The X Bar X boys at the round-up

Pulling his pony to a sudden stop, the rider gazed intently at a cloud of dust sweeping over the horizon. His companion, a slightly younger lad, with facial characteristics so similar that anyone would have instantly labeled these two as brothers, reined in his own mount and likewise stared at the dust cloud.

“Coming?” he asked, more to himself than to his brother.

“Going,” the other answered decidedly. “And he’s not waiting to count his money, either. I’d like to get a look at that hombre, Teddy.”

“For reasons of your own, I guess,” Teddy Manley responded. Then he laughed. “And to what may we attribute this sudden curiosity, Roy?”

“You know as well as I do,” Roy Manley answered shortly. “Just about this time each year I get a craving to know every man who rides as close to our cattle as that--and you should, too. With round-up so near, this is no time for fooling.”

“As the African said when the lion sneezed in his face.” Teddy watched the dust disappear as the distant rider sank down behind a hill. Then he turned his head slowly, his gaze sweeping over the panorama of the brown, sun-drenched mountains, walling in the uneven plains like a gigantic picture frame. “Maybe he’s just viewing the beauties of nature,” the boy said, and urged his horse forward again.

“Or on his way to Sunday-school on Monday,” Roy responded disdainfully. “If he’s interested in scenery, what does he ride like that for? He was sure burning up the ground.”

“Oh, well, I give up,” Teddy declared impatiently. “Give that active mind of yours a rest, will you? Let’s get on the job again. Golly, there’s another break! Have the animals around here taken to eating wire?”

Sliding off his horse and trailing the reins over the animal’s head, Teddy Manley drew a pair of pliers from his pocket and walked toward the fence. His brother, grumbling to himself, followed. Riding fence was not easy work, this late in the year. Somehow, there seemed more labor to be done in the fall than at any other time. They had repaired six breaks in the last mile.

“Bring some of that extra wire,” Teddy called, fingering the top strand of the fence, which dangled loosely. “This will never reach.” He looked at the break thoughtfully, as though wondering how it had occurred. But what he said was: “See if my gloves are hanging on my saddle, will you? My hands are cut now from this stuff.”

“Here’s the wire,” Roy declared, holding out a coil. “And your gloves are in your back pocket. I’ll anchor this end while you splice. Say, this looks as though it had been cut!” He seized the wire excitedly and stared at it. “Look how clean this break is, Teddy!”

“Yea, and look how rusty the other end is, too,” Teddy said sarcastically. “I just wiped this piece off with my hand. Here--pull hard now, and we’ll get this together.”

Grunting and straining, Teddy succeeded in forcing the two loose strands together and fastening them securely. When the task was finished he mopped the sweat from his face and the two boys remounted.

“Your turn to take the next break,” Teddy asserted, as they rode on. “Hope it’s a good one.”

“There won’t be any next,” Roy answered. “We’ll have to ride in now and let someone else start from here to-morrow. We’re supposed to be at the ranch this evening to talk to those two birds from Iowa--the Lefton brothers. Me, I don’t like ’em! But dad seems to think that they’ll take at least twelve hundred head, so we’ll have to dicker with ’em, I guess. Hope we get a good price.”

“Why don’t you like ’em?” Teddy asked curiously. Roy glanced over at his brother in surprise.

“Teddy, that’s the first remark of mine to-day that you’ve taken seriously! So you, too, think there’s something funny about them, do you?”

“I didn’t say so,” Teddy responded.

“You don’t have to say so. Well, spill it! What do you know about ’em?”

“Nothing much,” Teddy answered evasively. “Only they sure asked Nick a lot of queer questions.”

“Did they?” Roy looked eagerly at his brother. “What sort of questions? About cattle?”

“Yes, about cattle--our cattle. Nick said that both of them cornered him down by the bunkhouse, offered him cigarettes, and tried to pump him. Nick told ’em that we had fifty head of shorthorns that were being shipped to the King of Siam, in trade for a herd of elephants. He said that we were going to start an elephant farm out here and grow ivory for our own pool balls.”

“He did? What did they say then?”

“Nothing. Guess they looked at him as if they wondered whether he was crazy, and wandered off. I heard next they got Gus Tripp, and asked him a lot of questions, too.”

“Mighty inquisitive pair of boys,” Roy commented dryly. “Must want to know all about the cattle they buy. Well, you can’t exactly blame them for that, I suppose.”

“They weren’t asking about the kind of cattle they were, but where we grazed ’em. How many head here, how many there, and so forth.”

“You don’t say! Nick tell you that?”

“Gus did. But he didn’t give them any satisfaction. Gus is too wise for that.”

Roy, his tall body straight in the saddle, his head held rigid, remained silent. After a moment Teddy glanced at him and grinned.

“Six times six is thirty-six and six is forty-two! Come out of it!”

“I was just thinking,” Roy said deliberately, “of the Lefton brothers.”

“You don’t tell me! Why, I thought you were trying to do mental arithmetic. So you were thinking of the Lefton boys! Well, well! Now what could have been the cause of that, do you suppose?”

“I was wondering if they really intend to buy cattle,” Roy went on, refusing to reply to Teddy’s sarcasm. “They’ve been hanging around two days now, and never once made an offer. To me, that seems mighty funny. Of course, you, with your superior brain, may think of it differently.”

“Yes, it does look a little like rain, if that’s what you said. Well, to tell the truth, my lad, I had an idea all along that they were a couple of four-flushers. That younger one--Jerry, his name is--talks too loud and too freely. Besides being loquacious, he says too much. And the other--Bill--has a wart on his nose. I don’t like people with a wart on their nose--noses, I mean, maybe warts.”

“We can’t afford to let a customer go because he has a wart on his nose. If they meet our price, we’ll give ’em the dogies, irrespective of what they look like. Tell that cayuse his supper’s waiting for him, will you? We want to get home before dark, you know.”

Checking the reply that rose to his lips, Teddy Manley clucked to Flash, and the bronco lengthened his stride. The brothers were riding on the edge of a shallow gully that dipped down just the other side of the fence. Far to their left the cattle were grazing, content to keep to their own territory and not investigate these two riders. A quarter of a mile farther on, the boys came to a gate in the fence, and went through into the gully. For some distance they followed the ravine, then cut sharp left, and headed home. By riding through the gully they had avoided a steep hill which lay just within the fence.

The day was drawing to a close. The few clouds in the deep blue sky had gathered on the horizon, like white sheep flocking to the fold. The orange and yellow colors of early sunset were already streaking the heavens. A bird, flying low, left a streamer of purling song behind him.

The landscape was dotted with water-holes, some of them dried up from the long summer sun, others containing only moisture enough to cover the bottom. As the boys rode on, Bitter Cliff lookout came into view, and then it was only a half hour to the X Bar X Ranch.

“Well, whoever does get our stock will get one fine bunch,” Roy said suddenly, breaking the silence. “We’ve never had a finer lot. Healthy, every one of ’em.”

“Be a tough break to lose any of ’em now, wouldn’t it?” Teddy remarked absently. “All the summer’s work gone for nothing.”