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

by George Bird Grinnell

  CHAPTER VII

  A BULL FIGHT

  Jack was slow to respond to the call the next morning, but after aminute or two he reluctantly rolled out of bed, and putting on hisshoes--and his coat, for the morning seemed cold--he rolled up androped his bed. When he reached his horse he could hear Joe not far offdrawing the latigo of his saddle and whistling softly to himself, andin a few minutes the two were riding off toward the cattle. The nightwas black and the stars sparkled in the clear air, but off to theeastern horizon the light grew constantly stronger as they rode along.

  "That can't be day coming, is it, Joe?" Jack remarked. "It seemed to methat I got up as soon as I was called, and if I did it won't be gettinglight for an hour yet."

  "No," said Joe, "that's a little bit of the old moon left, and we'llsee it before long."

  And just before they reached the herd, the small moon, now a crescent,showed itself over the hill in the east, and for a moment the treesthat crowned the hill were outlined sharply against the light.

  The boys whom Jack and Joe were relieving said that the cattle had beenquiet ever since they came on. The animals were tired from the drivethat they had had during the day, and the night was clear, calm andstill, so there was no reason for their being uneasy. Now followed acouple of hours of monotonous riding around the herd, while one boy orthe other droned out a song, and occasionally spoke as they passed.Presently the east showed gray, and then yellow, changing to orange;and at length the sun, with a bound, as it seemed, cleared the hilltopthat hid it and began its journey across the sky. By this time thecattle had risen to their feet and were beginning to feed, and theherders, instead of trying to keep them in a bunch, rode out on eitherside, merely to prevent their straying too far.

  At length the boys who were to relieve them came out, and Jack and Joeraced their horses back to camp, caught up fresh horses, unsaddledthose that they had been using, and presently sat down to breakfast.All the outfit had started to work, and Frank had his wagon packed,ready to roll as soon as these last two had finished breakfast.

  "McIntyre told me to tell you," he said, "that you two had better goalong and help move the herd to the next camp. That's what you get forgoing on night herd--an easy job for the rest of the day."

  "That suits me well enough," laughed Joe. "We'll take it easy to-day,Jack, and I'll bet McIntyre will make it up to us in the next few days,and we'll have plenty of riding to do."

  "I hope we will," replied Jack.

  When they returned to the herd they found that the cattle had aboutfinished feeding, and had been driven down to a little stream to drink.Now came the work of pushing them along over the ten or twelve milesto the next camp. It was a slow and more or less wearisome task; but,as Joe said, it was all in the day's work. The cattle were full andlazy and unwilling to move. Each one would go on just as long as it wasbeing driven, but all the others stopped. It was constantly necessaryto ride up behind the little groups and urge them on, and the time oftwo men was spent in riding backward and forward at the tail of theherd pushing on the laggards. One man rode ahead of the herd, at aslow walk; and there was one at either side, to keep the cattle fromscattering.

  After the herd had been moving along for two or three hours, BillDuncan, the man in the lead, called back something to the others; butthey did not hear what he said, and, as he went on, paid no particularattention to it. A few moments later there was quite an excitementamong the leading cattle. They were lowing and clustering together in athick bunch, and as the cow punchers pushed up toward them they couldsee that they were pawing the ground and some of them were kneelingand thrusting their horns into the soil, and there was much commotion.Quietly, but very steadily the boys urged the cattle along and atlength broke up the gathering; but the animals were excited, and theyearlings and young stock ran ahead, kicking their heels in the air andstriking at each other with their horns.

  After they had passed the place, the explanation of the excitement wasseen. Some animal had recently been killed there, and its blood andother remains smelled by the cattle had greatly excited them.

  "That must have been what Bill was talking about when he called backto us," Joe said to the others. "We ought to have sent some one up tofind out what he was saying."

  "That's so," agreed Jack; "but, say, Joe, you know more about cattlethan I do, what is it that makes stock stampede? Of course, it's easyenough to see why they might get frightened at the smell of blood,but I understand that sometimes they start off without any reasonwhatever--any reason we can see, at least."

  "Well," Joe answered slowly, "you'll have to ask somebody who knowsmore than I do. I've seen cattle start off without any cause at allthat I could see, and they 'most always start off without any reason.On a stormy night I've seen them stampede at a flash of lightning, andthen again, one still night I saw a bunch start when one of the boyslighted a match for his cigarette. One fall I was helping drive a bunchof beef to the railroad; they went down into a little valley and whenthey got close to the stream a big flock of blackbirds flew up in athick cloud, making, of course, some noise with their wings, and themfat beef just turned and ran for half a day. Some of the cattle wenever did find, and those that we got I guess had lost fifty pounds tothe head."

  "I suppose," said Jack, "that it is just panic, and, of course, in apanic nothing ever stops to reason."

  "I guess that's about the size of it. I've read in the papers storiesabout people getting scared and stampeding, just exactly the way cattleor horses do, and I reckon that all animals are a good deal alike inthis, whether they go on two legs or on four."

  "Why, yes," said Jack; "some of the stories I've read told about peoplegetting scared in a theater when it took fire, and they all seemedto lose their senses, and sometimes the firemen would find the bodiesall piled up in a corner or against the wall, the under ones dead fromsuffocation, just the way scared sheep will pile up sometimes in thecorner of the shed, when you are catching them to dip them. The men arejust as bad as the women and children, and seem to try to fight withthem, trying to get out first."

  "Down South I once saw a bunch of mules stampede. They didn't seem tohave any idea where they were going, and a part of the bunch ran rightslam into a freight-car, and, of course, killed themselves."

  "Well, it surely is not easy to explain these things," declared Jack."I would like mighty well to have some of these professors who arealways studying about the way the mind works tell me how the mind of ahorse or a cow acts when it is stampeding."

  Joe laughed.

  "Hold on there," he said. "You want to get straight on that, I reckon.I never heard, and I don't believe anybody else ever did, of a horseor a cow stampeding. To have a stampede you've got to have a lot ofanimals together, and they act on each other and make each othermore and more scared all the time. You can frighten a single horse,or a single cow, and it will run away, but it won't run far; but youstampede a bunch of stock and it will run and run and keep on running,and for a while it keeps running harder and harder, all the time."

  "I see what you mean; and I guess you're right about it," conceded Jack.

  One of the other boys had come up while they were talking.

  "Yes," he said, "Joe has got it straight, all right; and I never havebeen able to find out anything more about it than he has. I've heardold cow men talk about it, too, but I've never heard one of them saythat he could understand it. Joe's telling about seeing a bunch ofstock start when a boy lit a match, reminds me of a time when I saw abunch run just because a fellow threw down his cigarette. If a bunch ofcattle is ready to run, it seems as if 'most anything would start 'em.You talk to any old cow man about this and you'll get a whole lot offacts, but mighty few reasons."

  All day long the cattle moved on over the rolling hills. Often thewagons and _c?vaya_ could be seen at no very great distance; and atlast, late in the afternoon, the camp was sighted and the boys took thestock down below it on the creek, let them drink,
and then feed slowlyback into the hills. They were kept pretty well together all the time,but would not, of course, be bedded down until near sunset. Jack andJoe stopped here with the herd, while the other boys went into campto get their supper. They would then come out again to bed down thecattle, and be relieved a little later by the regular night herders.The cattle were hungry, and were feeding greedily. They needed littleor no looking after; and the boys, riding to the top of a hill, gotoff their horses and, throwing down their reins and holding the endsof their ropes, let the saddle horses feed about them. As they satthere talking about various things, Joe happened to speak of southernCalifornia, and the way the Mexicans rode and handled cattle, and asthey talked he told Jack something of his past life.

  "My father," he said, "came out with one of the early emigranttrains with his brothers and sisters, his father and mother havinga nice little outfit of their own. Somehow or other, when they werecrossing through the mountains in the late fall, just before reachingCalifornia, they got separated from the main train, and got off in alittle pocket by themselves, and didn't seem to be able to find theirway out of it. I never rightly understood how it was, for my fatherdied when I was a little fellow, but it seems that they got up thereand the snow was so deep that they could not get out. Their stockwas getting poor and they didn't have enough provisions to last themthrough the winter. I've heard my grandmother tell how grandfatherworried about what he ought to do, and how at last he made up his mindthat he had to go down to the main trail and get help, or else theywould all starve to death. He made himself a pair of snowshoes, lefthis rifle with his wife, took one day's grub, and started to try tofind the trail. My grandmother didn't want him to go a bit; she wasafraid that he would get lost, and then they'd be worse off than ever.If they had to die, she wanted all of them to die together.

  "He started off and did get lost, but, somehow or other, he managed toget down near to the trail, and was found by a man who was hunting deerfor a little train that was coming along. That train was all right.It went into camp and the men started out and broke a way up into thelittle valley where my grandmother was, and brought down the wholeoutfit and took them on to California. There my grandfather got workand did pretty well, and when my father grew up he went down near LosAngeles, and took up a ranch there, and we have always been comfortablyoff. But I always wanted to ride a horse rather than go to school, andas soon as I was big enough I got work with one of the cattle companiesdown there, and I've been punching cows ever since. Of course I was abig fool not to go to school and get a good education instead of justbeing able to read and write, as I am now; but I've seen a lot of workwith cows, and, I tell you, some of those greasers down there can staywith a horse and handle a rope better than any man you ever see in thiscountry."

  "I expect they're mighty fine riders, Joe; and in the old times, whenthere were cattle all over the country there, 'most all the men musthave been great cow hands, just as I suppose they are now in Mexico.Every fellow was put on a horse as soon as he was able to toddle, and Isuppose he stayed with it until he was an old man."

  "Yes, if he didn't get killed before he grew old. Hold on, Jack! Watchthose bulls down there!" Joe exclaimed. "I think we're going to have ascrap!"

  For some time Jack had heard low rumblings coming from the bunch ofcattle but had paid no attention to them; but now he saw that a coupleof big bulls seemed to be making preparations for a fight. One of themwas a white-faced red and white animal which might be a grade Durhamor Hereford, while the other, solid red in color, looked more like oneof the old-fashioned long-horned Texans, or at least what they used tocall out in that country a Cherokee.

  Fifteen years earlier, as Jack had often been told, almost all thecattle in the country were Texas cattle driven up from the south tothe plains, and there purchased by the northern cattlemen, taken out totheir ranches, fed for a year or two, and then shipped to market. Theexcellent grazing and the cold winters seemed to make these cattle growlarger and fatter than the Texas cattle were, and they brought goodprices in Chicago. Moreover, the calves raised on the northern rangewere bigger and better than those brought up from the south, and it wasnot long before the northern cattle owners got into the way of buyingherds of Texas cows and grading them up with more or less well-bredbulls. This course made a very great change in the cattle. They grewlarger in body, shorter in limb, lost their long horns and became farmore like real beef steers than the old Texas long-horns ever were. Itwas now getting to be almost unusual to see an animal that looked likea Texas long-horn, or even like a Cherokee steer.

  One of these bulls, however, was of the old type, while the otherseemed to represent the new. The two stood facing each other, not veryfar apart, muttering, moaning, pawing up the dust and throwing it highin the air to fall on their broad backs and roll back to the ground.Presently the short-horned bull went down on his knees and thrust hishorns into the earth, and then rose and shook the dirt from his head.The other bull did the same thing, his long horns tearing up a greatmass of soil, and when he rose to his feet his shaggy face and headwere covered with dirt and sticks picked up from the ground. Slowly thebulls drew nearer to each other, and at length, when but a few feetapart, the red bull sprang forward; the other bent down and lunged tomeet him, and their horns came together with a sharp clash. The shockaffected neither bull; neither gave back; and for some moments theypushed and pushed against each other, their feet plowing up the soiland the tense corded muscles standing out like ridges on their greathams.

  The remainder of the herd had drawn off a little to one side. Most ofthe animals were still feeding or looking off over the prairie, heedingthe battle not at all, but a little fringe of cows and young stock onthe edge of the herd faced the fighting bulls and looked at them withmild interest.

  Jack and Joe watched the fight eagerly.

  "The chances are all in favor of the big bull," declared Joe. "He's gotthe weight and he'll win out."

  "I don't know," said Jack. "It looks to me as if he were going to pushthe red bull all over the prairie; but, on the other hand, the littleone is twice as quick and twice as active. What's more, I'll bet thered fellow has twice the wind of the other, and if he can tire out thatbig fat bull he'll make him run."

  "Yes," agreed Joe, "there's no doubt that if he's got the wit to workthe fight right, he'll be able to drive the big bull; but if the bigbull is smart, he won't let himself be tired out."

  "Well, let's see. Look at the way the big fellow is pushing back thelittle fellow now!"

  And certainly it seemed as if weight were beginning to tell, for,little by little, the red bull moved backward, and appeared to be quiteunable to hold his opponent. In the meantime, the horns of both bullsbegan to show red as if smeared with blood.

  Farther and farther the red bull was pushed back. Presently he stoppedresisting; by a nimble bound he sprang off to one side and, quicklycircling, returned to the attack, as if trying to gore the big bull inthe neck or shoulders. The big one had turned, however, and receivedthe shock on his horns; and this time without much delay he pushed hisenemy back. The red bull again jumped and again made a circle, and thebig bull, seeing what was intended, faced to receive the charge onhis horns. The two came together hard, and the sound of the shock wasplainly heard. By this time both were weary and winded, and their longtongues hung out of their mouths and almost reached to the ground.

  It seemed now as if the red bull were trying to do precisely whatJack had spoken of a little while before--to tire out his strongeropponent--and it soon began to look as if he were succeeding. The bigbull turned more slowly to receive the charge; and, while he had notas yet received any noticeable wound, he looked as if he would like tostop fighting, and to call the battle a draw. He began to look from oneside to the other, and at last it was evident that he was trying to getaway.

  "By gosh! the little fellow has got him whipped!" Joe cried.

  A moment or two later the big bull, when he had the opportunity, turnedtail and trotted heavily off over
the prairie away from the herd. Thelittle one followed him, of course, and butted him in the hips withgreat force but his wide-spread horns did not cut the flesh. Each timethe red bull hit his opponent, the big bull roared with fear, and thesight greatly amused the cowboys.

  "Come on," Joe said at last; "we mustn't let those fellows go too far.They've got to be brought back to the bunch."

  Jumping on their horses they followed the two, first turning the redbull, which was loath to leave the pursuit. Joe hurried him back to theherd, while Jack rode on a little way, turned the big bull, and slowlydrove him to the bunch.

  Soon after this, and long before they had finished talking over thefight, the other men came back from camp, and Joe and Jack went in toget their supper.