Part 19 (1/2)
”Well?” asked Dave.
”It's all off,” the Chicago man said. ”I've ended negotiations with them, and I'm sorry I ever tried to do business. But it will be all right. They can do business in their own way, and we'll do ours as we please. I'll look into the irrigation possibilities on your property now, Mr. Carson.
We'll not hear anything more from the Molick outfit.”
But Mr. Bellmore failed to reckon on the mean characters of the Molick father and son. It was only a few days after this that one of the cowboys came riding post-haste to the ranch house. He dismounted in a cloud of dust, and seeing Dave and Mr. Carson standing together hurried toward them, calling out:
”Th' bottom must have dropped out of Rolling River. It's almost dry down below there, where I've got that bunch of fine cattle, and they can't get anything to drink. What are we going to do? Something must have happened to th' river.”
”What can it be?” cried Dave. ”Has an earthquake occurred, or has the river unexpectedly taken an underground course?”
”Neither one, I imagine,” said Mr. Carson, slowly. ”This is retaliation, I fancy. I'll go back with you Skinny, and see what has happened. But I'm sure it's retaliation.”
CHAPTER XVI
UNAVAILING EFFORTS
Dave, who had heard this talk, leaped on the back of Crow, and followed Mr. Carson and the cowboy who rejoiced in the euphonious t.i.tle of ”Skinny.”
”What do you mean by retaliation, Dad?” he asked. ”Has it anything to do with the Molicks?”
”A whole lot to do with them, Dave, I'm afraid,” was the reply.
”You mean they have diverted some of your water?”
”Some of it! Better say all of it!” exclaimed the disgusted Skinny. ”There ain't enough comin' down Rollin' River, over where I come from, t' make a cup of coffee.”
”As bad as that?” asked Mr. Carson in alarm.
”Well, almost. I got skeered and made up my mind I'd come and tell you about it.”
”You did just right, Skinny. We may be able to get ahead of these chaps after all.”
”I hope we can,” murmured Dave.
Though Dave had seldom, for any length of time, lost sight of the fact that he was a ”n.o.body,” still he could not help feeling an interest in the ranch, which had been the only home he had known for a long time. In fact it was really the only home he knew, for he did not, of course, recall his days of babyhood. And now, though Dave knew that he was not Mr. Carson's son, though he realized that he might never inherit the broad acres over which roamed thousands of cattle, still he retained the feeling of loyalty and fealty that caused him to hope for the best.
”I wonder if I'll ever find my real folks,” mused Dave, as he rode on with Mr. Carson and Skinny. ”It's hardly possible, after all these years.”
Over the rolling plains they rode, now and then catching sight of distant herds of cattle under the guard of cowboys, again gaining a view of the distant Centre O ranch. But they saw no sign of Molick or Len, nor could they catch, in the direction they were going, a glimpse of the place where the fence work and dam building had been going on.
A little later they topped another rise, and began to descend into a sheltered and fertile valley where Mr. Carson usually sent his choice cattle to fatten before s.h.i.+pping them to the dealers in Chicago and elsewhere.
As the three came within sight of this valley they saw a strange sight Instead of the cattle quietly grazing, with perhaps small bunches of them wandering now and then to the banks of the stream to get a drink, the whole herd seemed scattered along the water course. And instead of quietly drinking the cattle seemed fighting among themselves. Pus.h.i.+ng, struggling, rearing with heads up against one another, bellowing and stampeding.
On the outside vainly rode two or three cowboys who were doing their best to keep the rearmost cattle from rus.h.i.+ng over those in the front rank, who were nearest the water.
”What does it mean?” demanded Mr. Carson of Skinny, as he urged his horse forward. ”What does it mean?”