The Pony Rider Boys in Texas Part 25

"Yes, I should say they were. I reckon the trouble is coming, kid."

A horseman dashed up to the camp that lay enshrouded in darkness, save for the lantern that hung at the tail board of the chuck wagon.

"Roll out! Roll out!"

It was the voice of Curley Adams.

The cowpunchers scrambled to their feet with growls of disapproval, demanding to know what the row was about.

"What is it, a stampede?" called Big-foot, hastily rolling his blankets and dumping them in the wagon.

"No; but it may be. The boss wants the whole gang to turn out and help the guard."

"For what?"

"The cows are restless. They're knocking about ready to make a break at any minute."

"What? Haven't they bedded down yet?" asked Big-foot.

"No, nary one of them. And they ain't going to to-night."

"I knew it," announced the cowman, with emphasis.

"Knew what?" asked Tad.

"That we were in for trouble. And it's coming a-running."

By this time the horse wrangler had rounded up the ponies, and the cowboys, grumbling and surly, were hurriedly cinching on saddles. A few moments later the whole party was riding at full gallop toward the herd.

"Where's the gopher?" inquired Big-foot, after they had ridden some distance. "Did we leave him behind?"

"I guess Chunky is asleep," laughed Tad.

"Best place for him. He'd have the herd on the run in no time if he was to come out to-night. Never knew a human being who could stir up so much trouble out of nothing as he can. We're coming up with the herd now. Be careful where you are riding, too."

All was excitement. The cattle were moving restlessly about, prodding each other with their horns, while guards were galloping here and there, talking to them soothingly and whipping into line those that had strayed from the main herd.

Bunches of fifteen or twenty were continually breaking through the lines and starting to run. Quirts and ropes were brought into use to check these individual rushes, the cowmen fearing to use their weapons lest they alarm the herd and bring on a stampede.

"What's the trouble!" demanded Big-foot as they came up with the foreman.

"I don't know. Bad weather, I guess. The evil one seems to have gotten into the critters to-night. Lead your men up to the north end of the line. We will take care of these fellows down here as best we can."

The men galloped quickly to their stations. Then in the driving rain that soaked and chilled them the cowmen began their monotonous songs, interrupted now and then by a shout of command from some one in charge of a squad.

There was no thunder or lightning this time. The men were thankful for that; it needed only some sudden disturbance to start the animals going.

The disturbance came after an hour's work. The cowmen had brought some sort of order out of the chaos and were beginning to breathe easier.

Stallings rode up to the head of the herd giving orders that the cattle be pointed in and kept in a circle if possible. To do this he called away all the men at the right save Tad Butler and Big-foot Sanders. As it chanced, they were at the danger spot when the trouble came.

Chunky had been awakened by the disturbance in camp, not having fully aroused himself until after the departure of the men, however. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, grumbling about the weather and expressing his opinion of a cowpuncher's life in no uncertain terms.

Finding that all had left him, the lad decided to get his pony and follow.

"What's the matter, Pong?" he called, observing the Chinaman up and fixing the curtains about his wagon.

"Allee same likee this," answered Pong hopping about in imitation of an animal running away.

"He's crazy," muttered Chunky, going to his pony and swinging himself into the saddle.

Chunky urged the animal along faster and faster. He could hear the cowboys on beyond him though he was able to see only a few yards ahead of him. However, the boy was becoming used to riding in the dark and did not feel the same uncertainty that he had earlier.

"I'll bet they are getting ready to run away," he decided.

In that, Stacy was right. Before he realized where he was he had driven his pony full into the rear ranks of the restless cattle.

Chunky uttered a yell as he found himself b.u.mping against the sides of the cows and sought to turn his pony about.

The startled steers nearest to him fought desperately to get away from the object that had so suddenly hurled itself against them. Instantly there was a mix-up, with bellowing, plunging steers all about him.

"Help! Help!" shouted the boy.

Now his pony was biting and kicking in an effort to free itself from the animals that were prodding it with horns and buffeting it from side to side.

Only a moment or so of this was necessary to fill the cattle with blind, unreasoning fear. With one common impulse they lunged forward. Those ahead of them felt the impetus of the thrust just as do the cars of a freight train under the sudden jolt of a starting engine.

"What's up?" roared the foreman.

"They're off!" yelled a cowman.

"Head them!"

"Can't. They're started in the center of the herd."

With heads down, the entire herd was now charging straight ahead.

Big-foot Sanders and Tad Butler, nearly half a mile ahead, felt the impetus, too.

"Keep your head, boy," warned the cowpuncher. "We are in for a run for our money, now."

It came even as he spoke. With a bellow the cattle started forward at a lively gallop.

"Whoa-oo-ope!" cried Big-foot, riding in front of the plunging leaders.

He might as well have sought to stay the progress of the wind. The leaders swept man and boy aside and dashed on.

"Better keep them straight and not try to stop them, hadn't we?" shouted Tad, with rare generals.h.i.+p.

"That's the trick! Can you hold your side?" roared Big-foot in reply.