in theirs.
We watered that night in the Qu'Appelle River. It had been named, so we heard, because an Indian, dropping down the river in a canoe, thought he heard a call from the bank. He waited, listening, then called out himself. There was no reply, so he went on, but since then it has been the Who Calls River. At least that was the story Kootenai Brown told me one night by the fire.
Cap and me looked for cart tracks but found none. There could be other carts, of course, but we knew ours had not passed.
We crossed the river where there were no bluffs and bedded our few cattle on the far bank. It was not a good place, and Cap grumbled a good bit.
Wolves prowled close around the camp, and we did not wish to attract attention by firing a shot.
Several times, we took flaming sticks from the fire and charged at them, but they soon came back.
Between mosquitoes, sand flies, and wolves, we had
ittle sleep. When morning came, I was up early and in a bad mood. There was little to eat, and nobody talked much.
There was crisp grass and sand with occasional swamps. Several times steers went into the swamps to escape the flies, and we had to throw a loop around their horns and drag them out. It made nobody any happier. By the time nightfall arrived, I was almost hoping for a fight, being that irritable.
Yet it was pretty country. There were bluebells and wild roses everywhere and a few small tiger lilies growing here and there. At one place, we came upon acres of bluebells.
In camp, Brandy sat opposite me nursing a cup of coffee, one of the last we'd have if Orrin didn't find us.
'What month is it?' Brandy said. 'I lost track of the days. Now I'm not even sure of the month.' 'June,' I replied, and the thought made me no happier. Time was a getting on, and we'd a far piece to go before snow fell, and at the end we had to find our way through mountains we didn't know and where trails were, we had heard, mighty few.
Looking at the cattle gave me no pleasure. They'd started out in fine shape, but due to long drives and the necessity to keep moving, they'd lost weight.
We had seen no buffalo or even an antelope for days. 'We can always kill a beef,' Cap suggested.
'We may have to,' I said.
Come to think of it, Cap was looking gaunt himself, and Brandy, too. Lin, he never seemed to change, grub or no. His leg, despite the fall, was better.
'We'll lay up tomorrow,' I suggested.
'Maybe we can catch us a mess of fish.' The horses, too, were in bad shape. The rest, little as it was, would do them good, and they did not have to worry about food. There was grass enough to pasture half the stock in Canada.
It was almighty hot. We let the stock feed, and we let them drink. When we moved on, there was going to be none too much water.
Cap was the fisherman amongst us. Him and Lin.
Both of them caught a mess of fish, but Brandy and me couldn't catch cold.
We had fish for supper, and we had fish for breakfast, and nothing tasted any better, seasoned a mite with wild garlic.
We were riding out to start the cattle when I saw our Indian friends. One of them rode up to where we were with a chunk of fresh venison. We took a look at each other and got down from the saddle and broiled and ate it right on the spot.
Little Bear waited, and then he said, 'White man comes.' 'A white man? Where?' 'I see him, alone.' Something about his manner bothered me. It seemed he wanted to tell me more than he knew how, but he just said, 'He ride here.' 'You mean he's coming here?' 'He comes here. He rides here.' Cap got up and wiped his hands on his chaps.
'I think he's tryin' to tell you this gent rides for you.' We looked back toward the river. 'Let him come on,' I said. 'We've miles to go.' We started them out and hadn't gone fifty yards when we saw a lone buffalo calf. When he saw us, he bawled.
'Lost his ma,' Cap said. 'Shall we take him along?' 'Why not?' Cap rode wide and started the calf toward the herd. He did not take to being driven, but the herd had its attractions. Finally, he galloped off and joined the cattle.
We were a good half mile into the sand hills under a blistering sun when the rider caught up with us.
We heard him coming, and I turned in the saddle.
'Well,' Cap said, 'we can use every hand we can get.' He should have been having a hard time of it, but he didn't look like hard times. He looked fat and sassy like he'd been eating mighty well. He rode up and said, 'Howdy! I've missed you boys!' It was Gilcrist.
Chapter XVIII
'You come out alive,' Gilcrist said.
'All of us,' I said. 'Where've you been?' 'Huntin' for you. Livin' off the country.' 'Must've been good country,' Cap commented.
Gilcrist turned sharply, but Cap's features were bland and innocent. Gilcrist turned back to me. 'Lost some cattle, I see.
Ain't much use in goin' on with this little bunch.' 'Beef is beef,' I said. 'I never knew a mining camp to turn down good beef cattle.' He started to speak, then changed his mind. He turned his mount to ride away, and I watched him drop back to where Lin was riding.
'Notice that?' I said to Cap. 'He never asked about the Ox. You'd think a man would at least want to know what happened to his partner.' 'Maybe he knows,' Cap commented. 'Maybe he knows just a whole lot that we don't. If that man's been livin' off the country, he's the luckiest hunter I ever did see.' They rode on for a short distance, and Cap said, 'He's right about the cattle, though. What are all of us doin' drivin' this little ol' bunch of cows? Even sayin' they need beef, this is a mighty small bunch.' 'We taken a contract to deliver beef,' I said, 'and we're going to deliver beef if there's only one cow left when we get there, but I've a hunch we'll have a sight more.
'Where's Tyrel? Where's Orrin? Those boys are somewhere, and if they're alive, they'll have some stock. I'd bet on it.
'Orrin now, he's turned lawyer, but he can still read more'n law books. He can read sign. He's comin' along a trail where he knows we're supposed to be. He's going to be lookin' for sign, and he will learn as much from what he doesn't see as what he does.
If he doesn't find cattle sign where he expects to find it, he will start hunting for it.
'Orrin's a good hand on a trail, and he will know as much of what happened as if we'd left a written-out guide for him.
'What we've got to study on is what's wrong at the other end? What happened to Logan?
Why can't he help himself? Who's threatening to hang him? What's he need the cattle for?' 'Seems plain enough,' Cap said. 'If he can't help himself, he must be sick, hurt, or in jail. Knowin' something of Logan, I'd say he's in jail. He's too mean and tough to be hurt.' 'You may be right. Some of those Clinch Mountain boys are rough. Nice folks, but don't start nothing unless you want trouble.' 'What's he need the cattle for?' 'God only knows! The folks up there need them for beef, that's plain enough. They've probably hunted the country until all the game's been killed off or fled, and minin' men have to eat.' 'You thought about gettin' cattle in over the trails?' Cap asked. 'You an' me, we've covered some rough country, but mostly we just walked or rode over it. We never tried to move no cattle along those trails.
'There's trails up yonder where if a man makes a misstep, he can fall for half a mile. Same thing goes for a cow.' We were in the sand hills now, and water was scarce. Somewhere ahead of us was the elbow of the Saskatchewan or what the Indians called 'The River That Turns.' The cattle began to labor to get through the sand; at times, some of them stopped, ready to give up. We found no water, and the heat was almost unbearable.
Cap came to me, mopping his brow. 'We got to find water, Tell. We've got too few horses, and they're about played out. On a drive like this, we should have three or four horses per man, at least.' 'I wish we had them.' All day they struggled through the sand hills, and only as dark was closing in did they find a small lake that was not
