The Blue-Roan "Outlaw"
_A Tale of the "Hashknife" Range_
By permission _The Breeder's Gazette_, Chicago, Ill.
"Say, Bill, there's that old blue-roan, droop-horned cow that allus runsover on the Coyote wash. Reckon she ain't got a calf somers' hereabout?"
"Like as not," replied Bill, "an' I'll bet it's a blue-roan, too, forshe's raised a blue calf reg'lar fer these last four or five years.There's a little hole of water clos't to where she's a-grazin' an' it'sa sure shot the calf's hid away in that tall grass down there clos't toit."
The two cowboys rode slowly down the gentle slope toward the cow, whichwatched them eagerly, but with the cunning of the brute made no sign ormotion to show where her baby was hidden. When, however, one of the boysplayed the time-worn trick on her by barking like a dog, it was too muchfor her peace of mind. With a mad bellow of defiance she raced towardthe spot where the little fellow was hidden, exactly as the boys knewshe would.
The calf, with the instinct of the brute already working in his littlefour-day-old brain, did not move, but lay there as quietly as if he weredead, and, not until the horsemen rode almost onto him in the deepgrass, did they discover his hiding place.
The mother, with the fear of man too strong in her heart to stand by herguns, ran off a few yards from the spot and the calf followed, bawlingloudly, the already awakened man-fear strong within him.
"He's a sure blue-roan all right," said Bill. "Say, won't that oldHashknife iron loom up big on them ribs some day?" he asked, for a brandon a roan animal shows much more plainly than on a hide of any othercolor.
"It sure will," replied his companion; "better leave 'em here tilltomorrow an' we can swing around this a-way an' git 'em."
So the boys rode on across the prairie, and the droop-horned blue withher baby rested in peace that day and night.
It was here, away out on the "staked plains," those mysterious regionsof the great Southwest, and far back from the thin line of settlementsthat fringed the Pecos River, in southeastern New Mexico, that the"blue-roan outlaw" first saw the light.
Early next morning the leaders of the roundup party, engaged ingathering up the cattle on the range, swung across the prairie in agreat semicircle, sweeping before them in one huge drive, everything ofthe cow kind. As they divided up into couples to work down the country,the leader said: "Bill, you look out an' catch that ole blue-roan weseen yistiday. The old man wants all them cows to throw into thatArizony drive, an' her an' the calf will make it in all right, Ireckon."
So, as they rode along, Bill swung across a little draw toward the waterhole they had seen the day before. He picked up the blue-roan, who, withher young son beside her, trotted off, following the rest of the cattlealready working down the trails toward the round-up grounds. The twoanimals fell in with more of their kind as the trails converged until,by the time the roundup ground was reached, there were more than fifteenhundred cattle of all ages and sexes gathered in one great bunch.
The blue-roan's baby kept close to his mother's side; the dust thatsettled over the herd like a pall, choking him, while the constantbawling of the cattle, fairly deafened him.
Once, when two huge bulls, fighting fiercely, drove through that portionof the herd where he and his mother were, and separated the littlefamily, he added to the din by raising his voice in pitiful outcry forhis protector.
Outside of the herd the cowboys rode slowly around, turning back intothe center any stragglers that tried to escape.
Gradually the bunch began to stop "milling" and as cow after cow foundher calf, the bawling stopped. In half an hour the herd was fairly quietand the wagon boss dropped off his horse to "cinch up" a little,preparatory to the work of cutting out.
Having reset his saddle, the boss mounted again and, calling to twoother men near him, said, "Jack, you go out there a ways and hold 'emup, and Charley and I will get out the cows and the calves." So Jackrode off about one hundred yards from the herd in readiness to receivethe "cut" as they came out; while the boss and Charley rode slowly intothe mass of cattle.
"What you want out?" he asked of the boss. "The old man wants everyHashknife cow and calf that will stand the trail trip to Arizony," hereplied. "We got to get two thousand for the first herd if we can, socut 'em close."
"There's that ole blue-roan we seen yistiday," the boss remarked, "let'sthrow her out first thing, she's a good one to start a bunch on."
Now starting a "cut" is always some little trouble until you get half adozen head together, because the instinct of the animal is to endeavorto either get back into the herd or to run clear off on the range. Instarting a cut, if possible, they pick out some old, sedate cow, and inthis case the blue-roan was known to be a good one for the purpose.
So our youngster found himself being followed up by a greatfierce-looking man mounted on a small wiry "Paint" pony that kept rightat his mother's heels, no matter which way she turned or twisted.
The cow dodged and wound through the herd, while that object behind keptclose to her, never hurrying, never crowding, but always, in someinexplicable manner, seeming to force her to the outer rim of the herd.
With the dim hope that possibly she could escape his presence by a breakfrom the herd she worked past half a dozen steers standing idly on theedge and, with a quick dash, broke from the herd out toward the freeopen prairie, the calf racing at her side.
The man who had so persistently hung to her flank made no furtherattempt to follow her, but turned his pony and was lost in the mass ofthe herd.
As she widened the distance from the edge of the herd Jack, who, up tothis time had been sitting sideways on his pony some distance from theherd, straightened up, a movement which caught her eye, so she stoppedto inspect him and decide what new danger was about to present itself.
To her surprise Jack seemed satisfied with her stopping and made noattempt to come near her. The calf ranged along side of her and beganpreparations for a lunch, so she, being a sensible animal, decided tostay where she was for a time.
A moment later a second cow and calf were also shot out of the edge ofthe herd. As she charged across the open space Jack again took interestenough in the proceedings to ride out and turn her over toward theblue-roan, which received her with a short bawl. The two calves eyedeach other for a second and then busied themselves with their dinneroperations.
The second cow, being young, and with her first calf, was inclined torun off and leave the spot, but in some way every time she did so shemet Jack and his pony, who, the instant she turned toward the blue cow,seemed satisfied and took no further steps to interfere with herliberty.
Soon a third and fourth cow joined them and, now that there was anucleus formed, every new animal turned out of the herd chased straightfor the little bunch, which stood quietly for the next three hours,their calves sleeping at their feet paying little attention to theuproar that was going on in the main herd.
Having cut out some three hundred cows and calves, the "choppers" rodeout of the herd, and the "cut" was slowly driven off to water at anear-by windmill, while the main body of cattle was allowed to drift outonto the range at their own pleasure.
That night the blue-roan and her calf, together with the rest of thecut, were "bedded down" near the round-up camp. All night long two menrode around them and any cow which tried to escape was promptly turnedback into the herd by the watchful riders.
The next day this bunch was called the "day herd" and three herderslooked after them all day long. They were allowed to graze over a pieceof open range where the herders could watch them and see that none ofthem escaped. At noon they were driven into a great prairie lake towater.
That evening another large bunch of cows and calves were brought out tothe day herd and turned into it so that they made quite a respectableherd that night.
At the end of ten days' work they had over the required number to makeup the "trail herd," and the wagon boss announced one evening that hewould send them into the main ranch on the fol
lowing day to start forthe long trail trip to Arizona.
The blue-roan calf had by this time become a seasoned traveler, andfound little difficulty in taking care of himself in the herd. A day ortwo at the ranch and the preparations for the trip were over.
One fine morning about four o'clock the cook, who had been up in thecool morning air since half-past two, awoke the sleepers about his wagonwith a long "roll out, roll out, r-o-l-l-o-u-t" which brought thesleepers in the camp beds scattered about the wagon to the campfire inshort order.
By sunrise the herd was strung out on the trail for the West. In thelead was the old blue-roan with her blue calf marching steadily along,grazing when the herd was held up for that purpose, resting when theoutfit stopped to rest, and altogether behaving themselves remarkablywell.
One night as the crew sat about the campfire with the herd restingquietly not far from the wagon, the wagon boss said to one of the boysnear him: "Jim, I wish you'd take your hoss in the mawnin' and go aheadand see how the river is. We got to cross it before long and I'm afeardit's going to be pretty high, if all them clouds up toward the head isgood for anything."
Late the next night Jim returned with the information that the river wasindeed high and that it would be necessary to swim the cattle, or waitfor it to run down.
Four days later the herd was bedded down in the valley of the PecosRiver, a mile or two back from the stream. About noon the next day, whenthe cattle were thirsty, the whole herd was drifted down to the river ata place picked out by the wagon boss where the banks were broken down sothe cattle could reach the water. On the opposite side the bank was low,making a good "coming out" place.
The river here was half a mile wide and running swiftly. It was,however, not swimming all the way across, and the place was known as asafe ford because of an underlying rock ledge, which made good footingfor the cattle in a river where quicksand was almost everywhere present.
The water was muddy and red and, as the first cattle, eager for a drink,waded out into its depths, the old blue in the lead, the men carefullypointed them out into the stream, keeping them moving.
The others followed, calves bawling, men shouting, the animals plungingand tearing through the swift waters. Soon the leaders were swimmingand, as the water deepened, the old blue touched her baby on the noseand told him something in cow language which made him immediately get onthe upstream side of her and stay there as they swam across the river.The swift water forced the little fellow against her side, where he hunglike a leech, while his mother swam, strong and steadily, for theopposite bank. If the leaders had any desire to turn downstream they meta horseman on that side, swinging his slicker, and shouting with all hismight, and keeping just far enough back of the leaders to stop them fromturning downstream, and still not check them in their swimming towardthe other side.
Soon the old blue and her comrades found footing and she and her littleone were among the first to scramble up the muddy bank and stand on dryland on the western side of the Pecos. The whole herd, including athousand calves, crossed safely. After the saddle horses had swum theriver, and the wagon had been floated over, all the beds and plunderwere carried across in a small boat, and the westward journey to Arizonawas continued.
"_The whole herd swam the Pecos in safety_"]
The day after their arrival on the Arizona range the cattle were turnedout to graze early in the morning. When the calves had all foundtheir mothers and settled down quietly, the boss "cut off" some threehundred cows, each with her calf. These the boys drove to a great stonecorral about a mile away, which was almost as large inside as a cityblock. In one corner a fire of cedar logs was built, into which wasstuck a lot of iron affairs with handles three or four feet long, whichwere the branding irons belonging to the outfit. As he watched the ironsin the fire reaching a white heat, the boss remarked that the old manwas going to run the same old Hashknife brand and mark in Arizony as hedid back in Texas. Finally the boss, throwing away his cigarette, saidto the ropers, "Irons hot, fly at 'em boys." Two men on their horses,rode into the mass of cattle crowded against the far side of the corraland, with swift, dextrous throws, began catching the calves. As soon asthe rope settled about the neck of one, the horse was turned toward thefire, and as the rope was short and tied to the saddle horn, theunwilling, bawling calf was dragged up to the vicinity of the fire.There two husky cowboys ran out to meet the rider and, following up therope to the calf dancing and bawling about at the end of it, one of themseized him by the ear or head with one hand and the flank with the otherand, with a quick jerk, threw him upon his side. The instant he struckthe ground, the other man seized a hind leg and pulled it straight outbehind the calf, while the first man, throwing off the rope, sat on theanimal's neck and head, and another seared the tender hide with thefamous "Hashknife" brand. Still another man with a knife cut off thepoint of the calf's right ear and took out a little V-shaped piece fromthe under side of the left ear. This was the company's earmark. In aninstant the operation was over and the calf running back to its mother.
The blue-roan calf was determined he should not be branded. He watchedthe riders as they rode into the herd and buried himself deep in themiddle of the mass, worming under the larger cattle and hiding behindthem, until he began to believe he would escape after all.
All morning long the men worked away with the herd until the pooranimals were half mad with fear and hunger. As the blue-roan dodged toavoid the whirling, snakelike rope that suddenly shot out from the handof a man he had not noticed, he felt it draw up on his hind legs. Beforehe knew it, he was lying on his side and being dragged across the roughground toward the fire, where he was to receive a mark for life.
"I snared that blue-roan that's been so smart," said the rider as hepassed the other man. "Burn him deep Dick," he said, "for he's a roanand it will show up fine when he gets grown."
Released from his torture, the roan staggered back to his mother, whogave him all the comfort she could. His side was bruised and sore wherehe had been dragged over the rough ground, and the great burn on hisribs pained him beyond measure.
Soon after that the bunch was turned out to graze and, sick at heart,the calf crawled miserably under the shade of a small ironwood bush,while his mother went to water, leaving him alone in his wretchedness.From this time on, the blue-roan became a hater of men. The object onhorseback was to him the source of all his suffering and pain--a thingto be avoided, and upon which to wreak vengeance some day, if possible.
The country in Arizona was very unlike the old range upon the stakedplains in Texas, being rough and rocky, with none of those great grassystretches they had been accustomed to back in their old home. There weretrees here, too, a thing they had never known on their old range, andthe cows buried themselves deep in the thickets of cedar and pinon.There they found many tanks or reservoirs of rain water, and unless thewater gave out they seldom left their hiding places.
Here, the blue-roan calf and his mother made their home, until one day,when he was about a year old, he was accidentally separated from her andnever saw her again. Two years of life in the thickets made him shy andwild as a deer; he learned to watch for objects upon horseback, whichwere his one great fear. Once in the winter before he lost his mother atrio of wolves followed them through the cedars for a whole day,sneaking up on them as closely as they dared, even nipping at theirheels. His mother would turn upon them with a bellow of defiance andcharge toward the tormentors, head down, returning quickly to the littlebunch of friends that stood together, heads to the foe, their calveswithin the circle.
A two-year-old heifer, with more pluck than judgment, weak from a longwinter of short grass and poor range, made a dart toward the wolves, andturning to join the circle of cows, stumbled and fell to her knees. In amoment the wolves were upon her. While they were busy over their feast,the other cattle slipped away from the fearsome place, and a new dangercrept into the blue-roan's life.
Three years had passed. The blue-roan was beginning to be a notedcharacter u
pon the range. He was broad of horn, and the great blackHashknife, outlined against the blue hide, could be seen for a longdistance. The sight of a horseman, no matter how far away, wassufficient to send him plunging down the roughest mountainside, into thedepths of the cedar brakes, and over rocks and lava flows, where nomounted man could follow. He was too fleet of foot for the older cows,and the roan soon found himself alone in his glory. He then became whatis known to the cowboys of the western ranges as an "outlaw," an animal,either horse, bovine, or even human, that, deserted by all its friends,runs alone and has little to do with the rest of his kind; a "cimarron,"the Mexicans call them. Such animals are seldom forced into the roundupsthat take place at regular intervals upon the ranges, and when caught bythat dragnet, are very hard to hold in the herd long enough to get themto the stockyards and shipped out of the country.
The next spring, when it was time to start on the roundup, the wagonboss told the men to keep a sharp lookout for that blue-roan outlaw, and"get him or bust him," if the opportunity offered.
It fell to the lot of the boss and another man to run into the blue-roana few days later. They were working down a grassy draw in a thick cedarcountry, when out from the trees on one side of it there burst a greatblue animal with a grand spread of horns, and fleet as a deer. In aninstant the two men had their ropes down and were after him in fullpursuit. "Cut him off from the cedars!" shouted the boss to his partner,who happened to be closest to the cedars, and the boy spurred his ponytoward the steer, which now was doing his best to gain the friendlyshelter and protection of the trees.
It was but a short distance, and the steer had much the best of therace, but the boy had his pony alongside the animal before he could gethis rope into shape for a throw. The steer, with the keen instinct ofthe hunted, crowded the pony over toward the trees and, just as therider was ready to drop his rope over the animal's wide-spread horns, anoverhanging branch caught the loop, jerking it from his grip. In a vainattempt to turn the steer from the trees into the open, he crowded hispony close up onto the huge bulk of the outlaw. The man's right knee wasfairly touching the animal's shoulder, while he rapidly coiled his ropefor another throw.
Following them came the boss, cursing his rope, a new "Maguey" which hadfouled in his hands and was a mass of snarls and knots, which in hiseager haste he only made worse instead of better. At this instant, theblue-roan turned suddenly. With a quick upward thrust of his head, hedrove his nearest horn deep into the side of the pony, which wascrowding him so closely, tearing a cruel gash in his side and throwinghorse and rider into a confused, struggling heap on the ground.
In a moment the steer was lost in the trees, while the boss dropped offhis horse to assist his companion, who was working hard to free himselffrom the body of the pony, which lay across his leg. The boy clearedhimself from his saddle-rigging, and the pony struggled to his feet. Itwas very evident, however, that the animal was wounded to the death; sothe boss, with tears in his eyes, drew his six-shooter and put the pooranimal out of its misery.
From that day the "blue-roan outlaw" became a marked animal upon therange, and the story of how he killed "Curly Bill's" pony was toldaround many a campfire on the round-ups that summer.
Thus the roan outlaw added to his reputation and triumphs until hiscapture was the dearest hope of every cowpuncher upon that range. Theword had gone out not to kill him unless absolutely necessary, butrather to capture him alive just for the satisfaction of the thing.
That fall, when the round-ups were working through the country in whichhe was known to be, every man was ambitious to be his captor. Around thecampfires each night plans were laid for the job and stories told of hisprowess and ability to escape from his hunters.
One fine morning, as the riders were working through a country covereddensely with cedar and pinon trees, with occasional open glades andgrassy valleys, the wagon boss and the man with him heard shouts off totheir right. Pulling up their horses they waited to locate the sound,when suddenly from the thicket of trees along the valley there emergedtwo great animals, a black, and a blue-roan steer. It was the famousblue, together with a black, almost as much an outlaw as himself.
The wagon boss, who had just been lamenting the fact that he was ridinga half-broken horse that day, was nearest to the blue, and professionaletiquette, as well as eagerness to be the one to capture the notedsteer, drove him straight at the big fellow. The pony he rode was agreen one, but he had plenty of speed, and before the steer could reachthe shelter of the cedars the rope, tied hard and fast to the horn of anew fifty-dollar saddle, was settling over the head of the outlaw.Unfortunately, however, the rope did not draw up close to the horns, oreven on the neck, but slipped back against the mighty shoulders of thesteer, giving him a pulling power on the rope that no cow-pony couldmeet. Then, to quote the words of the man with the boss, "things shoredid begin to pop."
Knowing full well that if he crowded the animal too hard he would turnon him and probably kill another horse, the boss made a long throw andconsequently had but little rope left in his hand with which to "play"his steer. The jerk that came, when the steer weighing twelve hundredpounds, and running slightly down hill, arrived at the end of the rope,tied to the saddle-horn, was something tremendous. As soon as the straincame on the cinches the pony threw down his head and began some of themost scientific and satisfactory bucking that was ever seen on theHashknife range, which is compliment enough.
When the boys were gathered about the fire that evening "Windy Bob," whohad been with the boss, related the affair.
"Ye see, fellers, me and Ed was a-driftin' down the wash, not expectin'anything pertickler, when out from the cedars busts the ole blue, and amighty good mate for him.
"'The blue's mine, Windy,' ses Ed, and I, not hankerin' a bit fer thejob, bein' as my shoulder I broke last fall won't stand much funnybusiness, lets him have the big blue all right, and I takes after hismate; which was plenty big 'nuf fer me and the hoss I was a-ridin'.
"I made a good throw and, everything going first rate, had my steer onhis side in half a minute, makin' a record throw and tie. Jist as I gotmy hoggin' rope onto his feet all safe I heered a big doin's up towardsEd's vicinity, and lookin' up seen his hoss jist a-pitchin' anda-sunfishin' like a good feller.
"Ed, he rides him fer about three or four jumps and then, as the saddlewas a crawlin' up onto the pony's neck, from his cinches a-bein tooloose, and it a-tippin' up behind like a old hen-turkey's tail, runnin'before the wind, Ed, he decides to unload right thar and not go anyfarther.
"The pony, he keeps up his cavortin' and the steer stripped the saddleright over his head. Away goes Mr. Blue into the thick timber, draggin'that new Heiser Ed got up in Denver over the rocks and through thetrees, like as if it want but a picket pin at the end of a stake rope.
"When Ed hit the sod, his Winchester drops out of the scabbard, an' hegrabs it up an' sets there on the ground a pumpin' lead after the blueas fast as he could pull the trigger. He never stopped the steer at all,an' when we were trailin' him up, we found the saddle where the rope haddragged between two rocks. The saddle got hung up, but the steer was arunnin' so hard that he jist busted the rope and kept on a goin' an' Ireckin is a goin' yet."
"Imagine Ed's shots hit the steer, Windy?" inquired one interestedlistener.
"Reckon not," was the reply, "but one of them hit the saddle and made ahole clean through the tree, which didn't help matters much with theboss, I'm here to tell you. You'd orter heerd Ed talk when he sees thatthere new hull of his all skinned up an' a hole shot plumb through thefork." And Windy grinned at the memory of it.
Not long after this adventure, the blue-roan stood on a high ridgeoverlooking a valley. Out in that valley was the salt ground where greatchinks of pure white rocksalt were placed, not only to satisfy thecravings of the salt-loving brutes, but to coax them out of the cedarsinto the open where the wilder ones could be captured.
The roan was salt-hungry and, after a careful survey of thesurroundings, started down
the trail for the salt grounds. Away off tothe left, and quite out of his sight, half a dozen cowboys were drivinga bunch of cattle down a draw between two ridges. One of them rode up ontop of the ridge to take a look over the country. Some distance belowhim, and well out into the valley, was a single animal. It took but ashort look to satisfy the rider that it was the blue-roan. The boy wasriding his best rope-horse that morning and, with a wave of his hat tohis comrades, he loosened the reins on old "Greyback" and tore off downthe valley toward the steer.
He had not gone fifty yards before the roan saw he was pursued, andwheeling out of the trail in which he was traveling struck back towardsthe sheltering trees on a long swinging trot.
A couple of miles' hard run, and the boy rode his horse out of adeep wash, to see, across another valley, the blue-roan hurryingmajestically up the ridge, the sheltering trees but a few hundred yardsaway. He spurred his horse down the rocky side of the ridge, across aflat at the bottom, and up the steep side opposite, reaching the topjust as the blue was passing. His horse was winded, but the boy "took along chance" and drove after the animal with his rope down ready for athrow. For an instant the steer hesitated, then plunged off the ridge,down the steep side, just as the boy's rope dropped over his horns. Itwas a fearful risk to rope a steer such as this, with a badly windedhorse; but tenfold more dangerous to do it just as the great animal wasstarting down the steep slope. The boy knew his only hope was to keepthe steer from tightening the rope, for if that happened, no horse onearth could hold the weight of the brute at the end of it, plunging downhill as they were.
"Turn the rope loose," you say? Oh no; he wasn't that kind of a cowpuncher. Come what might, he meant to hang onto that steer to the bitterend.
Half way down the hill was a lone pinon tree about twenty feet high, andtrue to his nature the steer headed for it. The rider realized hisdanger and tried to keep from straddling it with his rope, but, just asthe roan reached the tree, instead of passing it on the same side withthe horse, he dodged around it. This brought the horse and man on oneside, the steer on the other; between them a fifty foot "Tom Horn" ropefastened firmly; one end to a twelve hundred-pound steer, the other, toa saddle cinched to a thousand-pound horse.
The tremendous force of the pull, when the rope drew up on the tree,uprooted it. This prevented the rope from breaking, but there wassufficient jerk upon it to bring both horse and steer to the ground in astruggling heap.
The man who was "riding for a fall," with both feet out of the stirrups,in anticipation of just such a wreck, flew off into space, landing in apile of rocks twenty-five feet away by actual measurement. The horsefell with his head under him in such a way that his neck was instantlybroken.
When the other men who were following reached the scene, they found theman just regaining his senses, badly cut about the head, but otherwiseunhurt. The blue, in falling, had landed flat on his back, his hind feetdown the steep hill, both his long horns buried to the very skull in theground. Thus he was absolutely helpless and unable to regain his feet,no matter how hard he struggled. To "hog-tie" him in this position, wasthe work of but a moment, and at last the blue-roan outlaw was acaptive.
It was no trouble to roll him down the steep hillside to the levelground below, and inside of half an hour the rest of the men arrived onthe scene with the bunch of cattle they had been driving.
In the bunch was a large steer which they roped and dragged up to wherethe outlaw lay, and, in cowboy parlance "dumped" him on top of theoutlaw. They then proceeded to "neck" the two steers together with ashort rope they cut for the purpose. Having done this to theirsatisfaction they untied the hogging ropes and allowed the steers togain their feet. As this was done the bunch of cattle they had driven upwas carefully crowded around the two animals. After a few minutes ofpulling and fighting the outlaw sulkily allowed himself to be draggedalong by his unwilling mate, with the rest of the cattle, and waseventually landed safely in the main herd.
Great was the rejoicing in camp that night over the capture, and theguards about the herd were cautioned not to let the two escape under anycircumstances.
At the end of the week the herd had been worked down to the river forshipping. As the country was open and the herd easily handled the"twins," as the boys called them, came apart when the old rope wore outand were not necked up again.
That night one of the men, who had a family in town, hired a town kid totake his place on herd, while he went up and spent the night at home. Asthe boy rode his guard around the edge of the herd which lay quietly inthe cool night air, he found a big blue steer standing at the very edgeof the bunch looking off toward the mountains in a dreamy, meditativemood. Kidlike, he could not withstand the temptation to play the"smarty," so, instead of passing him by or gently turning him into theherd, the boy took off his hat and swung it into the steer's face.
It was a distinct challenge to the old warrior, and he rose to theoccasion. Gathering himself for one mighty plunge he struck the pony theboy was riding with his powerful head, knocking him flat. Away he dashedover horse and rider, while the herd broke into a mad stampede whichcarried them five miles in the opposite direction before they could be"milled" into a bunch and held up again. Two men were left with them,the rest returning to camp.
Daylight showed the blue-roan missing, and the wagon boss swore a solemnoath that, if ever again he was captured, he would be necked and alsohave his head tied down to a foot until he was safely inside thestockyards.
Four weeks later a party of cattle men, gathering steers in themountains, ran across the blue outlaw, right on the brink of a deep,rough canyon. He was seen, with the aid of a glass, across a bend in thecanyon lying under the rim rock in fancied security. Near him wereseveral other steers, and it was determined to make the attempt tocapture the lot.
Carefully driving their bunch of gentle steers as close to the placewhere the outlaw was lying as they could, with the thought that, if heran up the trail, he would see the steers and possibly go to them andstop; three men rode into the canyon some distance below and started upthe trail toward where he was lying.
The instant the blue-roan saw the horsemen he jumped to his feet,hesitated a moment, and instead of taking the smooth trail out, dovedown the steep, rocky sides of the canyon where neither horse nor mancould follow.
Surefooted as he was, he misjudged his agility and strength, and plungedinto a mass of loose rock, which gave him no foothold. The walls of thecanyon were frightfully steep and in the loose rock, sliding, slipping,and rolling, he was swiftly hurried towards the edge of a cliff twohundred feet high, over which he dropped to death and destruction. Tonsof loose rock followed him to the bottom, making a roar like a thousandcannons. It was the end of the road for the blue-roan.
When the men climbed down the trail to see just what had happened theyfound him dead and half buried in the mass of fallen rock.
The cliff was an over-hanging one, smooth and soft enough to showmarkings, and one of the men, taking a piece of hard flintrock, spenthalf an hour cutting deep into the smooth, white wall the words:
"Here died the Blue-Roan Outlaw. He was a King."
Tales from the X-bar Horse Camp: The Blue-Roan Outlaw and Other Stories Page 3