The Boy Ranchers on the Trail | Page 3

some steer--often more than
one--that wanted to run away from the herd. As this might start a
stampede it was necessary to drive the "striker" back, and this was,
often enough, a difficult task.
Bud, Nort and Dick had borne their share of this difficult round- up
task, and now, when the thousand or more of steers, calves and
mavericks had been gathered at Diamond X, the work of tallying them,
branding those that were without marks and shipping away the best was
well under way.
In and out of the herd rode the boy ranchers, doing their best alongside
of more seasoned "punchers." Calves were cut out, thrown and branded,
to be quickly released and again mingle with the herd.
"Oh, I'm Captain Jinks, Of the Horse Marines!"
One of the cowboys, wiping the dust and sweat from his face, with his
big, red silk handkerchief, or, rather, neckerchief, started this song. It
was taken up by half a score of loud voices.
"Yi-yippy!" came in stentorian tones from Yellin' Kid. "This is the
life!"
But as, just then, his pony slipped and he missed the throw he made for
a calf, it is doubtful if Yellin' Kid felt as gay as he sounded.
"Hot work; eh, boys?" asked Mr. Merkel, when Dick, Nort and Bud
rode past to get drinks of water.
"But it's great, all the same!" answered Dick, with shining eyes--eyes
that gleamed amid a face dark with the tan of the western sun and
grimy with the dust of the western plains.

"Glad you like it!" commented the proprietor of Diamond X as he kept
on with his tallying. "How they coming, Slim?" he asked his foreman.
"Couldn't be better! Old Buck Tooth is doing a heap sight more than I
ever dreamed a Zuni could."
"Bud said that his old Indian helper was up to snuff!" commented Mr.
Merkel. "I'm glad to know it. Heard anything from Double Z?" he
asked, and there was an anxious note in his voice.
"No, Hank and his gang seem to have quieted down after what I told
'em!"
"Well, I hope he doesn't make trouble for Bud and the boys. They're
going back to Happy Valley to-night." "So I understand. Oh, shucks!
Don't worry about Hank! He's all talk--he and that blustery foreman of
his, Ike Johnson!"
There had been a dispute between the cowboys of Diamond X and
those of Double Z, a ranch owned by the notorious Hank Fisher, a few
days before the round-up, the subject of dispute being the ownership of
certain mavericks. It had ended with the triumph of Slim Degnan,
foreman of Mr. Merkel's holdings.
And so the round-up went on, the heat, the dust, the noise and
confusion increasing as calf after calf, maverick after maverick, was
branded, and the steers to be shipped were cut out, to be hazed over to
the railroad stock yards.
And yet, with all the seeming confusion, there was order and system in
the work.
"Well, I guess this is the last," remarked Mr. Merkel to his son, as Bud,
with his cousins, rode slowly up to the ranch house, when the final calf
had been cut out and the tally made. "You boys going back after grub?"
"Yep," answered Bud, but there was no enthusiasm in his voice. He,
like his cousins, was too tired. For the day had been a grueling one,

with the heat and hard work.
"You sure did make out a whole lot better than I ever thought you
would," said Mr. Merkel, as he rode along with his son and nephew's.
"Putting water into that valley made a big difference."
"I should say so!" exclaimed Bud. "Our stock will lay over anything
you will ship from any of your three ranches, Dad!"
"I wouldn't wonder but what you are right, Bud! Well, let's wash up and
eat."
One by one the cowboys drifted in, some singing ranch songs in spite
of their weariness. Bud and his cousins were through with their meal
first, and, having persuaded his sister, Nell, to pack a basket of
doughnuts, pie and cheese for him, Bud signalled to his cousins to join
him out at the pony corral.
"Let's get an early start back to Happy Valley," he urged. "It's a long
enough ride, anyhow."
"You said it!" commented Nort.
"Well, there's one thing we don't have to worry about, and that is not
finding any water running into the reservoir," added Dick, as he slipped
in through the gate and caught one of his ponies-- not Blackie, who was
tired out from the round-up. Each cow puncher, including the boy
ranchers, had several animals in his "string."
"No, I guess, since we solved the mystery of the water supply, we'll
have no more trouble,"