Ranching for Sylvia. Harold Bindloss
broke into a shout when he saw a rude wooden platform with a windlass upon it and a trough near by.
"Ride ahead with the horses and water them," said George, dismounting.
Edgar did as he was bidden, but presently the herd, attracted by the sight of water, came surging round the trough, savagely jostling one another. The lad worked hard with the windlass, but he could not keep them supplied, and they crowded on the low platform covering the well, with heads stretched out eagerly toward the dripping bucket. After being flung against the windlass by a thirsty beast, Edgar called to his companion.
"They'll break through if you're not quick! It's my opinion they're bent on getting down the well!"
George came to his assistance with his riding quirt, but when they were supplying the last two or three unsatisfied animals, a man ran out of the bluff.
"What in thunder are you doing with our water?" he cried.
"He looks angry," Edgar commented. "When that rancher fellow told us about the well, he didn't mention the necessity of asking Mr. Baxter's permission." Then he waved his hand to the stranger.
"Come here and have a talk!"
The man came on at a quicker run. His face was hot with indignation, and on reaching them he broke into breathless and pointed expostulations.
"When you're quite through, we'll assess the damages," George quietly told him.
The farmer's anger began to dissipate.
"No," he said; "that would be taking a pretty mean pull on you; but water's scarce, and you can't have any more."
"Well," requested George, "have you a paddock or corral you could let me put this bunch of cattle into until the morning? I'm willing to pay for the accommodation."
"I can't do it," replied the other. "I want all the fenced grass I've got. Take them right along, and you'll strike a creek about six miles ahead. Then you ought to make the river to-morrow night."
It was obvious that he desired to be rid of them; and as it was getting cooler George resumed his journey. He found the creek early the next morning, and as the day promised to be unusually hot he delayed only until he had watered the stock. In an hour or two the sun was hidden by banks of leaden cloud, but the temperature did not fall and there was an oppressive heaviness in the air. The prairie had faded to a sweep of lifeless gray, obscured above its verge. The men made progress, however; and late in the afternoon a winding line of timber that marked the river's course appeared ahead. Shortly afterward, Edgar looked around.
"That's a curious streak of haze in the distance," he remarked.
"It's smoke," said George. "Grass fires are not uncommon in hot weather. It looks like a big one."
They urged the cattle on a little faster, but it was evening when they reached the first of the trees. George rode forward between them and pulled up his horse in some concern. The ford had been difficult when they crossed it on the outward journey, but now the space between bank and bank was filled by an angry flood. It rolled by furiously, lapping in frothy ripples upon the steep slope that led down to it.
"Nearly an extra three feet of water; there'd be a risk in crossing," he said, when Edgar joined him.
"We couldn't make the place where the trail runs in, and the landing down-stream from it looks bad."
"Then what ought we to do?" Edgar inquired.
"Wait until to-morrow. There's no doubt been a heavy thunderstorm higher up, but the water should soon run down." George glanced back toward the prairie dubiously. "I'm a little anxious about the fire; but, after all, it may not come near us."
The cattle did not wander far after drinking, and the men ate their supper. It grew dark, but the heat did not lessen, and the oppressive air was filled with a smell of burning. Looking back between the trees, they could see a long streak of yellow radiance leaping up, and growing dim when the view was obstructed by clouds of smoke.
"It's an awkward situation, and, as if it were not bad enough, there's a big thunderstorm brewing," Edgar said at length. "I'll go along and look at the mark you made upon the bank."
He strode away among the trees. It was very dark. The tethered horses were moving restlessly; but, so far as Edgar could make out, the cattle were bunched together. After lighting a match he came back.
"The water's falling, but only slowly," he reported. "Should we try to drive the stock along the bank?"
"We couldn't herd them in the dark. Besides, it's an extensive fire, and I'm doubtful whether we could get down to the water farther along."
They waited for an hour, keeping the cattle together with some trouble, and watching the blaze, which grew brighter rapidly. At last, wisps of pungent smoke rolled into the bluff.
"The beasts are ready to stampede!" George suddenly called to Edgar. "We'll have to make a start! Get into the saddle and drive them toward the ford!"
They were very busy for a while. Their horses were hard to manage, the timber was thick, and the herd attempted to break away through it; but at last they reached the steep dip to the waterside. One beast plunged in and vanished, more followed, and George, plying his quirt and shouting, rode in among the diminishing drove. He felt the water lapping about his boots, and then the horse lost its footing. George dropped from the saddle and seized a stirrup. For some minutes he could see a few dark objects about him, but they disappeared, and he and the horse were swept away down-stream.
He kept hold—the animal was swimming strongly—and after a time a lurid flash of lightning showed him a black mass of trees close ahead. They vanished, the succeeding darkness was impenetrable, and the crash of thunder was deadened by the roar of water. For a moment or two his head was driven under, but when he got it clear, another dazzling flash revealed a high bank only a few yards away, and when thick darkness followed he felt the horse rise to its feet. Then he touched soft bottom, and a little later scrambled up an almost precipitous slope with the bridle in his hand and the horse floundering behind him. They reached the summit, and, stopping among thin timber, it was with strong relief that he heard Edgar's shout. Shortly afterward the lad appeared, leading his horse.
"There's some of the drove on this side; I don't see the rest," he said, glancing toward the opposite bank, where dark trees stood out against a strong red glare.
"It strikes me we only got across in time."
Then torrential rain broke upon them, and while they stood, unable to move forward, a cry reached them faintly through the roar of the deluge. It came again when George answered, and was followed by a crackling and snapping of underbrush. Then, as a blaze of lightning filled the bluff with radiance, two men appeared for a moment, leading their horses among the slender trunks. They were immediately lost to sight again, but presently they came up, and George recognized Grant by his voice.
"So you have got through, Lansing," he cried. "I met Constable Flett on the trail, and, as he told me the river was rising and there was a big fire west, I figured you must be up against trouble."
He asked a few questions and then resumed:
"As you got the stock started, they'll have swum across; but we can't round them up until it's light. There's a deserted shack not far off, and I guess we'll head for it."
The constable agreed; and, mounting when they had got out of the timber, they rode off through the rain.
CHAPTER VIII
CONSTABLE FLETT'S SUSPICIONS
It was nearly six o'clock in the evening when George and his companions, who had spent part of the day looking for the straying stock, rode up to the Grant homestead through a vast stretch of grain. This grew on the rich black soil they