CHAPTER X

INTRODUCING A PARASITE

In the northeast corner of the Cyclone ranch, not far from the Little Jill, and in a hollow, well screened by hills and timber, One-Eye sat on his horse, smoking a brown cigarette and keeping a satisfied watch over a dozen mangy-looking cattle as they grazed intermittently in a restless, nervous way. They were a pitiful-looking handful, weak, emaciated, their skins showing bald patches and scabs, and they continually licked themselves and rubbed against the trees. While they were restless, it was without snap or vim; they were spiritless and drooping, enduring patiently until death should end their misery.

One-Eye beamed upon them, his good optic glowing with satisfaction. He had gone to some trouble and risk to cut these miserable animals cut of the herd collected by the hasty round-up, and now that he was about to have them taken off his hands he sighed with deep content. To run infected cattle onto the Cyclone's non-infected northern range was very dangerous, for his foreman was direct and unhesitating in his methods. Discovery might easily mean a bullet above One-Eye's blue-red nose--and this accounts for that puncher's satisfaction. Some men will do a great deal for ten dollars.

"D--n if they ain't beauts," he chuckled. "When it comes to pickin' out th' real, high-toned wrecks, th' constant scratchers, why I reckon I 'm some strong. He says to me 'Get th' very wust, One-Eye,'--an' I shore has obeyed orders. That two-year-old tryin' to saw through that cottonwood is a prize-winner when it comes to scabs--his tail looks like a dead tree in a waste of sand, th' way th' hair 's gone. Wait till he gets rubbin' hisself through th' brush across th' river, where Peters' cows like to hang out. He 'll hang mites on every twig; an' this kind o' weather will boom things. I heard tell that Peters examined that new herd extra cautious afore he bought it--well, boxcars an' pens can hand out itch a-plenty, so he can't prove they got it from us." He pulled out a battered brass watch and gauged where the broken hands would be if they were all there to point. "He 's due in ten minutes an' he 's usually on time. Yep: here he comes now. I 'll get my ten afore I do any more work--wish I could get ten dollars as easy every day."

Dave cantered up, his eyes fastened intently on the cattle, and he laughed cynically as he turned and regarded the puncher. "Well," he grinned, "I reckon you got th' wust that could stand bein' drove. Come on; we 'll get 'em off our hands as quick as we can--I don't want to answer no questions right now. It 'll be like puttin' a match to dry grass, th' way this dozen will cut down Peters' cows."

"It shore will," replied One-Eye. "Got that ten handy?" he inquired, carelessly.

"Why, they ain't across th' river yet," replied Dave, frowning.

"They 'll get across when I gets my ten," smiled One-Eye.

"Here 's th' money!" snapped Dave, angrily, as he almost threw the gold piece at his companion. "Fust time I was ever told I could n't be trusted for ten dollars."

"Oh, I trust you, all right--on'y I worked plumb hard for that coin, an' I want to feel it, like. Come on--take th' south side--I 'll handle th' rest."

The herd moved slowly forward into a dry ravine and finally came to the river bank. They hadn't life enough to give trouble until they understood what they were expected to do. Then the everlasting, thick-headed obstinacy, the perverse whims which all cows have to an outrageous extent, asserted itself in a manner wholly unexpected in such tottering hulks of diseased flesh. They did everything but get wet, even showing a returning flash of spirit in the way they swung their heads and kicked up their heels. Time and time again they broke and ran along the bank, and always in Dave's direction, who, until now, had nursed the belief that he was something of a cow-puncher. When half-dead cows unhesitatingly picked him out, time after time, for an easy mark, and simply walked through his defence, it was time to exchange ideas on some things.

At first One-Eye was greatly amused. He liked Dave well enough but he hated Dave's conceit--and to be present at his companion's discomfiture was very gratifying. But gradually One-Eye grew restless unto peevishness and a vast contempt settled upon him, edging his temper with a keenness rare to him. He had been trying to get one dozen imitation cows to cross an ordinarily wide river, and neither coldness nor unusual depth had any bearing on the matter. As he wondered how long he had been engaged in watching Dave's blunders and jerked out the brass watch to see, his voice rumbled and boomed with a jarring timbre and suddenness that make Dave jump.

"What th' h--l d' you think yo're doin'?" demanded One-Eye. "'Allamanleft' an' 'Ladies chain' is all right for a dance, but it 's some foolish out here. An' somebody 's goin' to lope along this way an' see us, if you don't quit makin' a jackass out er yo'rself."

Stung to the quick, Dave wheeled to face his critic, his pent-up rage almost hysterical. He had held it in, choked it back, and forced himself to be calm, but now--his purpose was never disclosed, for at the instant he wheeled, the watchful cattle leaped through the opening he had made and headed for the hills, their heads down and tails up. Dave hesitated, glancing from One-Eye to the cattle and back again, his face white and pinched. One-Eye's anger melted under his impelling sense of the ridiculous and, slapping his thigh a resounding smack, he burst into roars of laughter, until he was bent in his saddle like a man drunk or sorely wounded.

"This yer 's a circus," he finally managed to cry. "Don't get mad, Dave: we 'll make 'em cross this time or they 'll float down like logs. Come on."

When they rounded up the bunch and started it toward the river again the cows were surprisingly docile and the two drivers exchanged wondering glances. At the river edge the dozen hesitated for a moment while they nosed the water and at One-Eye's wondering command, pushed into the stream, scrambled out on the farther bank, and walked slowly into the brush. Dave's hypnotized senses were all in his eyes and he barely heard his companion speak.

One-Eye prefaced his remarks with a fluent burst of profanity, and cogitated aloud: "Cows is worse than wimmin! They _is_! Of all th' crazy hens what ever a man drove, them dozen mangy critters has got 'em all roped an' tied! What in h--l do you _think_ of 'em?"

"I ain't thinkin', One-Eye," softly replied Dave. "I 'm prayin' for strength an' fortitude. I figgers I can drop th' last six from where I 'm sittin', an' it's some temptation!"

One-Eye ironed out his grin. "I'm some tempted myself, Dave. There 's things in a cowman's life to drive him plumb loco. I 've been part loco more 'n once. Mum? You bet I 'll keep mum. You don't reckon I 'm hankerin' for to collect no cold lead, do you?"

Dave scarcely heard him. He was looking across the river, a smile on his face. Before him was the Rocking Horse, and south of it, so close as to appear a part of it from that angle, lay the Hog Back. He had planned well, he told himself, when he had decided to turn infected cattle on the Double Y at that point.

"Now, they ain't goin' fur to be found while they stops near ol' Hog Back, Dave," One-Eye was saying. "Nobody hardly ever rides that way, an' they 'll drift down where th' grass is better, soon as they finds out what they 're up agin. Wonder if it was true about that feller ridin' th' Rockin' Horse all day long?" he asked, curiously.

He would have talked all day if given half a chance, but his companion, knowing One-Eye's inability to gracefully terminate a conversation, or effect a parting, mercilessly performed the operation himself. "I 'm goin' south, One-Eye. See you in town, some night," and Schatz' _protege_ cantered away, and became hidden by the brush and hills of the rough country skirting the river.

One-Eye looked after him. "Black devil!" he scowled. "If anybody gets plugged for this, you can bet it won't be little Davy. I wonder what th' Dutch Onion knowed that Dave didn't want told? Well, when me an' him is together my gun hand ain't never far from home--but I 'm surprised he did n't pump lead into me when I laughed like I did. I plumb forgot, then. Come on, boss; home for us, an' sudden. I ain't hankerin' none to be seen 'round here, _now_."