CHAPTER XIX
AN INDIAN COULEE
By four o'clock in the morning the fifteen hundred head of cattle hadcrossed the ford of the Big Horn and were bedded down on the other side.When this hazardous business had been completed, Bud Larkin ordered thesheep brought up and kept on the eastern bank among the cool grass of thebottoms.
The captive rustlers, under guard, were being held until daylight, when,it had been decided, they would be taken to the almost deserted Bar Tranch, and kept there until further action could be determined on inregard to them.
When dawn finally came Bud looked at the stolid faces of the men, andrecognized most of them as having belonged to the party that had so nearlyended his earthly career. He called them by their names, and some of themgrinned a recognition.
"Hardly expected to meet yuh again," said one amiably. "Thought it mightbe t'other side of Jordan, but not this side of the Big Horn."
"That's one advantage of raising sheep," retorted Bud. "Mine are so welltrained they stampede in time to save my life. You fellows ought to havejoined me in the business then."
"Wisht we had," remarked another gloomily. "'Tain't so hard on the neck inthe end."
Bud wondered at the hardihood of a man who, facing sure death, could stilljoke grimly about it.
Directly after breakfast the rustlers were mounted on their horses, withtheir arms tied behind them, and, under a guard of six men, started ontheir journey to the Bar T. In charge of the outfit was a gray-hairedsheep-owner from Montana, and to his care Bud entrusted a long letter toJuliet that he had added to day by day with a pencil as opportunityoffered.
It was such a letter as a lonely girl in love likes to get, and Bud's onlythought in sending it was to prove that she was ever in his mind, and thathe was still safe and well.
Weary and sleepless, Bud then prepared for the ordeal with Stelton. FromSims, who seemed to know the country thoroughly, he learned that IndianCoulee was almost thirty miles south-east, and could be distinguished bythe rough weather-sculpture of an Indian head on the butte that formed oneside of the ravine.
Lest there be a misunderstanding, it should be said here that this was thesecond day after the battle of Welsh's Butte, as it came to be known. Thefirst day the punchers had been busy burying the dead and attending to thenumerous things to which such an occasion gives rise. It was on themorning of this day that Stelton, giving as an excuse his urgent desire toreturn to the Bar T, had ridden away, commanding his cowboys to remain anddo their portion of the work.
Late in the afternoon he had met Smithy Caldwell in a secret place, andgiven him a note to the leader of the band of rustlers. This Caldwell,with his usual tricky foresight, did not deliver, giving the message byword of mouth, and keeping the piece of paper as evidence in case Steltonshould turn against him.
Stelton, anxious to hear how the commencement of the drive fared beforereturning to the Bar T ranch, camped in the hills that night, and moved onto Indian Coulee the next morning to await the messenger.
Just previous to starting on the long ride, Larkin called Sims to him.
"Now, I'll tell you why I want these cows," he said. "We've got to rushthe sheep up the range. As soon as I'm gone start 'em, but surround thesheep with a line of cows, and keep a good bunch ahead. From a distanceit will look like a cattle-drive, and may serve to throw the punchers offthe track if they're anywhere in sight."
"By Michaeljohn! That's a good idea!" exclaimed Sims; "but I don't alloweither of them will feed much."
"Let 'em starve, then; but keep 'em moving," said Bud. "We win or bust onthis effort. Fact is, we've got to keep those cows anyhow, to return themto their owners if possible, and you might as well make some good use ofthem."
Mike Stelton, meanwhile, who had often used the place as a rendezvousbefore, went into the usual shady spot, dropped the reins over his horse'shead, and lay down.
Stelton's heart was at peace, for the sheepmen he considered defeated atevery angle. Jimmie Welsh, half dead and delirious, was on his way to theCircle Arrow ranch under Billy Speaker's care. Consequently, it wasimpossible that Bud Larkin should know anything of the battle at Welsh'sButte.
Larkin would go on about his plans, dreaming the cowmen still incaptivity, and the pursuing punchers on a false trail, Stelton calculated.Then he chuckled at the surprise in store for the ambitious sheepmen, forthe remaining cowboys under Beef Bissell had already begun to talk of awar of extermination and revenge.
When he had disposed of Larkin to his satisfaction, the foremanrecollected with delight that the rustlers must have the fifteen hundredcows well up the range by this morning. The chance of their beingintercepted by the cowboys was small, and the probabilities were that theywould be at the northern shipping-point and well out of the way before thepunchers had finished with the miserable sheep.
Two things Mike Stelton had not counted on. One was the prompt and daringaction of Larkin in risking his all on one forced march up the range; theother was the treachery of Smithy Caldwell in not burning the noteaccording to instructions.
From the first Stelton had "doped" Caldwell out all wrong. He took him fora really evil character supplied with a fund of sly cunning and cleverbrains that would benefit the rustlers immensely, and for that reason hadwarmly supported his application for membership. Somehow he did not seethe cowardly streak and dangerous selfishness that were the man's twodistinguishing traits.
Now, as Stelton lay in the shade with his hat over his face, steeped inroseate dreams, the weariness of a week of long marches and anafternoon's hard fighting oppressed him. He had been riding nights oflate, and just to lie down was to feel drowsy. He would like to get a napbefore the sun got directly above and left no shade whatever, but he didnot permit himself this luxury, although, like all men with uneasyconsciences, he was a very light sleeper.
He figured that he could hear the trotting of a horse in plenty of time toprepare for any possible danger, and remained flat on his back in the warmsun, half-asleep, but yet keenly alert.
Bud Larkin, sighting the coulee and Stelton's horse at a considerabledistance, dismounted and promptly got out of range. Then he continuedstealthily to approach, wondering why Stelton did not put in an appearancesomewhere and start hostilities.
A quarter of a mile from the spot where Stelton's horse stood dejectedlyLarkin left his own animal and proceeded on foot. Nearer and nearer heapproached, and still there was no sign of Stelton.
Bud unslung his glasses, and scanning the rocks near the horse carefully,at last made out the small outline of a booted foot along the ground. Thenhe drew his revolver and crept forward, choosing every step with care.
At a distance of thirty yards his foot unconsciously crunched a bit ofrotten stone. There was a scrambling behind the rock, and a moment laterStelton's head appeared. Bud had him covered with two revolvers, and onsight of the dark face ran forward to finish the job.
But the foreman was no mollycoddle, and with one lightning-like motionunlimbered his .45 and began to shoot. Like most Western gun-handlers, hisrevolver commenced to spit as soon as its mouth was out of the holster,and the bullets spurted up the sand twice in front of Bud before themuzzle had reached a dangerous angle, so swiftly was it fired.
But the sheepman was not idle, and had both guns working so accuratelythat at last Stelton drew in his head, but left his hand around the cornerof the rock, still pulling the trigger. He would never have done this withany other man, but he still considered Larkin a "dude" and a sheepman, andknew that neither was much of a shot.
With a ball through his right foot, Bud hopped out of the path of thestream of lead and discharged each revolver once at the same spot. Theresult was a broken hand and a wrecked gun for Stelton, who,unfortunately, did not know that Larkin, on occasions, had split the edgesof playing cards with dueling pistols.
Before the Bar T foreman could reach his Winchester, Bud was around therock, and had him covered. Stelton gave one look at the hard, determinedeyes of the sheepman a
nd thought better of the impulse to bolt for therifle on a chance. He slowly hoisted his hands.
"Well, darn it, what do yuh want?" he snarled.
"First I want you to back up against that rock and keep your hands in theair until I tell you to take 'em down," said Bud, in a tone that meantbusiness.
Stelton obeyed the command sullenly. Then Larkin, keeping him covered,picked up the Winchester and found another .45 in an extra holster thrownover the pommel of the saddle. Next he took down Stelton's rope.
Larkin was satisfied with his investigations. "Turn around and face therock, and hold your hands out behind you!" he ordered.
With the wicked glitter of an animal at bay in his eye, Stelton did as hewas told, and in a moment Larkin had him bound and helpless, and on theend of a tether. Still covering his man, he mounted Stelton's horse andtold him to march ahead.
But the sheepman was not idle, and had both guns workingso accurately that at last Stelton drew in his head.]
In this manner they traveled the quarter-mile to Bud's animal. There theyexchanged beasts, and started on the long ride back to the sheep camp.
"What're yuh doin' this for?" stormed Stelton, at a loss to explain thesudden appearance of Larkin in Caldwell's place, but beginning to have aterrible fear.
"Don't you know?"
"No, I don't." His tone was convincing.
"Well, I'll tell you. All the rustlers are taken, and I have absoluteproof that you are their leader," replied Bud coolly. "I allow old Bissellwill be glad to see you when you're brought in, eh?"
Stelton laughed contemptuously.
"What proof?" he demanded.
"A note to Smithy Caldwell that he forgot to burn. He tried to swallow itwhen I captured him, but I saw him first."
Stelton stood the blow well and made no answer, but Larkin, watching him,saw his head drop a trifle as though he were crushed by some heavy weight.
"What're yuh goin' to do with me now?" he asked at last.
"Ship you under guard to the Bar T ranch, where the rest have gone. Thenthe cattlemen can settle your case when they come back from theirvacation."
For an instant it was on Stelton's tongue to blurt out what had happenedtwo days previous, but an instinctive knowledge that Larkin would profitby the information restrained him, and he continued riding on in silence,a prey to dismal thoughts better imagined than described.
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