Part 20 (2/2)
”What, for instance?” asked d.i.c.k.
”Well, we can order 'em off--that is, order the Greasers off,” replied Bud. ”Not much use talking to sheep, I reckon.”
”Nor to a Greaser, either,” murmured Snake. ”One is about as bright and smart as the other.”
”Anyhow,” resumed Bud, ”we can't do anything until they start something.”
”Not even if we know they're going to do it?” asked another of the cowboys who, meanwhile, had arrived from Diamond X ready for a fight.
”Not even then,” answered Bud. ”But once they cross the creek and land here, then we'll begin,” and he looked to his gun.
”What'll we do with the sheep?” asked the cowboy. There seemed to be no doubt in the minds of the men as to what they would do with the Greasers.
”We'll have to dispose of 'em,” said Bud regretfully. ”It seems a pity, too, for the poor things haven't done any harm. But it's either their lives or those of our cattle. The two can't live on the same range, and the sheep have no right here.”
”Shoot 'em and drive 'em back into the water if they try to swim across--is that it?” asked d.i.c.k.
”Yes, but hang it all!” cried Bud, ”I hope that doesn't happen. I sure hate to do it!”
And to give them credit, the others felt the same way about it.
Meanwhile the sheep having settled down to a quiet but fast feeding--which is their characteristic--the actions of the band of Greaser and Mexican herders who had them in charge was eagerly watched by the boy ranchers and their friends.
They saw two hors.e.m.e.n ride down to the bank of the creek at one spot and urge their steeds in. For a time all seemed to go well, but suddenly, when a few yards out in the stream one of the Mexicans frantically called to his companion, who shouted an inquiry as to what was wrong.
Something very dangerously wrong seemed to be the trouble, for the first Mexican was now frantically appealing for help, and a moment later his companion sent his lariat hissing through the air, the coils settling around the frightened man who grasped the rope and leaped into the creek.
But the horse remained in the water, though the animal was wildly struggling to turn and go back to the southern sh.o.r.e, along which the sheep were feeding, some of them slaking their thirst in Spur Creek.
Pulling his companion along by the lariat, the still mounted Mexican made for the sh.o.r.e he had so recently quitted, leaving the lone horse to struggle by itself.
”What does that mean?” cried d.i.c.k.
”Quicksands--just what I told you about,” answered Bud. ”There are a lot of places where the bed of the creek is pitted with quick sands, and this Greaser struck one.”
”One did and the other didn't,” observed Snake, for it was evident that the rider who had used his lariat had found firm footing for his steed.
”That's it,” Bud explained. ”You can't tell where the sands are and where they aren't. I happen to know some places that are free,” he went on, ”but, even there the water is too deep for the sheep to get across, on account of the current.”
The two Mexicans, one on his horse and the other swimming at the end of the lariat, had reached the sh.o.r.e they so recently quitted, on what object could only be guessed. Then there was very evidently a conference among the sheep herders during which the excited men who had taken part in the adventure pointed to the spot where the horse was struggling.
”I hope they aren't going to leave that poor brute to suffer,” murmured Yellin' Kid, his voice low for one of the few times in his career.
But it was evident that whatever were the faults of the sheep herders they did not number among them too much cruelty to a horse. For when it was evident that the animal could not free himself, a number of the Greasers rode as close as was safe, and tossed their lariats about the animal's neck. Then they began pulling.
But the quicksands had too firm a grip on the animal's legs. He had sunk lower in the stream, and his struggles were less, simply because he was now so nearly engulfed in the powerful suction of the water-soaked and ever-s.h.i.+fting sands.
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