Chapter XIV: The Sheep Arrive

Among the saddles, horse-gear, weapons, grub and other equipment that had been put in the fort at Spur Creek was a telescope. Remembering this, Bud rushed in to get it, while his companions stood in front of the place, gazing across the stream at the ever-increasing cloud of dust.

"Something's comin' on, anyhow," observed Yellin' Kid.

"Can't be cattle," remarked Snake Purdee. "They ain't spread out enough for cattle."

This was one way of telling, for, as the cowboy said, cattle, meaning by that steers or a herd of grazing horses, separate much more than do sheep, which stick in a bunch as they feed. Still there was no being certain of it until Bud should take an observation through the glass.

"Might be another bunch of Greasers--or rustlers," said Snake, musingly.

"There's plenty of both kinds down there," agreed Nort, with a wave of his hand in the general direction of Mexico, the border of which misruled, unhappy and greatly-misunderstood country was not far away.

Bud came running out with the telescope, pulling shiny brass lengths to their limit before focusing it.

"We'll soon tell now," he said, as he raised the objective glass and pointed it at the cloud of dust, while he squinted through the eye-piece. A moment later, after he had made a better adjustment of the focus, he cried: "It's sheep all right! A big bunch of 'em!"

"Any men with 'em? No, I shouldn't call 'em men," hastily corrected Dick. "No decent man would raise sheep."

In this, of course, he was wrong. Sheep are needful and many a rancher is making a fortune out of them, but at this time, and in this part of the west, a sheep herder was despised and hated by his fellows.

"Yes, there's a bunch of Greasers or some one hazin' 'em on," reported Bud. "Here, Kid, take a look," and he passed the glass to the older cowboy.

The latter could but confirm what Bud had seen and then, in turn, the other three had a look through the telescope, which brought the details of the oncoming herd of "woollies" startlingly near.

"Well, what we goin' to do about it?" asked Yellin' Kid, after they had made sure the sheep were headed toward the east bank of Spur Creek.

"We're going to stop 'em from coming over here," declared Bud determinedly.

"Maybe they don't intend to come," suggested Nort.

"What are they heading this way for, then?" demanded his cousin.

"To get better pasture."

"Well, what pasture there is on that side of Spur Creek won't last the sheep very long!" exclaimed Snake Purdee. "They'll be over here in a couple of days at the most. Reckon they think they have a right to this range."

"Which they haven't," said Bud, "though how dad is going to prove his claim, with the papers gone, I don't see."

"We'll prove it with force--that's what we'll do!" shouted Yellin' Kid. "That's what we're here for. That's what we got our guns for!" and significantly he tapped the one on his hip.

"Yes, I reckon we'll have to fight," conceded Bud with a half sigh. He was not afraid, but he knew in a fight some would be hurt and perhaps more than one killed. And this was not as it ought to be. Still with each side standing on what it considered its rights, what else could be expected?

"How many Greasers they got?" asked Yellin' Kid, after a pause, during which Bud took another observation through the glass.

The boy rancher looked, seemed to be counting and then, as he lowered the glass from his eye, he answered:

"There's a dozen of 'em!"

Significantly Nort silently, but obviously, counted those of his own party. There were but five, for some of the cowboys had been left at Diamond X after the defeat of the rustlers.

"We'd better let your dad know--what say?" asked Kid of Bud.

"I think so--yes. And he'd better send out a few more men. We don't want to take any chances."

This was considered a wise move. But before going in to telephone to his father--for that was the most rapid method of letting him know the situation so he could send help--before going to the instrument Bud asked:

"Say, I'm wondering how, if those fellows intend to take this open range pasture--how are they going to get their sheep over?"

"You mean over the river?" asked Nort.

"Yes. How they going to get the animals across so they can feed on this side?"

For a moment no one answered, then Yellin' Kid replied:

"Why, they'll just naturally haze 'em over; that's all."

"You mean drive 'em through the creek?" asked Bud.

"Sure."

"The water's too deep."

"Maybe there's a ford," suggested Kid.

Bud shook his head.

"I tried to find one for my horse the other day," he said. "I thought I had but it was a quicksand and I was glad enough to get out without being stuck. There's no ford now for miles up and down the Creek from here--that is, none that I know of, especially not since high water."

For the level of Spur Creek had risen in the last few days, since the professor crossed, caused, it was learned later, by the diversion into the creek of a larger stream by some irrigation plan company further north.

"Well, if they can't make the sheep wade over they can swim 'em, can't they?" asked Dick.

"'Tisn't so easy to make sheep swim," declared Yellin' Kid with a shake of his head. "Sheep are scary critters at best. You might get them in the water if you had a good leader, but if I was a sheep man--which I never hope to be--I'd think twice 'fore I'd float 'em across a stream, 'specially if it had quicksands in."

"Well, this has," affirmed Bud. "They come and go, the quicksands. They weren't here the other day but they're here now."

"Maybe they're going to ferry 'em across," suggested Nort.

"Where they going to get boats?" asked Snake, and that seemed to dispose of this question.

"Though maybe they carry collapsible craft," suggested Dick, but this, of course, was not reasonable or practical.

"No," said Bud, "they either know some way of getting the sheep over here, or else they aren't going to cross."

"They'll cross all right," asserted Snake. "Better let your father know how matters are," he suggested.

Bud went in to ring the home ranch up on the telephone, but he had no sooner given a few turns to the crank--for this was the old-style instrument--than he called out:

"Telephone wire is cut!"