she saw the pole that lay across the river and the debris.
She also saw the bottle ...
Chapter Seven.
Morning came with low clouds and only a hint of red in the sky. From the shelter of trees the three riders looked across at Ashford's camp. A sleepy-looking man was rounding up the small herd of cattle, some fifty head.
Through his glasses Mac could see only one or two men moving about. One was harnessing a team. Another was at the fire.
"Walk your horses until we're close," Happy Jack suggested. "See that gully there? We can come up out of there, but don't get carried away with shootin' to scare the cattle an' forget to hold some lead for those fellers."
"You ready?" Dal asked.
They walked their horses through the brush to the draw, then turned along the draw, which would bring them parallel to the camp and the herd. "That white rock?" Mac asked. "There by that lightning-struck cypress? What say we come out right there? Stampede their cows and ride like Hell for that clump yonder?"
Mac drew his bolstered gun. "Careful you don't get stampeded yourself," Jack whispered. "There's a big bird down here. They call it a whooping crane. If you ain't ready for it you can get scared out of your britches!"
Mac touched his lips with his tongue. The fog was lifting. The morning would be bright and sunny. It worried him that the camp was now out of sight and a dozen men might be waiting with rifles. The chances were against it, but a man never knew.
Happy Jack pulled up near the white rock. "I'll go up until I can see over the edge. When I give the word, come a shootin', but not until we see the cattle."
He climbed his horse up the sloping bank and drew up, holding an open palm behind him to keep them back. Then he spoke. "Herd's not more'n fifty yards off. When you top the ridge, give 'em Hell!"
Their horses scrambled through the sand. Suddenly the last of the fog lifted, and the camp lay bright and clear before them. A man had just walked out of a tent and was stretching. The team had reached the wagon, and another man was bent over reaching for the trace chain.
Happy Jack let go with a wild cowboy yell and jumped his horse toward them, firing a shot, but he did not fire into the air, pulling down instead on the man with the cattle.
Charging and yelling, the three raced at the startled cattle, which took one look and broke into a wild run, right through camp.
The stretching man leaped aside as a wild longhorn lunged at him. The man tripped over a camp-chair and fell sprawling. Another man scrambled for a rifle. The man at the trace chain turned, surprised, and in that moment his team, harness and all, was gone!
The sleeping camp exploded into action. Men scrambled for their rifles. Others ran to escape the charging cattle. The teamster rushed after his running team, swearing.
The cattle, thoroughly frightened, stampeded through the camp and headed out across the salt meadow, eyes distended, horns bobbing!
Dal was the first at the grove, turning quickly to fire, keeping his shots away from the wagon.
A moment and it was over. Dust hung in the air; and men were rushing out with rifles while others were putting out the scattered fire. From the grove, they looked back.
"Anybody hurt?" Mac asked.
"That feller with the cows is hurt," Happy Jack said grimly. "Figured there was no use wastin' a bullet, so I fired right into him. Got him in the belly, an' if you ask me he won't be settin' up for breakfast! Not this morning!"
They were a good hundred yards from the camp. "Let's go," Mac suggested. "They'll be firing into this clump of trees, and we're liable to get singed."
Keeping the trees between them and the camp, they rode away, dropping down behind a row of sand dunes, low dunes but offering cover. A dozen of the cattle walked ahead of them, and Happy Jack chuckled. "Take 'em awhile to round up their beef, if they ever do. We shook 'em up some."
"Won't be so lucky again," Dal said. "Now they'll keep a closer
She also saw the bottle ...
Chapter Seven.
Morning came with low clouds and only a hint of red in the sky. From the shelter of trees the three riders looked across at Ashford's camp. A sleepy-looking man was rounding up the small herd of cattle, some fifty head.
Through his glasses Mac could see only one or two men moving about. One was harnessing a team. Another was at the fire.
"Walk your horses until we're close," Happy Jack suggested. "See that gully there? We can come up out of there, but don't get carried away with shootin' to scare the cattle an' forget to hold some lead for those fellers."
"You ready?" Dal asked.
They walked their horses through the brush to the draw, then turned along the draw, which would bring them parallel to the camp and the herd. "That white rock?" Mac asked. "There by that lightning-struck cypress? What say we come out right there? Stampede their cows and ride like Hell for that clump yonder?"
Mac drew his bolstered gun. "Careful you don't get stampeded yourself," Jack whispered. "There's a big bird down here. They call it a whooping crane. If you ain't ready for it you can get scared out of your britches!"
Mac touched his lips with his tongue. The fog was lifting. The morning would be bright and sunny. It worried him that the camp was now out of sight and a dozen men might be waiting with rifles. The chances were against it, but a man never knew.
Happy Jack pulled up near the white rock. "I'll go up until I can see over the edge. When I give the word, come a shootin', but not until we see the cattle."
He climbed his horse up the sloping bank and drew up, holding an open palm behind him to keep them back. Then he spoke. "Herd's not more'n fifty yards off. When you top the ridge, give 'em Hell!"
Their horses scrambled through the sand. Suddenly the last of the fog lifted, and the camp lay bright and clear before them. A man had just walked out of a tent and was stretching. The team had reached the wagon, and another man was bent over reaching for the trace chain.
Happy Jack let go with a wild cowboy yell and jumped his horse toward them, firing a shot, but he did not fire into the air, pulling down instead on the man with the cattle.
Charging and yelling, the three raced at the startled cattle, which took one look and broke into a wild run, right through camp.
The stretching man leaped aside as a wild longhorn lunged at him. The man tripped over a camp-chair and fell sprawling. Another man scrambled for a rifle. The man at the trace chain turned, surprised, and in that moment his team, harness and all, was gone!
The sleeping camp exploded into action. Men scrambled for their rifles. Others ran to escape the charging cattle. The teamster rushed after his running team, swearing.
The cattle, thoroughly frightened, stampeded through the camp and headed out across the salt meadow, eyes distended, horns bobbing!
Dal was the first at the grove, turning quickly to fire, keeping his shots away from the wagon.
A moment and it was over. Dust hung in the air; and men were rushing out with rifles while others were putting out the scattered fire. From the grove, they looked back.
"Anybody hurt?" Mac asked.
"That feller with the cows is hurt," Happy Jack said grimly. "Figured there was no use wastin' a bullet, so I fired right into him. Got him in the belly, an' if you ask me he won't be settin' up for breakfast! Not this morning!"
They were a good hundred yards from the camp. "Let's go," Mac suggested. "They'll be firing into this clump of trees, and we're liable to get singed."
Keeping the trees between them and the camp, they rode away, dropping down behind a row of sand dunes, low dunes but offering cover. A dozen of the cattle walked ahead of them, and Happy Jack chuckled. "Take 'em awhile to round up their beef, if they ever do. We shook 'em up some."
"Won't be so lucky again," Dal said. "Now they'll keep a closer
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