CHAPTER XVI
A "NORTHER"
When Lawler returned to the Circle L ranchhouse he found that Mary hadgone East, to school. She had left for Willets on the second dayfollowing Lawler's departure; and Mrs. Lawler had already received twoletters from her. Mrs. Lawler watched her son keenly when she told himthat Joe Hamlin had brought a letter stating that Hamlin was to bepermitted to take a number of mixed cattle from the Circle L--and thathe had driven away one hundred. She smiled gently when she told Lawlerthat on the day before her departure Mary had visited Ruth Hamlin--hadspent the whole day with her, and had come home, mysteriously delighted.Ruth had given up the school.
"Mary loves her, Kane," said Mrs. Lawler. And she smiled again when shesaw a flush reach Lawler's face.
Lawler intended to ride to the Hamlin cabin this morning. It was thethird day following his arrival at the ranch; and until now he had hadno time for anything except to attend to the many details of work thathad been neglected during his absence.
There were still three thousand head of cattle on the Circle Lrange--the men had held them in the valley for a time during his absenceon the trail, but the grass had grown sparse, and the herd was nowgrazing on the big plain beyond the northern slope of the valley.
During the time he had been home the outfit had been busy. The Circle Lhad a dozen line camps--little adobe cabins scattered over the range,occupied during the winter by Circle L cowboys whose duty it was toguard the cattle against the aggressions of timber wolves, rustlers,cold, and starvation.
For two days the chuck-wagon had been sent rattling to the various linecamps, stocking them with supplies against the winter. As the weatherwas threatening the hoodlum wagon had been pressed into service thismorning; and all the men, with the exception of the blacksmith--who wasworking diligently in his shop near the corral; and two punchers--Daviesand Harris, who had been assigned to Number One camp--were away with thetwo wagons.
Davies and Harris had not been able to resist the lure of "town." Theprosperity that had descended upon them had made them restless, and thenight before they had importuned Lawler to permit them to spend "onemore night in town before holin' up for the winter."
Lawler had consented; and now he was wishing that he hadn't. For when heemerged from the ranchhouse this morning he saw a dark cloud bank far inthe north, moving southward on the chill wind.
The herd, he knew, was somewhere on the big level beyond the slope ofthe valley, in the vicinity of Number One line camp. It was an isolatedsection, off the trail that led to town--a section of featureless levelnear a big break in the valley. The break opened upon another big levelthat stretched southward for a hundred miles. In other days Luke Lawlerhad lost many cattle here; they had drifted through the break byhundreds, with a blizzard behind them; and had been swallowed by thegreat waste.
Two years before--aware of the previous losses--Lawler had erected awire fence across the big break, extending from a craggy mountain wallon the western end, to a sheer butte that marked the end of the break,eastward.
Lawler had sent Red King to the crest of the valley on his way to theHamlin cabin, when he noted that the cloud bank in the north had growndenser, nearer. The wind had increased in velocity, and he had to leanagainst it as he rode; and it was so cold and raw that he drew his heavycap down over his eyes to shield them, and drew over his mouth the heavywoolen scarf he wore around his neck.
He rode on a short distance, casting troubled glances into the north. Hefound himself wondering if Davies and Harris had gone to the line camp.If they hadn't, and a storm broke, the herd on the big level was indanger.
He brought Red King to a halt. The big horse pranced, whistling eagerly.He champed on the bit, tossed his head, raising it finally and staringstraight into the north.
"You see it too, eh, King?" said Lawler. "Well, we can't take thatchance; we'll have to go to the camp."
He headed Red King down into the valley again, where the bitter wind didnot strike them, riding westward rapidly.
It was noon before Lawler and Red King had traveled half the distance tothe line camp. A dull, gray haze was sweeping southward. It mingled withthe southern light and threw a ghostly glare into the valley, makingdistance deceptive, giving a strange appearance to the landmarks withwhich Lawler and the horse were familiar.
Lawler increased Red King's pace. He saw that the storm was nearer thanhe had thought, and he would have to work fast to get the cattle headedinto the valley before it broke.
The distance from the Circle L ranchhouse to the big plain near the linecabin was about fifteen miles, and the trail led upward in a long,tiresome rise. Yet Red King struck the level with a reserve strengththat was betrayed by the way he fought for his head as he saw the levelstretch before him. He was warmed up--he wanted to run.
But Lawler drew him down in an effort to locate the herd before hestarted toward it.
Man and horse made a mere blot on the yawning expanse of land thatstretched away from them in all directions. A lone eagle in the sky or amariner adrift on a deserted sea could not have seemed more isolatedthan Lawler and Red King. In this limitless expanse of waste land horseand rider were dwarfed to the proportion of atoms. The yawning, aching,stretching miles of level seemed to have no end.
Several miles into the north Lawler saw the herd. Directly westward, ata distance of about a mile, he saw the line cabin. No smoke was issuingfrom the chimney; and so far as he could discern, there were no men withthe cattle.
Harris and Davies had overstayed. That knowledge might have beenresponsible for the grim humor in Lawler's eyes; but the rigidness ofhis body and the aggressive thrust to his chin were caused by knowledgeof a different character. The storm was about to break.
The sun was casting a dull red glow through the gray haze. It wasblotted out as he looked. Southward from the horizon ends extended abroad sea of shimmering, glittering sky that contrasted brilliantly tothe black, wind-whipped clouds that had gathered in the north. Fleecygray wisps, detached from the heavy, spreading mass northward, werescurrying southward, streaking the shimmering brilliance and telling ofthe force of the wind that drove them.
A wailing note came from the north, a sighing vague with a portent offorce; a whisper of unrest, a promise of fury. Far in the north, itsblackness deepening with distance, stretched the menace, arousing awewith its magnitude.
Nature seemed to know what impended, for on the vast level where thestorm would have a clear sweep the dried grass, bronzed by the searingautumn sun, was rustling as it bent far southward; the hardy sage bowedreluctantly to the fitful blasts, and the scraggly, ugly yuccaresentfully yielded to the unseen force.
A wide, shallow gully ran northwestward from a point near Red King,almost in a straight line toward the herd. Lawler urged the big horseinto the gully and rode hard. The distance was several miles, but whenRed King came to the gully end he flashed out of it like a streak of redflame. He was drawn down, instantly, however, snorting and pawingimpatiently, while Lawler shielded his eyes with his hands and againscanned the country.
He saw the herd; and as he watched it began to move. There were no mennear the cattle.
They started slowly, seemingly reluctant to leave the level. They movedsullenly, closely massed, their heads lowered, their tails drooping. Thewind, now beginning to carry a vicious note with its whine, drove aheavy dust cloud against them, warning them. The wind was icy, givingthe cattle a foretaste of what was to come. And mingling with the dustwere fine, flinty snow particles that came almost horizontally againsttheir rumps, stinging them, worrying them. They increased their pace,and soon were running with a swinging, awkward stride, straight towardthe wire fence, several miles distant.
If they saw Lawler they gave no sign, for they went lumbering on,snorting and bawling their apprehension.
Lawler was about to start Red King toward them, when he noted movementon the level a little northwestward from the cattle. Peering intently,he saw two horsemen racing southward, a little distance
ahead of thecattle, parallel with them.
At first Lawler was certain the men were Davies and Harris, and hesmiled, appreciating their devotion to duty. But when he saw them racepast the cattle, not even halting to head them in the rightdirection--which would have been slightly eastward, so that they wouldenter the valley before reaching the fence--he frowned, wheeled Red Kingsharply, and sent him back into the gully from which he had emerged.
"They're strangers, King," he said, shortly to the horse as the latterfled headlong down the gully toward the point from which he had started;"Davies and Harris wouldn't leave the herd with that norther coming on."
The big horse made fast time down the gully. He brought Lawler to apoint near the fence where it crossed the gully at about the instant thetwo riders were dismounting some distance away.
Lawler rode out of the gully and brought Red King to a halt. There wasno danger that the two men would discover him, for all objects in thevicinity were rapidly being blotted out by the dancing smother of dustthat was riding the north wind. Lawler was to the north of the men,slightly eastward, and they could not have faced the smother of dust tolook toward him.
Lawler could dimly see the herd moving toward the fence; he could seethe men plainly; and as he watched them his eyes narrowed. The big horseleaped with the word he caught from his rider's lips, racing lightlywith the wind toward the fence where the men were working.
Lawler's approach was noiseless, for all sound was engulfed in thesteady, roaring whine of the storm. Neither of the two men, working atthe fence, heard Lawler as he brought the big horse to a halt withinhalf a dozen paces of them.
The taller of the two, plying a pair of wire-nippers, completed his workat a fence post and turned to leap toward another. The movement broughthim against the muzzle of Lawler's horse. He halted jerkily, retreated astep, and looked up, to see Lawler looking at him from behind the muzzleof the big pistol that had leaped into his hand.
There was no word spoken--none could be heard at the moment. Whatfollowed was grim pantomime, with tragedy lurking near.
The tall man held his position. He had tentatively extended his righthand, the fingers spread, clawlike. Now the hand was going upward,accompanied by the other. When the man had stepped backward to escape acollision with Lawler's horse, the wind had whipped his hat from hishead. He now stood there, his hair waving to the vicious whims of thegale, veiling his eyes and he not daring to lower his hands to brush itaway.
The shorter man, too, had assumed a statuesque pose. He had turned whenhe had noted his companion's startled movement, and he, too, had seen anapparition that had sent his hands swiftly upward.
The big horse stood motionless, his back to the wind. He did not move asLawler leaped from his back--smoothly, quickly, his eyes alert, hismuscles tensed for violent action.
The men stood rigid while Lawler jerked their pistols from theirholsters and tossed them into the dust waves that danced and swirledaround them. The short man was catapulted against the tall one with aviciousness that staggered both; and then they heard Lawler's voice,sharp and penetrating, above the shrieking of the wind:
"Those cattle will be here in five minutes! If you don't have that fencerepaired before then, you drift with them, hoofing it!"
In the allotted time they repaired the fence, working with breathlessenergy, while Lawler stood near, the menacing gun in hand, a saturninesmile wreathing his face.
When the herd reached the fence there was no break in it. More--wherethe break had been were three men on horses who took instant charge,easing the cattle down along the fence, heading them eastward toward theshelter they were sure to find if they kept going.
The three men followed the cattle for a mile--until they were goingstraight and fast toward the home ranch. Then Lawler, smiling withbitter humor, motioned the men toward the back trail.
They seemed to know what was demanded of them. They wheeled theirhorses, sending them into the billowy white smother that was now comingin a gigantic wave toward them.
The southern light had gone. A dense blackness, out of which roared agale that robbed them of their breath, struck them. The snow was hurledagainst them like a sand blast, biting deep, blinding them.
It took them more than an hour to travel the distance that lay betweenthe point at which they had cut the fence, and the line cabin. And whenthey reached a windbreak near the structure the two men rode behind it,silent, thankful.
Lawler had ridden forth, prepared for bad weather. His face was nowmuffled in a huge scarf that encircled his neck, and his eyes wereshielded by the peak of the fur cap he wore. He dismounted, waved themen toward a dugout, and watched them as they dismounted and led theirhorses through a narrow door. When the men emerged Lawler led the bigred horse in, leaving the men to stand in the white gale that envelopedthem.
The wind was now roaring steadily, and with such force that no man couldhave faced it with uncovered face. It came over the vast emptiness ofthe northern spaces with a fury that sent into one the consciousnessthat here was an element with which man could not cope.
Lawler emerged from the dugout and closed the door behind him. He barredit, turned and motioned the two men toward the cabin. He followed themas they opened the door and entered. Then, after closing the door andbarring it, he lifted the peak of his cap, removed the scarf from hisneck, glanced around the interior of the cabin and looked coldly at themen.
"Well," he said; "there's a heap of explaining to be done. You can beginnow--one at a time!"