Jack the Young Cowboy: An Eastern Boy's Experiance on a Western Round-up

by George Bird Grinnell

  CHAPTER I

  THE TRAGEDY AT POWELL'S

  "Well, Jack," said Mr. Sturgis, "I do not know where you'll find them,but possibly somewhere over on the Little Medicine. If I were you, I'dride over to Powell's. They are sure to know where the outfit is, andif you can't reach camp to-night, you can stop at Powell's."

  "All right, Uncle Will; I'll go over there and probably get to campto-night."

  Jack shook hands with his uncle, and stepping back to his horse threwthe reins over Pawnee's head, and swung into the saddle. With a finalwave of his hand, he trotted off toward where his string of horses werefeeding on the meadow before the house, and riding to and fro behindthe scattered bunch, gathered them together and started on down theroad.

  Mr. Sturgis stood in front of the corral filling his pipe, and watchinghis nephew grow smaller and smaller, as he moved along down the roadclose to the pasture fence. It seemed to him a long time since he hadfirst brought Jack out from far New York to the Swift Water Ranch, alittle slip of a lad, thin and pale. He remembered their first drivefrom the railroad: how he had killed a bear crossing the road, and howJack had seen what he supposed to be an Indian dog, which, of course,was a coyote.

  "My!" said Mr. Sturgis to himself, "certainly the years slip by! ThenI could have lifted that little fellow and held him out with one hand;and now he is big enough to lift me!"

  Jack had risen that morning soon after daylight, and had gone out toget his horses together. The night before, Joe had brought in and putin the small pasture the few saddle horses left at the ranch. Thatmorning they had been driven into the corral, and Jack, aided by Joe'sknowledge of the animals, had selected six for his string to ride onthe round-up, taking along his old favorite Pawnee for a regular ridinghorse, but not for a cow horse. Good saddle animal as Pawnee was, Jackthought too much of him to be willing to use him in the long rough workof riding circle or branding calves, or throwing big cows, if any oldmavericks should be found. For the most part Pawnee should travel inthe _c?vaya_,[A] though sometimes he might be used on night herd. Jackmade up his mind that hard work Pawnee should not do. "Give him justenough exercise to make him enjoy his victuals," Joe had said thatmorning when they were talking the string over.

  The horses had been brought into the corral, and one after another ofthose chosen had been cut out and sent out through the big gate, allexcept the one that was to carry Jack's bed. That one had been ropedand taken out and tied up to the fence. Then Jack had gone up to thehouse and brought down his blankets and a few extra clothes, andhaving wrapped them up in his "tarp," the bundle had been put on thehorse with the regular cowboy hitch, and the animal had been set freeto feed with its fellows. Then had come breakfast, and he was ready.

  It was nearly a year since Jack had crossed a horse, and it seemed verypleasant to be trotting along over the prairie, the bunch going nicelyahead of him. They were fat and frisky and every now and then one ofthem would lay back his ears and nip at his neighbor, and perhaps thesudden motion would start the little bunch into a gallop, from whichthey would almost at once come down again to the steady trot.

  There had been rain enough--so they said at the ranch--during April,May and the first few days of June, but now the prairie was dry and alittle cloud of dust rose from under the horses' hoofs. The bottoms andthe high hills were brightly green. Moreover, they were dotted withmany beautiful flowers--which of course Jack could not see, because hewas moving along swiftly--and down on one of the wet meadows the purpleiris, already in bloom, had colored the ground blue in spots.

  It was a couple of years now since Jack had been to the ranch, and agood many things had happened; for when a boy is from seventeen tonineteen years of age, things are likely to happen to him pretty fast.He receives many new impressions, has new experiences, and certainlypicks up knowledge of one sort or another at a rapid rate. SinceJack had last seen these prairies and mountains he had passed hisexaminations, entered college, and spent nearly two years there. He hadcertainly had a good time while he was in New Haven. The toughness andendurance that he had picked up during his summers on the plains and inthe mountains had stood him in good stead in athletics and he had wona place on one of the football teams. During a part of his sophomoreyear, he had had the bad fortune to have a long and tiresome illnessfrom which he was only now convalescing, and since he had lost muchtime, it had been thought best for him to go out to his uncle's ranchbefore the end of the college year and to spend the vacation there ingetting well.

  When he reached the Swift Water Ranch two days before, the round-uphad already started and now was in full swing; and Mr. Sturgis, aftersatisfying himself that Jack was strong enough to do the work, hadtold him that the best thing for him would be to go out and find theround-up, and work with it. Nothing could have suited Jack better. Hughwas along as a sort of camp-keeper. Mr. Powell and Charley Powell weresure to be there, and so were half a dozen other men whom Jack knewvery well, and with whom he would be glad to work. He felt that he wasgoing to have a good time. In fact, he was having a good time now. Theair was fresh and cool, the sun bright; far off on the green hills hecould see here and there a little white speck which he knew was anantelope; from the fence posts along which he passed sounded the clearwhistle of the western meadow lark; and everywhere the air was fullof sweet songs of birds, though of them all the meadow lark's was theloudest and clearest.

  Jack's outfit was that commonly used by the cow puncher. He wore aflannel shirt and woolen trousers, gloves, and shaps--heavy leathertrousers without any seat, to protect the legs when riding throughunderbrush or thorns. About his waist was his pistol-belt filled withcartridges, while the six-shooter hung well down on his right hip.

  It must not be supposed that Jack carried a gun with any purpose ofusing it against his fellow men, but in those old days of wild prairieand wild cattle a pistol was almost a necessity. While sometimes itwas used to kill game, or perhaps against dangerous animals, it oftencame in play to frighten an angry cow, or to turn a bunch of stampedingcattle.

  Before long Jack had left behind him the pasture fence, and whenhe looked back could no longer see the ranch buildings which, lowthemselves, and placed in a sheltered hollow, were now cut off by thepoints of the rounded hills. His course lay southeast across the basin.Now and then the horses, uncertain as to the direction they shouldtake, veered to one side or the other, so that the driver had to rideout on the side toward which they turned and shout at them to head themback.

  The miles passed quickly. Occasionally, on some nearby hill Jack sawa little bunch of antelopes--old males with long black horns, andyearlings, both males and females. They looked at him as he drew near,and if he approached too close, ran up to the top of some rise andwatched him long after he had passed.

  It was after he had crossed the valley, and was riding up through thelow foothills that stretched out from the bluffs on the other side,that an old doe antelope burst suddenly from a little coul?e close tothe bunch of horses, and passing in front of them galloped up the hillon the other side. Almost immediately behind her was a coyote runninghard. When it saw the horses it checked itself, and an instant later asit saw the rider, turned and ran. The old doe had done her best, butexcept for the incident of the horses' being there, she would soon havebeen pulled down. Her black tongue hung far out of her mouth, and shestaggered as she ran.

  Jack understood very well what was happening. Evidently two or morecoyotes had started this doe, and were taking turns chasing her, onerelieving the other which, by cutting off the corners, could saveitself, and after it had regained its wind, take up the chase again. Sothe race might have kept up for an hour or more, until finally, the olddoe would have been overtaken, pulled down, and devoured.

  To Jack all this was a matter of common knowledge, for more than oncehe had seen almost that very thing happen. It took him only a moment,therefore, to whirl his horse. Giving him a jab with the spurs, hewas close upon the coyote almost before it ha
d started to run. He hadjerked out his six-shooter, and as two or three balls knocked up puffsof dust about the coyote, the beast put on a tremendous spurt of speed.It was impossible to take aim from the back of the galloping horse,but one ball passing over the coyote's head caused it to whirl and runbroadside for a jump or two, and as it did this, it came in collisionwith another ball, which quickly ended its career.

  "Good enough!" said Jack to himself. "That is better luck than Ideserved. I didn't hope to do more than scare the beast, and now I havegot it." He rode over and sat on his horse looking down at the coyote,from whose hide great patches of fur had been lost, for the animalswere now just shedding their winter coats. Evidently the hide was notworth taking off, and so Jack dismounted and cut off the coyote'shead, for in those days there was a bounty on these beasts, and thebounty was worth having. He tied the head to the saddle, remounted, andstarted down toward his horses. They had stopped and were now feeding,but before long he had them moving again.

  Riding steadily and fast across the plateau, he saw to his leftsomething moving, and watching it for a few moments saw that it was abadger digging its hole. Every now and then the badger would sit up andlook about him, and then again would put its forefeet on the ground andbegin to dig. When he had got as close to the badger as the trail wouldbring him, Jack suddenly turned Pawnee and galloped toward the creatureat a good rate. The badger at once noticed the change of direction, andset to work digging harder. By the time Jack had reached the hole, theanimal was already twelve or fifteen inches under ground, and was quitecovered by the loosened earth of the hole. For a moment Jack was goingto shoot down through the earth, which was heaving and moving from thestruggles of the beast below, but then it occurred to him that therewas no especial reason for doing this, since the badger could not beused in any way. Its hide would be useless, and there was no reasonfor killing it. Moreover, badgers kill a good many prairie dogs whicheat grass, and gophers which destroy gardens, and every badger killedmeans an increase in the dog and gopher population. There came to him,too, the memory of what Hugh more than once had said to him--that therewas no sense in killing things unless you could make some use of them.He watched the moving earth for two or three minutes. If he had had astick he would have poked it down in the hole, to feel the badger, buthe had seen too many badgers to be willing to put his hand down in thishole, even though the hand were protected by a stout glove.

  Presently he was on his horse again, and the bunch was once morestarted on the road toward Powell's ranch. The horses, which had beengoing all day, were now very willing to stop, and were eager at anymoment to get a bite of grass. Jack kept them to their work, however,and a little later, when he came to the edge of the plateau, he wasglad to see the valley below him and Powell's ranch buildings in thedistance. He rode down toward the houses, following the little sag; butas he went down the hill the Powell buildings were no longer in sight,for they were hidden by the ridges on either side the road.

  * * * * *

  At the Powell ranch it was long after noon; dinner was over; thedishes had been put away and Mrs. Powell and Bess were sewing in theliving-room. All the men had gone off on the round-up, and these twowere left here alone, as so often they had been left alone before.Presently Bess glanced through one of the windows which looked over theroad leading from the valley.

  "Here come some people--a couple of men and a pack horse," she said toher mother.

  A little later the riders drew up in front of the house, and one ofthem dismounting came to the kitchen door and knocked. Bess went to thedoor and saw there a tall, spare, middle-aged man. There was nothingespecially noticeable about him except that he had rather keen, fierceeyes, a hooked nose, and a black, drooping mustache. As she opened thedoor he nodded and said to her:

  "How do you do, ma'am? We men are traveling south to go to therailroad. We've got to get to Cheyenne. We've come quite a way from thenorth, and we've run plumb out of grub. We haven't any money, more'njust enough for our tickets, and I was wondering if you would give us ameal. If we can get something to eat, we can go in comfortably to townand catch the east-bound passenger to-night."

  "Why, certainly!" said Bess. "We'll be glad to give you something toeat. Tie up your horses and come in and sit down. It won't take long toget you some dinner."

  Leaving the door open, she went back to her mother and told her whatthe riders wanted, and the two women went into the kitchen and began tostart the fire and to prepare a meal. Meantime the men tied up theirhorses and seated themselves just outside the kitchen door. Mrs. Powellasked once if they would not come in, and sit in the living-room, butthey said no, they were comfortable there.

  Presently dinner was ready and the men, called in, ate hungrily ofbacon, potatoes and bread and butter, and seemed especially to enjoythe coffee. The young man had nothing to say; but the older one, afterhe had satisfied his hunger, talked a little about matters up north,told of things that were happening at Buffalo, and spoke of havingpassed a round-up camp early that morning.

  "That's where our men folks are," said Mrs. Powell. "They're all offriding the country, and won't be back until the round-up is over."

  When the men had finished their meal, the older one thanked Mrs.Powell; and going outside, the two sat down by the door and lightingtheir pipes talked in low tones. Mrs. Powell and Bess cleared off thetable, washed and put away the dishes, and returned to the living-room.

  Presently the older of the two men rose to his feet and said to theyounger:

  "Come on, now! We may as well try it! It'll be a big help to us if wecan get a little money; and we can get on the train, and be well out ofthe country before anybody knows anything about it."

  "Aw, Bill, don't do it," said the younger man; "these people have beengood to us. It'll be mighty mean to frighten 'em, or take anything from'em."

  "Hold your yawp!" growled the man called Bill. "If they've gotanything, I'm going to have it; and you've got to back me up and standhalf the blame!" He rested his hands on his hips, and looked fiercelyat his companion, who dolefully got up on his feet and followed Billinto the house. At the door of the living-room Bill stopped.

  "I told you, ma'am," he said, "that we're going to the railroad, andthat we're going to Cheyenne, but we ain't got any money to pay therailroad fares, and I thought I'd ask you if you wouldn't give us whatwe need?"

  "Is the man crazy!" cried Mrs. Powell, angrily. "I'm not a bank; andif you've been any time in this country you must know that people onranches don't keep money. What would we spend money for here?"

  "I reckon that's so, ma'am," said Bill; "but I reckon too that your mandidn't go away and leave you without a cent, and whatever you've got,I'll take, and take it quick!"

  He stepped into the room toward Mrs. Powell, and she saw at once thatthe man meant what he said and that asking for money was no longer arequest but a demand.

  "Honestly," she protested, "I have no money. When Mr. Powell went awayhe didn't expect us to leave the ranch, and he knew we didn't need anymoney here. You'll have to try to borrow some in town when you get tothe railroad."

  "Well," said the man, "if you haven't any money you've got a watchthere, and I'll take that, and maybe when I get to town I can borrowtwo or three dollars on it."

  He stepped forward and reached out to take from her belt a little watchwhose ring he could see above her apron strings; but Mrs. Powell drewback.

  "You shan't have that watch!" she cried. "I've had that ever since Iwas married, and I won't give it to you!"

  The man caught her arm with his left hand and reached for the watchwith his right hand; and Mrs. Powell screamed.

  "Hold on!" said Bessie. "Let go my mother! I've got some money, andI'll give it to you."

  "You've got some money, have you?" said Bill, releasing Mrs. Powell'sarm.

  "Yes; I have twenty-two dollars I was saving up to buy a saddle, and ifyou will clear out right off, I'll give it to you."

  "All right," agr
eed Bill. "We'll go. Let's have it. But don't try toplay any tricks, young woman."

  "I'll get it for you right away," Bessie said; "it's here in mybedroom."

  "All right," repeated Bill. "Be quick about it!"

  Bessie ran into the bedroom and was heard to pull open a drawer, and afew seconds later a shot sounded. Bill staggered a little, felt for hispistol, and then turned around and fell to the floor; while the youngman who had stood in the door ran out through the kitchen, jumped onhis horse, and galloped off.

  [Footnote A: _C?vaya_ from the Spanish word _caballada_, the horseherd.]