Chapter V: A Rattlesnake Round-Up

Frank Allen could see now where Lanky got his horror of snakes, since his mother seemed to have the same detestation and fear of them.

He looked at Minnie, as though wondering whether she would back the older lady up in that astounding assertion. One prairie rattler would be bad enough, but to speak of a whole den, and so close to the ranch house as that, seemed a bit as though Mrs. Wallace unconsciously magnified things.

But to his surprise Minnie immediately nodded her head.

"Yes, there were ever so many of the nasty wriggling things, Frank," she assured him in her convincing way. "Some were monsters, and others teenty little bits of snakes, but full of fight just the same, big or little."

Frank could suspect there might be a story connected with their adventure in which Minnie had played the part of heroine. He realized, however, he must depend on Lanky's mother to tell the facts, for Minnie had never been one to boast of anything she did.

"What happened to stir them up so, do you know?" he asked Mrs. Wallace.

"Oh! it was my ignorance--foolishness I'd better call it," she told him frankly. "I certainly did think it was a locust buzzing, and stepped over to see the little drummer, when--I almost stood on a bunch of curled-up baby snakes. Why, Frank, there was a dreadful monster all coiled with its head drawn back, ready to strike at me and that buzzing sound going harder than ever."

She shut her eyes as though once again seeing the fear-inspiring sight.

"But--it didn't strike you Mom?" asked Lanky weakly.

"No," replied Mrs. Wallace, turning a fond look on her companion. "Just in the nick of time this brave girl snatched me back, exactly as if she had all the strength of Lige Smith in her arm!"

Frank felt prouder of Minnie than ever before--to hear how in time of an emergency she could act promptly, instead of squealing as some girls certainly would have done.

"Then I fainted from the shock," the lady continued, "but not before I saw that snake dart out of coil in the effort to reach me and, failing, draw back again on the defensive. Minnie actually dragged me, with all my weight, some distance away from the reptiles' den, and when later on I came to, there was not a single snake in sight."

"Min, you're just the finest trump ever," exclaimed Lanky. "I sure take off my hat to a girl like you. But didn't you two hear all the noise that was going on up around the ranch house?"

"Yes, I heard it, and was puzzled to know what the shouting and all that black smoke could mean," Minnie admitted. "But your mother still lay in that swoon, and my first duty was to her."

"She actually went past the den again, so as to get some cold water from the spring," explained Mrs. Wallace, turning to her husband, who arrived just then. "It was that that revived me. But I felt so weak and shaky that although both of us were greatly concerned on account of the dreadful sounds we heard and all that black smoke, we were some time in getting started for the house."

Minnie had left the group, knowing that Mrs. Wallace would be telling it all over again to her husband, and of course repeating her praise. Frank understand the modesty that could not bear to hear her own heroism praised, and he hurried after Minnie, walking with her to view the now almost gutted barn, which would soon be only a blackened pile, never to be rebuilt.

Great was the surprise of Lige Smith and the other punchers when they learned from Frank what had happened to alarm the ladies.

"Did you ever hear of such colossal nerve as those snakes showed in locatin' so close to human beings and actually fixing up a vipers' nest?" burst out Lige. "Boys, I take it that looks like a deadly insult. Reckon as how we ain't no use around these diggings, since the ole barn's a goner. Let's get busy and clean out that snake hole."

Nothing could please the punchers better, and there was an immediate scurrying around for poles and anything else that was likely to prove useful in bringing destruction to the "owdacious rattler crowd," as Jerry Brime remarked.

Of course, all three boys went along with the crowd to see how the extermination of the prairie rattlesnakes progressed. Lanky smothered his abject dislike and vowed he would be the death of that big reptile because of which his mother had just passed through such suffering.

"I'd like to say I'd given one of the wrigglers a stiff crack on the head so's to break his scaly neck," he confided to Paul, who limped along, bent on seeing all the fun there was to see.

"And you could get the rattles to show when you tell the yarn," suggested Paul. "I've got three of the same at home--used to hunt snakes every spring, just to know there was one less poisonous creature laid out stiff."

The crowd were soon on the spot. They found that the nest of snakes was not a creature of the imagination. Several "bouncers," as Lanky called them, set up a droning buzz as the party approached, and being quickly located were attacked with the poles and pistols.

Frank and Lanky were in the midst of the fray. A big rattler came for Frank, but he caught the reptile in the head with a rock.

"Look out!" yelled Lanky suddenly.

Frank whirled around, to see a medium-sized snake in the act of dropping from a bush just behind him. He flung another rock and at the same instant Lanky hit the snake with a club he carried.

"On your guard, boys!" yelled one of the cowboys. "We're in a nest of 'em."

"This is too much for me!" gasped Paul, and lost no time in limping to a distance.

"Take that!" yelled Frank, and struck at another snake with a pole he had picked up.

"There you are," came from Lanky, and he quickly dispatched three small snakes squirming from between some rocks. He had hardly done this when he gave a mad yell as another snake wound itself around his ankle.

Crack! It was the report of Lige Smith's pistol. He had aimed at the snake's head. His aim was true and the reptile dropped to the ground and went whipping out of sight in the bushes.

"Gosh, but that was a narrow escape," murmured Lanky, his face growing pale.

"I'll say so," was the reply. "But come on, there are more snakes over yonder."

The work of fighting the reptiles went on, and when the big ones had been settled even Paul took a hand in cleaning out what remained.

"Say, Frank, did you see me get a crack at that corking big one?" Lanky exclaimed, beaming with excitement and the knowledge that he was gradually overcoming his excessive fear of the entire snake family.

"It may be the granddaddy of the whole bunch," Frank told him, "and, as like as not, the very one that struck at your mother."

"I'm believing in that way, anyhow," affirmed the tall boy. "And now for getting his rattle box."

"Be sure to cut his head off first," warned Frank. "I've known of cases where a rattler believed to be done for was able to coil up and strike a fellow's leg with his poisoned fangs."

When the punchers and the boys got through with their self-imposed job there was not a live snake, small or large, in all that patch of woods.

"We'll sure keep our eyes peeled after this," said Lige Smith, as they started back to the ranch house "and it's a pipe cinch no snakes are ever going to hole out again in our wood patch."

Of course, Mr. Wallace was sorry to lose all the hay and straw that had gone up in smoke and flames, for it might prove useful during the coming winter season.

"But for one thing," he told Frank, when on another day they were talking over numerous plans, "we'll never think of rebuilding that barn, not having the same apprehension of forage shortage that haunted Uncle George. Besides, Lige assures me the winters are getting milder every season up here in the shadow of the Rockies, and that there will always be plenty of grass for our small herd."

The three boys were by degrees preparing to start on the long cherished trip to the mountains. Gold Fork and all its traditions of former glories before the diggings panned out, lured them more and more every day.

Lanky had persisted in his endeavor to prove himself of real cowboy caliber. He could ride any bronco that came his way, sticking on as he called it "like a burr in a darky's wool."

But one thing Frank noticed that roused his curiosity a bit. Somehow, the often expressed intention on Lanky's part to own and proudly wear as natty a pair of fringed and decorated "chaps" as any puncher could boast, seemed to have died out completely.

"What's happened to make you change your mind about those gaudy chaps, Lanky?" Frank asked one day, as their preparations for their trip neared completeness.

Lanky grinned good-naturedly.

"Shucks! I've only been looking around and observing some things that I didn't know before, Frank."

"As what, for instance?" demanded the other smilingly.

"First off the bat, it isn't the chaps that make the genuine puncher. I've noticed that generally the greenhorn has the niftiest outfit you ever laid eyes on and struts around when decked out like he owned the whole world."

"But, Lanky, every puncher does have chaps, and often more than one pair."

"Sure does, Frank. But--and here's where my argus eyes came in good--the finest rig he owns he keeps for extra occasions, like going to a dance or when taking cattle to the station for shipment; because, don't you see, on those special events he's apt to run across some of the girls."

Frank laughed at that, and wagged his head in appreciation.

"Your sagacity does you credit, Lanky."

"Look at our bunch at work on the range, rounding up strays, branding the youngsters, or doing any sort of work like that. Why, some of 'em even wear plain faded jean overalls, and the only things that would tell you they were punchers are their cowboy hats and the ropes they always carry."

"I can see you're making the grade, all right, old chum," chucked Frank. "And I give you a heap of credit for taking note of such happenings. Not much gets past your eyes--while they're open, I mean, Lanky."

As it happened, when they had almost forgotten all about the hovering peril that had given them so much concern a month and more previously, it was fated to once more awaken into life to annoy them.

It was Paul this time who made the discovery. He had been unfortunate on this visit to Rockspur, in having sprained his ankle, which was slow to heal. This had kept him in the background at times when his two chums were meeting all sorts of lively adventures.

Frank and Lanky had retired to the room which they shared in common, and chose to confer regarding what they should take with them and what leave behind. Paul was in the bunk-house listening-in, there being something in the air that night which he particularly wished to hear.

"Well, here's our corrected list," Lanky announced, holding up a bit of paper. "I reckon we've cut it down as close to the bone as we can, and everything I've not crossed off we believe we'll need. Dad will do the same, for I happen to know he always used to travel light when years ago he went into camp. But here comes Paul, so now we can hop into bed and get some sleep.

"Oh! will you?" said Paul, entering in time to overhear this last remark from Lanky. "As our old chum, Jack Eastwick, used always to say, 'maybe, maybe not.' I'm bringing you news that may make you sit up and take notice. That sly little rascal with the bushel head is skulking around again! I glimpsed him while crossing over from the bunk-house!"