CHAPTER XVI
BLUNDER
"Oh, he's built all right, and he comes of good stock," said BrandWilliams, nodding toward a bay colt that stood steaming in the sun.
It had rained the night before--an unexpected shower and the last of thewinter rains. Now that the snow had left the hills, the young stock,some thirty-odd year-old colts had been turned into the north range.Collie and Williams had ridden over to look at the colts; Williams as amatter of duty, Collie because he was interested and liked Williams'ssociety.
The colt, shaking itself, turned and nipped at its shoulder and switchedits tail.
"He's stayed fat, too," continued Williams. "But look at him! He'sbitin' and switchin' because he's wet. Thinks it's fly-time a'ready.He's jest a four-legged horse-hide blunder. I know his kind."
Collie, dismounting and unbuttoning his slicker, rolled it and tied itto the saddle. "I guess you're right, Brand. Last week I was over thisway. He had his head through the corral bars at the bottom and hecouldn't get loose. He was happy, though. He must have been there quitea spell, for he ate about half a bale of hay. I got him loose and hetried his darndest to kick my head off."
"Uhuh," grunted the foreman. "Reckon it's the last rain we'll get thisyear. Now would you look at that! He's the limit!"
The colt, sniffing curiously at a crotch in the live-oak against whichhe had been rubbing, had stepped into the low fork of the tree. Perhapshe had some vague notion to rub both his sides at once as an economy ofeffort. His front feet had slipped on the wet ground. He went down,wedged fast. He struggled and kicked. He nickered plaintively, androlled his terror-stricken eyes toward the cowmen in wild appeal.
"And like all of his kind, hoss and human," said Williams, dismounting,"he's askin' for help in a voice that sounds like it was our fault thathe's in trouble. He's the limit!"
With much labor they finally released the colt, who expressed promptgratitude by launching a swift and vicious kick at Collie.
"He's feeling good enough," said that youth, coolly picking up his hatthat had dropped as he dodged.
"Yes. All he needs is a couple of punchers and a hoss-doctor and apoliceman to ride round with him and keep him out of trouble. He's noaccount; never will be," growled Williams.
"I don't know, Brand. He's a mighty likely-looking and interestingspecimen. He's different. I kind of like him."
"Well, I don't. I ain't got time. He's always goin' to manufacturetrouble, when he don't come by it natural. He's got a kind eye, but nobrains behind it."
They mounted and rode up the hill, looking for breaks in the fences andcounting the colts, some of whom, luxuriously lazy in the heat of thesun, stood with lowered heads, drowsing. Others, scattered about thehillsides and in the arroyos, grazed nippingly at the sparsebunch-grass, moving quickly from clump to clump.
The "blunder" colt seemed to find his own imbecilities sufficientlyentertaining, for he grazed alone.
The foreman's inspection terminated with the repairing of a break in thefence inclosing the spring-hole, a small area of bog-land dotted withhummocks of lush grass. Between the hummocks was a slimy, black oozethat covered the bones of more than one unfortunate animal. The heavy,ripe grass lent an appearance of stability, of solidity, to thetreacherous footing.
Williams and Collie reinforced the sagging posts with props of fallenlimbs and stones carried from the trail below. They piled brush wherethe wire had parted, filling the opening with an almost impassablebarrier of twisted branches. Until the last rain, the spring-hole fencehad appeared solid--but one night of rain in the California hills canwork unimaginable changes in trail, stream-bed, or fence line.
"Get after that fence first thing in the morning," said Williams as heunsaddled the pinto that afternoon. "I noticed the blunder colt followedus up to the spring. If there's any way of gettin' bogged, he'll findit, or invent a new way for himself."
The blunder colt's mischief-making amounted to absolute genius. Therewas much of the enterprising puppy in his nature and in his methods. Theimpulse which seemed to direct the extremely uneven tenor of his waywould have resolved itself orally into: "Do it--and then see whathappens!" He was not vicious, but brainlessly joyful in his mischief.
As the foreman and Collie disappeared beyond the crest of the hill, thecolt, who had watched them with absurdly stupid intensity, lowered hishead and nibbled indifferently at the grass along the edge of thespring-hole fence. He approached the break and sniffed at the props andnetwork of branches. This was interesting! And a very carelesslyconstructed piece of fence, indeed! He would investigate. The blundercolt was never too hungry to cease grazing and turn toward adventure.
He nosed one of the props. He leaned against it heavily, deliberately,and rubbed himself. Verily "His eye had all the seeming of a demon'sthat is dreaming"--of unalloyed mischief.
The prop creaked, finally became loosened, and fell. The colt sprangback awkwardly, snorting in indignant surprise. "The very idea!" hewould have said, even as he would have chewed gum and have worn aperpetual tear in his trousers had he been human.
With stiff stealthiness he approached the break again, pretending ahesitancy that he enjoyed immensely. He reached under the lower wire,neck outstretched, and nibbled at a bunch of ripe grass. There wasplenty of grass within easier reach, but he wanted the unattainable. Abarb caught in his mane. He jerked his head up. The barb pricked hisneck. He jerked harder. Another prop became loosened. Then he strodeaway, this time with calm indifference. He pretended to graze, but hiseye roved back to the break. His attitude expressed a slyalertness--something of the quiet vigilance a grazing horse betrays whenone approaches with a bridle. He drew nearer the fence again. With headover the top wire he gazed longingly at the clumps of grass on thehummocks scattered over the muck of the overflow. His shoulder neededscratching. With drooping head, eyes half-closed, and lower lip pendant,he rubbed against the loosened post. The post sagged and wobbled.Whether it was deliberate intent, or just natural "horse" predominatinghis actions, it would be difficult to determine. Finally the post gaveway and fell. The colt drew back and contemplated the opening with avacuous eye. It was not interesting now. No, indeed! He wandered away.
But in the dusk of that evening, when a chill dew sparkled along theedges of the bog, he came, a clumsy shadow and grazed among thehummocks. Slowly he worked toward the treachery of black ooze that shonein the starlight. He sank to his fetlocks. He drew his feet up one afteranother, still progressing toward the centre of the bog, and sinkingdeeper at each step. He became stricken with fear as he sank to hishocks. He plunged and snorted. The bog held him with a soft, detaininggrip--and drew him slowly down. He nickered, and finally screamed inabsolute terror. Up to his heaving belly the black mud crept. He flunghimself sideways. Exhausted, he lay with neck and head outstretched.Again he struggled, his eyes wild and protruding with the blood pressureof his straining. Then the chill of night crept over him. He becamequiet--shivered a little, and nickered faintly.
In the willows a little owl called pensively.
* * * * *
The morning light, streaming across the hills, spread like raw gold overthe bog. Collie whistled as he rode down the trail, and beat his glovedhands to keep warm. He heard a plaintive whinny and a bubbling gasp. Heleaped from his pony, the coiled riata in his hand as he touched theground.
The blunder colt, neck outstretched, was still above the ooze. His eyeswere bloodshot, as their white rims showed. His nose quivered andtwisted with his quick, irregular breathing.
It was a "two-man job," but Collie knew that the colt would probably begone before he could ride back and return with help. He swung the riata,then hesitated. To noose the colt's neck would only result in stranglingit when he pulled. He found a branch large enough to stiffen the brushnear the break. Swiftly he built a shaky footing and crept out towardthe colt. By shoving the riata under the colt's belly with a forkedstick, and fishing the loose end up on the other side, he managed to geta loop r
ound the animal's hind quarters. He mounted his own horse andtook a turn of the riata round the saddle-horn.
His pony set its feet and leaned to the work. Slowly the colt was drawnto solid ground.
He was a pitiful object as he lay panting and shivering, plastered withmud and black slime, and almost dead from shock and chill. Collie spreadhis slicker over him and rode up the hill at a trot. The blunder coltraised its head a little, then dropped it and lay motionless.
* * * * *
When Collie and Billy Dime returned with gunnysacks and an old blanket,the sun had warmed the air. The mud on the colt's side and neck hadbegun to dry.
Billy Dime commented briefly. "He's a goner. He's froze clean to hisheart. Why didn't you leave him where he was?"
Collie spread the gunnysacks on a level beneath a live-oak, beneathwhich they dragged the colt and covered him with the blanket. They gavehim whiskey with water that they heated at a little fire of brush. Thecolt lifted its head, endeavoring spasmodically to get to its feet.
"He's wearin' hisself out. He ain't got much farther to go," said BillyDime, mounting and turning his pony. "Come on, kid. If he's aliveto-morrow mornin'--good enough."
"I think I'll stay awhile," said Collie. "Brand says he isn't worthsaving, but--I kind of like the cuss. He's different."
"Correct, nurse, he is. You can telephone me if the patient shows signsof bitin' you. Keep tabs on his pulse--give him his whiskey regular, butdon't by no means allow him to set up in bed and smoke. I'll call againnex' year. So long, sweetness."
"You go plump!" laughed Collie.
And Billy Dime rode over the hill singing a dolefully cheerful dittyabout burying some one on the "lo-o-ne prairee." To him a horse wasmerely something useful, so long as it could go. When it couldn't go, hegot another that could.
Collie replenished the smoking fire, scraped some of the mud from thecolt's thick, winter coat, and heated a half-dozen large stones.
His brother cowmen would have laughed at these "tender ministrations,"and Collie himself smiled as he recalled Billy Dime's partingdirections.
Collie placed the heated stones round the shivering animal, re-dried theblanket at the fire, and covered the pitifully weak and pantingcreature. The colt's restless lifting of its head he overcame by sittingnear it and stroking its muzzle with a soothing hand.
Time and again he rose to re-heat the stones and replenish the fire. Thecolt's breathing became less irregular. He gave it more of the hotwhiskey and water.
Then he mended the fence. He had brought an axe with him and a supply ofstaples.
Toward mid-afternoon he became hungry and solaced himself with acigarette.
Again the blunder colt became restless, showing a desire to rise, butfor lack of strength the desire ended with a swaying and tossing of itshead.
Evening came quickly. The air grew bitingly chill. Collie wished thatone of the boys would bring him something to eat. The foreman surelyknew where he was. Collie could imagine the boys joking about him overtheir evening "chuck."
With the darkness he drew on his slicker and squatted by the fire. Hefell asleep. He awoke shivering, to find the embers dull. The stars wereintensely brilliant and large.
Once during the evening he made up his mind to return to theranch-house, but a stubborn determination to save the colt, despite theridicule he knew he would elicit, held him to his task. Should he leave,the colt might become chilled again and die. Then he _would_ be open toridicule. Collie reasoned that he must finish the task as he had begunit--thoroughly.
Again he heated the stones, warmed the blanket, and gave "Blunder," ashe now called him affectionately, some hot whiskey. Then he built alarger fire, wrapped himself in his saddle-blankets, and, with feet tothe blaze, slept. His own pony grazed at large, dragging a rope.
Habit brought Collie awake early. The fire had gone out. He was stiffwith cold. Arising, he glanced at the heap beneath the blanket ringedwith stones. "Time to eat!" he cried lustily, and whipped the blanketfrom the mud-encrusted Blunder. The colt raised its head, struggled, putout one stiff fore leg, and then the other. Collie grabbed the animal'stail and heaved. Blunder humped himself--and was on his feet, wobbling,dizzy-eyed, scandalously "mussed up"--but alive!
"Whoop-ee!" shouted Collie as the colt staggered a pace or two tryinghis questionable strength. "Gee! But I'm hungry!"
The Blunder, a mere caricature of a horse in pose and outward seeming,gazed at his rescuer with stupid eyes. He had not the faintest idea whatall the joy was about, but something deep in his horse nature told himthat the boisterous youth was his friend. Timidly he approached Collie,wagged his head up and down experimentally, as if trying his neckhinges, and reached out and nuzzled the young man's hand, nippingplayfully at his fingers.
Collie was dumbfounded. "He's thankin' me--the little cuss! Why, yourubber-kneed, water-eyed mud turtle you! I didn't know you had thatmuch sense."
The youth did not hear the regular beat of hoofs as Williams loped up,until the colt, stilt-legged, emitted a weak nicker. Collie turned.
Williams smiled grimly. "Knew you'd stick," he said.
He gazed at the revived colt, the circle of stones, and the blanket. Hemade no comment.
Collie caught up his pony and mounted. As they rode over the hilltogether, Williams, turning in the saddle, laughed and pointed downtoward the arroyo.
The blunder colt, apparently overjoyed to be alive, had ambled awkwardlyup to one of his mates who stood stolidly waiting for the sun to warmhim. The other colt, unused to the Blunder's society and perhapsunfavorably impressed by his dissipated appearance, received thisfriendly overture with a pair of punishing hoofs. Blunder staggered andfell, but scrambled to his feet again, astonished, indignant, highlyoffended.
"If you was to drive that blunder colt up to horse-heaven and he knew it_was_ horse-heaven, you'd have to turn him around and back him in. ThenI reckon he'd bust the corral tryin' to get out again."
Collie grinned. "Well, I wouldn't this morning--if there was anythingto eat there, even hay."
"Well, you don't get your breakfast at the chuck-house _this_ morning,"said Williams gruffly.
"I don't, eh? Since when?"
Williams again turned in his saddle, observing Collie for a minutebefore he spoke. "I see you're smilin', so I'll tell you. Since when?Well, since about two hours ago, when Miss Louise come steppin' over tothe bunk-house and asks where you are. Billy Dime ups and tells her youwas sick-nursin' the blunder colt. She didn't smile, but turned to meand asked me. I told her about what was doin'. I seen she had it in forsomebody. It was me. 'Brand,' she says, quiet-like, 'is it customary onthe Moonstone for lunch or dinner to be taken to the men that arestaying out from camp?'
"'Yes, ma'am,' says I.
"And the plumb hell of it was," continued Williams, "she didn't sayanother word. I wisht she had. I feel like a little less than nothin'shot full of holes this lovely mornin'."
Collie rode on silently.
"Why don't you say somethin'?" queried Williams.
"I was waiting for the rest of it," said Collie.
Williams laughed. "I guess you ain't such a fool, at that, with yournussin' stock and settin' up nights with 'em. Miss Louise says to tellyou to come right up to the house,--the _house_, you understand,--andget your breakfast with them. They said they was goin' to wait for you.I guess that ain't throwin' it into the rest of us some. Keep it up,Collie kid, keep it up, and you'll be payin' us all wages some day."
Overland Red: A Romance of the Moonstone Cañon Trail Page 17