so fast, anyhow."

"Unless they stampede 'em," put in Bud.

"That's what they did t' get away from where we had 'em pastured," declared Sam. "But if they get 'em that wild now the animals is likely t' break away, an' that isn't what this bunch of Greasers is countin' on."

"I guess you're right," admitted Bud. "It's about a fifty-fifty proposition, and we'd better wait here over night."

This decided, little time was lost in taking saddles from the horses and turning them into the corral, while their riders made ready to wash up, prepare for the evening meal and rest.

As Snake Purdee turned his pony in and hung the saddle over the fence he noticed a small enclosure in one corner of the corral, in which were two rather sorry-looking specimens of horseflesh.

"What you got there, Sam?" he asked, nodding toward the two sequestered steeds.

"Oh, couple a' outlaws," was the answer.

Snake's eyes seemed to sparkle with new light.

"Reg'lar man-killers?" he asked eagerly.

"Might call 'em that," assented Sam with a smile.

"Can't nobody ride em?" went on Snake.

"Th' last man what did has a broken leg on one side, an' a lot of skin chawed off on th' other," answered the foreman grimly.

"Whoopee!" yelled Snake, "I'll ride 'em! I'll fan 'em! Wow! Now for some fun!"

"Fun!" exclaimed Dick, who knew what was in prospect. "Oh, boy!" he added to his brother, "now for some rough riding!"

CHAPTER XII

AFTER THE RUSTLERS

"Rough riding," as it is called, made up more than half the fun the cowboys indulged in among themselves. There has, of late years, been so much of this done in public, in traveling "wild west" shows, and in exhibitions of some features of the rodeo in New York and other large cities, that I believe most of you are familiar with the feats of cowboys on these trained and untrained "broncks," or outlaw horses – "mankillers" some of them are dubbed.

I might say that there are two classes of this rough riding. One is the real thing, on horses or cow ponies that are naturally bad, and never can be broken or trained to behave. The other is on what might be called "professional buckers." That is, horses which have trained to try and unseat their riders as long as they are expected to do this.

I venture to say most of you have seen exhibitions of rough riding in a wild west, traveling show, or in some rodeo, as an imitation round-up is called after its Spanish title. And most of you, I believe, have been impressed with the fact that as soon as the man got off the back of the bucking steed the said steed became as gentle as a lamb. This is what those that are trained to it do purposely, but it is not what a real dyed-in-the-wool outlaw does. For he does not let up in his attack on the man even after the latter is out of the saddle.

Perhaps some of you, at a rodeo, have seen a rider come bursting out of the pen on the back of a rearing, bucking, leaping steed. After the first burst two cowboys would ride up, one on either side of the bucker, and take off, on their own stirrups or saddle the fearless rider. And then the so-called "outlaw" would let himself be led meekly back into the pen to be ready for the next performance, when it would all be gone through with again.

But occasionally you may have seen one of these horses lash out viciously with his heels, in an endeavor to kick anyone he could reach, not even excluding his fellow steeds. This is a specimen of a real outlaw, who never lets up in his fight against man. But few of these horses are taken about in a traveling show. They are too dangerous.

However, the two that were fenced off in the corral at North Station were of the real "bad" variety. They had been partly tamed, but their tempers had been spoiled and they were really dangerous to approach. Hence they were confined in a small space, and not allowed out.

However, cowboys are by nature reckless, and to them bucking horses are but a source of amusement and rivalry. Each cowboy thinks he can ride some steed no one else can mount. And for the purpose of contests or exhibitions, to relieve the monotony of "riding range," there are facilities for saddling and bridling these horses without danger to those doing it.

This method consists of putting the horse in a long narrow place like a stall in a stable, through the bars of which the boys can reach in, throw on the saddle and tighten it. Then a rider can climb into the saddle over the top rail of the fence and at a signal a gate can be opened, allowing the maddened steed to rush out.

Then the fun begins.

"I'm goin' t' ride!" yelled Snake.

"Take th' big one then," advised Sam. "He ain't quite so bad as th' other."

"I want th' meanest one!" insisted Snake, "an' if it's th' smallest I'll ride him!"

"Better not!" advised the foreman, but Snake was not to be persuaded against it. And the other cowboys, scenting fun, were not very anxious to have Snake change his mind.

Accordingly some of the men who had handled Red Pepper before – Red Pepper being the name of the horse – arranged to get a saddle on him, and to slip a sort of bridle over his head. But he had no bit, for it was as much as a man's hands were worth to try and force the bar of steel between the teeth of this outlaw.

"Now you watch me!" cried Snake when, after hard work, the saddle had been strapped on and pulled tight. "I'm goin' t' fan him."

I might explain that it is considered cowboy ethics to ride with only one hand on the reins, whether a bit is used or not, and in the other hand, usually the left, the cowboy carries his hat with which he hits the steed on either side of the neck, "fanning him," it is called. And no rough rider would ever think of sitting on the worst bucker in the world without thus riding with one hand and "fanning" with the other. Meanwhile, of course, he keeps up a wild whooping sound, just to show his spirits.

The feeling of a man on his back – a feeling he hates, the wild whooping, the jab of the spurs and the flapping hat around his head serves further to madden the bucker and it is a wonder any human being can stay on his back a second. Yet cowboys do, and ride until they are tired of the sport.

"Are you ready?" called the cowboys who had saddled the "mankiller," as Sam dubbed the small horse.

"Let him out!" yelled Snake.

The fastenings of the gate were loosed and out rushed the animal with the cowboy bobbing about on his back. Red Pepper seemed a whirlwind of fury. He rushed forward, his nose almost touching the ground, and then he began to go up in the air. Up he would leap, coming down with all four legs held stiff and his back arched, to shake, if it were possible, Snake from the saddle. The cowboy rose in his stirrups to take the shock as much as possible from his frame, and with a yell, began "fanning" Red Pepper.

This added to the fury of the beast, and it fairly screamed in rage and, reaching back, tried to bite Snake's legs. But they were protected by heavy leather "chaps," and the animal soon realized this.

He now began leaping sideways, a form of bucking that often unseats a rider, but Snake was proof against this. And all the while the animal was dashing around the larger corral, on the fence of which sat the boy ranchers and their friends, watching this cowboy fun. As they watched they laughed and called such remarks as:

"Fan him, Snake! Fan him!"

"Whoopee! That's stickin' to him!"

"Tickle him in the ear, Snake!"

"Want any court plaster t' hold you down?"

Snake paid little attention to this "advice" of his friends. In fact he had little time, for he discovered that his "work was all cut out for him," before he had been many seconds on the back of Red Pepper. The steed in very truth was an outlaw of the worst type.

Finding that the methods usually successful – those of bucking and kicking out with his hind feet – were of no avail, the animal adopted new tactics. He reared high in the air, with a scream of rage – reared so high that there was a gasp of dismay from the spectators. For surely it seemed that the horse would topple over backward and, falling on Snake, would crush and kill him.

But the cowboy had ridden horses like this before, and with a smart blow between the animal's ears Snake gave notice that it would be considered more polite if his steed would keep on all four feet.

Down came Red Pepper with a jar that shook every bone in Snake's body, but he remained in the saddle, and with more wild yells brought his broad-brimmed hat down again and again on the animal's neck.

Again Red Pepper dashed forward, bucked again, worse than before and still finding the hated rider on his back began to play one of his most desperate tricks.

This consisted of lying down and trying to roll over his rider. If successful, it would crush the rider almost as badly as if he had been toppled on from a backward fall.

"Look out, Snake! He's going to roll!" warned Sam.

But Snake was ready.

Suddenly Red Pepper stopped bucking. But before Snake could catch his labored breath the horse knelt down and started to roll over, at the same time opening his mouth to bite whatever portion of Snake first came within reach.

Snake, however, had been through an experience like this before. In an instant he had leaped from the saddle and was out of danger. That is, out of danger in a way. But he and the others realized that as soon as he could Red Pepper would get to his feet again and run after the cowboy. It was that which made this particular animal so dangerous. He never gave up fighting his rider, even when the latter was unseated; and he had killed two men.

"Watch yourself!" cried Sam.

But Snake was ready, and so were some of the other cowboys, for they had feared just this ending of the attempt to ride Red Pepper. No sooner was Snake out of the saddle than two of his friends dashed toward him, picking him up between them so that he rode with a foot on either of their inner stirrups.

Meanwhile some other cowboys rode up to get the outlaw back into the corral. This was no easy work, but they had given him little chance, and with two lariats about his neck, so that he could be held from either side, he was, after some time, gotten back in his pen.