Browning chief. [volume] (Browning, Mont.) 1941-1953, 1944-03-10
WN.U. RELEASE

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see nor guess. And above the rumble
and clack of their walk the open
mouthed groaning rose to a sharper
key that turned a mans nerves
raw.
He could no longer locate his rock
piles; only slim chance would let
him blunder onto the double butte.
Each hour he could feel himself be-
ing pressed farther into the desert
of the Staked Plain, beyond the last
water that he knew.
Dragging off his saddle and throw
ing it onto the fresh horse that Jim
Hope brought, he spied two masked
figures butting into the wind. Nov
ing toward them, he recognized Clay
Manning and Tom Arnold. They were
shouting together.
He wanted moments talk, some
how the reinsurance of other mems
words. Bending beside them he
yelled, We've sure hit a bad one!"
1t was Clay next to him. His head
turned. The violence of his answer
bulged the handkerchief from his
mouth. "a hell of a time to think
of that! How you going to get US out
of this?"
Tight nerves snapped. ely outI
You got better way?"
"Did have" Clay flung back. "It
was fool move at the start!"
Levi" Tom Arnold thrust him
self in front of them. He looked
shrunken and dried out. "You got
any idea where we are?"
He couldn't have; they knew that.
He shook his head and started to
say, "All we can do" A lash of the
old mans temper cut him off.
"Then, by God, I'm damned if
know what you're here for! This
was no way to comet"
He had no answer; you didn't fight
Tom Arnold's temper. 1t would cool.
And he understood the bitterness Of
what the man could lose. But at the
same time he saw the quick ven
geance in Clay Manning's blood-shot
eyes. He had got in his word with
| Tom.
There was a horse boiling toward
them through the dust. He didn't
see for an instant that it was rum
ming loose, its head up high search
ing for the herd, and that a man
was hunched over, clinging to the
saddle horn with both hands. He
| grabbed its bride. The sudden stop
flung the rider down into his arms.
He pulled the handkerchief off. It
was Steve. Both of his eyes were
| glued shut, the swollen red lids
pulled out of their sockets.
Struggling in the wind he brought
the slack body up against him.
"Steve!" He yelled. cts all right,
boy. Try to walk" Close to his side
Tom Arnold shouted, Get him to
the girls wagon!" and reached out
to help.
Don't worry" he said to Joy.
"Bathe his eyes and let him rest.
He'll be all right" He swung from
| her and fought back to his horse.
But her look went with him, turn
ing him cold with what it showed.
This was what it meant to be trail
boss. Whatever happened he would
get little credit - and all the
blame.
Steve, he knew, was only the be-
| ginning. By nightfau he had led
others one by one back to the wag-
ons. For a short time all the dusty
air around him had turned to gold.
1t was blood red now in the SUM-
| set as he crossed the front of the
herd, counting his men.
Five were left spaced at far-apart
intervals; himself, three older hands,
Quarternight, Joe Wheat and Ash
Brownstone and Charley Storms. AS
he passed each one he warned them,
Don't try to stick it too long"
Sheer fatigue had slackened the
pace. 1t was again slow walk but
as relentless as a powerful machine.
Thirst was what drove these ami
mails now, mad fever that would
keep them going until they found
water or dropped dead Their
hoarse and frenzied bawling was
swept forward around him in waves
that rose and fell and sometimes
burst into almost human screams.
If he hadn't known this same ex-
perience once before he would not
believe that men or beasts could
hold through another hour. You
reached an absolute limit, and then
what kept you going he didn't know.
Yet his aWareness of being dead
tired had passed; a dull, slack feel
ing had come over his body. 1t was
as if he had no weight. He locked
both hands on the saddle horn and
let his head nod.
Then something Weakened him that
was like a cold damp rag wiped
across his face. 1t jerked him up
| right. There was a faint grayness
beyond his swollen lids. He was sud-
denly aware of strange quiet. Then
he saw the cattle, thin line that
trailed behind him, showing their
muzzles through wet grass.
A drop of water splashed from
his hatbrim; he was riding in
misty rain with only part of the
herd that somewhere had split up.
T. l.: