“What do you make it to be?” asked Jerry, as Ned was staring through the glass.
“Cattle!”
“Cattle?”
“Yes, steers. Thousands of ’em. And they seem to be headed this way.”
“Let me take a look,” said Jerry. “You’re right,” he added, after an inspection. “They seem to be coming on rather fast, too. I guess we’d better get out of here. Cattle on the prairies don’t like to see persons who are not on horseback. They are not used to a man unless he’s mounted, and I’ve read that a man on foot may cause a stampede.”
“I hope they don’t run in this direction,” remarked Bob. “It’s going to be unpleasant for us if they do.”
“We’d better get out of here,” advised Ned. “Come on, fellows.”
“That’s easier said than done,” retorted Jerry.
“The cattle are all around us. I don’t see how we’re going to get through them. If we go too close we may stampede ’em at once, whereas, if we stay here, they may pass by us, or change their direction.”
“What’s the matter with the cowboys?” asked Rob. “Why don’t they head the animals the other way when they see we’re right in the path?”
“Probably the cattlemen are on the outer edges of the herd,” said Jerry. “The cowboys can’t see us, and they’re simply driving the steers on.”
“But what makes them go in a circle?” asked Bob.
“Probably the men are driving them all in to a central point to take account of stock, or something like that,” was Jerry’s answer. “But, instead of standing here talking of it we’d better be doing something. What do you advise, Professor?”
Uriah Snodgrass, who had discovered some queer kind of a jumping bug in the grass, had lost all interest in the approaching steers, but, at this question, he looked up.
“What did you ask?” he said, making a grab for the bug, and catching it.
“What do you think we’d better do?” asked Ned. “This is getting serious.”
“What is? Oh, the steers. Why, they are getting a little too close, aren’t they?”
They were, for a fact, and the animals in the foremost ranks, catching sight of the little party on the hill, broke into awkward gallop. As far as the boys could see, they beheld nothing but waving tails, heaving heads, armed with long sharp horns, and the movement of brown bodies, as the thousands of steers came on with a rush.
“We’d better—” began the professor, who was walking slowly along, his eyes fixed on the ground, in search for another of the queer bugs. “Look out!” he suddenly cried. “Stand back boys!”
Hardly had he spoken than there sounded, high and shrill above the dull rumble of the oncoming cattle, a queer, buzzing noise.
“Rattlesna” exclaimed Ned.
“Yes, a whole nest of them, in a prairie dog’s hole,” added the professor. “I nearly stepped into them. There must be thirty or forty.”
The boys looked to where he pointed. There, in a sort of depression, near a little hollow, on the edge of what is called a prairie dog village, they saw an ugly wiggling mass, which, as their eyes became more used to the colorings, was seen to be a number of the deadly rattlesnakes.
Several were coiled to strike, and had, in accordance with their habit, sounded their rattles. This had aroused the whole den, many snakes appearing from under ground, or crawling from beneath stones.
“Come on! They’ll chase us!” cried Bob.
“Nonsense,” replied the professor. “Rattlesnakes never attack man unless they are first disturbed. It wouldn’t be advisable to go too close, but, as long as we don’t molest them, we have nothing to fear from the snakes. I’d like to get a few specimens if I had the proper appliances for extracting their fangs. But I never saw so many in one place, before. It is quite interesting to watch—”
The professor broke off suddenly, for the thunderous noise of the approaching steers was now louder.
“They’re coming right at us!” exclaimed Jerry.
“Yes, and they’ve stampeded!” cried Ned. “We’re in for it now!”
The situation of the boys and the professor was extremely perilous. They were right in the path of the now frightened steers. The circle had been broken, by many animals, which had been approaching from the rear of the travelers, joining the beasts on either side, so that now a compact, dark mass of cattle, nearly a quarter of a mile wide, was surging ahead with great speed.
“Run!” called Ned. “There’s an opening at our backs now!”
“You couldn’t go a hundred feet before they’d overtake you!” shouted Jerry. “Let’s see if we can’t frighten ’em. Take off your hats, jump up and down, and yell like mad. If we can force ’em to separate and go on either side of us, we’ll be all right!”
He started to swing his hat in the air, and prepared to let out a series of yells in imitation of an Indian war-whoop.
“Don’t!” cried the professor quickly.
“Why not?” asked Jerry. “It’s the only way to stop ’em.”
“I know a better, and a surer way,” replied the scientist. “Get the rattlesnakes between ourselves and the cattle! Those steers will never go near a rattlesnake den, no matter how frightened they are, nor how badly stampeded! Quick! Here they come!”
The cattle were scarcely two hundred feet away, and were maddened by the sight of unmounted persons, something to which they were unaccustomed, and which thoroughly frightened them. The ground was trembling with their hoof-beats, and the rattle of the horns, as they clashed together, was like the murmur of cannibal tom-toms.
The professor grabbed Bob, who was nearest him, and swung the boy around, so as to get the nest of rattlesnakes between them and the steers. Ned and Jerry followed. The snakes, now all aroused, were rattling away like half a hundred electric batteries working at once.
Would the professor’s ruse succeed? Would the steers be afraid to come over the deadly reptiles, to trample down the little group, which the animals probably took for some new species of enemy? These were questions which the boys waited anxiously to have answered. Nor did they have to wait long.
The foremost of the steers came within a few feet of the rattlers. Then something seemed to stiffen the cattle. They tried to stop short, but the press of the beasts behind them would not permit of this. For a few seconds it looked as if the impetus of the cattle in the rear would shove the others on, in spite of their desire to stop.
But now more of the foremost steers became aware of the den of snakes. Their instinct, their sense of smell, and, above all, hearing the rattling, told them the terrible danger that was in their path. More of the animals braced their forelegs to bring themselves to a stop, and all bellowed in terror. Then, almost as though an order had been given by some one in command, the ranks of steers parted, right at the point where the snakes were reared ready to strike.
To right and left the cattle passed, increasing their speed as they became aware of the danger they were escaping. The boys and the professor stood on the little eminence of land, as if they were on an island in a sea of cattle. The angry snakes hissed and rattled, but did not glide away, or what had proved a source of safety for the travelers, might have been instrumental in their death.
Right past them rushed the cattle, raising a dust that was choking. The four were enveloped in a yellow haze, as they stood huddled together. Then, the last of the steers galloped past, with a band of excited cowboys in the rear, vainly endeavoring to understand the cause of the stampede, and halt it. As they rode on like the wind, they waved their hands to the boys and Mr. Snodgrass.
“Well, I guess we can move on now,” said Jerry, as the last of the steers and cowboys was lost in a cloud of dust that accompanied them. “I’ve seen all the beef I want to for a long time.”
“That’s the first time I ever knew rattlesnakes were good for anything,” remarked Ned, as he backed away, with his eyes on the den of reptiles, as if afraid they would spring at him.
“They are more feared by animals than any other snake in this country, I believe,” said the professor. “Luck was certainly with us to-day.”
The professor successfully resisted a desire to capture some of the snakes for specimens, and soon, with the three boys, he was on his way back to the stalled train, though he did not make very fast progress for he was continually stopping to gather in some strange insect.
It was long past dinner-time when the travelers got back, but they found they were not the only ones in this predicament, for a number of the passengers had beguiled the tediousness of the wait by going off across the prairie.
“Let’s get the porter to get us some sandwiches, and then we’ll watch ’em get the train back on the track,” suggested Jerry.