Читать книгу The Canadian Readers, Book V - John Miller Dow Meiklejohn - Страница 27

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It was only a little after four o’clock when the cowboys sprang on their ponies, the cavalcade fell into line, and Johnny took his seat in the mess-wagon and gathered up the reins of the four prancing horses. Red, with Jack beside him on his pony, headed the procession, and, waving his hand, dashed forward over the dewy grass, with the whole outfit stringing out behind him. The horses danced and capered from side to side, and now and then one reared or bucked, nearly sending his rider off over his head, while laughing voices and merry banter flew backward and forward along the column.

Gradually the wan gray light broadened to day, and the sun came up above the flat rim of the horizon, flooding sky and earth with its rosy light; and as Jack reached the top of a little knoll he turned and looked back, thinking that never had he beheld so inspiring a sight.

Onward over the fresh, dewy grass of the prairies came the cowboys, clothed in their careless, picturesque costumes, sitting their prancing ponies as easily and gracefully as if they had been born in the saddle, the bright morning sunshine lighting up their keen, clear eyes, their bronzed faces, and their lithe, muscular forms. Behind them rumbled the creaking mess-wagon with Limping Johnny perched proudly upon the driver’s seat, managing his four dancing horses with ease and skill, as happy as a king, and beaming with the knowledge that he could now show off his two greatest accomplishments, those of driving a four-horse team, and cooking for a crowd of hungry men, never having a break-down or an accident, or a thing spoiled, or a meal behind time. Following the mess-wagon came the bed-wagon, driven by the night-wrangler; and last of all came Thad Sawyer, the head horse-wrangler, driving before him the reserve horses called by the cowboys the “saddle-bunch.”

It was about eleven o’clock in the forenoon when the cavalcade arrived at the point at which the round-up was to begin.

All the cattle companies from miles around were gathered there. And great was the uproar as the various “outfits” met, and the cowboys yelled, laughed, shouted, shook hands, played pranks, and gossipped. While the wagons drove up, fires were lighted, and the busy cooks began their preparations for an early dinner.

It was as if an army had sprung out of the ground; and the prairies, which for months had resounded to no louder sound than the song of a meadow-lark, the bellowing of a steer, or the barking of a coyote, now echoed to the hum of human voices, the rattling of wagons, the tread of feet, the firing of pistols—the noisy bustle of a camp.

Each cattle company had its own mess and bed-wagons and its own set of men, who worked under the direction of a foreman. The various “outfits” now gathered about their own “chuck-wagons,” and the clatter of knives and forks, the rattle of tin cups and plates, were mingled with loud talk and bursts of laughter, as the hungry men scrambled into their places and fell to with a will on the coarse camp fare.

The meal was conducted with but scant ceremony, for the biggest work of the year lay before them, and there was no time to lose.

As each cowboy finished his bacon and beans, black coffee, and “hunk” of warm bread, he sprang up, took a long draught from the tin pail that stood by with a dipper bobbing on its top, then hurried off to the saddle-bunch, where he selected from his “string” the pony best calculated to make a brilliant display of his horsemanship. Each cowboy on the round-up has a “string” of ten horses, reserved for his own use, for which he is personally responsible; and it is a matter of keen rivalry among them as to whose horses are in the best condition and can do the best and most intelligent work.

When all were ready and in the saddle, away they went, whooping, yelling, laughing, swinging lariats, hats, even waistcoasts, round their heads; riding on, under, and over their ponies; at one moment stooping to pick up a stone from the ground while at full gallop, at another lying flat along the pony’s neck, at another standing erect in the stirrups; while the ponies bucked, kicked, and plunged, well knowing that this was not business, but a mere little preliminary sprint as an outlet for exuberant spirits.

After a dash of a few miles the cowboys settled down to a more quiet pace; and, dividing up, circled out for many miles, driving before them all the cattle they could find.

The poor creatures, having forgotten the terrors of the last round-up in a long season of peace and quiet, ran hither and thither, bellowing with fright; but the well-trained cow-ponies surrounded and drove them on, working in and out among the frightened beasts with an adroitness and intelligence that was almost human: continually rounding up and urging them forward, until towards sunset the different outfits began to arrive in camp, driving before them a wild-eyed, bellowing lot of cattle.

These were driven towards a common centre, and the “bunch” was guarded by men who rode in a circle around it, keeping the cattle together.

Jack had been to some of the small round-ups, but never before had he seen this great annual collection of all the cattle on the range, and he was fairly beside himself with excitement. He rode in and out among the cowboys and the cattle, trying in his small way to imitate the daring deeds of the reckless riders, until Red ordered him sharply to go back to the wagons and keep out of danger.

The ponies that had started out so gayly in the morning were meek and quiet enough now, and, while the men ate their supper, they were taken back to the herd, while fresh horses were brought out by the cowboys, who sprang upon their backs and began to “cut out” the cattle according to their brands.

Up to a very few years ago there were no fences on the western ranges, and all the cattle were allowed to run at large; and during the winter months the cattle belonging to many individuals and companies got mixed together. Each cattle company (“outfit” as it is called) has its own brand with which its cattle are marked, this brand being burned with a hot iron upon the hide of the animal. X-Bar-B (marked

X

B

) was the brand of Bill Buck’s cattle, and it was from that brand that the ranch derived its name.

Once every year, usually in the early spring, all the cattle running loose on the range are herded, or “rounded-up”; that is, are driven to a common centre, the “mavericks” and young cattle are branded, and the companies take stock of their yearly profits and increase.

To “cut out” the cattle means that those cowboys who are most familiar with the different brands ride into the “bunch,” and separate and drive apart all the cattle marked with the brand of their own company. Thus, Thad, Shorty, Broncho Joe, Red, Big Pete, and Bill himself, with a number of others with whom this story is not concerned, rode in and out among the cattle, driving to one side all that were marked with the

X

B

, while other cowboys rode around on the outskirts of the “bunch” and guarded and herded them, so that none of them should get away or again become mixed with the other cattle.

It was dark when this assorting of the day’s drive was completed, and the men, who had been on horseback since daylight, were tired out and ready for bed.

Humble enough beds they were, consisting only of blankets and a tarpaulin, which, stretched on the ground beside the wagon, made a bed whereon the cowboys enjoyed a sleep which a king upon his couch of down might have envied them.

Gradually the noises of the camp diminished, and soon all was still, except the soughing of the wind across the prairies, the stamping of the horses, the deep, regular breathing of the sleepers, and the musical singing of the “Hic-co-o-o-o, hic-co-o-o-o,” of the men who were watching the herds.

There is nothing, perhaps, in all the striking and picturesque features of plains life that is more impressive to the novice than this singing of the cowboys to the herds at night; and Jack, propping himself up on his elbow, listened intently.

Harassed and bewildered, terrified and furious, the cattle are driven from their peaceful, quiet, and free life of the open plains before a mob of shouting men and charging horses, and, packed into a close “bunch” on the outskirts of the camp, are guarded by the “night-herd,” who ride around and around the circle, slowly and monotonously singing in their clear, musical voices the soothing melodies that cattle love.

One of the greatest horrors of cattlemen is the stampede, and against this they guard in every possible manner. In the nervous and excited state in which the cattle arrive in camp, it requires but the slightest alarm at night to drive them into a panic, in which they become like mad creatures, lose all sense and control, and charge blindly away across the prairies, trampling horses and riders, young stock and weaker creatures, beneath their feet, and scattering death and devastation in their pathway.

It is to avoid this disaster, and to soothe and quiet the distracted creatures, that the cowboys ride around the herd at night, watching and guarding them, and singing as they ride their soothing, monotonous song.

Sometimes this song is nothing more than the long-drawn, monotonous “Hic-co-o-o-o, hic-co-o-o-o, hic-co-o-o-o”; again it is some favorite song of the camp, in which the whole night-herd joins, sending up through the soft, enfolding darkness a volume of melody that vibrates across the brooding silence of the plains, until the poor beasts grow calm and quieted, and one by one lie down to sleep.

—Mary K. Maule.

From “The Little Knight of the X-Bar-B” by permission of the Lothrop, Lee and Shepard Co., Boston.