SHORT STORY.

Otago Witness, Issue 2400, 1 March 1900, Page 54

SHORT STORY.

A BICYCLE RACE FOR LIFE. Two bicycles leaning together on an arid, treeless, rolling plain ; a few tufts of scattered cacti ; no human baing, or beast, or bird in sight: perfect stillness and early afternoon under a sun that blazed where ■never a cloud had flown for weeks. Even insects had perished from drought in that desolation — so any one might have imagined had any one been gazing about on that California scene from a point within a hundred yards of the apparently deserted wheels. Had a native stood there he would not have supposed the wheels deserted, but guessed that the riders were concealed in some crack of the sun-baked earth. Indeed, Del Hall and I were almost within springing distance of our bikes, and much disinclined to remount them. We had lunched fully if not comfortably on the provisions and drink we carried ; the earth-crack in which we lay was deep and narrow enough to shade us from the slightly westering sun, and we shrank from more pedalling under its dare. Del and I, college chums, " had undertaken to wheel from San Francisco to Los Angelos, nearly 400 miles as the crow flies. Our guides were a pocket compass and " the lay of the land." Our interpreters were the natives and ourselves — their much Mexican being about as clear to us as our little Spanish to them. But they were wonderfully quick in understanding all demands made in the name of the white almighty dollar of Uncle Sam. Without good letters of introduction to various owners of ranchos, who passed us on with equally good letters to others of their hospitable kind, we could not have traversed the country. Much of it lacks inns and stores, and even places of public resort. But for hospitality we should have starved. And on this blazing day we were making for the Eancho del Paso, an inter- j esting old mission ranch established long ! before gold-seekers rushed to California. I .We had not met a soul for 10 miles before ! lunching. \ "Are yoii sure we're on the way?" Del , asked r as the time came near when we must remount. | " Certainly, the track is plain enough," I said. " The last man we met said we ! couldn't miss it as long as we kept about I this far from the foothills." | "But "he said 'something .else. I wish we had stopped longer to make out what he did mean. It" was something about ■ ' Plaza , de Toros.' I've been thinking, he was warning us against cattle." j "PoohJ Are you afraid of cows? Come , along ; -vve must move. There's a rise about j half a- mile ahead; perhaps we shall see the rancho from, there ; it can't be more than 15 miles away ; maybe not half so far." Again we sped over that vast plain, cobwebbed with fissiires and cracks by the long drought, which had made a veritable desert of the tract within sight. { Five miles nearer the coast the country ■ wailed, with grass and xrain^ vineyards and

olive groves, but here we were running through a waste drearier than any we had traversed. But we hoped for a more pleasant prospect beyond the slow rise we were ascending. As the fissures and cracks mostly ran on a southerly course, we seldom needed to dismount, though frequently forced to short detours. So we soon climbed the gradual rise, whose summit extended on a level broad enough to hide the lower tract immediately beyond. Yet the more distant ground was in view, and there, as if it had suddenly sprung from the earth, we saw the irregular, broken line of the adobe walls of Rancho del Paso, our resting place. " Hurrah ! It- can't be more than four miles away, Del ! "' I cried. " Come along ; let us drop into this dried up arrayo, and get its shade till it runs out in the next lowland," for we knew that such an arroyo, or watercourse, cuts somewhat deeply through the slow rises, and but little into the hollows of these plains. While we dipped into the arroyo the tufts of cacti on the upland seemd moving in the shimmering sunlight. No more of the plain did we see until we reached the lower level, when our heads were higher then the frayed sides of the watercourse. Then Del and I cried out together in amazement, for countless cattle were near us on the plain. As we ran up out of the watercourse we saw groups spattered as far as the eye could reach. The flanked us on both sides ; hundreds were behind us ; a compact array, almost numerous enough to be called a herd, stood on our path to the ranch. - Towards this mass all the others seemed to be converging, as the sloping sides of a. funnel trend toward its hole, or rather as the horns of a cow often curve inward at the tips. Our course to the rancho lay almost evenly between v the side-s of this living funnel. But its opening was blocked. Still we believed we could pass round that small massed herd. It w?,s not at all necessary for us to make the attempt, and we would not have tried it had we imagined it to be dangerous. Nothing but a little shade and comfort could we gain by reaching the Rancho del Paso quickly. This was of no account jxist Ihen, for -we meant to stay at the Rancho until the next morning. And yefc we went " scorching " along with never a thought of prudence or delay. None of the cattle that flanked us on either side were within two hundred yards when we began the run. They were slowly moving in groups, and those which. formed 1 , as it were, the tips of the horns ■were not within one hundred and fifty yards of the herd directly in our way. An opening lay on each side of these, and we started for the easterly gap at moderate speed, not imagining how the strange spectacle of bicyclers would hurry the cattle. • Scarcely had we started when the commotion began. Thousands of eyes turned to us ; a thousand snorts made din ; beasts near and, far or our flanks were leaping_as if to catch glimpses of us over the others J the sounds of wonder and alarm went to the massed herd in front. These leading cattle never seemed to glance behind to see the cause of the sudden tumult, but broke into a slow run, heads down and tails in air. Within ten seconds the whole multitude of cattle went crazy, as if with desire to mass with th'e_ leading herd. The leaders seemed equally desirous to maintain their distance. They ran faster, they galloped, but they were massed, and could not go at the top speed of the fastest among them. The quicker gallopers in the groups thafc formed the sides of the funnel could set their own pace, and force that of their compa-nions. So the groups strung out; they soon became two continuous but narrow columns on our flanks, and these long cohrams incessantly widened and solidified by the inrushing of the flanking cattle that made short cuts to reach the stampeding throng. " We've got to get through quickly, or they'll be on top of us," cried Del, looking at me with great alarm. " We'll get through — they're not -closing the gap," I shouted, for we had to shout if .we would be heard above the dull, strange din. " They are !" he roared. " The cattle- in front are not running as fast as those leading the sides. Don't you see the sides slowly closing in?" It was true. The gap was narrowing visibly. We put on all our speed. As the plain sloped slightly toward the next rise our pace was terrific. We were outlunning the cattle. We were gaining on front and sides. But a great fear that our speed was not enough to carry us through the gap lay cold at my heart. If it had been possible "for us to stop them we should have rejoiced to do so. But masses of cattle behind us were galloping furiously — a dark, bellowing array under the cloud of their own dust. We dared not risk a stop ; we could not turn aside ; our only chance of escape seemed to lie in outrunning the flanks of the cattle impi, and so escaping by the front. We had good hope to get through, and pretty easily, though the course of the leading flanking cattle seemed to slant more than e\ er across our line, and the front herd, perhaps because they instinctively wished the others to mass with them, seemed to slightly slacken their speed. As we hurried towards the narrowing gap we came over nearer to the thundering beasts of the side columns. We were &o near them that the heated, nameless smell of their galloping bodies, their breath, the very fumes of their , hot blood seemed enveloping us in a smoky air, which became thick and blinding as a light, transient wind blew from the foot-hills, and bore around us the fine dust from frantic hoofs. " Take more ground," screamed Del, " spread out. We must keep farther apart. They'll keep back, maybe. . Try it. It's our last chance." • " No-— let ' us stop — let us turn and run back. There may be an opening behind us in spite of appearances." " There's not," roared Del. '' I looked behind before the ■ dust closed in. Don' 6

you hear the rush back there? I saAv a perfect horde right behind vs — a regular ■line. Cattle have run in from the plain and caught up to the rear line. Take more ground, I tell you!" As he veered off so did I. We rode then about 50ft apart, at a pace which must soon use up our strength. But there was no choice. To get through Aye must work with all our might, for the gap was How quite narrow. I was so close to the galloping column on my right that I could see the beats' eyes. They had not given Avay as I came nearer, but still did not seem inclined to croAvd me. I have since thought that they did not see us at all after the stampede began, but rushed blindly on with the impulse to mass. Well, I knew that those directly behind us Avere pouring on in a frenzy that Avould, did'AA r e fall, carry them over us as in perfect unconsciousness that they trampled anything liA-ing. I felt my strength failing fast. It seemed that the course Avas carrying us up a slope. But now Aye Avere so closed in that, the dust was quite blinding, I could no lnoger see Del. T yelled to him, but hear no reply. With a horrible, cowering realisation of what a formless mass he must be now, if he -Avere doAvn among the hoofs, I pushed my pedals desperately. Right ahead of me the dark places that denoted cattle intermingled Avith the dust seemed still unjoined. The gap Avas not yet closed, I believed, and drove for it. Could I but' get" through and a little more than through — I might SAverA r e off against the breeze, pas=s round the front of the furious, •Vedgelike mass, and escape the wide, flanking ends. More choking, more acrid, more cA T il smelling, more blinding, the hideous dust enveloped me. I Aras close on the leaders now. I Avas so close tLal I could dimty see the- gaunt, ridgy backs, the muscular hind parts, the crazy tails — these cattle. £ried by drought and lean Avith much wandering for Avater, were in condition to run far — even in my despair I noted that. In condition to run ! They seemed in condition to leap as if for fun AA'hile running! Up — they sprang by ranks — hoAV strange ! Ah, I understood ! But I understood too late. The earth crack which they had leaped was deep ; my wheel seemed to go from under me ; just then I heard what sounded like rapid revolver firing ; and down, doAvn I fell. When my eyes opened I saAv a swarthy face close to mine. A peon from the Rancho del Paso Avas holding a little tin of Avine to my lips. Others stood about. And Del — could it be possible? They had lifted me tenderly out of the earth-crack, and now told me lioav Del and I had been saved. He Lad fallen into a crack, too, but escaped- with feAver hurts than I. As for the peons, they, had ridden from the Rancho del. Paso, in an attempt to stop the stampede, and the sound of their shooting into the" leaders Avas that Avhich I had heard at the moment of my fall. We Avere at the Rancho del Paso four days before I Avas fit to travel ; arid when next we crossed that dreary stretch of plain it Avas with a Avaggon train. Del and I had learned to appreciate the dangers of bicycling' among range cattle, and the value of a considerable acquaintance Avith the Mexican vernacular. When nest Aye heard a peon Avarn us to avoid Plaza de Toros Aye kneAv that he meant something more dangerous than the bull-fight circus ground of a Mexicpn toAvn.— A. T. VANCE.