CHAPTER XISOLDIERS
Inthe meanwhile Dave, Sam and Don, who had elected to remain with the Rangers, were learning many new things about Texan life.
A breezy day, white clouds skimming over an expanse of the purest blue, a vast rolling country stretching off and off until it cut in faint, grayish tones against the sky, and in the midst of this several horsemen, was the picture which Dave Brandon contemplated from the top of a gentle rise. It was as refreshing to his artistic nature as the ozone to his lungs.
But he could not linger long, as the horsemen were already drawing far away; so cracking his quirt, he cantered down through the thick grasses, while a pleasant, cooling breeze swept past, toying playfully in its passage with stray locks of hair.
With Sergeant Robson Howell leading the detail, the Rangers, accompanied by Dave, Sam and Don, had been riding since early morning.And now they were approaching the site of a new town, situated not far from the famous “Eagle Pass” Ranch of Colonel Brookes Sylvester. Crowning the summit of a gentle elevation, the center of a fifty thousand acre tract of land which was rapidly being disposed of to home-seekers, they saw the beginning of what might some day become a large and flourishing city.
“The birth of a new town!” remarked Dave quite solemnly.
“And when Colonel Sylvester backs anything, it’s sure to be a success,” exclaimed Sergeant Howell who was riding close by. “Come here five years from now and I’ll wager you’ll be surprised. Sylvester, when the new line of railroad reaches it, is going to take on a boom, which will be heard throughout the state!”
“I believe it,” said Dave.
On all sides were evidences to show that the workers, full of the same enthusiasm that had inspired the early pioneers, would make the Ranger’s prediction come true. Land was being cleared, artesian wells bored, irrigation ditches dug and houses built.
“Yes, sir,” said a man with whom they stopped to talk, “I reckon that within another year thousands of acres will be under cultivation. Nowadays when a town is started it’s started right. Town planning commissions look ahead. They plan so that future generations may be left a heritage which should inspire them to still greater efforts.”
“I don’t believe Sylvester will ever have any narrow, twisting streets like those we see in some of the border towns,” said Sam.
“No, sir, it certainly won’t.”
“This is a good illustration of the way in which the old-time ranchman is being driven farther and farther away,” remarked Dave. “The railroads pushing their way into his territory; the consequent springing up of towns along the route, and the army of home-seekers taking over the tillable lands have made wonderful changes within recent years.”
“Quite right, son,” agreed the man. “But it means only that two things are being done now instead of one.”
“And the ranchers and the live-stock companies are now conducting their business on more scientific principles,” explained SergeantHowell. “Efficiency and economy are words much in use to-day. Pasture lands are well taken care of and cattle and sheep shipped to market in the best possible condition.”
“Sure, it’s all fine and dandy,” grinned Jim Roland. “But if the time ever comes when they git scientific Rangers I’ll quit the force.”
“I say, Sergeant,” a man mounted on a little sorrel pony came jogging up. “Ketched any o’ them there rustlers yit?”
“No,” answered the officer.
“Too bad! I heard the colonel was all-fired mad; says if his stock is raided ag’in, he’ll git up a posse, sure.”
Talking of posses always annoyed the veteran policeman, for it implied an inability on the Rangers’ part to enforce law and order. His deeply bronzed face became suddenly stern.
“We don’t need any help on the job,” he growled in reply. “If you run across the colonel tell him from me that the Texas Rangers will soon clean up this bunch!”
“I certainly hope you do, Sergeant; otherwiseit may keep a whole lot of people away from this town.”
“Sylvester could do better without that kind of citizen,” retorted the officer. “Come ahead, boys.”
After riding around the town-site for a short time, occasionally halting either to watch the various operations or to talk with some of the busy workers, the scouting party headed toward the “Rio Grande.” For miles the horses pounded over an undulating country dotted with thick clumps of timber. And on this grassy range they came across great herds of cattle, the property of Colonel Sylvester.
One moment their forms glistened in the bright clear sunlight, the next were softened by the shadows of the swiftly flying clouds.
The two Ramblers had often ridden in the midst of great herds of longhorns on the Wyoming plains, but this experience was an entirely new one to Don Stratton. He found it hard to repress an uneasy feeling. Hundreds of cattle lifted up their heads to gaze inquiringly toward them. Some began to paw the ground belligerently; from various directions came hoarse bellowings. Everywhere,along their course, animals were sent scampering away, and these little currents, setting others into motion, made Don fully realize what a fearful, irresistible force these cattle would make in a wild stampede across the plains.
Several times he stood up in his stirrups to look earnestly over the backs of the vast army of animals that completely hemmed them in.
“Well, if they ever got started, we’d be in a fine pickle, that’s all,” he murmured, studying with critical attention a gigantic steer, which defiantly forced his mustang to make a detour around him. As his stirrup leathers brushed against the animal’s side he gave a muffled snort of anger, and for an instant stood with lowered head as though about to charge.
Nothing more than an unpleasant jar to Don Stratton’s nerves resulted, however. This part of the journey seemed to drag out interminably, and as they finally rode out of the main herd, to see only scattered groups between them and the vast open range beyond, he felt like shouting with relief.
“I don’t wonder rustlers manage to getaway with stock now and then,” he said to Sam, some time later. “So far we haven’t seen a single cowboy.”
“It probably isn’t as easy as it looks,” replied Sam. “Cow-punchers, no doubt, very quickly discover when any of the stock is missing, and in these days of telegraph and telephone, it doesn’t take long to notify the authorities.”
“Then again, cattle can be driven only at a certain rate of speed,” put in Dave, who had overheard. “There is always a chance, too, that the animals may leave a trail, which expert plainsmen can easily pick up.”
A few miles farther on the rolling, verdured prairie began to be replaced by a rougher country. Yucca, mesquite and cactus grew in greater profusion, and here their mustangs were often obliged to thread a tortuous passage at the bottom of dark, narrow ravines or climb steep slopes, where the great spiked stems of the cactus seemed to bristle threateningly at their approach. The ponies’ hoofs, dislodging stones and earth at almost every step, sent miniature avalanches slipping and sliding down to the bottom.
This progress was slow but steady; therefore none of the lads was surprised when on reaching the crest of a high ridge they saw not far beyond the yellow, sluggish water of the Rio Grande, winding its way through a broad grassy valley.
“That’s certainly a fine sight,” commented Dave. Through half-closed eyes he looked at the sun, a glittering ball, slowly approaching the irregular contours of the Mexican hills. The sky was full of gorgeous color, which, sending a glow over the succession of barren ridges rolling off to the distance, transformed them into objects of delicate and poetic beauty.
“Say ‘glorious,’ Dave, do,” said Sam with a smile.
“That word seems scarcely strong enough to suit the present case,” laughed the other.
“Really, fellows, I’m almost too tired to notice anything,” remarked Don frankly.
“For a tenderfoot, you’re a wonder, Don,” said Carl Alvin. “Eh, Jack?”
“Yes, sir, an’ that there word doesn’t seem strong enough to suit his case either,” grinned Stovall.
Don, his perspiring face streaked with dust, smiled his acknowledgments. He really was a mighty tired lad, and shooting pains and various aches began to run through his frame with decided force. Ten minutes later, however, these discomforts were partially forgotten, for around a bend of the river they suddenly came in sight of a great number of white tents pitched in regular rows amid a grassy, bowl-shaped valley.
“Hello!” he exclaimed.
“An encampment of United States soldiers guarding the border!” explained Joe Kane.
“Mighty interesting,” commented Dave.
“I should say so,” said Sam. “It also seems to remind us of the fact that the relations between our country and its sister Republic across the Rio may become a bit more strained at any moment. Whoa, boy! whoa!”
Boys and Rangers halted, while Sam drew his field-glass from its case.
“Those are the lads that’ll keep the Mexicans on the side they belong,” remarked Roy Cooper.
“But for them they might have beena-swarmin’ across the river like flies,” growled Raulings.
“Don’t forget we’re on the job too,” grinned Chaney.
Sam Randall raised the glass to his eyes. What a marvelous change the powerful instrument wrought. Details as clear and distinct as though the camp were right before them flashed before his eyes. Several big commissary wagons with rounded tops, resembling prairie schooners, all drawn by four-mule teams, stood motionless in a row.
Nearer the foreground a rude structure open at the sides, built of boxes and poles, with a thatched roof of branches and twigs, was evidently the kitchen, for a stove and other accessories of the culinary department reposed in the center. On the outside, a miscellaneous collection of boxes, sacks, and tarpaulin-covered goods was scattered all about.
To the left, a group of soldiers busily unloaded the nearest wagon, while close to the shore of the river a long line of horses grazed in a patch of grass.
“I declare, I almost expect to hear a sentry challenge me!” cried Sam.
“Do let me have a look,” pleaded Don.
After another moment spent in studying the form of a shaggy dog, which having discovered their presence was barking vigorously, the Rambler handed over the glass.
“Ah, jolly fine!” exclaimed Don. “There’s a chap who tipped me a wink—honest it looked so, anyway. Guess he wants us to pay ’em a visit.”
“Nothing doing,” said the sergeant. “This is about the nearest we’ll get to the boys in khaki.”
The binocular was passed from hand to hand until all had had a turn, then the column set into motion again.
A few miles farther on, when all nature but a few streamers of cloud hanging low over the western horizon was enveloped in pearly grays, the horsemen drew rein in an amphitheater formed by low, rugged hills.
Portions of the valley floor were overrun with dense thickets, and on the gray, rocky ridges above were groups of cactus and other plants.
“A jolly nice place to spend the night,” exclaimed Don.
“Fine!” agreed Sam.
“Yes,” drawled Dave as he dismounted and stretched his weary limbs. “And I do hope that it will be a quiet and restful one.”