Back Aa

Pony Rider Boys in Texas, The

Close

<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> <h3>PUTTING THE COWS TO BED</h3> The cowpunchers roared at the funny sight of the fat boy bowling over their companion. Stallings, however, fearing for the anger of Lumpy, sprang forward and hauled the lad back by the collar, while Lumpy was allowed to get up when he got ready. He did so a few seconds later, sputtering and growling, scarcely able to contain his rage. "That's a bad way to get off a pony, young man," laughed the foreman. "I hope you won't dismount in that fashion around the cattle at night. If you do, you sure will stampede the herd." Chunky grinned sheepishly. "It doesn't take much to start a bunch of cows on the run after dark," continued the foreman, "I've known of such a thing as a herd being stampeded because they were frightened at the rising moon. Haven't you, Big-foot?" Sanders nodded. "The gopher'll do it, too; he's a clumsy lout," he answered, referring to Stacy in a withering tone. "And now, boys, I will tell you how our watches are divided, after which you can go out with the cowboys and see them bed down the cows." "Bed them down?" spoke up Chunky, his curiosity aroused. "That's funny. I didn't know you had to put cattle to bed." "You'll see that we do. Boys, the night of the cowman on the march is divided into four tricks. The first guard goes on at half past eight, coming off at half past ten. The second guard is on duty from that time till one o'clock in the morning; the third, from that hour till half past three, while the fourth remains out until relieved in the morning. He usually wakes up the cook, too. And, by the way, you boys haven't made the acquaintance of Pong, have you? I'll call him. Unless you get on the right side of Pong, you will suffer." "Pong? That's funny. Sounds like ping-pong. I used to play that," interrupted Stacy. "Pong is as funny as his name, even if he is a Chinaman," laughed Stallings. "Pong, come here." The Chinaman, having heard his name spoken, was peering inquiringly from the tail of the chuck wagon. Hopping down, he trotted over to the group, his weazened, yellow face wreathed in smiles. "Shake hands with these young gentlemen, Pong. They will be with us for the next two weeks," said the foreman. "Allee same likee this," chuckled Pong, clasping his palms together and gleefully shaking hands with himself. "That's the Chinaman's idea of shaking hands," laughed Stallings. "He always shakes hands with himself instead of the other fellow." Stacy Brown suddenly broke into a loud laugh, attracting all eyes to him. "Funniest thing I ever heard of," he muttered, abashed by the inquiring looks directed at him. "Now watch the heathen while I ask him what he is going to have for breakfast," said the foreman. "Pong, what are you going to give us out of the chuck wagon in the morning?" "Allee same likee this," chattered the Chinaman, quickly turning to his questioner, at the same time rapidly running through a series of pantomime gestures. The Pony Riders looked at each other blankly. "He says we are going to have fried bacon with hot biscuit and coffee," Stallings informed them with a hearty laugh. "Pong is not much of a talker. That's about as much as you ever will hear him say. He's weak on talk and strong on motions." The foreman glanced up at the sky. "It's time to put the cows to bed. You young gentlemen may ride along on your own ponies, but keep well back from the cattle. Those of you who go out to-night will have to ride our ponies. All ready, now." The entire outfit mounted and set off over the plain to where the cattle were moving slowly about, but not grazing much. They had had their fill of grass and water and were now ready for the night. "Where's their beds?" asked Chunky, gazing about him curiously. "Right ahead of you," answered Stallings. The foreman's quick eye already had picked out a nice elevation on which the old dry grass of the previous summer's growth lay matted like a carpet for the cattle to bed down on. "How many of them are there in the herd?" asked Tad. "About two thousand. That was the first count. Since then we have picked up a few stray cows. We will be cutting those out in a day or so, when you will see some real cow work. Perhaps you will be able to help by that time." Now the cowmen galloped out on the plain, separating widely until they had practically surrounded the herd. They began circling slowly about the herd, at the same time gradually closing in on them. The animals appeared to understand fully what was expected of them, for they had been on the road several nights already. Besides, having had their fill they were anxious to turn in for the night. As they found spots to their liking, the animals began to throw themselves down. Tad uttered an exclamation of delight as he watched the steers going to their knees in hundreds, then dropping on their sides, contentedly chewing their cuds. It was such a sight as he never before had seen. "What are those steers on the outside there—those fellows without any horns?" asked Stacy. "Those are the muleys. Having no horns, they keep well out of the bunch and wait until the others have gone to bed as you see," the foreman informed him. "You will notice after a while that they will lie down outside the circle. If any of the cows get ugly during the night the muleys will spring up and get out of the way." In half an hour the last one of the great herd had "bedded down," and those of the cowboys who were not on guard, rode leisurely back toward camp. It had been decided that Tad Butler should go out on the first guard; Walter Perkins on the second; Ned Rector third and Stacy Brown fourth. Tad was all eagerness to begin. One of the cowmen exchanged ponies with him, riding Tad's horse back to camp. "You see, our ponies understand what is wanted of them," explained Stallings, who had remained out for a while to give Tad some instruction in the work before him. "Give the ordinary cow pony his head and he will almost tend a herd by himself." Three men ordinarily constituted the guard. In this case Tad Butler made a fourth. Taking their stations some four rods from the edge of the herd, they began lazily circling it, part going in one direction and part in another. In this position it would have been well-nigh impossible for any animal to escape without being noticed by the riders. "Now, I guess you will be all right," smiled the foreman. "Make no sudden moves to frighten the cattle." "Do they ever run?" asked Tad. "Run? Well, rather! And I tell you, it takes a long-legged Mexican steer to set the pace. Those fellows can run faster than a horse—at least some of them can. A stampede is a thing most dreaded by the cowmen." "Our ponies stampeded in the Rockies. I know something about that," spoke up Tad. "Well, compare the stampeding of your four or five ponies with two thousand head of wild steers and you'll get something like the idea of what it means. In that case, unless you know your business you had better get out of the way as fast as hoss-flesh will carry you. Now, Master Tad, I'll bid you good night and leave you to your first night on the plains." "How shall I know when to come in?" "When the second guard comes out. You will hear them. If you should not they will let you know as they pass you." With that the foreman walked his pony away from the herd. After some little time Tad heard him galloping toward camp. At first Tad took the keenest enjoyment in his surroundings; then the loneliness of the plains came over him. He began to feel a longing for human companionship. A dense mantle of darkness settled down over the scene. Remembering the advice of the foreman, the lad gave his pony the rein. The hardy little animal, with nose almost touching the ground, began its monotonous crawling pace about the herd. It seemed more asleep than awake. In a short time a sheet of bright light appeared on the eastern horizon. Tad looked at it inquiringly, then smiled. "It's the moon," he decided. The boy felt a great sense of relief in his lonely vigil. Just ahead of him he saw a pony and rider leisurely approaching. It proved to be Red Davis, one of the first guard. Red waved his hand to the boy in passing, but no word was spoken on either side. After having circled the herd twice, Tad suddenly discovered a small bunch of cattle that had just scrambled to their feet and had begun grazing a little way outside the circle. The rest of the herd were contentedly chewing their cuds in the moonlight, grunting and blowing over contented stomachs. The lad was not sure just what he ought to do. His first inclination was to call to some of the other guards. Then, remembering the injunction placed upon him by the foreman, he resisted the impulse. "I am sure those cattle have no business off there," he decided after watching them for a few moments in silent uncertainty. "I believe I will try to get them back." Tightening the grip on his reins and clucking to the pony, Tad headed for the steers, that were slowly moving off, taking a step with every mouthful or so. He steered his pony well outside and headed in toward them. The pony, with keen intelligence, forced its way up to the leading steer and sought to nose it around. The animal resisted and swung its sharp horns perilously near to the side of the horse, which quickly leaped to one side, almost upsetting its rider. "Guess I'd better let the pony do it himself. He knows how and I don't," muttered Tad, slackening on the reins. The straying animal was quickly turned and headed toward the herd, after which the pony whirled and went after one of the others, turning this one, as it did the others. In a short time the truants were all back in the herd. "That's the way to do it, young fellow. I told the gang back there that the Pinto had the stuff in him." Tad turned sharply to meet the smiling face of Big-foot Sanders, who, sitting on his pony, had been watching the boy's efforts and nodding an emphatic approval. "You'll make a cowman all right," said Big-foot. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2