Essential Novelists - Zane Grey. Zane Grey

Black Star, down,” said Jane.

      He dropped his head, and, slowly lengthening, he bent one foreleg, then the other, and sank to his knees. Jane slipped her left foot in the stirrup, swung lightly into the saddle, and Black Star rose with a ringing stamp. It was not easy for Jane to hold him to a canter through the grove, and like the wind he broke when he saw the sage. Jane let him have a couple of miles of free running on the open trail, and then she coaxed him in and waited for her companion. Lassiter was not long in catching up, and presently they were riding side by side. It reminded her how she used to ride with Venters. Where was he now? She gazed far down the slope to the curved purple lines of Deception Pass and involuntarily shut her eyes with a trembling stir of nameless fear.

      “We'll turn off here,” Lassiter said, “en' take to the sage a mile or so. The white herd is behind them big ridges.”

      “What are you going to show me?” asked Jane. “I'm prepared—don't be afraid.”

      He smiled as if he meant that bad news came swiftly enough without being presaged by speech.

      When they reached the lee of a rolling ridge Lassiter dismounted, motioning to her to do likewise. They left the horses standing, bridles down. Then Lassiter, carrying the field-glasses began to lead the way up the slow rise of ground. Upon nearing the summit he halted her with a gesture.

      “I reckon we'd see more if we didn't show ourselves against the sky,” he said. “I was here less than an hour ago. Then the herd was seven or eight miles south, an' if they ain't bolted yet—”

      “Lassiter!... Bolted?”

      “That's what I said. Now let's see.”

      Jane climbed a few more paces behind him and then peeped over the ridge. Just beyond began a shallow swale that deepened and widened into a valley and then swung to the left. Following the undulating sweep of sage, Jane saw the straggling lines and then the great body of the white herd. She knew enough about steers, even at a distance of four or five miles, to realize that something was in the wind. Bringing her field-glass into use, she moved it slowly from left to right, which action swept the whole herd into range. The stragglers were restless; the more compactly massed steers were browsing. Jane brought the glass back to the big sentinels of the herd, and she saw them trot with quick steps, stop short and toss wide horns, look everywhere, and then trot in another direction.

      “Judkins hasn't been able to get his boys together yet,” said Jane. “But he'll be there soon. I hope not too late. Lassiter, what's frightening those big leaders?”

      “Nothin' jest on the minute,” replied Lassiter. “Them steers are quietin' down. They've been scared, but not bad yet. I reckon the whole herd has moved a few miles this way since I was here.”

      “They didn't browse that distance—not in less than an hour. Cattle aren't sheep.”

      “No, they jest run it, en' that looks bad.”

      “Lassiter, what frightened them?” repeated Jane, impatiently.

      “Put down your glass. You'll see at first better with a naked eye. Now look along them ridges on the other side of the herd, the ridges where the sun shines bright on the sage.... That's right. Now look en' look hard en' wait.”

      Long-drawn moments of straining sight rewarded Jane with nothing save the low, purple rim of ridge and the shimmering sage.

      “It's begun again!” whispered Lassiter, and he gripped her arm. “Watch.... There, did you see that?”

      “No, no. Tell me what to look for?”

      “A white flash—a kind of pin-point of quick light—a gleam as from sun shinin' on somethin' white.”

      Suddenly Jane's concentrated gaze caught a fleeting glint. Quickly she brought her glass to bear on the spot. Again the purple sage, magnified in color and size and wave, for long moments irritated her with its monotony. Then from out of the sage on the ridge flew up a broad, white object, flashed in the sunlight and vanished. Like magic it was, and bewildered Jane.

      “What on earth is that?”

      “I reckon there's some one behind that ridge throwin' up a sheet or a white blanket to reflect the sunshine.”

      “Why?” queried Jane, more bewildered than ever.

      “To stampede the herd,” replied Lassiter, and his teeth clicked.

      “Ah!” She made a fierce, passionate movement, clutched the glass tightly, shook as with the passing of a spasm, and then dropped her head. Presently she raised it to greet Lassiter with something like a smile. “My righteous brethren are at work again,” she said, in scorn. She had stifled the leap of her wrath, but for perhaps the first time in her life a bitter derision curled her lips. Lassiter's cool gray eyes seemed to pierce her. “I said I was prepared for anything; but that was hardly true. But why would they—anybody stampede my cattle?”

      “That's a Mormon's godly way of bringin' a woman to her knees.”

      “Lassiter, I'll die before I ever bend my knees. I might be led I won't be driven. Do you expect the herd to bolt?”

      “I don't like the looks of them big steers. But you can never tell. Cattle sometimes stampede as easily as buffalo. Any little flash or move will start them. A rider gettin' down an' walkin' toward them sometimes will make them jump an' fly. Then again nothin' seems to scare them. But I reckon that white flare will do the biz. It's a new one on me, an' I've seen some ridin' an' rustlin'. It jest takes one of them God-fearin' Mormons to think of devilish tricks.”

      “Lassiter, might not this trick be done by Oldring's men?” asked Jane, ever grasping at straws.

      “It might be, but it ain't,” replied Lassiter. “Oldring's an honest thief. He don't skulk behind ridges to scatter your cattle to the four winds. He rides down on you, an' if you don't like it you can throw a gun.”

      Jane bit her tongue to refrain from championing men who at the very moment were proving to her that they were little and mean compared even with rustlers.

      “Look!... Jane, them leadin' steers have bolted. They're drawin' the stragglers, an' that'll pull the whole herd.”

      Jane was not quick enough to catch the details called out by Lassiter, but she saw the line of cattle lengthening. Then, like a stream of white bees pouring from a huge swarm, the steers stretched out from the main body. In a few moments, with astonishing rapidity, the whole herd got into motion. A faint roar of trampling hoofs came to Jane's ears, and gradually swelled; low, rolling clouds of dust began to rise above the sage.

      “It's a stampede, an' a hummer,” said Lassiter.

      “Oh, Lassiter! The herd's running with the valley! It leads into the canyon! There's a straight jump-off!”

      “I reckon they'll run into it, too. But that's a good many miles yet. An', Jane, this valley swings round almost north before it goes east. That stampede will pass within a mile of us.”

      The long, white, bobbing line of steers streaked swiftly through the sage, and a funnel-shaped dust-cloud arose at a low angle. A dull rumbling filled Jane's ears.

      “I'm thinkin' of millin' that herd,” said Lassiter. His gray glance swept up the slope to the west. “There's some specks an' dust way off toward the village. Mebbe that's Judkins an' his boys. It ain't likely he'll get here in time to help. You'd better hold Black Star here on this high ridge.”

      He ran to his horse and, throwing off saddle-bags and tightening the cinches, he leaped astride and galloped straight down across the valley.

      Jane went for Black Star and, leading him to the summit of the ridge, she mounted and faced the valley with excitement and expectancy. She had heard of milling stampeded cattle, and knew it was a feat accomplished by only the most daring riders.

      The white herd was now strung out in a line two miles long.