Plentywood herald. [volume] (Plentywood, Mont.) 1908-current, 1927-03-18

watchin' the bunch. Like Mr.. Steer the
confidence he's got in his brothers mighty
frail.
But these lonesome cattle / started to
tell you about is the ones that a puncher's
most liable to run onto In the dark, layin'
out that way from the herd. If you ride
onto him singin' 1t don't startle Mr.. Steer
he raises easy. holdin' his ground till you
pass; then he lays down in the same place.
He's got the ground warm and hates to
quit her. Cows, the same as humans, like
warm beds. Many's the time in cool wealth
er I've seen some evil-minded, low-down
steer stand around like he amt goin' to
bed, but all the time he's got his eye on
some poor, understood brother layin' near
by, all innocent. AS soon as he thinks the
grounds warm he walks over, horns him
out an jumps his claim. This lowdown
trick is sometimes practiced by punchers
when they got a gentle herd. 1t don't
hurt a cowpuncher's conscience none to
sleep in q bed he stole from a steer.
Dangerous Antics
"If you ride sneakin' an noiseless onto
one Of these lonesome ~fellers, he gets right
to his feet with dew-claws an hoofs rat
Tim, an S unnin' before he's half up.
hittin' the herd like a canned dog, an,
quicker than you can bat an eye, the whole
herds. gone. Cow are slow animals. but
scare IN an they're fast enough /. a thou
sand will get to their feet as quick as one.
It's sure a puzzler to cowmen to know
how a herd win all scare at once. an every
animal will get on his feet at the same
time. I've seen herds do what a cow
puncher would call jump-that is to raise
an not run. I've been lookin' across a
herd in bright moonlight-a thousand head
or more, all down; with no known cause
there's a short, quick rumble, an every
hoof's standin'.
i've read of stampedes that were sure
dangerous an scary, where a herd would
run through q camp upsettin wagons an
tr0mpin' sleepin' cewpunchers to death.
When day broke they'd be fifty or a hun
dred miles from where they started, leavin'
a trail strewn with blood, dead cowpunch-
ers an bosses, that looked like the work
of a Kansas cyclone. This is all right in
books, but the Teller that writes EN- is
romancin' an don't savvy the COW. Most
stampedes is noisy, but harmless to any
body but the cattle. A herd in a bad
storm might drift thirty miles In a night
but the worst run / ever see, we amt -four
miles from the background when the day
broke.
Going On Shift
'This was down In Kansas we're trailin
beef an have got about seventeen hundred
head. Barrin' a few dry ones the herds
straight steers, mostly Spanish longhorns
from down on the Cimaron. We're about
fifty miles south Of Dodge. Our herds
well broke an lookin' fine, an the COW.
punchers all good -natured, thinkin' of the
good time comm in Dodge.
THAT evenin' when were .ropin' oul
uUhbtb IUT ulSut EudTu, the LIdii uUsSt OlN
Spanish, we call him The amt no rea
Spaniard, but he's rode some In old Mexico
an can talk some Spanish), says to me
Them cattle ought to hold we'll; they ain
been on water four hours an we grazet
'em plumb onto the background. Every
hoof of 'em 8 got a paunch full of grass
an water, an that's what makes cattle lay
good
"Me an a Teller called Longrope's on frs
J guard. He's a center-ire or single-cincl
man from California; packs a sixty foo
rawhide RATA, an when he takes her dow
an runs about half of her into a loop sh,
looks big, but when 1t reaches the animal
comes pretty near fttin' hoof or horn.
never went much on these long-rope boys
but this man comes as near putin his lo0I
where he wants as any ! ever see. Yol
know Texas men amt got much love for
single rig, an many's the argument me an
Longrope has on this subject. He claims
center fire is the only saddle, but ] lov
that they'll do all right on a shad-belliet
western boss, but for Spanish pot-guttet
ponies they re no good. You're ridin' up OF
his withers all the time.
when we reach the background most o
the %cattle's already down, lookin comfort
able. They're bedded In open country, an
things look good for an easy night lti
been mighty hot all day, but there's {
little breeze now maxim 1t right pleasant
but down the west | notice some nasty
lookin' clouds hangin' round the new moor
that's got one horn hooked over the SKY
llut, HI 80 ldI Uu tudi yVu tuH Just utdl
her rumble, but she's walkin' up on III
slow, an I'm hopin' she'll go round. Thu
~cattIe's all layin' quiet an nice, so me an
Longrope stop to talk awhile.
"". .Tne aamn 1ag gnjet' qu seys s ssye y il like sow
to lay still all right, but | want some o
the natural noises that goes with a here
this size. | want to hear 'em BLOWN OF
an the creakin' of their joints, shown
Listen, an If you hear anything I'll ca
that rim1re saddle Of ~yours-grass rop
an all
Before the Storm
~ didn't notice till then, but when
s~traighten my ears it's quiet as a grave
An IL 1t amt for the lightnin' shown tn
herd once In a while, l couldn't "a believed
that seventeen hundred head of longhorn
lay within forty feet of where I'm sittin
on my boss. It's gettin' darker ever.
minute, an If it wasn't for Longrope'
slicker / couldn't "a mad him out, though
he's so close | could have touched hin
with my hand. Finally 1t darkens up 81
| can't see him at all. It's black as
nigger's pocket; you couldn't find you
nose with both hands.
II remember askin' Longrope the time
az guess I'll have to get help to fin'
the timepiece,' says he, but gets her afte
his cigarette takes a long draw, Hghtin VI
Half past nine says he.
"'Half an hour more says. Are yol
g0in' to wake up the next guard or di'
you leave 1t to the hoss-wranglerr
"There won't be but one guard tonight
he answers, AN Wen ride IT.. You nigh
as well hunt for a boss thief In heaven a
look for that camp. Well, | guess III
mosey round; an with that he quits me.
A Deathly Calm
"The lightnin' g p1ayin' every little while
1t amt maxim much noise, but lights VI
enough to show where you're at. Their
aims no use ridin', by the flashes ! cal
see that every heads Town. For a secon'
It'll be like broad day, then darker thai
the dungeons of hell, an | notice the httl
hre-balls on my hoss's ears; when ! spi
there's a streak in the air like strikin'
wet match. These little fire-balls is all
can see OF my boss, an they tell me he
~lIstenin' all ways: his ears are never still
II tell you, there's something might
ghostly about sittin' up on a boss 20
can't see, with them two little blue spark
out In front OF you wigglin' an movii
like a pair OF spook eyes, an u shows m
b the old night boss is usiD's his listener
iuIauty Uaf INV auru qaQLQd fOp hen rif