The Boy Ranchers at Spur Creek: or, Fighting the Sheep Herders

It did not take long to throw up a rough shelter at Spur Creek. This could be improved upon as time passed, but it was necessary to make a stand there at once. So, two nights after the alarm and robbery at Diamond X, behold the boy ranchers, with some of their cowboy friends, on guard at the edge of the stream which marked one of the boundaries of the land Mr. Merkel claimed – but land to which he could not now show a legal title because of the theft of his papers.

"Well, all serene so far," observed Bud, as night settled down on them in their new environment.

"Yes, I don't reckon we'll be disturbed," observed Billee, who was there with them.

"It'll give me a chance to pick up, an' get back in th' saddle again," observed Yellin' Kid in his usual loud voice. He had been allowed to form part of the "fort" guard, as it was thought the duties there would not be strenuous for a while, at least, and he could make a better recovery than at Diamond X.

"Well, it's a good place for a fight, if one comes," said Nort, as he looked about the place. It readily lent itself well to fortification, and advantage had been taken of this by Mr. Merkel. The rough shack was an outpost fort in the land that was destined to be battled for by the sheep men on one side and the cattle men on the other.

Quiet evening was settling down, "grub" had been served and the ponies were rubbing noses in the improvised corral when Yellin' Kid, who was venturing to walk around a little to "exercise his game leg," as he expressed it, came to a halt and gazed earnestly across Spur Creek in the direction of Mexico distant several miles.

"What is it, Kid?" asked Billee, who was smoking his pipe.

"Somebody's comin'," was the answer, "an' he's sweatin' leather," which meant that he was riding fast.

The boy ranchers looked in the direction indicated. A lone horseman was approaching from the side of the creek where the enemy might be expected first to appear.

CHAPTER VI
THE ALARM

Gathered in front of their "fort," as it laughingly had been christened, the boy ranchers and their cow puncher comrades watched the approach of the lone horseman. He had come up through the valley – the pass that, like the neck of a bag tied about the middle with a string, connected two great lands – Mexico and the United States. But one land represented law and order to a degree, while the other was woefully lacking in these essentials to progress.

For a time the stranger rode on at the fast pace Yellin' Kid had at first observed, and the atmosphere was so clear that his progress was easily noticed without glasses, though Bud brought out a pair after a moment or two.

Then, suddenly, the approaching horseman seemed to become aware, for the first time, of the new structure at Spur Creek – the "fort" of Diamond X.

For he began to slacken his pace and when a quarter of a mile from the place where Mr. Merkel had determined to make a stand, the horseman pulled up his steed. Then he sat in the saddle and gazed long and earnestly at the shack and those who stood grouped in front of it.

"Look out!" suddenly cried Bud, who was watching the horseman through the glasses. "He's going to draw!"

This meant gun play, and the cowboys realized this, for they lost no time in "ducking" behind shelter. Bud, too, was taking no chances, but as he continued to look, from a vantage point, he said:

"I made a mistake. He's only using glasses, same as I am. He didn't pull a gun."

"Who is he?" asked Nort.

"Anybody we know?" Dick inquired.

"Never saw him before, to my knowledge," remarked Bud. "He's a Mexican or a Greaser, I take it." These terms were almost synonymous, except that a Mexican was a little higher class than a Greaser half-breed, as the term, was sometimes applied.

"Let me take a look," suggested Yellin' Kid. "I know most of the class on the other side of the Rio Grande."

Long and earnestly the cowboy gazed through the glasses at the lone figure on the other side of Spur Creek – a gaze that was returned with interest, so to speak.

"He's Mex all right," said Yellin' Kid, handing the glasses to Billee, "but what his game is I don't know."

"Looks like he just came to size us up," observed Billee, after an observation, at the conclusion of which the stranger turned his horse and rode slowly off in the direction whence he had come.

"That's right," assented Bud.

"Do you think he's a sheep herder?" asked Nort.

"Might be. Looks mean enough," said Yellin' Kid. The cattle men could say nothing too strong against this despised class of breeders and their innocent charges. Sheep herders were the scum of the earth to the ranchmen, and to say that a man has "gone in for sheep" was to utter the last word against him, though he might be a decent member of society for all that, and with as kind and human instincts as his more affluent neighbor raising cattle or horses.

"Well, he knows we're here and on the job, at any rate," commented Bud as the horseman slowly disappeared from sight in the distance.

"Yes, and he'll very likely tell his band and we'll have them buzzing about our ears before we know it," remarked Billee.

"Then we'll fight!" cried Bud.

"That's right!" chimed in Nort and Dick.

"I wish my leg was in better shape," complained Yellin' Kid. "But I can make a shift to ride if I have to."

However, the next two days passed with no signs of any activities on the part of the enemy. No sheep were sighted being driven up through the pass to the lands that were now, by government proclamation, open to whoever wanted to claim them, barring only those already having large holdings of grazing range.

"But this is only the calm before the storm," declared Bud, when he and his chums talked it over. "We'll have a fight yet."

And it was very likely that this would happen. While waiting, though, every opportunity was taken to better fortify that part of Spur Creek where Mr. Merkel's land began.

The shack was made more comfortable, a telephone line was strung to it from the main ranch at Diamond X, and it was well stocked with provisions.

"And we'd better run in a pipe line so we can pump water directly from the creek into the shack," said Billee when certain improvements were being talked over.

"Why that?" asked Nort.

"Well, it's terrible thing in this hot weather to be cut off from your water supply," said the old frontiersman. "And it might happen that the Greasers and sheep men would get between our fort and the stream. Then we couldn't get out for water without losing our scalps, so to speak. But if we have a pump in here, and the pipe line concealed so the scoundrels can't locate it, we can be assured of a never-ending supply of water."

"It's good advice," decided Mr. Merkel when it was told to him, and, accordingly the pump was installed. During this time no more was seen of the solitary horseman, or, indeed, of any visitors or spies on the Mexican side of Spur Creek. I say the Mexican side, though, as a matter of fact the Mexican border was some miles away, and I merely mention that country to identify the two sections, one on one side and one on the other of the stream, which was wholly within the United States.

Meanwhile Sheriff Hank Fowler had endeavored to trace the thieves who had robbed Mr. Merkel's safe, but there had been no results. Professor Wright and his men were busily engaged in further search for fossil bones, and they were considered out of suspicion.

Mr. Merkel had engaged the services of a lawyer to take up with the authorities in Washington the matter of his stolen deeds in an effort to hold to his land. There were rumors that a number of the new government claims had been taken up on the land that was once the property of the Indians, and among them some of the claim holders were sheep herders, it was said.

"Well, they'd better keep away from Spur Creek – that's all I got to say!" cried Yellin' Kid in his usual loud tones.

So far, however, there had been no advent of the hated "woollies" as they were sometimes called. But the boy ranchers and their friends did not relax their vigilance. The sheep and their human owners might drift in across the creek at any hour, day or night, so a constant guard was maintained.

It was one rainy, disagreeable night that the alarm came. It was the turn of Bud and Nort to stand watch, and they were keeping wary eyes turned toward the creek boundary through the mist of rain.

"This is no fun," mused Nort as he wrapped his poncho closer about him.

"I've seen more jolly times," agreed Bud with a laugh. "But it can't last forever. Wonder what time it is, anyhow?"

Before Nort could answer there suddenly flashed in the southern sky a glare of fire.

"Lightning!" exclaimed Nort.

"A rocket!" cried Bud, all excited. "It means something, Nort! Maybe the sheep herders are coming!"

CHAPTER VII
A PARLEY

For a moment the two boys remained motionless and quiet, waiting for what might develop. But the dying sparks of the rocket – if such it was – were followed by no other demonstration.

"We'd better call Billee and the others," murmured Bud.

"That's right," agreed Nort in a low voice, though there was no need for this, as the rocket-senders must have been several miles away.

Billee Dobb awakened at the slightest whisper near his bunk, and in a few moments Dick, Yellin' Kid and the other cowboys, of whom there were half a dozen at the "fort," as it was called, were awake. It did not take them long to hustle into their clothes, and then, draped in ponchos, for it was still raining hard, they stood out in the darkness, waiting for what might happen next.

"Couldn't have been a rocket," murmured Old Billee, as the rain pelted down. "It's too wet for that."

"Must have been some Greasers around a camp fire – though how in the name of a maverick they got one to burn I don't see," observed Yellin' Kid, making his voice only a little lower than usual. "Must 'a' been that one of 'em chucked a brand up in the air."

"It wasn't like a fire brand," declared Nort.

"It was just like a regular rocket," added Bud.

Old Billee was about to say something, probably to the effect that it was a false alarm, and that they'd all do better to be back in their warm bunks when the blackness of the night was suddenly dispelled off to the south by a sliver of flame, followed by a trail of red sparks.

"There she goes again!" cried Bud.

"The same as before," added Nort.

"That's a rocket right enough," admitted Billee.

"Like the time we was after cattle rustlers," said Yellin' Kid, referring to an occasion, not fully set forth in any of the books, when, as the Diamond X took after a gang of cattle thieves, rockets were used as signals by the marauders to communicate with separated bands.

"What do you reckon it means?" asked Dick, who often dropped into the vernacular of the plains.

"Well, it might mean almost anything," admitted Old Billee. "Can't be any of Uncle Sam's soldiers that far south, or we'd 'a' heard about it. As near as I can figure it there must be some crowd down there trying to give a signal to some crowd somewhere else."

This was sufficiently vague to have covered almost anything; as sport writers spread the "dope," in talking about a coming football contest between Yale and Princeton.

Yellin' Kid must have sensed this, for with a chuckle he said:

"You're bound to be right, Billee, no matter which way the cat jumps. It sure is some crowd signallin' to another crowd."

"Do you suppose they're trying to signal us?" asked Dick.

"Don't believe so," remarked Bud. "I think it's some of the sheep men getting ready to rush in here. That rocket is a notice to some of their friends around here that they're going to start."

"Well, if they come we'll stop 'em!" declared Bud, and the others murmured their agreement with this sentiment.

They waited a little longer after the sparks of the second rocket had died away, but the signal – and it seemed positively to be that – was not repeated.

"No use standing here," murmured Old Billee. "It will soon be morning, and if anything happens we'll be ready for it. Let's get our rest out. Is your trick up, Bud?"

"Not quite, Billee."

"Well, Dick and I go on next," remarked Yellin' Kid, "and we might as well jump in now as long as we're up. Turn in, Bud and Nort."

Our young heroes were glad enough to do this, though they never would have asked to be relieved before their time. Accordingly, after a few moments of looking in vain toward where they had seen the rocket, for a repetition of the signals, Bud and Nort went inside the cabin, and stretched out for a little rest before day should fully break.

The remainder of the night – really a short period – was without alarm or any sign that hostile forces were on their way to take possession of land claimed by the owner of Diamond X.

"Grub's ready!" was the musical call of the cook, and soon those who were holding the line at Spur Creek were gathered about the table.

"Well, nothing happened, I see, or, rather, I don't see," remarked Bud to Dick and the Yellin' Kid who had come in off guard duty.

"Nary a thing," answered he of the loud voice. "Didn't hear a peep out of anybody and they wasn't no more fireworks."

"But we'd better keep pretty closely on the watch to-day," suggested Dick. "Those rockets meant something."

"You're right," said Billee Dobb. "We'll stick right close to our little old fort to-day, and, boys, be sure your guns are in quick working order. There may be no shootin' and then, ag'in, there may be," he drawled.

I suppose I need not tell you that the boy ranchers in their secret hearts rather hoped there would be shooting. They had been under fire before, and while they were not foolhardy nor inclined to take risks, they felt that if there was to be a fight on the part of the sheep men to get unlawful possession of Diamond X land, the sooner such a fight took place the better. Suspense was worse than actual conflict.

So after the "chores" had been attended to about the Spur Creek fort (and there were not many duties), it became a matter of waiting. Spur Creek made a bend at this part of Mr. Merkel's holdings, and the fort was situated on what was a sort of triangular peninsula, with the stream flowing on two sides of it. In this way it was what, during the World War, was called a "spearhead" into the country to the south, and it was from this country that the Mexican, Greaser or other sheep herders might be expected to invade the range long held sacred to horses and cattle. But this land, by government proclamation, was now thrown open to all comers.

Because of the peculiar formation of the land it lent itself readily to defense, and also gave a good post for observation. The "fort" had been hastily built on the extreme point, as near the creek as was practical. Back, on either side, extended the banks of the stream, and when breakfast had been served Old Billee, who was in command, selected those who were to patrol the banks on each side of the cabin, for a distance several miles back along the edges of the "spearhead."

The morning passed. The first contingent of scouts had come in to eat and another body was about to go out to relieve them when Bud, who had gone down to the edge of the creek, to clean a particularly muddy pair of shoes, looked across the stream, and uttered a cry of alarm.

Riding up from the southland, Mexico if I may so call it (though the actual country of the Montezumas was distant many miles), was a lone horseman. He was coming along, "sweating leather," and was seen by others of the Diamond X forces almost as soon as observed by Bud.

"Some one's coming!" yelled Bud, and he stood up on the edge of Spur Creek looking at the approaching horseman until Yellin' Kid shouted:

"Better duck back here, boy. No telling when he may unlimber a gun!"

It was good advice and Bud took it, to the extent of getting back nearer the cabin fort. On came the rider, seemingly fearless, until he pulled rein on the other side of the stream and sat there on the back of his panting horse, a most picturesque figure.

"Mex from hat to stirrups," murmured Snake Purdee.

"An' wicked from outside to inside," added Yellin' Kid in a lower voice than usual.

The Mexican rider, for such he seemed to be, raised one hand, smiled to show two rows of very white teeth in the expanse of a very dark face, took off his broad-brimmed and high crowned hat and said:

"Parlez, señors?"

It was in the form of a question, and as such Old Billee answered it.

"Talk?" grunted the veteran cow puncher. "What about?"

"The land," replied the stranger, with another smile evidently intended to be engaging, but which seemed rather mocking. "I come to ask why you are here in such force, evidently to stop any who might wish to cross to feed their stock on open range?"

"Well, it'll save trouble in a way, if you recognize the fact that we are here to stop you," said Billee. "An' we're goin' to! Sabe?"

"But for why?" asked the other, speaking English much better than his appearance seemed to indicate he might be able to. "It is land open to all who come, and I have come – "

"Then you may as well go back where you came from!" interrupted Yellin' Kid, "'cause there's going to be no onery sheep pastured here, an' you can roll that in your cigaret an' smoke it!" he added, as the stranger calmly made himself a "smoke" from a wisp of paper and some tobacco he shook into it from a small cloth bag.

There was no answer to this implied challenge on the part of Yellin' Kid, hardly even the flicker of an eyelash to show that the stranger heard and understood.

Yet he must have heard. Yellin' Kid was not one to leave a matter of that sort in doubt. His tones were always above the average.

And that he has made himself plain was evident to all – even to the stranger it would appear. For there was that in his air – something about him – which seemed to say that he had absorbed what the cowboy had intimated.

Whether he would profit by the remarks – well, that was another matter – something for the future.

But if he was at all apprehensive it was not manifested by any tremor of his hands; for not a grain of tobacco was spilled.

CHAPTER VIII
SUSPICIONS

For several moments the situation remained thus; the boy ranchers and their friends were on one side of Spur Creek, determined to repulse any attempt on the part of the strange horseman, who was on the opposite shore, to cross and make a landing. In this case it might be considered a legal taking possession of disputed land, and open the way for a band of sheep men to enter. On the other side was the lone horseman calmly puffing at his cigaret, as if literally taking the advice of Yellin' Kid.

The three boys, and the older cowboys also, had their guns in readiness for action, but it was easy to guess that the lone horseman, unless he was extremely foolhardy, would not attempt to do anything in the face of such odds.

More than two minutes passed, and if you want to know how long this is in a tense situation take out your watch and count the seconds.

Then the stranger on the Mexican side of Spur Creek tossed away his smouldering cigaret stub, took a deep breath and exhaled the smoke. Next he spoke softly.

"You will have no sheep, señors?" he asked.

"Nary a sheep!" declared Billee Dobb, "an' you can tell them that sent you!"

A half smile – a contemptuous smirk of the lips – seamed for a moment the bronzed, weather-beaten and wrinkled face of the lone horseman. He tightened the reins and his steed made ready to gallop off.

"I shall see you again, señors. Adios!" he cried, and, with a graceful wave of his hand he wheeled and rode off as fast as he had approached.

For a few seconds longer there was silence in the ranks of those holding Fort Spur Creek as it might be called. Then Bud broke out with:

"What do you make of that?"

"Can't make much," admitted Old Billee. "If he came to find out whether we were ready, he went away satisfied."

"Regular stage and moving picture stuff!" commented Nort.

"I believe the fellow was an actor," laughed Dick. "The way he flipped his cigaret and waved to us – he must have been in the movies sometime."

"I'll movie him if he comes on this side of Spur Creek!" muttered Snake Purdee. "Him and his 'adios'! Nothin' but a Greaser, I'll wager!"

"He had his nerve with him," said Old Billee. "But, boys, we mustn't let him get ours. He came to spy out and see what he could pick up."

"Well, he found us ready for him!" exclaimed Yellin' Kid.

"Yes, but maybe he'll go back and report that we aren't ready enough," said Billee.

"What do you mean?" asked Bud.

"I mean he has sized up our force, and he and his gang may be able to bring up enough to beat us back. You see, boys, this land is a rich prize, not only for sheep men but for any who want to use it for grazing. It has water and good grass."

"Well, what's the matter with 'em stayin' on their own side of Spur Creek?" asked Snake, growling out the words.

"That's where they should stay, by rights," said Billee, "and it's where we intend to keep 'em. The other land is open to those who stake it out, I suppose, but on this side it belongs to your father, Bud."

"The trouble is he has to prove it," answered the boy rancher.

"Yes, and that's going to be hard with his papers stolen the way they are," admitted Billee. "Of course it was a put up job, and I have my suspicions of who did it. But this land would be a rich prize for a sheep herder or anybody else, and we've got to fight 'em off."

"Who are you suspicious of?" demanded Bud.

"Never you mind," was the enigmatical answer, given with a shake of the head, "but I have 'em all right. However, that's another matter. What we have to do now is to get ready to meet any of these sheep men if they come up and try to cross the creek."

"You reckon he's gone back to his gang to tell 'em to get ready to come here?" asked Snake.

"Shouldn't wonder," admitted Billee. "But it'll be some time before they can bring up the woollies."

"Sheep travel fast, they eat fast and they ruin water and pastures faster'n Sam Hill!" exclaimed Yellin' Kid, and this was true. If you have ever watched a flock of sheep feeding you would know this. They eat as though they feared some one was going to take all the grass away on a moment's notice.

"Well, he's ridin' fast," observed Snake, as, shading his eyes with his hat, he gazed in the direction taken by the lone horseman. The fellow was almost out of sight now, and soon was lost to view.

Danger now seemed more imminent than it had been, and, as behooved efficient cowboys, our friends at once began going over the situation and making sure that they had done all that was possible to fortify their position.

Of course, while I have referred to the shack hurriedly erected as a "fort," it was nothing of the sort. There were no heavy walls, and of course no artillery, though the boys wished they did have a machine gun. But, on the other hand, no artillery would be brought up against them, so this evened matters up. If it came to a fight there would be only revolvers used on both sides at first, though later rifles might come into play. However, not even the most rabid of the cowboys from Diamond X really wanted a bloody fight. They would much rather the sheep men kept away, leaving the rightful owners of the land in possession.

But, as Billee had said, the stealing of Mr. Merkel's papers seemed to indicate some deep-laid plot to cheat him of his land that was so valuable.

"We're in as good shape as we can be, until it comes to a showdown and a fight," remarked Billee, when the noon-day meal was served, after they had gone carefully over the defense. "Did you get your dad?" he asked Bud.

"Yes, I had him on the wire," answered the son of the owner of Diamond X. "Nothing new has developed back home, and I told him about this fellow. He thinks, as we do, that he was a spy."

"And, the more I think of it, the more I think I have seen that fellow before," remarked Nort, with a puzzled air.

"Seen him before – what do you mean?" asked Dick.

"Well, his face seemed familiar at first, and then when he lit his cigaret and threw it away, he reminded me of some one."

"Some one in the movies, maybe," said Bud.

"Well, that's what I thought at first," admitted Nort, "though the more I think of it the more I'm certain that I've seen him out here – some time ago. I wish I could recall it."

"I can't place him," said Dick. "Stop thinking of it, Nort. It may come to you all of a sudden."

"It may not amount to anything, anyhow," Nort admitted. "But I have a feeling that I had a run in with that man before."

There was little to do at Spur Creek except await developments, and this waiting was really harder work than actual fighting would have been. It was also more nervous, keeping them all on a strain.

The approach of the enemy and by "enemy" I mean sheep men who might try to pasture their flocks on Mr. Merkel's land, or men who might try to take possession of it – these enemies would appear on the southern side of Spur Creek first, as it was well known there were the largest sheep ranches – just across the Mexican border. And pretty well cropped off were the vast fields, too. That is why there was such an eagerness to get into new and fertile ranges.

In consequence of this, watch was kept on that side of the stream where the lone horseman had appeared. To the north, east and west little danger was apprehended.

On the second day after the parley with this "spy," as he was dubbed, a moving cloud of dust was observed approaching from the north.

You may be sure it did not go long unnoticed, and Dick raised a cry as soon as he saw the indication of someone, or something, coming.

"Get out your guns!" he shouted.

"Maybe it's somebody from Diamond X," spoke Nort.

And a little later it could be seen that the dust was caused by three steers rushing over the dry prairie.

"Must have been a stampede up at your place, Bud," remarked Snake Purdee, as he and the other cowboys rode out in answer to Dick's alarm. "These got away from the main herd. We'll round 'em up."

With their usual loud cries the cowboys rode toward the fleeing cattle, which seemed maddened by some fear, for they never slackened pace. But by skillful rope-throwing two were downed and secured. The third, and fleeter of the trio furnished a bit of amusement for the holders of the fort.

"I'll bulldog him!" shouted Snake Purdee. "Lay off, Kid!" he called to the yeller, for now that his leg was mending Yellin' Kid began to take an active part in all that went on.

"Bulldogging" is a term used in the West to indicate sort of wrestling match with a steer, and the completion of the act sees the animal thrown prone to the ground by the strength and skill of the cowboy.

Urging his pony to a fast pace, Snake rode up alongside the rushing steer and then, when near enough, the cowboy leaped from his horse and raced on foot alongside the steer. Snake reached out and shot his right arm around the animal's neck, reaching over and under until he could grasp the loose, bottom skin. While he was doing this he had to keep pace with the steer, and at times Snake was lifted clear from the ground, while, now and again, he had to throw his legs out to keep them clear of the knees of the now maddened beast.

But Snake had performed this feat before, and was one of the most expert at the rodeo games whenever they were held.

His right arm now over the steer's neck, and with his right hand firmly grasping the loose lower, neck-skin, Snake reached out his left hand and caught hold of the tip of the animal's left horn. This was the position he had been working to secure, and the instant he had it, Snake lunged his body downward against his own left elbow, which brought almost his entire weight, at a powerful leverage, against the brute's horn. At the same time Snake was pulling with his right hand and the effect of this was to twist the steer's neck so that the animal lost its balance.

Its speed slackened and, a moment later it toppled over on its side, and lay there quite exhausted by its run. Though this may sound cruel it was not, and the steer suffered no harm. In fact it was benefited, for its mad race was ended, and there was no telling what might have happened if it had kept on.

The instant Snake saw the steer about to topple over he released his hold and sprang away.

"Well done!" cried Bud. "That was a dandy!"

"Wish I could do that!" sighed Dick.

"Oh, you will, some day," consoled his cousin.

The three runaway steers were thus secured, and as there was no place to care for them at the Fort one of the cowboys was delegated to haze them back to the main herd at Diamond X.

Another day passed in quietness, with no sign from the south of Spur Creek that any hostile band of sheep herders was on the way to lay waste, in a sense, the fertile lands of Mr. Merkel. In the meanwhile there was telephone communication twice a day, or oftener, between the Fort and the main ranch house.

Nothing new had transpired at Diamond X, and the boy ranchers were told that matters in Happy Valley were peaceful.

Of course there were the usual occurrences as there were always such on a big ranch. One or more of the cowboys was continually getting hurt, more or less seriously, and being doctored in the rough and ready fashion that, perforce, prevails in the unsettled part of the West.

For though the life of a cowboy may seem very picturesque when you view it from a seat in a tent or say from Madison Square Garden, in New York, the real facts of the case are vastly different.

No one can ride horses in the slap-dash style the cowboys ride them, and they can not handle cattle – often vicious ones – the way the beasts are handled, without accidents happening.

Nor are cowboys the ones to favor themselves for the sake of avoiding risks. Rather they go out of their way to look for trouble, as it were.

They are filled with bravado.

So it was that while I have said matters were quiet at the two ranches, yet small accidents were continually happening. But, as the boys reported, after a talk over the wire, nothing of great moment had taken place.