The Eagle's Heart

by Hamlin Garland

  CHAPTER XI

  ON THE ROUND-UP

  Mose was awakened next morning by the whirring of the coffee mill, avigorous and cheerful sound. Mrs. Reynolds and Cora were busilypreparing breakfast, and their housewifely movements about the kitchenbelow gave the boy a singular pleasure. The smell of meat in the panrose to his nostrils, and the cooing laughter of the baby added a finalstrand in a homely skein of noises. No household so homelike and securehad opened to him since he said good-by to his foster parents in RockRiver.

  He dressed and hurried down and out to the barn. Frost lay white on thegrass, cattle were bawling somewhere in the distance. The smoke of thekitchen went up into the sky straight as a poplar tree. The beautifulplain, hushed and rapt, lay waiting for the sun.

  As he entered the stable, Mose found Reynolds looking carefully at Jack."That looks a gentle horse; I can't see a mean thing about him. I don'treckon he's a cow hoss, is he?"

  "No, I don't suppose he is a regular cow horse, but he'll soon learn."

  "I must trade you outen that hoss. I certainly am 'blieged to do so. I'mgrowin' old, boy. I don't take the pleasu' in a broncho that I once did.I certainly am tired of hosses I can't touch with my hand. Fo' fo'tyyeahs I have handled these locoed hosses--they ah all locoed in myjudgment--and I am plum tired of such. I shall send to Missouri awTennessee and get me a hoss I can trust. Meanwhile, you leave me yo'hoss an' take my bald-face pinto there; he is the fastest hoss on therange an' a plum devil, but that won't mattah to you, for you ah youngan' frisky."

  Mose hated to yield up his gentle and faithful horse even for a shorttime, but could not decently refuse. He shifted his saddle to the pintowith Reynolds' help.

  "Whoa, there, Wild Cat," called the rancher, as the wicked eyes began toroll. "He'll get usen to ye after a day or two," he said reassuringly.

  Mose's horsemanship was on trial, and though nervous and white, he ledthe pinto out and prepared to mount.

  "If he wants to gambol a little, just let him go, only keep his headup," said Reynolds with careless glance.

  Cora came out of the house and stood looking on, while Mose tightenedthe cinch again, and grasping the pommel with both hands put his toe inthe stirrup. The pinto leaped away sidewise, swift as a cat, but beforehe could fairly get into motion Mose was astride, with both feet in thestirrups. With a series of savage sidewise bounds, the horse made off ata tearing pace, thrusting his head upon the bit in the hope to jerk hisrider out of his seat. Failing of this he began to leap like a sheep.Just as he was about to let up on this Mose sank the rowels into himwith a wild yell, and hotly lashed him from side to side with the end ofhis rope. For a few rods the horse continued to leap with stiffened legsand upraised back, then abandoned all tricks and ran up the hill like ascared antelope.

  When Reynolds caught up with his new "hand" he smiled and said: "Ireckon you can be trusted to look out fo' yo'sef," and the heart of theyouth glowed with pleasure.

  Again he felt the majesty and splendor of the life into which he hadpenetrated. The measureless plain, dimpled and wrinkled, swept downwardtoward the flaming eastern sky unmarked of man. To the west, cut closeacross their snow tops by the plain's edge, three enormous andsnow-armored peaks arose, the sunlight already glittering on the thin,new-fallen snows.

  Coyotes, still at vigil on the hills, slid out of sight at the coming ofthe horsemen. The prairie dogs peered sleepily from their burrows.Cattle in scattered bands snuffed and stared or started away hulking,yet swift, the bulls sullen and ferocious, the calves wild as deer.There were no fences, no furrows, no wagon tracks, no sign of sheep. Itwas the cow country in very truth.

  On the way Reynolds said very little. Occasionally as they drew theirponies to a walk he remarked upon the kindliness of the horse, and said,"I hope you'll like my horse as well as I like youah's."

  It was nearly twelve o'clock when they topped a treeless ridge and camein sight of the round-up. Below them, in the midst of a wide, grassyriver flat, stood several tents and a covered wagon. Nearby lay a strongcircular corral of poplar logs filled with steers. At some distance fromthe corral a dense mass of slowly revolving cattle moved, surrounded bywatching horsemen. Down from the hills and up the valley came otherhorsemen, hurrying forward irregular bands of cows and calves. A smallfire near the corral was sending up a pale strand of smoke, and at thetail of the wagon a stovepipe, emitting a darker column, told thatdinner was in preparation. Over the scene the cloudless September skyarched. Dust arose under the heels of the herds, and the bawling roar ofbulls, the call of agonized cows, and the answering bleat of calvesformed the base of the shrill whoopings and laughter of the men. Nothingcould be wilder, more stirring, more picturesque, except a camp of Siouxor Cheyennes in the days of the buffalo.

  In a few minutes Mose was in the midst of the turmoil. Everyone greetedReynolds with affection, and he replied in the stately phrases which hadmade him famous, "How do you do, gentlemen. I certainly am glad to seeyou enjoyin' this fine fall day. Captain Charlesworth, allow me topresent my young friend, Moses Harding."

  Captain Charlesworth, a tall man with a squint eye and a humorousglance, came up to shake hands as Mose slipped from his broncho.

  Reynolds went on: "Captain Charlesworth is cow boss, an' will see thatyou earn yo' bo'd. Cap'n, this young man comes from my good friend,Cap'n Delmar, of Sante Fe. You know Delmar?"

  "I should think so," said the boss. "It seems this youngster kin ride,seem's he's on Wild Cat."

  Reynolds smiled: "I reckon you can consider him both able and willin',captain."

  "Well, slip off an' eat. I'll take care o' the cayuses."

  On the ground, scattered among the tents, and in the shade of the cookwagon, were some twenty or thirty herders. For the most part they wereslender, bronzed, and active, of twenty-five or thirty, with broad whitehats (faded and flapping in the brim), gray or blue woolen shirts (oncegay with red lacing), and dark pantaloons, tucked into tall boots withlong heels. Spurs jingled at the heels of their tall boots, and most ofthem wore bandannas of silk or cotton looped gracefully about theirnecks. A few of the younger ones wore a sort of rude outside trouser ofleather called "chaps," and each of them carried a revolver slung at thehip. They were superb examples of adaptation to environment, alert,bold, and graceful of movement.

  A relay of them were already at dinner, with a tin plate full of "grub"and a big tin cup steaming with coffee before each man. They sat almostanywhere to eat, on saddles, wagon tongues--any convenient place. Someof them, more orderly, were squatted along a sort of table made offolded blankets piled through the center of a tent. Here Reynolds took aseat, and Mose followed, shrinking a little from the keen scrutiny ofthe men. The fact that Reynolds vouched for him, however, wasintroduction, and the cook made a place for him readily enough, andbrought him a plate and a cup.

  "Boys," said Reynolds, "this young feller is just come to town. His nameis Mose Harding, and he can ride a hoss all right, all right. He'sa-goin' to make a hand here in my place; treat him fair."

  There was a moment's awkward pause, and then Mose said: "I'm going totry to do my share."

  As he had time to look around he began to individualize the men. One ofthe first to catch his eye was an Indian who sat near the door of thetent. He was dressed like the other men, but was evidently a full-blood.His skin was very dark, not at all red or copper colored, and Moseinferred that he was a Ute. His eyes were fixed on Mose with intentscrutiny, and when the boy smiled the Indian's teeth gleamed white inready good nature, and they were friends at once. The talk was all aboutthe work on hand, the tussles with steers, the number of unbrandedcalves, the queries concerning shipment, etc.

  Dinner was soon over, and "Charley," as the cow boss was called by hismen, walked out with Mose toward the corral. "Kin ye rope?" he asked.

  "No, not for a cent."

  "Let him hold the herd foh a day or two," suggested Reynolds. "Give himtime to work in."

  "All right, s'pose you look after him this afternoon."
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br />   Together Reynolds and Mose rode out toward the slowly "milling" herd, ahungry, hot, and restless mob of broadhorns, which required carefultreatment. As he approached, the dull roar of their movement, theirsnuffling and moaning, thrilled the boy. He saw the gleaming, clashinghorns of the great animals uplift and mass and change, and it seemed tohim there were acres and acres of them.

  Reynolds called out to two sweating, dusty, hoarse young fellows: "Go togrub, boys."

  Without a word they wheeled their horses and silently withdrew, whileReynolds became as instantly active.

  His voice arose to a shout: "Now, lively, Mose, keep an eye on the herd,and if any cow starts to break out--lively now--turn him in."

  A big bay steer, lifting his head, suddenly started to leave the herd.Mose spurred his horse straight at him with a yell, and turned himback.

  "That's right," shouted Reynolds.

  Mose understood more of it than Reynolds realized. He took his place inthe cordon, and aided in the work with very few blunders. The work wastwofold in character. Fat cattle were to be cut out of the herd forshipment, unbranded calves were to be branded, and strays tallied andthrown back to their own feeding grounds. Into the crush of great,dusty, steaming bodies, among tossing, cruel, curving horns the men rodeto "cut out" the beeves and to rope the calves. It was a furious scene,yet there was less excitement than Mose at first imagined. Occasionally,as a roper returned, he paused on the edge of the herd long enough to"eat" a piece of tobacco and pass a quiet word with a fellow, thenspurring his horse, re-entered the herd again. No matter how swift hisaction, his eyes were quiet.

  It was hard work; dusty, hot, and dangerous also. To be unhorsed in thatstruggling mass meant serious injury if not death. The youth was glad ofheart to think that he was not required to enter the herd.

  That night, when the horse herd came tearing down the mesa, Reynoldssaid: "Now, Mose, you fall heir to my shift of horses, too. Let me showthem to you. Each man has four extra horses. That wall-eyed roan ismine, so is the sorrel mare with the star face. That big all-over bay,the finest hoss in the whole outfit, is mine, too, but he is unbroken.He shore is a hard problem. I'll give him to you, if you can break him,or I'll trade him for your Jack."

  "I'll do it," cried Mose, catching his breath in excitement as hestudied the splendid beast. His lithe, tigerlike body glittered in thesun, though his uplifted head bore a tangled, dusty mat of mane. He wasneglected, wary, and unkempt, but he was magnificent. Every movement ofhis powerful limbs made the boy ache to be his master.

  Thus Mose took his place among the cowboys. He started right, socially,this time. No one knew that he had been a sheep herder but Reynolds, andReynolds did not lay it up against him. He was the equal of any of themin general horsemanship, they admitted that at the end of the secondday, though he was not so successful in handling cattle as they thoughthe should be. It was the sense of inefficiency in these matters whichled him to give an exhibition of his skill with the revolver one eveningwhen the chance offered. He shot from his horse in all conceivablepositions, at all kinds of marks, and with all degrees of speed, tillone of the boys, accustomed to good shooting, said:

  "You kin jest about shoot."

  "That's right," said the cow boss; "I'd hate to have him get a grutchagin me."

  Mose warmed with pardonable pride. He was taking high place in theirranks, and was entirely happy during these pleasant autumn days. On hisswift and wise little ponies he tore across the sod in pursuit of swiftsteers, or came rattling down a hillside, hot at the heels of awild-eyed cow and calf, followed by a cataract of pebbles. Each day hebestrode his saddle till his bones cried out for weariness, and hisstomach, walls ground together for want of food, but when he sat amonghis fellows to eat with keenest pleasure the beef and beans of the potwrestler's providing, he was content. He had no time to think of Jack orMary except on the nights when he took his trick at watching the nightherd. Then, sometimes in the crisp and fragrant dusk, with millions ofstars blazing overhead, he experienced a sweet and powerful longing fora glimpse of the beautiful girlish face which had lightened his days andnights in prison.

  The herders were rough, hearty souls, for the most part, often obsceneand rowdy as they sat and sang around the camp fire. Mose had neverbeen a rude boy; on the contrary, he had always spoken in ratherelevated diction, due, no doubt, to the influence of his father, whosespeech was always serious and well ordered. Therefore, when the songsbecame coarse he walked away and smoked his pipe alone, or talked withJim the Ute, whose serious and dignified silence was in vivid contrast.

  Some way, coarse speech and ribald song brought up, by the power ofcontrast, the pure, sweet faces of Mary and his sister Maud. Two orthree times in his boyhood he had come near to slaying pert lads who haddared to utter coarse words in his sister's presence. There was in himtoo much of the essence of the highest chivalry to permit such things.

  It happened, therefore, that he spent much time with "Ute Jim," who wasa simple and loyal soul, thoughtful, and possessing a sense of humorwithal. Mose took great pleasure in sitting beside the camp fire withthis son of the plains, while he talked of the wild and splendid life ofthe days before the white man came. His speech was broken, but Mosepieced it out by means of the sign language, so graceful, so dignified,and so dramatic, that he was seized with the fervid wish to acquire aknowledge of it. This he soon did, and thereafter they might be seen atany time of day signaling from side to side of the herd, the Indiansmiling and shaking his head when the youth made a mistake.

  Jim believed in his new friend, and when questions brought out thehistory of the dispossession of his people he grew very sorrowful. Hisround cheeks became rigid and his eyes were turned away. "Injun no likefight white man all time. Injun gotta fight. White man crowd Injun back,back, no game, no rain, no corn. Injun heap like rivers, trees, allsame--white man no like 'um, go on hot plain, no trees, no mountains, nogame."

  But he threw off these somber moods quickly, and resumed his stories ofhimself, of long trips to the snowpeaks, which he seemed to regard inthe light of highest daring. The high mountains were not merely far fromthe land of his people; they were mythic places inhabited by monstrousanimals that could change from beast to fowl, and talk--great, conjuringcreatures, whose powers were infinite in scope. As the red man struggledforward in his story, attempting to define these conceptions, the heartof the prairie youth swelled with a poignant sense of drawing near agreat mystery. The conviction of Jim's faith for the moment made himmore than half believe in the powers of the mountain people. Day by dayhis longing for the "high country" grew.

  At the first favorable moment he turned to the task of subduing thesplendid bay horse for which he had traded his gentle Jack. One Sunday,when he had a few hours off, Mose went to Alf, the chief "roper," andasked him to help him catch "Kintuck," as Reynolds called the bay.

  "All right," said Alf; "I'll tie him up in a jiffy."

  "Can you get him without marking him all up?"

  "I don't believe it. He's going to thrash around like h--l a-blazin';we'll have to choke him down."

  Mose shook his head. "I can't stand that. I s'pose it'll skin hisfetlocks if you get him by the feet."

  "Oh, it may, may not; depends on how he struggles."

  Mose refused to allow his shining, proud-necked stallion to be roped andthrown, and asked the boys to help drive him into a strong corral,together with five or six other horses. This was done, and strippinghimself as for a race, Mose entered the coral and began walking rapidlyround and round, following the excited animals. Hour after hour he keptthis steady, circling walk, till the other horses were weary, tillKintuck ceased to snort, till the blaze of excitement passed out of hiseyes, till he walked with a wondering backward glance, as if to ask:"Two-legged creature, why do you so persistently follow me?"

  The cowboys jeered at first, but after a time they began to marvel atthe dogged walk of the youth. They gathered about the walls of thecorral and laid bets on the outcome. At the end of the t
hird hourKintuck walked with a mechanical air, all the fire and fury gone out ofhim. He began to allow his pursuer to approach him closely, almost nearenough to be touched. At the end of the four hours he allowed Mose tolay his hand on his nose, and Mose petted him and went to dinner. Oddsstood in Mose's favor as he returned to the corral. He was covered withdust and sweat, but he was confident. He began to speak to the horse ina gentle, firm voice. At times the stallion faced him with head lifted,a singular look in his eyes, as though he meditated leaping upon hiscaptor. At first Mose took no notice of these actions, did not slackenhis pace, but continued to press the bay on and on. At last he began toapproach the horse with his hand lifted, looking him in the eyes andspeaking to him. Snorting as if with terror, the splendid animal facedhim again and again, only to wheel at the last moment.

  The cowboys were profanely contemptuous. "Think of taking all thattrouble."

  "Rope him, and put a saddle on him and bust him," they calledresoundingly.

  Mose kept on steadily. At last, when all the other horses had beenturned loose, Kintuck, trembling, and with a curious stare in his eyes,again allowed Mose to lay his hand on his nose. He shrank away, but didnot wheel. It was sunset, and the horse was not merely bewildered, hewas physically tired. The touch of his master's hand over his eyesseemed to subjugate him, to take away his will. When Mose turned to walkaway the horse followed him as though drawn by some magnetic force, andthe herders looked at each other in amazement. Thereafter he had but tobe accustomed to the bridle and saddle, and to be taught the duties of acow horse. He had come to love his master.

  This exploit increased the fame of "Dandy Mose," as the cowboys came tocall him, because of the nature of his dress. He was bronzed now, and avery creditable brown mustache added to the maturity of his face. He wasgaunt with hard riding, and somber and reticent in manner, so that heseemed to be much older than his years. Before the beef round-up wasended, he could rope a steer fairly well, could cut out or hold theherd as well as the best, and in pistol practice he had no equal.

  He was well pleased with himself. He loved the swift riding, the nightwatches, the voices of wolves, the turmoil of the camp, the rush of thewild wide-horned herd, and the pounding roar of the relay horses as theycame flying into camp of a morning. It all suited well with the leapingblood of his heart and the restless vigor of his limbs. He thought ofhis old home very little--even Mary was receding into the mist ofdistance.

  When the beef herd was ready to be driven to the shipping point,Reynolds asked him if he wished to go. He shook his head. "No, I'll stayhere." He did not say so, but he was still a little afraid of beingcalled to account for his actions in Running Bear. He saw the herd moveoff with regret, for he would have enjoyed the ride exceedingly. Hecared little for the town, though he would have liked the opportunity tomake some purchases. He returned to the Reynolds ranch to spend theautumn and the winter in such duties as the stock required.

  As the great peaks to the west grew whiter and whiter, looming everlarger at dawn, the heart of the boy grew restless. The dark canonsallured him, the stream babbled strange stories to him--tales of therocky spaces from which it came--until the boy dreamed of great whitedoors that opened on wondrous green parks.

  One morning when Cora called the men to breakfast Mose and Jim did notrespond. A scrawl from Mose said: "We've gone to the mountains. I'll beback in the spring. Keep my outfit for me, and don't worry."