CHAPTER XIX
A QUESTION OF BRANDS
Trailing a herd of cattle through a strange wild country is nosinecure. There was not a man in the Double A outfit who expected aneasy time in trailing the herd to Las Vegas, for it was a rough, grimcountry, and the men were experienced.
Wild cattle are not tractable; they have an irritating habit ofobstinately insisting on finding their own trail, and of persisting invagaries that are the despair of their escort.
The Double A herd was no exception. On a broad level they behavedfairly well, though always requiring the attention of the men; but inthe broken sections of country through which they passed,heart-breaking effort was required of the men to keep them headed inthe right direction.
The men of the outfit had little sleep during the first two days of thedrive. Nights found them hot, tired, and dusty, but with no prospectof an uninterrupted sleep. Still there was no complaint.
On the third night, the herd having been driven about forty miles, themen began to show the effects of their sleepless vigil.
They had bedded the herd down on a level between some hills, near arocky ford over which the waters of a little stream trickled.
Buck and Andy were on their ponies, slowly circling the herd, singingto the cattle, talking to them, using all their art and persuasion toinduce the herd to cease the restless "milling" that had begun with theeffort to halt for the night.
Around the camp fire, which had been built at the cook's orders, wereSanderson, Carter, Bud, Sogun, Soapy, and the Kid. Carter stood at alittle distance from the fire, watching the herd.
"That's a damned nervous bunch we've got, boys," he called to the othermen. "I don't know when I've seen a flightier lot. It wouldn't takemuch to start 'em!"
"We'll have our troubles gettin' them through Devil's Hole," declaredSoapy. Soapy, so called because of his aversion to the valuable toiletpreparation so necessary to cleanliness, had a bland, ingenuous faceand perplexed, inquiring eyes. He was a capable man, however, despitehis pet aversion, and there was concern in his voice when he spoke.
"That's why I wasn't in no hurry to push them too far tonight,"declared Carter. "I don't want to get anywhere near Devil's Hole inthe darkness, an' I want that place quite some miles away when I camp.I seen a herd stride that quicksand on a run once, an' they wasn'tenough of them left to make a good stew.
"If my judgment ain't wrong, an' we can keep them steppin' prettylively in the mornin', we'll get to Devil's Hole just about noontomorrow. Then we can ease them through, an' the rest ain't worthtalkin' about."
"Devil's Hole is the only trail?" inquired Sanderson.
Carter nodded. The others confirmed the nod. But Carter's desire foran early start the next morning was denied. Bud and Sogun were onguard duty on the morning shift, with the other men at breakfast, whena dozen horsemen appeared from the morning haze westward and headeddirectly for the camp fire.
"Visitors," announced Soapy, who was first to see the riders.
The Double A men got to their feet to receive the strangers. Sandersonstepped out from the group slightly, and the horsemen came to a haltnear him. A big man, plainly the leader of the strangers, dismountedand approached Sanderson.
The man radiated authority. There was a belligerent gleam in his eyesas he looked Sanderson over, an inspection that caused Sanderson's faceto redden, so insolent was it. Behind him the big man's companionswatched, their faces expressionless, their eyes alert.
"Who's runnin' this outfit?" demanded the man.
"You're talkin' at the boss," said Sanderson.
"I'm the sheriff of Colfax County," said the other, shortly. "There'sbeen a complaint made about you. Bill Lester, of the Bar X, saysyou've been pickin' up his cattle, crossin' his range, yesterday."
This incident had happened before, both to Sanderson and to Carter.They had insisted on the right of inspection themselves, when strangeherds had been driven through their ranges.
"We want to look your stock over," said the sheriff.
The request was reasonable, and Sanderson smiled.
"That's goin' to hold us up a spell," he returned; "an' we was figurin'on makin' Devil's Hole before dark. Hop in an' do your inspectin'."
The big man motioned to his followers and the latter spurred to theherd, the other being the last to leave the camp fire.
For two hours the strangers threaded and weaved their horses throughthe mass of cattle, while Sanderson and his men, impatient to begin themorning drive, rode around the outskirts and watched them.
"They're takin' a mighty good look," commented Carter at the end of thetwo hours.
Sanderson's face was set in a frown; he saw that the men were workingvery slowly, and were conferring together longer than seemed necessary.
At the end of three hours Carter spoke to Sanderson, his voice hoarsewith rage:
"They're holdin' us up purposely. I'll be damned if I'm goin' to standfor it!"
"Easy there!" cautioned Sanderson. "I've never seen a sheriff that waslong on speed. They'll be showin' their hand pretty soon."
Half an hour later the sheriff spurred his horse out of the press andapproached Sanderson. His face was grave. His men rode up also, andhalted their horses near him. The Double A men had advanced and stoodbehind Sanderson and Carter.
"There's somethin' wrong here!" he declared, scowling at Sanderson."It ain't the first time this dodge has been worked. A man gets up abrand that's mighty like the brand on the range he's goin' to drivethrough, an' he picks up cattle an' claims they're his. You claim yourbrand is the Double A." He dismounted and with a branch of chaparraldrew a design in the sand.
"This is the way you make your brand," he said, and he pointed out theDouble A brand:
Double A and Bar X brands.]
"That's an 'A' lookin' at it straight up an' from the right side, likethis, just reversin' it. But when you turn it this way, it's the Bar X:
"An' there's a bunch of your steers with the brand on them that way.I'll have to take charge of the herd until the thing is cleared up!"
Sanderson's lips took on a straight line; the color left his face.
Here was authority--that law with which he had unaccountably clashed onseveral occasions during his stay at the Double A. Yet he knewthat--as on those other occasions--the law was operating to the benefitof his enemies.
However, he did not now suspect Silverthorn and the others of settingthe law upon him. The Double A men might have been careless with theirbranding, and it was unfortunate that he had been forced by the closingof the Okar market to drive his cattle over a range upon which werecattle bearing a brand so startlingly similar to his.
His men were silent, watching him with set faces. He knew they wouldstand behind him in any trouble that might occur. And yet hehesitated, for he did not wish to force trouble.
"How many Bar X cattle do you think are in the herd?" he asked.
"Mebbe a hundred--mebbe more."
"How long will it take you to get Bill Lester here to prove his stock?"
The big man laughed. "That's a question. Bill left last night forFrisco; I reckon mebbe he'll be gone a month--mebbe more."
The color surged back into Sanderson's face. He stiffened.
"An' you expect to hold my herd here until Lester gets back?" he said,slowly.
"Yep," said the other, shortly.
"You can't do it!" declared Sanderson. "I know the law, an' you can'thold a man's cattle that long without becomin' liable for damages."
"We'll be liable," grinned the sheriff. "Before Bill left last nighthe made out a bond for ninety thousand dollars--just what your cattleare worth at the market price. If there's any damages comin' to youyou'll get them out of that."
"It's a frame-up," growled Carter, at Sanderson's side. "It provesitself. This guy, Lester, makes out a bond before we're within twodays' drive of his bailiwick. He's had information about us, an' isplannin' to hold us up. You know what for. Sil
verthorn an' the bunchhas got a finger in the pie."
That suspicion had also become a conviction to Sanderson. And yet, inthe person of the sheriff and his men, there was the law blocking hisprogress toward the money he needed for the irrigation project.
"Do you think one hundred and fifty heads will cover the suspectedstock?" he questioned.
"I'd put it at two hundred," returned the sheriff.
"All right, then," said Sanderson slowly; "take your men an' cut outthe two hundred you think belong to Lester. I'll stop on the way backan' have it out with you."
The sheriff grinned. "That'll be square enough," he agreed. He turnedto the men who had come with him. "You boys cut out them cattle thatwe looked at, an' head them toward the Bar X." When the men had gonehe turned to Sanderson.
"I want you men to know that I'm actin' under orders. I don't knowwhat's eatin' Bill Lester--that ain't my business. But when I'mordered to do anything in my line of duty, why, it's got to be done.Your friend has gassed some about a man named Silverthorn bein' at thebottom of this thing. Mebbe he is--I ain't got no means of knowin'.It appears to me that Bill ain't got no call to hog your whole bunch,though, for I've never knowed Bill to raise more than fifteen hundredhead of cattle in one season. I'm takin' a chance on two hundredcoverin' his claims."
It was after noon when the sheriff and his men started westward withthe suspected stock.
Carter, fuming with rage, watched them go. Then he turned to Sanderson.
"Hell an' damnation! We'll hit Devil's Hole about dusk--if we startnow. What'll we do?"
"Start," said Sanderson. "If we hang around here for another daythey'll trump up another fake charge an' clean us out!"
The country through which they were forced to travel during theafternoon was broken and rugged, and the progress of the herd was slow.However, according to Carter, they made good time considering thedrawbacks they encountered, and late afternoon found them within a fewmiles of the dreaded Devil's Hole.
Carter counseled a halt until morning, and Sanderson yielded. After acamping ground had been selected Carter and Sanderson rode ahead toinspect Devil's Hole.
The place was well named. It was a natural basin between some jaggedand impassable foothills, running between a gorge at each end. Bothends of the basin constricted sharply at the gorges, resembling a wide,narrow-necked bottle.
A thin stream of water flowed on each side of a hard, rock trail thatran straight through the center of the basin, and on both sides of thetrail a black bog of quicksand spread, covering the entire surface ofthe land.
Halfway through the basin, Sanderson halted Streak on the narrow trailand looked at the treacherous sand.
"I've seen quicksand, _an'_ quicksand," he declared, "but this is thebogs of the lot. If any steers get bogged down in there they wouldn'tbe able to bellow more than once before they'd sink out of sight!"
"There's a heap of them in there," remarked Carter.
It was an eery place, and the echo of their voices resounded withever-increasing faintness.
"I never go through this damned hell-hole without gettin' the creeps,"declared Carter. "An' I've got nerve enough, too, usually. There'ssomethin' about the place that suggests the cattle an' men it'sswallowed.
"Do you see that flat section there?" he indicated a spot about ahundred yards wide and half as long, which looked like hard, bakedearth, black and dead. "That's where that herd I was tellin' you aboutwent in. The next morning you couldn't see hide nor hair of them.
"It's a fooler for distance, too," he went on, "it's more than a mileto that little spot of rock, that projectin' up, over there. Collegeprofessors have been here, lookin' at it, an' they say the thing is fedfrom underground rivers, or springs, or somethin' that they can't evenguess.
"One of them was tellin' Boss Edwards, over on the Cimarron, that thatrock point that you see projectin' up was the peak of a mountain, an'that this narrow trail we're on is the back of a ridge that used tostick up high an' mighty above a lot of other things.
"I can't make it out, an' I don't try; it's here, an' that's all thereis to it. An' I ain't hangin' around it any longer than I have to."
"A stampede--" began Sanderson.
"Gentlemen, shut up!" interrupted Carter. "If any cattle ever comethrough here, stampedin', that herd wouldn't have enough left of it tosupply a road runner's breakfast!"
They returned to the camp, silent and anxious.