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

CHAPTER XVII
"WE CROWED TOO SOON!"

Not only the boy ranchers, but their more experienced cowboy companions were puzzled by the actions of the sheep herders. It was the period after the morning meal, the smoke of which fires was still rising toward the sky. The sheep men appeared to have slept in the open, with nothing more than their blankets for a bed and their saddles for pillows. But they were accustomed to this, and so were our friends, though they were glad of the fairly comfortable bunk house, or "fort," as they dubbed it.

But all interest was centered in what the Greasers were doing. Some of them separated themselves from the sheep, which really did not require much more attention than that given them by some intelligent dogs, and a bunch of the hated and despised men were approaching the river, carrying long poles.

"What do you reckon they're going to do?" asked Dick.

"Make a raft, maybe," answered Nort. "Though how they can float a lot of sheep over on a raft made of a few bean poles is more than I can understand."

"It would take them a month or more to float the sheep over, one at a time, on a bunch of poles," objected Bud.

"That isn't what they're going to do," declared Dick, after closely watching the actions of the Mexicans. "They're going to leave, that's what they're planning."

"Leave? What do you mean; go away?" asked his brother.

"That's it – yes. They're going to make those dinguses the Indians use trailing after their horses – a pole fastened to either side of the animal, and the ends dragging on the ground. Between the poles they carry their duffle."

"Nonsense!" laughed Bud. "In the first place these aren't Indians, though they're as bad, I reckon. But they didn't come with those pole trailers; so why would they make 'em to go away with? All they own they can pack in their hats."

"I guess you're right," admitted Dick, after thinking it over. "But they're going to do something."

They were all watching the Mexicans now. The men with long poles – which they must have brought with them as none grew in the vicinity – now closely approached the edge of the creek. They could not be going to make a raft – the nature of the poles precluded that.

Then, as one after another of the sheep herders thrust the end of his pole into the water, wading out a short distance to do this, Bud uttered an exclamation.

"I have it!" the lad cried.

"You mean you're on to the game?" asked Dick.

"Yes."

"What is it?" cried the two brothers.

"They're feeling around to find the places where the quicksands are," announced Bud.

"You mean so they can jump in and get rid of themselves?" grimly asked Snake Purdee.

"I mean so they can tell where not to cross," said Bud, though this was unnecessary, since they all grasped his meaning when he spoke of the quicksands.

"I guess you're right, son," observed Old Billee, who had come back to the fort with the return of the cowboys. "They're looking for safe fords and I shouldn't wonder but what they'd find 'em."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," said a tall lank cowboy.

"What do you mean?" Billee wanted to know.

"Wa'al, they may find the places where it's safe to cross – I ain't sayin' but what they is sich places," went on "Lanky," as he was called, "I know this creek putty well, an' I've crossed it more'n once, swimmin' a hoss over an' sometimes drivin' cattle. But th' trouble is sometimes when you find a safe place it doesn't stay safe very long."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Bud, who thought it his duty to learn all he could about matters connected with his father's ranch.

"I reckon he means the quicksands shift – is that it, Lanky?" asked Billee Dobb.

"That's it – yep! A place that may be safe to cross to-night may be the most dangerous in the mornin', or even in less time."

"Oh, so the creek is going to favor us after all!" exclaimed Bud. "If it's as treacherous as that it will keep those Greasers on the far side."

"Not altogether," said Billee. "They may have just enough fool luck to strike a safe place and get over here."

"Well, if they come we'll be ready for 'em!" grimly said Nort, and the others nodded in accord with this sentiment.

Then, as there was nothing else to do for the present, they watched the actions of the Mexicans – actions that were not so strange and mysterious as they had been before Bud hit upon the right solution.

And that it was a correct guess no one could doubt who watched the sheep herders. With their long, thin poles they went up and down the bank of the stream, thrusting the ends into the mud, or whatever formed the bottom of Spur Creek. At times, as I have said, the Mexicans would wade out, perhaps until the water came as high as their middle, in order to thrust their poles farther out into the stream. But when a man thus waded another stood near with ready lariat.

"They're taking no chances on being caught as the horse was," said Nort.

"Right-o!" exclaimed his brother.

The sheep men, however, seemed to find so many places where there were quicksands – or indications of them – in the vicinity of the place just across from the fort – that they soon moved more than a mile down stream. That is, some of them did. Others moved up, the party separating and leaving a few men guarding the sheep.

"As if we'd cross and try to catch any of the woollies!" laughed Bud, motioning to those on guard.

It was late in the afternoon when the survey or test of the creek seemed to be completed. The two parties with their poles came back to what might be called the "camp," and a consultation seemed to be taking place.

In the still, quiet atmosphere the excited voices carried across the creek, though what was said could not be made out.

"They seem to be having a dispute," observed Nort.

And this was evident. One bunch of the Greasers evidently held to one opinion, and a minority disagreed. However, in the end the majority ruled and then, to the surprise of our friends, the Greasers broke camp, leaped to their saddles, and started driving their flocks back toward the south, whence they had come.

For a few moments our friends, watching this move, did not know how to interpret it. But as it dawned on them that the sheep men were "pulling up stakes," and departing, Billee cried:

"We've got the best of 'em, boys! Or, rather, the quicksands worked for us. They've gone back where they came from."

"And I hope they stay," sang out Yellin' Kid.

This was the hope of all, and it seemed likely to be carried out. As night settled down, the mass of sheep and their herders grew more and more indistinct as greater distance was put between them and those holding the fort.

"Well, we'll wait a day or so to see if they don't come back," said Billee, "and then we'll mosey to Diamond X. There's a pile of work waitin' for us there."

"And we'd like to get back to Happy Valley," observed Bud.

"That's right," agreed Nort and Dick.

For the first time since the alarm about the sheep men rest was easier in the fort that night. The danger appeared to be disappearing. The treacherous nature of Spur Creek, with its shifting bottom of quicksands – that might be here one day and a mile farther off the next – had served our friends a good turn.

At least it seemed so, until the next morning. Then, as Billee Dobb arose early and, as was his custom, went out for a before-breakfast survey, he uttered a cry.

"What's the matter?" asked Bud, coming to the door of the fort.

"We crowed too soon, that's what's the matter," answered Billee. "We crowed too soon!"

CHAPTER XVIII
SKIRMISHES

Bud did not need an interpreter to understand what the old cow puncher meant. If he had been at all doubtful, a glance toward where Billee pointed would have solved the mystery.

For, some miles down the creek was a cloud of dust, and, not only a cloud of dust, but that which caused the haze – the sheep and their herders.

"They've come back!" cried Bud. "And just where we didn't expect 'em."

"'Twould have been mighty poor policy on their part to come back where we did expect 'em," dryly observed Billee. "It was their game to fool us, and they did it."

"Then it was all a trick!" cried Bud.

"Reckon it was," agreed Billee with a grin, as Nort, Dick and the others strolled out in readiness for breakfast.

"That poling of the river was all a bluff," said Nort.

"Oh, not exactly," declared Billee. "They used the poles to try to find a place free from quicksands. Not findin' it opposite our fort, they decided to try farther down. Then some smart Aleck among 'em – an' we got to give 'em credit for it – thought of makin' it look as though they were givin' up – retreatin', so to speak.

"That's the way it looked to us, and we crowed too soon, jest as I said a minute ago. They kept on goin', circled around an' now there they are, ready to cross Spur Creek farther away."

"But we can stop 'em there, same as we could here," said Dick.

"Yes, but we got to move our base of supplies an' that takes time," said Billee. "An' while we're doin' that they may make a crossin' – that is, if they can avoid the quicksands. They may even find a ford down there, so the sheep can walk over without havin' to swim." In his excitement Billee dropped most of his final g's, and clipped his other words.

"There is a ford there," declared Lanky, the tall, thin cowboy.

"Any quicksands?" Nort wanted to know.

"That I can't say. The sands shift so you can't tell where they are."

"Well, there's only one thing to do," declared Bud. "Some of us have got to go down there and stop 'em from crossing. This is the first skirmish of the fight."

"We'll come with you," offered Nort and Dick.

"Hold on a minute – don't be rash," counseled Old Billee. "It'll take more'n you three lads to stop them Greasers and the sheep."

"Well, we're under your orders," Bud admitted, saluting the veteran.

"Well then, you three go," advised Billee, "and Snake and Kid will go with you. We'll bring some grub down to you."

For it might be too late to wait until after breakfast, simple as that meal was, and as quickly served as it could be. There was no time to be lost. Bud and his boy-rancher cousins realized this.

Soon they were in their saddles, riding down the creek toward where the sheep had been herded together on the southern side of the stream. There were the same bunch of Greasers – the boys easily picked out and recognized certain characters, even across the creek, which was wider here and more shallow.

If Bud and the others expected to engage in a sharp fight as soon as they reached the scene, they were disappointed. True, the sheep herders became aware of their arrival, and there was some talk, and not a little excitement, among the Greasers. But there were no hostile acts, and no attempt was made to drive over any sheep.

"I wonder if there is a ford here?" said Yellin' Kid.

"I reckon there is," said Snake Purdee. "You can see where it has been used," and he pointed to marks on their bank of the stream.

"They either know about this place, or they've made some tests and are satisfied that it's safe," declared Bud.

"But if what Lanky says is true, though it may have been safe early this morning, it might not be safe now," said Dick.

"That's true, but I think they'll take a chance," Bud declared. "There isn't fodder enough on that side to last the sheep very long."

This was perfectly true, and it was evident that the herders would endeavor to get their woolly charges on the other side of the stream as soon as possible, to take advantage of the rich grazing on the open range, newly made available to all comers.

"But I thought when the government opened new land it could only be taken by citizens, or those about to become citizens," questioned Dick, when, as they watched the sheep herders, they talked over the situation.

"That is the law," said Bud. "But down here you'll find the law doesn't amount to much when a man wants a thing. He generally goes and gets it, and thinks about the law afterward. That's why Dad has to do what he is doing. If the law was as tight here as it is in the east, he could get out an injunction, or something, against these herders, and stand them off until he could find his papers proving his claim."

"Think he'll ever find 'em?" asked Nort.

Bud shook his head.

"It's hard telling," he answered.

Meanwhile there appeared to be "nothing doing" among the sheep herders. They had gathered their flocks together and were making a rough camp, as if they intended to stay for some time.

Then, about an hour later, Billee arrived with a couple of his cowboys, bringing food for Bud and his comrades – food that was greatly appreciated, for it was a long time since supper the night before.

The boy ranchers ate and waited. Still there was no action on the part of the Greasers. They appeared content to wait for something to "turn up," as Mr. Micawber would say.

"What are we going to do when they start to cross?" asked Nort.

"That's so – we'd better make a plan," added Dick.

"Shall we fire at the men, their horses or the sheep?" Bud wanted to know.

"Fire at everything and everybody!" decided Snake vindictively. "We've got to break up the first rush."

"And yet it seems too bad to kill innocent animals," went on Bud. "Do you know, I have an idea!" he cried.

"No? Really?" asked Dick with a playful attempt at sarcasm.

"Sure I have," Bud went on. "What we want to do is to drive them back, isn't if?"

"That's it," said Billee. "We not only want to drive 'em back, but we want to discourage 'em from coming over again."

"Then I think I know what will do the trick!" went on Bud. "It won't be powder and bullets, either," he added. "We won't have to kill anything or anybody."

"How you going to do it?" asked Snake, a bit skeptical.

"I'll show you," said Bud. "Wait until I make one."

His companions wondered what his scheme might be. The older cowboys were great believers in the efficacy of the .45, and they had their guns ready.

But Bud busied himself with some things he took from a bundle he carried on his saddle. Dick and Nort saw their cousin had some strong rubber bands, bits of cord, squares of leather and a Y-shaped branch he cut from a cottonwood tree.

"Say, are you making a sling shot?" asked Dick.

"That's just what I'm making," answered Bud. "If we each have a slingshot, and a supply of stones, I think we can turn the Greasers and their horses, as well as the sheep back without killing any of 'em!"

For a moment they regarded Bud in silence. Then Nort cried:

"I believe it'll work!"

And as Bud finished his sling shot and sent a stone zipping into the creek with a vicious "ping!" Billee cried:

"That's the best trick yet. I think it'll work! I hated to shoot to kill, but I didn't see any way out of it. Now we can sting 'em enough with stones to turn 'em, especially as they'll be in the water. Bud, I think it'll work."

"I don't want to throw a monkey wrench in the gears," said Snake softly, "but it 'pears to me that while we're shootin' harmless stones they'll be firin' real bullets. An' where will we be then?"

"We don't run any more risks than if we were firing bullets, too," said Bud. "And I think with them having to guide their horses in the water, look out for quicksands and drive the frightened sheep over, we can demoralize 'em with these slingshots."

"Sure you can!" cried Billee Dobb. "Come on," he ordered. "Every man make a slinger. It's like the old Bible story of David and Goliath. But how'd you happen to have those rubber bands, Bud?"

"Oh, I got 'em to make a model airship," the boy confessed, "but I didn't find time. I've been lugging 'em around this last week. Now they'll come in handy."

In a short time each cowboy had made himself a slingshot, of the style you boys have, doubtless, often constructed. With strong rubber bands they send a stone with great force.

The slingshots were no sooner made, and a supply of ammunition secured from the edge of the creek, than an unusual movement was observed among the sheep herders. Some of them separated from the main body, and began driving a flock of the lambs, rams and ewes toward the creek.

"Ready for the first skirmish!" cried Old Billee.

"Let her come!" sang out Yellin' Kid.

Nearer to the edge of Spur Creek approached the sheep herders. The animals bleated and tried to turn back, but the dogs barked at them and snapping whips whirled viciously over their backs. Then, too, they were urged on with horses at their heels.

"They're coming right over," said Dick to his brother and cousin, the three boy ranchers being close together.

"And not one of 'em has a gun out," added Bud. "I reckon they are making this a sort of test so they can claim we fired on 'em first if it comes up in a law court. Well, we aren't exactly firing at 'em," he chuckled. "We're just stoning 'em."

"And we'd better begin to stone!" cried Nort.

He drew back the strong rubber bands of his sling. In the leather piece was a round pebble. Nort took aim at one of the approaching Mexicans.

The skirmishing was about to begin.

CHAPTER XIX
OPEN WARFARE

"Zip!" a stone from Nort's sling cut the air with a vicious ping, and not only that, but it caught one of the Greasers on the side of his head. He uttered a cry, dropped his reins and clapped a hand to the smarting place.

Another instant and he had lost control of his horse, which first swam down stream and then turned to go back to the shore he had left. One reason for this was that Nort had let fly a stone that took the horse on the flank. And Nort was careful not to shoot as hard at the horse as he had at the rider. In fact the horse was not hurt at all – merely frightened, for the stone was like a fly-bite.

But it was enough.

Meanwhile the other defenders of Spur Creek had been using their slings to advantage, first stinging the Greaser riders with vicious stones and then, more lightly, tapping the horses to demoralize them rather than to hurt them.

This sort of warfare proved most effective, for by turning the horses and sending them back, in spite of all the efforts of their riders, the forces of the sheep herders were thrown into confusion.

And this, really, was the object of Bud and his companions. They did not want to kill so much as a single sheep. All they desired was to keep inviolate the land rightfully owned by Mr. Merkel. And he felt that he still owned it, in spite of the action of the United States Congress, and even though his papers had been stolen.

In this initial skirmish, which soon developed into a fight, the advantage, at first, was all on the side of the Diamond X force as the Greasers did not fight back. Some of them carried guns, but did not draw them.

It might be reasoned that they wanted to go into court with "clean hands," as the legal term is. That is, they could claim they were fired upon when attempting to make a peaceable crossing of the creek in order to pasture their sheep on the new government open range land. One part of their contention might be true, but the one implying that Mr. Merkel's land could be taken by any chance comer, was not true.

At any rate, first along, the Mexicans did not fire back. Meanwhile Bud and his comrades were fairly peppering the Greasers with stones from the rubber slings. No one was badly hurt – indeed, bruised faces and hands were about the only injuries, but if you have ever faced a fusilade from a battery of putty blowers or bean shooters you know how disconcerting it is.

Then, too, the horses proved allies of our friends. For the light "peppering" the animals received from the slings made the animals nervous and disinclined to face the shower of stones.

Some few sheep were driven into the stream, and it was evident that, for the present at least, this was a good crossing – shallow enough and with no quicksands. But once the sheep began to hear and see the stones "zipping" in the water around them, some of the woollies feeling the pebbles – though only slightly – a new problem was presented to the Mexicans. Their sheep, like the horses, turned about and made for the southern shore.

So that, in less than five minutes after the attempt to make the crossing was started, it had failed, and the hostile forces withdrew.

"Guess we made it too hot for them," chuckled Bud.

"For a while, yes," agreed Nort. "But it isn't over yet."

"No," added his brother. "If they give up now I miss my guess. They'll try again."

And so the Greasers did.

Withdrawing to a safe distance from the slings – which could only just about carry across Spur Creek, a conference was held among the sheep herders. Then they came on again, trying in the same place.

But Bud and his friends were ready, with an unlimited supply of ammunition. Stones were plentiful along the creek, and each cowboy had his pockets full.

One advantage of the sling shots was that they could be "loaded and fired" much more rapidly than the guns – by which I mean the .45 revolvers. And of course on humanitarian grounds there was no comparison – no one was killed or even severely wounded by the stones. They were only painfully hurt.

But this was part of the game. It was open warfare and had to be endured. Besides, from the standpoint of Bud and his comrades, they were in the right and the sheep herders were in the wrong.

I have no doubt but that the herders of the sheep reasoned just the other way – holding that they had a right to cross the creek and pasture their charges on the rich grass beyond, and arguing that the Diamond X outfit was in the wrong.

And in this conflict lies my story, such as it is.

After the third attempt to cross the creek with their sheep, being driven back each time, the Mexicans seemed to lose patience. There were angry voices as most of the Greasers gathered about one man who seemed to be their leader, and who had, it was evident, counseled pacific measures. Now these came to an end.

For on the "fourth down," as Dick laughingly referred to it, the Greasers began shooting bullets as they rode their horses into the stream.

"Now it's a fight in earnest!" cried Bud.

"Draw your guns!" ordered Billee sternly.

The real battle was about to open.