CHAPTER XIX

Teddy, himself, realized the post of danger that he held. Behind him came some three thousand cattle—some horned and all hoofed with bone as sharp as steel. He, alone, was to guide that thunderous herd into the corral, between the wing-like gates. Half an hour more he had—then the test would come. The boy leaned low in his saddle and patted his pony’s side.

“It’s up to us, Flash,” he said softly. “But I’m glad dad gave me the job. It’ll show what I’m good for, at least. If I fail—I sha’n’t be here to know it.”

He rode onward, never increasing his pace. All thought of Jamisson, of the Lefton brothers, of the fear of rustlers, had left his mind. He concentrated on one thing—getting these cattle into the corral.

There were no more herds to be gathered in. Before him lay open country. Every animal on the range, except, of course, that one bunch of six hundred which had been purposely avoided, was in that crowd of plodding beasts behind him. If a break came now it would mean disaster.

He heard a grunt of impatience from the leading cows and turned quickly. He saw heads being lowered and raised nervously. His eyes swept over a tossing sea of horns. Ten minutes more before the rush would come. Would they hold?

Flash seemed to sense the tensity of his rider, and whinnied softly.

“Steady, boy,” Teddy murmured. “Not yet. Save all you’ve got. We’ll need it later.”

A mile or so in front of him loomed the corral. Was it time yet? Could Flash carry him to safety if he started now?

He glanced back again. The cattle were closer to him, and he had not lagged. That meant that they were moving faster. Their grunts and lowings became more pronounced. A small section on the left broke into a run, goaded into activity by the long, slow march. Those in the center, directly behind Teddy, swerved to the right.

“Here it comes!” thought the boy, breathing jerkily. “Steady, Flash! Just a little faster—jus-s-s-st a little.”

The pony went into the trot. The cattle saw him pulling away from them, and unconsciously increased their speed. The circle of riders in the rear moved forward.

Now the corral was but three-quarters of a mile away. Faster and faster came the cattle. At the instant, Teddy gave Flash his head.

The horse leaped ahead. There was a sound of thunder, and the earth shook as the herd followed madly after the lone rider. A cloud of dust arose, blotting out the sun. Through the haze the corral showed faintly.

“All you’ve got, baby!” Teddy panted. “Take ’em in!”

The pony flashed over the ground like a brown streak. Close on his heels came the cattle, running with all their power, pressed on by those behind. The horse was doing his best, and still he increased the distance between him and the onrushing horns not a trifle. A steer on the rampage shows tremendous speed.

Straight for the winged fences Teddy directed the pony. For a moment they were hidden from view, so thick was the dust, and when they came into sight again the boy was almost within them. And still he kept on.

When it seemed as though he must surely be swept into the corral by the beasts behind him and cut to ribbons under their hoofs, he whirled the bronco. Flash answered the call. He shot to the left, his flank nearly grazed by the horns of the leaders, leaped frantically—and was clear. Teddy’s part was over.

The rushing herd, unable to stop or to change direction, flowed through the gates into the corral. Those in front were smashed solidly against the fence at the extreme end. The others rushed forward, their momentum carrying them where they had no desire to go. Within four minutes it was finished—the cattle were safely within the corral, every last one of them. Sing Lung and Joe, who were waiting, rushed forward and dropped the bars. Teddy had not failed.

Mr. Manley was the first to reach the boy, and Roy was the second.

“Son, you’re there! Congratulations! Boy, you sure turned that trick! Shake!”

Father and son clasped hands in a firm grip.

“Thanks, Dad,” Teddy answered, grinning. “It was as much Flash as it was me. He practically did the whole thing.”

“Don’t let him get away with that!” Roy shouted. “Teddy, congrats! That was a big job. And you did it, too.”

“You mean ‘I done well’,” Teddy laughed. “Baby, I’m sort of shot! Let’s get off these ponies.”

The men, dismounting, crowded about Teddy, shaking his hand, clapping him on the back, none too gently. And this praise was well deserved. It was the first time the boy had been “general” of a round-up, and everything had depended on his skill in starting the rush at precisely the right moment and not swinging out of the way a second too soon. Besides this, he had to keep the pace down at the most dangerous time, half an hour before he “broke” the cattle. In these few minutes the success of a round-up is decided. It means untold labor if the leader bungles his job—and death for the bungler under the feet of the cattle.

The excitement wore off gradually, and the men sat down to their meal. The rest of the days on the round-up were to be spent on unromantic work—cutting out undesirable cattle, branding, “tailing” and so forth. Then the horses held in reserve would be needed, for this work is very wearing on the ponies. A careless puncher can easily ride a horse to death.

During the meal talk flowed freely. The men were relieved of a great responsibility, and they reacted accordingly.

“Teddy, there’s one thing I’m sorry for,” Roy declared, with a wink at his father.

“Yea? Well, go ahead. I suppose it’s some sort of wise crack.”

“Wise crack? Oh, no, nothing like that. I was thinking—”

“Well, spill it! I’m waiting.”

“Golly, Teddy, your face looks as though it had been painted with dirt! All in streaks.”

“What of it? What were you going to say?”

“Oh, yes. I was going to tell you something, wasn’t I? Well it was this.”

He hesitated, until everyone was listening. Then he arose and bowed.

“Teddy, my boy, if Curly could only see you now!”