[Illustration: THE STAMPEDE]

THE LOG OF A COWBOY

A Narrative of the Old Trail Days

BY ANDY ADAMS

_ILLUSTRATED BY E. BOYD SMITH_

"Our cattle also shall go with us. " --_Exodus_ iv. 26. 

[Illustration: The Riverside Press]

BOSTON AND NEW YORK: HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY, The Riverside Press, Cambridge

_1903_. 

TO THE COWMEN AND BOYS OF THE OLD WESTERN TRAIL

THESE PAGES ARE GRATEFULLY DEDICATED

CONTENTS

CHAP. 

 I. UP THE TRAIL

 II. RECEIVING

 III. THE START

 IV. THE ATASCOSA

 V. A DRY DRIVE

 VI. A REMINISCENT NIGHT

 VII. THE COLORADO

 VIII. ON THE BRAZOS AND WICHITA

 IX. DOAN'S CROSSING

 X. NO MAN'S LAND

 XI. A BOGGY FORD

 XII. THE NORTH FORK

 XIII. DODGE

 XIV. SLAUGHTER'S BRIDGE

 XV. THE BEAVER

 XVI. THE REPUBLICAN

 XVII. OGALALLA

XVIII. THE NORTH PLATTE

 XIX. FORTY ISLANDS FORD

 XX. A MOONLIGHT DRIVE

 XXI. THE YELLOWSTONE

 XXII. OUR LAST CAMP-FIRE

XXIII. DELIVERY

 XXIV. BACK TO TEXAS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

 THE STAMPEDE

 MAP SHOWING THE TRAIL

 HEAT AND THIRST

 MEETING WITH INDIANS

 CELEBRATING IN DODGE

 STORY-TELLING

 SWIMMING THE PLATTE

THE LOG OF A COWBOY

CHAPTER I

UP THE TRAIL

Just why my father moved, at the close of the civil war, from Georgiato Texas, is to this good hour a mystery to me. While we did notexactly belong to the poor whites, we classed with them in poverty, being renters; but I am inclined to think my parents wereintellectually superior to that common type of the South. Both wereforeign born, my mother being Scotch and my father a north of Irelandman, --as I remember him, now, impulsive, hasty in action, and slow toconfess a fault. It was his impulsiveness that led him to volunteerand serve four years in the Confederate army, --trying years to mymother, with a brood of seven children to feed, garb, and house. Thewar brought me my initiation as a cowboy, of which I have now, afterthe long lapse of years, the greater portion of which were spent withcattle, a distinct recollection. Sherman's army, in its march to thesea, passed through our county, devastating that section for miles inits passing. 

Foraging parties scoured the country on either side of its path. Mymother had warning in time and set her house in order. Our work stockconsisted of two yoke of oxen, while our cattle numbered three cows, and for saving them from the foragers credit must be given to mymother's generalship. There was a wild canebrake, in which the cattlefed, several hundred acres in extent, about a mile from our littlefarm, and it was necessary to bell them in order to locate them whenwanted. But the cows were in the habit of coming up to be milked, anda soldier can hear a bell as well as any one. I was a lad of eight atthe time, and while my two older brothers worked our few fields, I wassent into the canebrake to herd the cattle. We had removed the bellsfrom the oxen and cows, but one ox was belled after darkness eachevening, to be unbelled again at daybreak. I always carried the bellwith me, stuffed with grass, in order to have it at hand when wanted. 

During the first few days of the raid, a number of mounted foragingparties passed our house, but its poverty was all too apparent, andnothing was molested. Several of these parties were driving herds ofcattle and work stock of every description, while by day and by nightgins and plantation houses were being given to the flames. Ourone-roomed log cabin was spared, due to the ingenious tale told by mymother as to the whereabouts of my father; and yet she taught herchildren to fear God and tell the truth. My vigil was trying to one ofmy years, for the days seemed like weeks, but the importance of hidingour cattle was thoroughly impressed upon my mind. Food was secretlybrought to me, and under cover of darkness, my mother and eldestbrother would come and milk the cows, when we would all return hometogether. Then, before daybreak, we would be in the cane listening forthe first tinkle, to find the cattle and remove the bell. And my day'swork commenced anew. 

Only once did I come near betraying my trust. About the middle of thethird day I grew very hungry, and as the cattle were lying down, Icrept to the edge of the canebrake to see if my dinner was notforthcoming. Soldiers were in sight, which explained everything. Concealed in the rank cane I stood and watched them. Suddenly a squadof five or six turned a point of the brake and rode within fifty feetof me. I stood like a stone statue, my concealment being perfect. After they had passed, I took a step forward, the better to watch themas they rode away, when the grass dropped out of the bell and itclattered. A red-whiskered soldier heard the tinkle, and wheeling hishorse, rode back. I grasped the clapper and lay flat on the ground, myheart beating like a trip-hammer. He rode within twenty feet of me, peering into the thicket of cane, and not seeing anything unusual, turned and galloped away after his companions. Then the lesson, taughtme by my mother, of being "faithful over a few things, " flashedthrough my mind, and though our cattle were spared to us, I felt veryguilty. 

Another vivid recollection of those boyhood days in Georgia was thereturn of my father from the army. The news of Lee's surrender hadreached us, and all of us watched for his coming. Though he was longdelayed, when at last he did come riding home on a swallow-markedbrown mule, he was a conquering hero to us children. We had neverowned a horse, and he assured us that the animal was his own, and byturns set us on the tired mule's back. He explained to mother and uschildren how, though he was an infantryman, he came into possession ofthe animal. Now, however, with my mature years and knowledge ofbrands, I regret to state that the mule had not been condemned and wasin the "U. S. " brand. A story which Priest, "The Rebel, " once told methrows some light on the matter; he asserted that all good soldierswould steal. "Can you take the city of St. Louis?" was asked ofGeneral Price. "I don't know as I can take it, " replied the general tohis consulting superiors, "but if you will give me Louisiana troops, I'll agree to steal it. "

Though my father had lost nothing by the war, he was impatient to goto a new country. Many of his former comrades were going to Texas, and, as our worldly possessions were movable, to Texas we started. Ourfour oxen were yoked to the wagon, in which our few household effectswere loaded and in which mother and the smaller children rode, andwith the cows, dogs, and elder boys bringing up the rear, our caravanstarted, my father riding the mule and driving the oxen. It was anentire summer's trip, full of incident, privation, and hardship. Thestock fared well, but several times we were compelled to halt andsecure work in order to supply our limited larder. Through certainsections, however, fish and game were abundant. I remember theenthusiasm we all felt when we reached the Sabine River, and for thefirst time viewed the promised land. It was at a ferry, and thesluggish river was deep. When my father informed the ferryman that hehad no money with which to pay the ferriage, the latter turned on himremarking, sarcastically: "What, no money? My dear sir, it certainlycan't make much difference to a man which side of the river he's on, when he has no money. "

Nothing daunted by this rebuff, my father argued the point at somelength, when the ferryman relented so far as to inform him that tenmiles higher up, the river was fordable. We arrived at the ford thenext day. My father rode across and back, testing the stage of thewater and the river's bottom before driving the wagon in. Then takingone of the older boys behind him on the mule in order to lighten thewagon, he drove the oxen into the river. Near the middle the water wasdeep enough to reach the wagon box, but with shoutings and a freeapplication of the gad, we hurried through in safety. One of the wheeloxen, a black steer which we called "Pop-eye, " could be ridden, and Istraddled him in fording, laving my sunburned feet in the cool water. The cows were driven over next, the dogs swimming, and at last, bagand baggage, we were in Texas. 

We reached the Colorado River early in the fall, where we stopped andpicked cotton for several months, making quite a bit of money, andnear Christmas reached our final destination on the San Antonio River, where we took up land and built a house. That was a happy home; thecountry was new and supplied our simple wants; we had milk and honey, and, though the fig tree was absent, along the river grew endlessquantities of mustang grapes. At that time the San Antonio valley wasprincipally a cattle country, and as the boys of our family grew oldenough the fascination of a horse and saddle was too strong to beresisted. My two older brothers went first, but my father and mothermade strenuous efforts to keep me at home, and did so until I wassixteen. I suppose it is natural for every country boy to befascinated with some other occupation than the one to which he isbred. In my early teens, I always thought I should like either todrive six horses to a stage or clerk in a store, and if I could haveattained either of those lofty heights, at that age, I would haveasked no more. So my father, rather than see me follow in thefootsteps of my older brothers, secured me a situation in a villagestore some twenty miles distant. The storekeeper was a fellowcountryman of my father--from the same county in Ireland, in fact--andI was duly elated on getting away from home to the life of thevillage. 

But my elation was short-lived. I was to receive no wages for thefirst six months. My father counseled the merchant to work me hard, and, if possible, cure me of the "foolish notion, " as he termed it. The storekeeper cured me. The first week I was with him he kept me ina back warehouse shelling corn. The second week started out no better. I was given a shovel and put on the street to work out the poll-tax, not only of the merchant but of two other clerks in the store. Herewas two weeks' work in sight, but the third morning I took breakfastat home. My mercantile career had ended, and forthwith I took to therange as a preacher's son takes to vice. By the time I was twentythere was no better cow-hand in the entire country. I could, besides, speak Spanish and play the fiddle, and thought nothing of ridingthirty miles to a dance. The vagabond temperament of the range Ieasily assimilated. 

Christmas in the South is always a season of festivity, and the magnetof mother and home yearly drew us to the family hearthstone. There webrothers met and exchanged stories of our experiences. But one yearboth my brothers brought home a new experience. They had been up thetrail, and the wondrous stories they told about the northern countryset my blood on fire. Until then I thought I had had adventures, butmine paled into insignificance beside theirs. The following summer, myeldest brother, Robert, himself was to boss a herd up the trail, and Ipleaded with him to give me a berth, but he refused me, saying: "No, Tommy; the trail is one place where a foreman can have no favorites. Hardship and privation must be met, and the men must throw themselvesequally into the collar. I don't doubt but you're a good hand; stillthe fact that you're my brother might cause other boys to think Iwould favor you. A trail outfit has to work as a unit, and dissensionswould be ruinous. " I had seen favoritism shown on ranches, andunderstood his position to be right. Still I felt that I must makethat trip if it were possible. Finally Robert, seeing that I wasoveranxious to go, came to me and said: "I've been thinking that if Irecommended you to Jim Flood, my old foreman, he might take you withhim next year. He is to have a herd that will take five months fromstart to delivery, and that will be the chance of your life. I'll seehim next week and make a strong talk for you. "

True to his word, he bespoke me a job with Flood the next time he methim, and a week later a letter from Flood reached me, terse andpointed, engaging my services as a trail hand for the coming summer. The outfit would pass near our home on its way to receive the cattlewhich were to make up the trail herd. Time and place were appointedwhere I was to meet them in the middle of March, and I felt as if Iwere made. I remember my mother and sisters twitted me about theswagger that came into my walk, after the receipt of Flood's letter, and even asserted that I sat my horse as straight as a poker. Possibly! but wasn't I going up the trail with Jim Flood, the bossforeman of Don Lovell, the cowman and drover?

Our little ranch was near Cibollo Ford on the river, and as the outfitpassed down the country, they crossed at that ford and picked me up. Flood was not with them, which was a disappointment to me, "Quince"Forrest acting as _segundo_ at the time. They had four mules to the"chuck" wagon under Barney McCann as cook, while the _remuda_, underBilly Honeyman as horse wrangler, numbered a hundred and forty-two, ten horses to the man, with two extra for the foreman. Then, for thefirst time, I learned that we were going down to the mouth of the RioGrande to receive the herd from across the river in Old Mexico; andthat they were contracted for delivery on the Blackfoot IndianReservation in the northwest corner of Montana. Lovell had severalcontracts with the Indian Department of the government that year, andhad been granted the privilege of bringing in, free of duty, anycattle to be used in filling Indian contracts. 

My worst trouble was getting away from home on the morning ofstarting. Mother and my sisters, of course, shed a few tears; but myfather, stern and unbending in his manner, gave me his benediction inthese words: "Thomas Moore, you're the third son to leave our roof, but your father's blessing goes with you. I left my own home beyondthe sea before I was your age. " And as they all stood at the gate, Iclimbed into my saddle and rode away, with a lump in my throat whichleft me speechless to reply. 

CHAPTER II

RECEIVING

It was a nice ten days' trip from the San Antonio to the Rio GrandeRiver. We made twenty-five to thirty miles a day, giving the saddlehorses all the advantage of grazing on the way. Rather than hobble, Forrest night-herded them, using five guards, two men to the watch oftwo hours each. "As I have little hope of ever rising to the dignityof foreman, " said our _segundo_, while arranging the guards, "I'lltake this occasion to show you varmints what an iron will I possess. With the amount of help I have, I don't propose to even catch a nighthorse; and I'll give the cook orders to bring me a cup of coffee and acigarette before I arise in the morning. I've been up the trail beforeand realize that this authority is short-lived, so I propose to makethe most of it while it lasts. Now you all know your places, and seeyou don't incur your foreman's displeasure. "

The outfit reached Brownsville on March 25th, where we picked up Floodand Lovell, and dropping down the river about six miles below FortBrown, went into camp at a cattle ford known as Paso Ganado. The RioGrande was two hundred yards wide at this point, and at its then stagewas almost swimming from bank to bank. It had very little current, andwhen winds were favorable the tide from the Gulf ran in above theford. Flood had spent the past two weeks across the river, receivingand road-branding the herd, so when the cattle should reach the riveron the Mexican side we were in honor bound to accept everythingbearing the "circle dot" the left hip. The contract called for athousand she cattle, three and four years of age, and two thousandfour and five year old beeves, estimated as sufficient to fill amillion-pound beef contract. For fear of losses on the trail, ourforeman had accepted fifty extra head of each class, and our herd atstarting would number thirty-one hundred head. They were coming upfrom ranches in the interior, and we expected to cross them the firstfavorable day after their arrival. A number of different rancheros hadturned in cattle in making up the herd, and Flood reported them ingood, strong condition. 

Lovell and Flood were a good team of cowmen. The former, as a youth, had carried a musket in the ranks of the Union army, and at the end ofthat struggle, cast his fortune with Texas, where others had seennothing but the desolation of war, Lovell saw opportunities ofbusiness, and had yearly forged ahead as a drover and beef contractor. He was well calculated to manage the cattle business, but wasirritable and inclined to borrow trouble, therefore unqualifiedpersonally to oversee the actual management of a cow herd. In repose, Don Lovell was slow, almost dull, but in an emergency wasastonishingly quick-witted and alert. He never insisted on temperanceamong his men, and though usually of a placid temperament, when out oftobacco--Lord!

Jim Flood, on the other hand, was in a hundred respects the antithesisof his employer. Born to the soil of Texas, he knew nothing butcattle, but he knew them thoroughly. Yet in their calling, the pairwere a harmonious unit. He never crossed a bridge till he reached it, was indulgent with his men, and would overlook any fault, so long asthey rendered faithful service. Priest told me this incident: Floodhad hired a man at Red River the year before, when a self-appointedguardian present called Flood to one side and said, --"Don't you knowthat that man you've just hired is the worst drunkard in thiscountry?"

"No, I didn't know it, " replied Flood, "but I'm glad to hear he is. Idon't want to ruin an innocent man, and a trail outfit is not supposedto have any morals. Just so the herd don't count out shy on the day ofdelivery, I don't mind how many drinks the outfit takes. "

The next morning after going into camp, the first thing was theallotment of our mounts for the trip. Flood had the first pick, andcut twelve bays and browns. His preference for solid colors, thoughthey were not the largest in the _remuda_, showed his practical senseof horses. When it came the boys' turn to cut, we were only allowed tocut one at a time by turns, even casting lots for first choice. We hadridden the horses enough to have a fair idea as to their merits, andevery lad was his own judge. There were, as it happened, only threepinto horses in the entire saddle stock, and these three were the lastleft of the entire bunch. Now a little boy or girl, and many an olderperson, thinks that a spotted horse is the real thing, but practicalcattle men know that this freak of color in range-bred horses is theresult of in-and-in breeding, with consequent physical and mentaldeterioration. It was my good fortune that morning to get a good mountof horses, --three sorrels, two grays, two coyotes, a black, a brown, and a _grulla_. The black was my second pick, and though the color isnot a hardy one, his "bread-basket" indicated that he could carry foodfor a long ride, and ought to be a good swimmer. My judgment of himwas confirmed throughout the trip, as I used him for my night horseand when we had swimming rivers to ford. I gave this black the name of"Nigger Boy. "

For the trip each man was expected to furnish his own accoutrements. In saddles, we had the ordinary Texas make, the housings of whichcovered our mounts from withers to hips, and would weigh from thirtyto forty pounds, bedecked with the latest in the way of trimmings andtrappings. 

Our bridles were in keeping with the saddles, the reins as long asplough lines, while the bit was frequently ornamental and costly. Theindispensable slicker, a greatcoat of oiled canvas, was ever at hand, securely tied to our cantle strings. Spurs were a matter of taste. Ifa rider carried a quirt, he usually dispensed with spurs, though, whenused, those with large, dull rowels were the make commonly chosen. Inthe matter of leggings, not over half our outfit had any, as a trailherd always kept in the open, and except for night herding they weretoo warm in summer. Our craft never used a cattle whip, but ifemergency required, the loose end of a rope served instead, and wasmore humane. 

Either Flood or Lovell went into town every afternoon with some of theboys, expecting to hear from the cattle. On one trip they took alongthe wagon, laying in a month's supplies. The rest of us amusedourselves in various ways. One afternoon when the tide was in, wetried our swimming horses in the river, stripping to ourunderclothing, and, with nothing but a bridle on our horses, plungedinto tidewater. My Nigger Boy swam from bank to bank like a duck. Onthe return I slid off behind, and taking his tail, let him tow me toour own side, where he arrived snorting like a tugboat. 

One evening, on their return from Brownsville, Flood brought word thatthe herd would camp that night within fifteen miles of the river. Atdaybreak Lovell and the foreman, with "Fox" Quarternight and myself, started to meet the herd. The nearest ferry was at Brownsville, and itwas eleven o'clock when we reached the cattle. Flood had dispensedwith an interpreter and had taken Quarternight and me along to do theinterpreting. The cattle were well shed and in good flesh for such anearly season of the year, and in receiving, our foreman had beencareful and had accepted only such as had strength for a long voyage. They were the long-legged, long-horned Southern cattle, pale-coloredas a rule, possessed the running powers of a deer, and in an ordinarywalk could travel with a horse. They had about thirty vaqueros under acorporal driving the herd, and the cattle were strung out in regulartrailing manner. We rode with them until the noon hour, when, with theunderstanding that they were to bring the herd to Paso Ganado by teno'clock the following day, we rode for Matamoros. Lovell had otherherds to start on the trail that year, and was very anxious to crossthe cattle the following day, so as to get the weekly steamer--theonly mode of travel--which left Point Isabel for Galveston on thefirst of April. 

The next morning was bright and clear, with an east wind, whichinsured a flood tide in the river. On first sighting the herd thatmorning, we made ready to cross them as soon as they reached theriver. The wagon was moved up within a hundred yards of the ford, anda substantial corral of ropes was stretched. Then the entire saddlestock was driven in, so as to be at hand in case a hasty change ofmounts was required. By this time Honeyman knew the horses of eachman's mount, so all we had to do was to sing out our horse, and Billywould have a rope on one and have him at hand before you couldunsaddle a tired one. On account of our linguistic accomplishments, Quarternight and I were to be sent across the river to put the cattlein and otherwise assume control. On the Mexican side there was asingle string of high brush fence on the lower side of the ford, commencing well out in the water and running back about two hundredyards, thus giving us a half chute in forcing the cattle to takeswimming water. This ford had been in use for years in crossingcattle, but I believe this was the first herd ever crossed that wasintended for the trail, or for beyond the bounds of Texas. 

When the herd was within a mile of the river, Fox and I shed oursaddles, boots, and surplus clothing and started to meet it. The waterwas chilly, but we struck it with a shout, and with the cheers of ouroutfit behind us, swam like smugglers. A swimming horse needs freedom, and we scarcely touched the reins, but with one hand buried in a manehold, and giving gentle slaps on the neck with the other, we guidedour horses for the other shore. I was proving out my black, Fox had agray of equal barrel displacement, --both good swimmers; and onreaching the Mexican shore, we dismounted and allowed them to roll inthe warm sand. 

Flood had given us general instructions, and we halted the herd abouthalf a mile from the river. The Mexican corporal was only too glad tohave us assume charge, and assured us that he and his outfit were oursto command. I at once proclaimed Fox Quarternight, whose years andexperience outranked mine, the _gringo_ corporal for the day, at whichthe vaqueros smiled, but I noticed they never used the word. On Fox'ssuggestion the Mexican corporal brought up his wagon and corralled hishorses as we had done, when his cook, to our delight, invited all tohave coffee before starting. That cook won our everlasting regards, for his coffee was delicious. We praised it highly, whereupon thecorporal ordered the cook to have it at hand for the men in theintervals between crossing the different bunches of cattle. A Marchday on the Rio Grande with wet clothing is not summer, and thevaqueros hesitated a bit before following the example of Quarternightand myself and dispensing with saddles and boots. Five men were thendetailed to hold the herd as compact as possible, and the remainder, twenty-seven all told, cut off about three hundred head and startedfor the river. I took the lead, for though cattle are less gregariousby nature than other animals, under pressure of excitement they willfollow a leader. It was about noon and the herd were thirsty, so whenwe reached the brush chute, all hands started them on a run for thewater. When the cattle were once inside the wing we went rapidly, fourvaqueros riding outside the fence to keep the cattle from turning thechute on reaching swimming water. The leaders were crowding me closewhen Nigger breasted the water, and closely followed by several leadcattle, I struck straight for the American shore. The vaqueros forcedevery hoof into the river, following and shouting as far as themidstream, when they were swimming so nicely, Quarternight called offthe men and all turned their horses back to the Mexican side. Onlanding opposite the exit from the ford, our men held the cattle asthey came out, in order to bait the next bunch. 

I rested my horse only a few minutes before taking the water again, but Lovell urged me to take an extra horse across, so as to have achange in case my black became fagged in swimming. Quarternight was aharsh _segundo_, for no sooner had I reached the other bank than hecut off the second bunch of about four hundred and started them. Turning Nigger Boy loose behind the brush fence, so as to be out ofthe way, I galloped out on my second horse, and meeting the cattle, turned and again took the lead for the river. My substitute did notswim with the freedom and ease of the black, and several times cattleswam so near me that I could lay my hand on their backs. When abouthalfway over, I heard shoutings behind me in English, and on lookingback saw Nigger Boy swimming after us. A number of vaqueros attemptedto catch him, but he outswam them and came out with the cattle; theexcitement was too much for him to miss. 

Each trip was a repetition of the former, with varying incident. Everyhoof was over in less than two hours. On the last trip, in which therewere about seven hundred head, the horse of one of the Mexicanvaqueros took cramps, it was supposed, at about the middle of theriver, and sank without a moment's warning. A number of us heard theman's terrified cry, only in time to see horse and rider sink. Everyman within reach turned to the rescue, and a moment later the man roseto the surface. Fox caught him by the shirt, and, shaking the waterout of him, turned him over to one of the other vaqueros, who towedhim back to their own side. Strange as it may appear, the horse nevercame to the surface again, which supported the supposition of cramps. 

After a change of clothes for Quarternight and myself, and rather latedinner for all hands, there yet remained the counting of the herd. TheMexican corporal and two of his men had come over for the purpose, andthough Lovell and several wealthy rancheros, the sellers of thecattle, were present, it remained for Flood and the corporal to makethe final count, as between buyer and seller. There was also present ariver guard, --sent out by the United States Custom House, as a matterof form in the entry papers, --who also insisted on counting. In orderto have a second count on the herd, Lovell ordered The Rebel to countopposite the government's man. We strung the cattle out, now logy withwater, and after making quite a circle, brought the herd around wherethere was quite a bluff bank of the river. The herd handled well, andfor a quarter of an hour we lined them between our four mountedcounters. The only difference in the manner of counting between Floodand the Mexican corporal was that the American used a tally stringtied to the pommel of his saddle, on which were ten knots, keepingcount by slipping a knot on each even hundred, while the Mexican usedten small pebbles, shifting a pebble from one hand to the other onhundreds. "Just a mere difference in nationality, " Lovell had meinterpret to the selling dons. 

When the count ended only two of the men agreed on numbers, The Rebeland the corporal making the same thirty-one hundred and five, --Floodbeing one under and the Custom House man one over. Lovell at onceaccepted the count of Priest and the corporal; and the delivery, which, as I learned during the interpreting that followed, was to besealed with a supper that night in Brownsville, was consummated. Lovell was compelled to leave us, to make the final payment for theherd, and we would not see him again for some time. They were allseated in the vehicle ready to start for town, when the cowman said tohis foreman, --

"Now, Jim, I can't give you any pointers on handling a herd, but youhave until the 10th day of September to reach the Blackfoot Agency. Anaverage of fifteen miles a day will put you there on time, so don'thurry. I'll try and see you at Dodge and Ogalalla on the way. Now, live well, for I like your outfit of men. Your credit letter is goodanywhere you need supplies, and if you want more horses on the trail, buy them and draft on me through your letter of credit. If any of yourmen meet with accident or get sick, look out for them the same as youwould for yourself, and I'll honor all bills. And don't be stingy overyour expense account, for if that herd don't make money, you and I hadbetter quit cows. "

I had been detained to do any interpreting needful, and at partingLovell beckoned to me. When I rode alongside the carriage, he gave mehis hand and said, --

"Flood tells me to-day that you're a brother of Bob Quirk. Bob is tobe foreman of my herd that I'm putting up in Nueces County. I'm gladyou're here with Jim, though, for it's a longer trip. Yes, you'll getall the circus there is, and stay for the concert besides. They sayGod is good to the poor and the Irish; and if that's so, you'll pullthrough all right. Good-by, son. " And as he gave me a hearty, ringinggrip of the hand, I couldn't help feeling friendly toward him, Yankeethat he was. 

After Lovell and the dons had gone, Flood ordered McCann to move hiswagon back from the river about a mile. It was now too late in the dayto start the herd, and we wanted to graze them well, as it was ourfirst night with them. About half our outfit grazed them around on alarge circle, preparatory to bringing them up to the bed ground as itgrew dusk. In the untrammeled freedom of the native range, a cow orsteer will pick old dry grass on which to lie down, and if it issummer, will prefer an elevation sufficient to catch any passingbreeze. Flood was familiar with the habits of cattle, and selected anice elevation on which the old dry grass of the previous summer'sgrowth lay matted like a carpet. 

Our saddle horses by this time were fairly well broken to camp life, and, with the cattle on hand, night herding them had to be abandoned. Billy Honeyman, however, had noticed several horses that were inclinedto stray on day herd, and these few leaders were so well marked in hismemory that, as a matter of precaution, he insisted on putting a ropehobble on them. At every noon and night camp we strung a rope from thehind wheel of our wagon and another from the end of the wagon tongueback to stakes driven in the ground or held by a man, forming atriangular corral. Thus in a few minutes, under any conditions, wecould construct a temporary corral for catching a change of mounts, orfor the wrangler to hobble untrustworthy horses. On the trail allhorses are free at night, except the regular night ones, which areused constantly during the entire trip, and under ordinary conditionskeep strong and improve in flesh. 

Before the herd was brought in for the night, and during the supperhour, Flood announced the guards for the trip. As the men usuallybunked in pairs, the foreman chose them as they slept, but was underthe necessity of splitting two berths of bedfellows. "Rod" Wheat, JoeStallings, and Ash Borrowstone were assigned to the first guard, fromeight to ten thirty P. M. Bob Blades, "Bull" Durham, and FoxQuarternight were given second guard, from ten thirty to one. PaulPriest, John Officer, and myself made up the third watch, from one tothree thirty. The Rebel and I were bunkies, and this choice of guards, while not ideal, was much better than splitting bedfellows and havingthem annoy each other by going out and returning from guardseparately. The only fault I ever found with Priest was that he coulduse the poorest judgment in selecting a bed ground for our blankets, and always talked and told stories to me until I fell asleep. He was alight sleeper himself, while I, being much younger, was the reverse. The fourth and last guard, from three thirty until relieved afterdaybreak, fell to Wyatt Roundtree, Quince Forrest, and "Moss"Strayhorn. Thus the only men in the outfit not on night duty wereHoneyman, our horse wrangler, Barney McCann, our cook, and Flood, theforeman. The latter, however, made up by riding almost double as muchas any man in his outfit. He never left the herd until it was beddeddown for the night, and we could always hear him quietly arousing thecook and horse wrangler an hour before daybreak. He always kept ahorse on picket for the night, and often took the herd as it left thebed ground at clear dawn. 

A half hour before dark, Flood and all the herd men turned out to beddown the cattle for our first night. They had been well grazed aftercounting, and as they came up to the bed ground there was not a hungryor thirsty animal in the lot. All seemed anxious to lie down, and bycircling around slowly, while gradually closing in, in the course ofhalf an hour all were bedded nicely on possibly five or six acres. Iremember there were a number of muleys among the cattle, and thesewould not venture into the compact herd until the others had laindown. Being hornless, instinct taught them to be on the defensive, andit was noticeable that they were the first to arise in the morning, inadvance of their horned kin. When all had lain down, Flood and thefirst guard remained, the others returning to the wagon. 

The guards ride in a circle about four rods outside the sleepingcattle, and by riding in opposite directions make it impossible forany animal to make its escape without being noticed by the riders. Theguards usually sing or whistle continuously, so that the sleeping herdmay know that a friend and not an enemy is keeping vigil over theirdreams. A sleeping herd of cattle make a pretty picture on a clearmoonlight night, chewing their cuds and grunting and blowing overcontented stomachs. The night horses soon learn their duty, and arider may fall asleep or doze along in the saddle, but the horses willmaintain their distance in their leisurely, sentinel rounds. 

On returning to the wagon, Priest and I picketed our horses, saddled, where we could easily find them in the darkness, and unrolled our bed. We had two pairs of blankets each, which, with an ordinary wagon sheetdoubled for a tarpaulin, and coats and boots for pillows, completedour couch. We slept otherwise in our clothing worn during the day, andif smooth, sandy ground was available on which to spread our bed, wehad no trouble in sleeping the sleep that long hours in the saddlewere certain to bring. With all his pardonable faults, The Rebel was agood bunkie and a hail companion, this being his sixth trip over thetrail. He had been with Lovell over a year before the two made thediscovery that they had been on opposite sides during the "lateunpleasantness. " On making this discovery, Lovell at once rechristenedPriest "The Rebel, " and that name he always bore. He was fifteen yearsmy senior at this time, a wonderfully complex nature, hardened byunusual experiences into a character the gamut of whose moods ran fromthat of a good-natured fellow to a man of unrelenting severity inanger. 

We were sleeping a nine knot gale when Fox Quarternight of the secondguard called us on our watch. It was a clear, starry night, and ourguard soon passed, the cattle sleeping like tired soldiers. When thelast relief came on guard and we had returned to our blankets, Iremember Priest telling me this little incident as I fell asleep. 

"I was at a dance once in Live Oak County, and there was a stutteringfellow there by the name of Lem Todhunter. The girls, it seems, didn'tcare to dance with him, and pretended they couldn't understand him. Hehad asked every girl at the party, and received the same answer fromeach--they couldn't understand him. 'W-w-w-ell, g-g-g-go to hell, then. C-c-c-can y-y-you understand that?' he said to the last girl, and her brother threatened to mangle him horribly if he didn'tapologize, to which he finally agreed. He went back into the house andsaid to the girl, 'Y-y-you n-n-n-needn't g-g-g-go to hell; y-y-yourb-b-b-brother and I have m-m-made other 'r-r-r-rangements. '"

CHAPTER III

THE START

On the morning of April 1, 1882, our Circle Dot herd started on itslong tramp to the Blackfoot Agency in Montana. With six men on eachside, and the herd strung out for three quarters of a mile, it couldonly be compared to some mythical serpent or Chinese dragon, as itmoved forward on its sinuous, snail-like course. Two riders, known aspoint men, rode out and well back from the lead cattle, and by ridingforward and closing in as occasion required, directed the course ofthe herd. The main body of the herd trailed along behind the leaderslike an army in loose marching order, guarded by outriders, known asswing men, who rode well out from the advancing column, warding offrange cattle and seeing that none of the herd wandered away or droppedout. There was no driving to do; the cattle moved of their own freewill as in ordinary travel. Flood seldom gave orders; but, as a numberof us had never worked on the trail before, at breakfast on themorning of our start he gave in substance these general directions:--

"Boys, the secret of trailing cattle is never to let your herd knowthat they are under restraint. Let everything that is done be donevoluntarily by the cattle. From the moment you let them off the bedground in the morning until they are bedded at night, never let a cowtake a step, except in the direction of its destination. In thismanner you can loaf away the day, and cover from fifteen to twentymiles, and the herd in the mean time will enjoy all the freedom of anopen range. Of course, it's long, tiresome hours to the men; but thecondition of the herd and saddle stock demands sacrifices on our part, if any have to be made. And I want to caution you younger boys aboutyour horses; there is such a thing as having ten horses in yourstring, and at the same time being afoot. You are all well mounted, and on the condition of the _remuda_ depends the success and safety ofthe herd. Accidents will happen to horses, but don't let it be yourfault; keep your saddle blankets dry and clean, for no better word canbe spoken of a man than that he is careful of his horses. Ordinarily aman might get along with six or eight horses, but in such emergenciesas we are liable to meet, we have not a horse to spare, and a manafoot is useless. "

And as all of us younger boys learned afterward, there was plenty ofgood, solid, horse-sense in Flood's advice; for before the trip endedthere were men in our outfit who were as good as afoot, while othershad their original mounts, every one fit for the saddle. Flood hadinsisted on a good mount of horses, and Lovell was cowman enough toknow that what the mule is to the army the cow-horse is to the herd. 

The first and second day out there was no incident worth mentioning. We traveled slowly, hardly making an average day's drive. The thirdmorning Flood left us, to look out a crossing on the Arroyo Colorado. On coming down to receive the herd, we had crossed this sluggish bayouabout thirty-six miles north of Brownsville. It was adeceptive-looking stream, being over fifty feet deep and between bluffbanks. We ferried our wagon and saddle horses over, swimming the looseones. But the herd was keeping near the coast line for the sake ofopen country, and it was a question if there was a ford for the wagonas near the coast as our course was carrying us. The murmurings of theGulf had often reached our ears the day before, and herds had beenknown, in former years, to cross from the mainland over to PadreIsland, the intervening Laguna Madre being fordable. 

We were nooning when Flood returned with the news that it would beimpossible to cross our wagon at any point on the bayou, and that wewould have to ford around the mouth of the stream. Where the fresh andsalt water met in the laguna, there had formed a delta, or shallowbar; and by following its contour we would not have over twelve tofourteen inches of water, though the half circle was nearly two milesin length. As we would barely have time to cross that day, the herdwas at once started, veering for the mouth of the Arroyo Colorado. Onreaching it, about the middle of the afternoon, the foreman led theway, having crossed in the morning and learned the ford. The wagonfollowed, the saddle horses came next, while the herd brought up therear. It proved good footing on the sandbar, but the water in thelaguna was too salty for the cattle, though the loose horses lay downand wallowed in it. We were about an hour in crossing, and on reachingthe mainland met a vaquero, who directed us to a large fresh-waterlake a few miles inland, where we camped for the night. 

It proved an ideal camp, with wood, water, and grass in abundance, andvery little range stock to annoy us. We had watered the herd justbefore noon, and before throwing them upon the bed ground for thenight, watered them a second time. We had a splendid camp-fire thatnight, of dry live oak logs, and after supper was over and the firstguard had taken the herd, smoking and story telling were the order ofthe evening. The camp-fire is to all outdoor life what the eveningfireside is to domestic life. After the labors of the day are over, the men gather around the fire, and the social hour of the day isspent in yarning. The stories told may run from the sublime to theridiculous, from a true incident to a base fabrication, or from atouching bit of pathos to the most vulgar vulgarity. 

"Have I ever told this outfit my experience with the vigilantes when Iwas a kid?" inquired Bull Durham. There was a general negativeresponse, and he proceeded. "Well, our folks were living on the Frioat the time, and there was a man in our neighborhood who had an outfitof four men out beyond Nueces Cañon hunting wild cattle for theirhides. It was necessary to take them out supplies about every sooften, and on one trip he begged my folks to let me go along forcompany. I was a slim slip of a colt about fourteen at the time, andas this man was a friend of ours, my folks consented to let me goalong. We each had a good saddle horse, and two pack mules withprovisions and ammunition for the hunting camp. The first night wemade camp, a boy overtook us with the news that the brother of mycompanion had been accidentally killed by a horse, and of course hewould have to return. Well, we were twenty miles on our way, and as itwould take some little time to go back and return with the loadedmules, I volunteered, like a fool kid, to go on and take the packsthrough. 

"The only question was, could I pack and unpack. I had helped him atthis work, double-handed, but now that I was to try it alone, heshowed me what he called a squaw hitch, with which you can lash a packsingle-handed. After putting me through it once or twice, andsatisfying himself that I could do the packing, he consented to let mego on, he and the messenger returning home during the night. The nextmorning I packed without any trouble and started on my way. It wouldtake me two days yet, poking along with heavy packs, to reach thehunters. Well, I hadn't made over eight or ten miles the firstmorning, when, as I rounded a turn in the trail, a man stepped outfrom behind a rock, threw a gun in my face, and ordered me to hold upmy hands. Then another appeared from the opposite side with his gunleveled on me. Inside of half a minute a dozen men galloped up fromevery quarter, all armed to the teeth. The man on leaving had given mehis gun for company, one of these old smoke-pole, cap-and-ballsix-shooters, but I must have forgotten what guns were for, for Ielevated my little hands nicely. The leader of the party questioned meas to who I was, and what I was doing there, and what I had in thosepacks. That once, at least, I told the truth. Every mother's son ofthem was cursing and cross-questioning me in the same breath. Theyordered me off my horse, took my gun, and proceeded to verify my taleby unpacking the mules. So much ammunition aroused their suspicions, but my story was as good as it was true, and they never shook me fromthe truth of it. I soon learned that robbery was not their motive, andthe leader explained the situation. 

"A vigilance committee had been in force in that county for some time, trying to rid the country of lawless characters. But lawlessness gotinto the saddle, and had bench warrants issued and served on everymember of this vigilance committee. As the vigilantes numbered severalhundred, there was no jail large enough to hold such a number, so theywere released on parole for appearance at court. When court met, everyman served with a capias"--

"Hold on! hold your horses just a minute, " interrupted Quince Forrest, "I want to get that word. I want to make a memorandum of it, for I maywant to use it myself sometime. Capias? Now I have it; go ahead. "

"When court met, every man served with a bench warrant from the judgepresiding was present, and as soon as court was called to order, asquad of men arose in the court room, and the next moment the judgefell riddled with lead. Then the factions scattered to fight it out, and I was passing through the county while matters were active. 

"They confiscated my gun and all the ammunition in the packs, buthelped me to repack and started me on my way. A happy thought struckone of the men to give me a letter, which would carry me throughwithout further trouble, but the leader stopped him, saying, 'Let theboy alone. Your letter would hang him as sure as hell's hot, before hewent ten miles farther. ' I declined the letter. Even then I didn'thave sense enough to turn back, and inside of two hours I was roundedup by the other faction. I had learned my story perfectly by thistime, but those packs had to come off again for everything to beexamined. There was nothing in them now but flour and salt and suchthings--nothing that they might consider suspicious. One fellow inthis second party took a fancy to my horse, and offered to help hangme on general principles, but kinder counsels prevailed. They alsohelped me to repack, and I started on once more. Before I reached mydestination the following evening, I was held up seven differenttimes. I got so used to it that I was happily disappointed everyshelter I passed, if some man did not step out and throw a gun in myface. 

"I had trouble to convince the cattle hunters of my experiences, butthe absence of any ammunition, which they needed worst, at last ledthem to give credit to my tale. I was expected home within a week, asI was to go down on the Nueces on a cow hunt which was making up, andI only rested one day at the hunters' camp. On their advice, I took adifferent route on my way home, leaving the mules behind me. I neversaw a man the next day returning, and was feeling quite gala on mygood fortune. When evening came on, I sighted a little ranch housesome distance off the trail, and concluded to ride to it and stayovernight. As I approached, I saw that some one lived there, as therewere chickens and dogs about, but not a person in sight. I dismountedand knocked on the door, when, without a word, the door was thrownwide open and a half dozen guns were poked into my face. I was orderedinto the house and given a chance to tell my story again. Whether mystory was true or not, they took no chances on me, but kept me allnight. One of the men took my horse to the stable and cared for him, and I was well fed and given a place to sleep, but not a man offered aword of explanation, from which I took it they did not belong to thevigilance faction. When it came time to go to bed, one man said to me, 'Now, sonny, don't make any attempt to get away, and don't move out ofyour bed without warning us, for you'll be shot as sure as you do. Wewon't harm a hair on your head if you're telling us the truth; only doas you're told, for we'll watch you. '

"By this time I had learned to obey orders while in that county, andgot a fair night's sleep, though there were men going and coming allnight. The next morning I was given my breakfast; my horse, wellcuffed and saddled, was brought to the door, and with this partingadvice I was given permission to go: 'Son, if you've told us thetruth, don't look back when you ride away. You'll be watched for thefirst ten miles after leaving here, and if you've lied to us it willgo hard with you. Now, remember, don't look back, for these are timeswhen no one cares to be identified. ' I never questioned that man'sadvice; it was 'die dog or eat the hatchet' with me. I mounted myhorse, waved the usual parting courtesies, and rode away. As I turnedinto the trail about a quarter mile from the house, I noticed two menride out from behind the stable and follow me. I remembered the storyabout Lot's wife looking back, though it was lead and not miraclesthat I was afraid of that morning. 

"For the first hour I could hear the men talking and the hoofbeats oftheir horses, as they rode along always the same distance behind me. After about two hours of this one-sided joke, as I rode over a littlehill, I looked out of the corner of my eye back at my escort, stillabout a quarter of a mile behind me. One of them noticed me and raisedhis gun, but I instantly changed my view, and the moment the hill hidme, put spurs to my horse, so that when they reached the brow of thehill, I was half a mile in the lead, burning the earth like a canneddog. They threw lead close around me, but my horse lengthened thedistance between us for the next five miles, when they droppedentirely out of sight. By noon I came into the old stage road, and bythe middle of the afternoon reached home after over sixty miles in thesaddle without a halt. "

Just at the conclusion of Bull's story, Flood rode in from the herd, and after picketing his horse, joined the circle. In reply to aninquiry from one of the boys as to how the cattle were resting, hereplied, --

"This herd is breaking into trail life nicely. If we'll just becareful with them now for the first month, and no bad storms strike usin the night, we may never have a run the entire trip. That last drinkof water they had this evening gave them a night-cap that'll last themuntil morning. No, there's no danger of any trouble to-night. "

For fully an hour after the return of our foreman, we lounged aroundthe fire, during which there was a full and free discussion ofstampedes. But finally, Flood, suiting the action to the word byarising, suggested that all hands hunt their blankets and turn in forthe night. A quiet wink from Bull to several of the boys held us forthe time being, and innocently turning to Forrest, Durham inquired, --

"Where was--when was--was it you that was telling some one about a runyou were in last summer? I never heard you tell it. Where was it?"

"You mean on the Cimarron last year when we mixed two herds, " saidQuince, who had taken the bait like a bass and was now fully embarkedon a yarn. "We were in rather close quarters, herds ahead and behindus, when one night here came a cow herd like a cyclone and swept rightthrough our camp. We tumbled out of our blankets and ran for ourhorses, but before we could bridle"--

Bull had given us the wink, and every man in the outfit fell back, andthe snoring that checked the storyteller was like a chorus of rip sawsrunning through pine knots. Forrest took in the situation at a glance, and as he arose to leave, looked back and remarked, --

"You must all think that's smart. "

Before he was out of hearing, Durham said to the rest of us, --

"A few doses like that will cure him of sucking eggs and acting smart, interrupting folks. "

CHAPTER IV

THE ATASCOSA

For the next few days we paralleled the coast, except when forcedinland by various arms of the Laguna Madre. When about a week out fromthe Arroyo Colorado, we encountered the Salt Lagoon, which threw us atleast fifty miles in from the coast. Here we had our last view of saltwater, and the murmurings of the Gulf were heard no more. Our routenow led northward through what were then the two largest ranches inTexas, the "Running W" and Laurel Leaf, which sent more cattle up thetrail, bred in their own brand, than any other four ranches in theLone Star State. We were nearly a week passing through their ranges, and on reaching Santa Gertruda ranch learned that three trail herds, of over three thousand head each, had already started in these twobrands, while four more were to follow. 

So far we had been having splendid luck in securing water for theherd, once a day at least, and often twice and three times. Our herdwas becoming well trail-broken by this time, and for range cattle hadquieted down and were docile and easy to handle. Flood's years ofexperience on the trail made him a believer in the theory thatstampedes were generally due to negligence in not having the herd fullof grass and water on reaching the bed ground at night. Barringaccidents, which will happen, his view is the correct one, if care hasbeen used for the first few weeks in properly breaking the herd to thetrail. But though hunger and thirst are probably responsible for morestampedes than all other causes combined, it is the unexpected whichcannot be guarded against. A stampede is the natural result of fear, and at night or in an uncertain light, this timidity might be impartedto an entire herd by a flash of lightning or a peal of thunder, whilethe stumbling of a night horse, or the scent of some wild animal, would in a moment's time, from frightening a few head, so infect aherd as to throw them into the wildest panic. Amongst the thousands ofherds like ours which were driven over the trail during its briefexistence, none ever made the trip without encountering more or lesstrouble from runs. Frequently a herd became so spoiled in this mannerthat it grew into a mania with them, so that they would stampede onthe slightest provocation, --or no provocation at all. 

A few days after leaving Santa Gertruda Ranch, we crossed the NuecesRiver, which we followed up for several days, keeping in touch with itfor water for the herd. But the Nueces, after passing Oakville, makesan abrupt turn, doubling back to the southwest; and the Atascosa, oneof its tributaries, became our source of water supply. We werebeginning to feel a degree of overconfidence in the good behavior ofour herd, when one night during the third week out, an incidentoccurred in which they displayed their running qualities to ourcomplete satisfaction. 

It occurred during our guard, and about two o'clock in the morning. The night was an unusually dark one and the atmosphere was very humid. After we had been on guard possibly an hour, John Officer and I ridingin one direction on opposite sides of the herd, and The Rebel circlingin the opposite, Officer's horse suddenly struck a gopher burrow withhis front feet, and in a moment horse and rider were sprawling on theground. The accident happened but a few rods from the sleeping herd, which instantly came to their feet as one steer, and were off like aflash. I was riding my Nigger Boy, and as the cattle headed toward me, away from the cause of their fright, I had to use both quirt and rowelto keep clear of the onrush. Fortunately we had a clear country nearthe bed ground, and while the terrified cattle pressed me close, myhorse kept the lead. In the rumbling which ensued, all sounds weresubmerged by the general din; and I was only brought to theconsciousness that I was not alone by seeing several distinct flashesfrom six-shooters on my left, and, realizing that I also had a gun, fired several times in the air in reply. I was soon joined by Priestand Officer, the latter having lost no time in regaining his seat inthe saddle, and the three of us held together some little distance, for it would have been useless to attempt to check or turn thisonslaught of cattle in their first mad rush. 

The wagon was camped about two hundred yards from the bed ground, andthe herd had given ample warning to the boys asleep, so that if wethree could hold our position in the lead, help would come to us assoon as the men in camp could reach their horses. Realizing the widefront of the running cattle, Priest sent Officer to the left andmyself to the right, to point in the leaders in order to keep the herdfrom splitting or scattering, while he remained in the centre and ledthe herd. I soon gained the outside of the leaders, and by droppingback and coming up the line, pointed them in to the best of myability. I had repeated this a number of times, even quirting somecattle along the outside, or burning a little powder in the face ofsome obstinate leader, when across the herd and to the rear I saw asuccession of flashes like fireflies, which told me the boys werecoming to our assistance. 

Running is not a natural gait with cattle, and if we could only holdthem together and prevent splitting up, in time they would tire, whilethe rear cattle could be depended on to follow the leaders. All wecould hope to do was to force them to run straight, and in thisrespect we were succeeding splendidly, though to a certain extent itwas a guess in the dark. When they had run possibly a mile, I noticeda horseman overtake Priest. After they had ridden together a moment, one of them came over to my point, and the next minute our foreman wasracing along by my side. In his impatience to check the run, he tookme with him, and circling the leaders we reached the left point, bywhich time the remainder of the outfit had come up. Now massing ournumbers, we fell on the left point, and amid the flash of gunsdeflected their course for a few moments. A dozen men, however, cancover but a small space, and we soon realized that we had turned onlya few hundred head, for the momentum of the main body bore steadilyahead. Abandoning what few cattle we had turned, which, owing to theirrunning ability, soon resumed their places in the lead, we attemptedto turn them to the left. Stretching out our line until there was aman about every twenty feet, we threw our force against the rightpoint and lead in the hope of gradually deviating their course. For afew minutes the attempt promised to be successful, but our cordon wastoo weak and the cattle went through between the riders, and we soonfound a portion of our forces on either side of the herd, while a fewof the boys were riding out of the rush in the lead. 

On finding our forces thus divided, the five or six of us who remainedon the right contented ourselves by pointing in the leaders, for thecattle, so far as we could tell, were running compactly. Our foreman, however, was determined to turn the run, and after a few minutes' timerejoined us on the right, when under his leadership we circled thefront of the herd and collected on the left point, when, for a thirdtime, we repeated the same tactics in our efforts to turn thestampede. But in this, which was our final effort, we were attemptingto turn them slowly and on a much larger circle, and with a promise ofsuccess. Suddenly in the dark we encountered a mesquite thicket intowhich the lead cattle tore with a crashing of brush and a rattle ofhorns that sent a chill up and down my spine. But there was no time tohesitate, for our horses were in the thicket, and with the herdclosing in on us there was no alternative but to go through it, everyman for himself. I gave Nigger a free rein, shutting my eyes andclutching both cantle and pommel to hold my seat; the black respondedto the rowel and tore through the thicket, in places higher than myhead, and came out in an open space considerably in the lead of thecattle. 

This thicket must have been eight or ten rods wide, and checked therun to a slight extent; but as they emerged from it, they came out inscattering flies and resumed their running. Being alone, and notknowing which way to turn, I rode to the right and front and soonfound myself in the lead of quite a string of cattle. Nigger and Iwere piloting them where they listed, when Joe Stallings, hatlesshimself and his horse heaving, overtook me, and the two of us gavethose lead cattle all the trouble we knew how. But we did not attemptto turn them, for they had caught their wind in forcing the thicket, and were running an easy stroke. Several times we worried the leadersinto a trot, but as other cattle in the rear came up, we werecompelled to loosen out and allow them to resume their running, orthey would have scattered on us like partridges. At this stage of therun, we had no idea where the rest of the outfit were, but both of uswere satisfied the herd had scattered on leaving the mesquite thicket, and were possibly then running in half a dozen bunches like the one wewere with. 

Stallings's horse was badly winded, and on my suggestion, he droppedout on one side to try to get some idea how many cattle we wereleading. He was gone some little time, and as Nigger cantered alongeasily in the lead, I managed to eject the shells from my six-shooterand refill the cylinder. On Joe's overtaking me again, he reportedthat there was a slender column of cattle, half a mile in length, following. As one man could easily lead this string of the herd untildaybreak, I left Stallings with them and rode out to the left nearly aquarter of a mile, listening to hear if there were any cattle runningto the left of those we were leading. It took me but a few minutes tosatisfy myself that ours was the outside band on the left, and after Irejoined Joe, we made an effort to check our holding. 

There were about fifty or sixty big steers in the lead of our bunch, and after worrying them into a trot, we opened in their front with oursix-shooters, shooting into the ground in their very faces, and wererewarded by having them turn tail and head the other way. Takingadvantage of the moment, we jumped our horses on the retreatingleaders, and as fast as the rear cattle forged forward, easily turnedthem. Leaving Joe to turn the rear as they came up, I rode to thelead, unfastening my slicker as I went, and on reaching the turnedleaders, who were running on an angle from their former course, flaunted my "fish" in their faces until they reentered the rear guardof our string, and we soon had a mill going which kept them busy, andrested our horses. Once we had them milling, our trouble, as far asrunning was concerned, was over, for all two of us could hope to dowas to let them exhaust themselves in this endless circle. 

It then lacked an hour of daybreak, and all we could do was to ridearound and wait for daylight. In the darkness preceding dawn, we hadno idea of the number of our bunch, except as we could judge from thesize and compactness of the milling cattle, which must have covered anacre or more. The humidity of the atmosphere, which had prevailedduring the night, by dawn had changed until a heavy fog, cutting offour view on every hand, left us as much at sea as we had beenpreviously. But with the break of day we rode through our holding anumber of times, splitting and scattering the milling cattle, and asthe light of day brightened, we saw them quiet down and go to grazingas though they had just arisen from the bed ground. It was over anhour before the fog lifted sufficiently to give us any idea as to ourwhereabouts, and during the interim both Stallings and myself rode tothe nearest elevation, firing a number of shots in the hope of gettingan answer from the outfit, but we had no response. 

When the sun was sufficiently high to scatter the mists which hung inclouds, there was not an object in sight by which we could determineour location. Whether we had run east, west, or south during the nightneither of us knew, though both Stallings and myself were satisfiedthat we had never crossed the trail, and all we did know for acertainty was that we had between six and seven hundred head ofcattle. Stallings had lost his hat, and I had one sleeve missing andboth outside pockets torn out of my coat, while the mesquite thornshad left their marks on the faces of both of us, one particularly uglycut marking Joe's right temple. "I've worn leggins for the last tenyears, " said Stallings to me, as we took an inventory of ourdisfigurements, "and for about ten seconds in forcing that mesquitethicket was the only time I ever drew interest on my investment. They're a heap like a six-shooter--wear them all your life and neverhave any use for them. "

With a cigarette for breakfast, I left Joe to look after our bunch, and after riding several miles to the right, cut the trail of quite aband of cattle. In following up this trail I could easily see thatsome one was in their lead, as they failed to hold their course in anyone direction for any distance, as free cattle would. After followingthis trail about three miles, I sighted the band of cattle, and onovertaking them, found two of our boys holding about half as many asStallings had. They reported that The Rebel and Bob Blades had beenwith them until daybreak, but having the freshest horses had left themwith the dawn and ridden away to the right, where it was supposed themain body of the herd had run. As Stallings's bunch was some three orfour miles to the rear and left of this band, Wyatt Roundtreesuggested that he go and pilot in Joe's cattle, as he felt positivethat the main body were somewhere to our right. On getting directionsfrom me as to where he would find our holding, he rode away, and Iagain rode off to the right, leaving Rod Wheat with their catch. 

The sun was now several hours high, and as my black's strength wasstanding the test bravely, I cross-cut the country and was soon onanother trail of our stampeded cattle. But in following this trail, Isoon noticed two other horsemen preceding me. Knowing that my serviceswould be too late, I only followed far enough to satisfy myself of thefact. The signs left by the running cattle were as easy to follow as apublic road, and in places where the ground was sandy, the sod was cutup as if a regiment of cavalry had charged across it. On again bearingoff to the right, I rode for an elevation which ought to give me agood view of the country. Slight as this elevation was, on reachingit, I made out a large band of cattle under herd, and as I was on thepoint of riding to them, saw our wagon and saddle horses heave insight from a northwest quarter. Supposing they were following up thelargest trail, I rode for the herd, where Flood and two of the boyshad about twelve hundred cattle. From a comparison of notes, ourforeman was able to account for all the men with the exception of two, and as these proved to be Blades and Priest, I could give him asatisfactory explanation as to their probable whereabouts. On myreport of having sighted the wagon and _remuda_, Flood at once orderedme to meet and hurry them in, as not only he, but Strayhorn andOfficer, were badly in need of a change of mounts. 

I learned from McCann, who was doing the trailing from the wagon, thatthe regular trail was to the west, the herd having crossed it within aquarter of a mile after leaving the bed ground. Joining Honeyman, Itook the first horse which came within reach of my rope, and with afresh mount under me, we rushed the saddle horses past the wagon andshortly came up with our foreman. There we rounded in the horses asbest we could without the aid of the wagon, and before McCann arrived, all had fresh mounts and were ready for orders. This was my first tripon the trail, and I was hungry and thirsty enough to hope somethingwould be said about eating, but that seemed to be the last idea in ourforeman's mind. Instead, he ordered me to take the two other boys withme, and after putting them on the trail of the bunch which The Rebeland Blades were following, to drift in what cattle we had held on ourleft. But as we went, we managed to encounter the wagon and get adrink and a canteen of water from McCann before we galloped away onour mission. After riding a mile or so together, we separated, and onmy arrival at the nearest bunch, I found Roundtree and Stallingscoming up with the larger holding. Throwing the two hunches together, we drifted them a free clip towards camp. We soon sighted the mainherd, and saw across to our right and about five miles distant two ofour men bringing in another hunch. As soon as we turned our cattleinto the herd, Flood ordered me, on account of my light weight, tomeet this bunch, find out where the last cattle were, and go to theirassistance. 

With a hungry look in the direction of our wagon, I obeyed, and onmeeting Durham and Borrowstone, learned that the outside bunch on theright, which had got into the regular trail, had not been checkeduntil daybreak. All they knew about their location was that the upstage from Oakville had seen two men with Circle Dot cattle about fivemiles below, and had sent up word by the driver that they hadsomething like four hundred head. With this meagre information, I rodeaway in the direction where one would naturally expect to find ourabsent men, and after scouring the country for an hour, sighted asingle horseman on an elevation, whom from the gray mount I knew forQuince Forrest. He was evidently on the lookout for some one to pilotthem in. They had been drifting like lost sheep ever since dawn, butwe soon had their cattle pointed in the right direction, and Forresttaking the lead, Quarternight and I put the necessary push behindthem. Both of them cursed me roundly for not bringing them a canteenof water, though they were well aware that in an emergency like thepresent, our foreman would never give a thought to anything but therecovery of the herd. Our comfort was nothing; men were cheap, butcattle cost money. 

We reached the camp about two o'clock, and found the outfit cuttingout range cattle which had been absorbed into the herd during the run. Throwing in our contingent, we joined in the work, and though Forrestand Quarternight were as good as afoot, there were no orders for achange of mounts, to say nothing of food and drink. Several hundredmixed cattle were in the herd, and after they had been cut out, welined our cattle out for a count. In the absence of Priest, Flood andJohn Officer did the counting, and as the hour of the day made thecattle sluggish, they lined through between the counters as thoughthey had never done anything but walk in their lives. The count showedsixteen short of twenty-eight hundred, which left us yet over threehundred out. But good men were on their trail, and leaving two men onherd, the rest of us obeyed the most welcome orders of the day whenFlood intimated that we would "eat a bite and go after the rest. "

As we had been in our saddles since one or two o'clock the morningbefore, it is needless to add that our appetites were equal to thespread which our cook had waiting for us. Our foreman, as thoughfearful of the loss of a moment's time, sent Honeyman to rustle in thehorses before we had finished our dinners. Once the _remuda_ wascorralled, under the rush of a tireless foreman, dinner was quicklyover, and fresh horses became the order of the moment. The Atascosa, our nearest water, lay beyond the regular trail to the west, andleaving orders for the outfit to drift the herd into it and water, Flood and myself started in search of our absent men, not forgettingto take along two extra horses as a remount for Blades and Priest. Theleading of these extra horses fell to me, but with the loose end of arope in Jim Flood's hand as he followed, it took fast riding to keepclear of them. 

After reaching the trail of the missing cattle, our foreman set a pacefor five or six miles which would have carried us across the Nueces bynightfall, and we were only checked by Moss Strayhorn riding in on anangle and intercepting us in our headlong gait. The missing cattlewere within a mile of us to the right, and we turned and rode to them. Strayhorn explained to us that the cattle had struck some recentfencing on their course, and after following down the fence severalmiles had encountered an offset, and the angle had held the squaduntil The Rebel and Blades overtook them. When Officer and he reachedthem, they were unable to make any accurate count, because of therange cattle amongst them, and they had considered it advisable tosave horseflesh, and not cut them until more help was available. Whenwe came up with the cattle, my bunkie and Blades looked wistfully atour saddles, and anticipating their want, I untied my slicker, wellremembering the reproof of Quarternight and Forrest, and produced afull canteen of water, --warm of course, but no less welcome. 

No sooner were saddles shifted than we held up the bunch, cut out therange cattle, counted, and found we had some three hundred and thirtyodd Circle Dots, --our number more than complete. With nothing nowmissing, Flood took the loose horses and two of the boys with him andreturned to the herd, leaving three of us behind to bring in this lastcontingent of our stampeded cattle. This squad were nearly all largesteers, and had run fully twenty miles, before, thanks to an angle ina fence, they had been checked. As our foreman galloped away, leavingus behind, Bob Blades said, --

"Hasn't the boss got a wiggle on himself today! If he'd made this oldworld, he'd have made it in half a day, and gone fishing in theafternoon--if his horses had held out. "

We reached the Atascosa shortly after the arrival of the herd, andafter holding the cattle on the water for an hour, grazed them theremainder of the evening, for if there was any virtue in their havingfull stomachs, we wanted to benefit from it. While grazing thatevening, we recrossed the trail on an angle, and camped in the mostopen country we could find, about ten miles below our camp of thenight before. Every precaution was taken to prevent a repetition ofthe run; our best horses were chosen for night duty, as our regularones were too exhausted; every advantage of elevation for a bed groundwas secured, and thus fortified against accident, we went into campfor the night. But the expected never happens on the trail, and thesun arose the next morning over our herd grazing in peace andcontentment on the flowery prairies which border on the Atascosa. 

CHAPTER V

A DRY DRIVE

Our cattle quieted down nicely after this run, and the next few weeksbrought not an incident worth recording. There was no regular trailthrough the lower counties, so we simply kept to the open country. Spring had advanced until the prairies were swarded with grass andflowers, while water, though scarcer, was to be had at least oncedaily. We passed to the west of San Antonio--an outfitting point whichall herds touched in passing northward--and Flood and our cook tookthe wagon and went in for supplies. But the outfit with the herd kepton, now launched on a broad, well-defined trail, in placesseventy-five yards wide, where all local trails blent into the onecommon pathway, known in those days as the Old Western Trail. It isnot in the province of this narrative to deal with the cause or originof this cattle trail, though it marked the passage of many hundredthousand cattle which preceded our Circle Dots, and was destined toafford an outlet to several millions more to follow. The trail properconsisted of many scores of irregular cow paths, united into one broadpassageway, narrowing and widening as conditions permitted, yet everleading northward. After a few years of continued use, it became aswell defined as the course of a river. 

Several herds which had started farther up country were ahead of ours, and this we considered an advantage, for wherever one herd could go, it was reasonable that others could follow. Flood knew the trail aswell as any of the other foremen, but there was one thing he had nottaken into consideration: the drouth of the preceding summer. True, there had been local spring showers, sufficient to start the grassnicely, but water in such quantities as we needed was growing dailymore difficult to find. The first week after leaving San Antonio, ourforeman scouted in quest of water a full day in advance of the herd. One evening he returned to us with the news that we were in for a drydrive, for after passing the next chain of lakes it was sixty miles tothe next water, and reports regarding the water supply even aftercrossing this arid stretch were very conflicting. 

"While I know every foot of this trail through here, " said theforeman, "there's several things that look scaly. There are only fiveherds ahead of us, and the first three went through the old route, butthe last two, after passing Indian Lakes, for some reason or otherturned and went westward. These last herds may be stock cattle, pushing out west to new ranges; but I don't like the outlook. It wouldtake me two days to ride across and back, and by that time we could betwo thirds of the way through. I've made this drive before without adrop of water on the way, and wouldn't dread it now, if there was anycertainty of water at the other end. I reckon there's nothing to dobut tackle her; but isn't this a hell of a country? I've ridden fiftymiles to-day and never saw a soul. "

The Indian Lakes, some seven in number, were natural reservoirs withrocky bottoms, and about a mile apart. We watered at ten o'clock thenext day, and by night camped fifteen miles on our way. There wasplenty of good grazing for the cattle and horses, and no trouble wasexperienced the first night. McCann had filled an extra twenty gallonkeg for this trip. Water was too precious an article to be lavishwith, so we shook the dust from our clothing and went unwashed. Thiswas no serious deprivation, and no one could be critical of another, for we were all equally dusty and dirty. 

The next morning by daybreak the cattle were thrown off the bed groundand started grazing before the sun could dry out what little moisturethe grass had absorbed during the night. The heat of the past week hadbeen very oppressive, and in order to avoid it as much as possible, wemade late and early drives. Before the wagon passed the herd duringthe morning drive, what few canteens we had were filled with water forthe men. The _remuda_ was kept with the herd, and four changes ofmounts were made during the day, in order not to exhaust any onehorse. Several times for an hour or more, the herd was allowed to liedown and rest; but by the middle of the afternoon thirst made themimpatient and restless, and the point men were compelled to ridesteadily in the lead in order to hold the cattle to a walk. A numberof times during the afternoon we attempted to graze them, but notuntil the twilight of evening was it possible. 

After the fourth change of horses was made, Honeyman pushed on aheadwith the saddle stock and overtook the wagon. Under Flood's orders hewas to tie up all the night horses, for if the cattle could be inducedto graze, we would not bed them down before ten that night, and allhands would be required with the herd. McCann had instructions to makecamp on the divide, which was known to be twenty-five miles from ourcamp of the night before, or forty miles from the Indian Lakes. As weexpected, the cattle grazed willingly after nightfall, and with a fairmoon, we allowed them to scatter freely while grazing forward. Thebeacon of McCann's fire on the divide was in sight over an hour beforethe herd grazed up to camp, all hands remaining to bed the thirstycattle. The herd was given triple the amount of space usually requiredfor bedding, and even then for nearly an hour scarcely half of themlay down. 

We were handling the cattle as humanely as possible under thecircumstances. The guards for the night were doubled, six men on thefirst half and the same on the latter, Bob Blades being detailed toassist Honeyman in night-herding the saddle horses. If any of us gotmore than an hour's sleep that night, he was lucky. Flood, McCann, andthe horse wranglers did not even try to rest. To those of us who couldfind time to eat, our cook kept open house. Our foreman knew that awell-fed man can stand an incredible amount of hardship, andappreciated the fact that on the trail a good cook is a valuableasset. Our outfit therefore was cheerful to a man, and jokes and songshelped to while away the weary hours of the night. 

The second guard, under Flood, pushed the cattle off their beds anhour before dawn, and before they were relieved had urged the herdmore than five miles on the third day's drive over this waterlessmesa. In spite of our economy of water, after breakfast on this thirdmorning there was scarcely enough left to fill the canteens for theday. In view of this, we could promise ourselves no middaymeal--except a can of tomatoes to the man; so the wagon was ordered todrive through to the expected water ahead, while the saddle horseswere held available as on the day before for frequent changing ofmounts. The day turned out to be one of torrid heat, and before themiddle of the forenoon, the cattle lolled their tongues in despair, while their sullen lowing surged through from rear to lead and backagain in piteous yet ominous appeal. The only relief we could offerwas to travel them slowly, as they spurned every opportunity offeredthem either to graze or to lie down. 

It was nearly noon when we reached the last divide, and sighted thescattering timber of the expected watercourse. The enforced order ofthe day before--to hold the herd in a walk and prevent exertion andheating--now required four men in the lead, while the rear followedover a mile behind, dogged and sullen. Near the middle of theafternoon, McCann returned on one of his mules with the word that itwas a question if there was water enough to water even the horsestock. The preceding outfit, so he reported, had dug a shallow well inthe bed of the creek, from which he had filled his kegs, but the stockwater was a mere loblolly. On receipt of this news, we changed mountsfor the fifth time that day; and Flood, taking Forrest, the cook, andthe horse wrangler, pushed on ahead with the _remuda_ to the waterlessstream. 

The outlook was anything but encouraging. Flood and Forrest scoutedthe creek up and down for ten miles in a fruitless search for water. The outfit held the herd back until the twilight of evening, whenFlood returned and confirmed McCann's report. It was twenty miles yetto the next water ahead, and if the horse stock could only be wateredthoroughly, Flood was determined to make the attempt to nurse the herdthrough to water. McCann was digging an extra well, and he expressedthe belief that by hollowing out a number of holes, enough water couldbe secured for the saddle stock. Honeyman had corralled the horses andwas letting only a few go to the water at a time, while the nighthorses were being thoroughly watered as fast as the water rose in thewell. 

Holding the herd this third night required all hands. Only a few menat a time were allowed to go into camp and eat, for the herd refusedeven to lie down. What few cattle attempted to rest were prevented bythe more restless ones. By spells they would mill, until riders weresent through the herd at a break-neck pace to break up the groups. During these milling efforts of the herd, we drifted over a mile fromcamp; but by the light of moon and stars and the number of riders, scattering was prevented. As the horses were loose for the night, wecould not start them on the trail until daybreak gave us a change ofmounts, so we lost the early start of the morning before. 

Good cloudy weather would have saved us, but in its stead was a sultrymorning without a breath of air, which bespoke another day of sizzlingheat. We had not been on the trail over two hours before the heatbecame almost unbearable to man and beast. Had it not been for thecondition of the herd, all might yet have gone well; but over threedays had now elapsed without water for the cattle, and they becamefeverish and ungovernable. The lead cattle turned back several times, wandering aimlessly in any direction, and it was with considerabledifficulty that the herd could be held on the trail. The rear overtookthe lead, and the cattle gradually lost all semblance of a trail herd. Our horses were fresh, however, and after about two hours' work, weonce more got the herd strung out in trailing fashion; but before amile had been covered, the leaders again turned, and the cattlecongregated into a mass of unmanageable animals, milling and lowing intheir fever and thirst. The milling only intensified their sufferingsfrom the heat, and the outfit split and quartered them again andagain, in the hope that this unfortunate outbreak might be checked. Nosooner was the milling stopped than they would surge hither and yon, sometimes half a mile, as ungovernable as the waves of an ocean. Afterwasting several hours in this manner, they finally turned back overthe trail, and the utmost efforts of every man in the outfit failed tocheck them. We threw our ropes in their faces, and when this failed, we resorted to shooting; but in defiance of the fusillade and thesmoke they walked sullenly through the line of horsemen across theirfront. Six-shooters were discharged so close to the leaders' faces asto singe their hair, yet, under a noonday sun, they disregarded thisand every other device to turn them, and passed wholly out of ourcontrol. In a number of instances wild steers deliberately walkedagainst our horses, and then for the first time a fact dawned on usthat chilled the marrow in our bones, --_the herd was going blind_. 

The bones of men and animals that lie bleaching along the trailsabundantly testify that this was not the first instance in which theplain had baffled the determination of man. It was now evident thatnothing short of water would stop the herd, and we rode aside and letthem pass. As the outfit turned back to the wagon, our foreman seemeddazed by the sudden and unexpected turn of affairs, but rallied andmet the emergency. 

"There's but one thing left to do, " said he, as we rode along, "andthat is to hurry the outfit back to Indian Lakes. The herd will travelday and night, and instinct can be depended on to carry them to theonly water they know. It's too late to be of any use now, but it'splain why those last two herds turned off at the lakes; some one hadgone back and warned them of the very thing we've met. We must beatthem to the lakes, for water is the only thing that will check themnow. It's a good thing that they are strong, and five or six dayswithout water will hardly kill any. It was no vague statement of theman who said if he owned hell and Texas, he'd rent Texas and live inhell, for if this isn't Billy hell, I'd like to know what you callit. "

We spent an hour watering the horses from the wells of our camp of thenight before, and about two o'clock started back over the trail forIndian Lakes. We overtook the abandoned herd during the afternoon. They were strung out nearly five miles in length, and were walkingabout a three-mile gait. Four men were given two extra horses apieceand left to throw in the stragglers in the rear, with instructions tofollow them well into the night, and again in the morning as long astheir canteens lasted. The remainder of the outfit pushed on without ahalt, except to change mounts, and reached the lakes shortly aftermidnight. There we secured the first good sleep of any consequence forthree days. 

It was fortunate for us that there were no range cattle at theselakes, and we had only to cover a front of about six miles to catchthe drifting herd. It was nearly noon the next day before the cattlebegan to arrive at the water holes in squads of from twenty to fifty. Pitiful objects as they were, it was a novelty to see them reach thewater and slack their thirst. Wading out into the lakes until theirsides were half covered, they would stand and low in a soft moaningvoice, often for half an hour before attempting to drink. Contrary toour expectation, they drank very little at first, but stood in thewater for hours. After coming out, they would lie down and rest forhours longer, and then drink again before attempting to graze, theirthirst overpowering hunger. That they were blind there was noquestion, but with the causes that produced it once removed, it wasprobable their eyesight would gradually return. 

By early evening, the rear guard of our outfit returned and reportedthe tail end of the herd some twenty miles behind when they left them. During the day not over a thousand head reached the lakes, and towardsevening we put these under herd and easily held them during the night. All four of the men who constituted the rear guard were sent back thenext morning to prod up the rear again, and during the night at leasta thousand more came into the lakes, which held them better than ahundred men. With the recovery of the cattle our hopes grew, and withthe gradual accessions to the herd, confidence was again completelyrestored. Our saddle stock, not having suffered as had the cattle, were in a serviceable condition, and while a few men were all thatwere necessary to hold the herd, the others scoured the country formiles in search of any possible stragglers which might have missed thewater. 

During the forenoon of the third day at the lakes, Nat Straw, theforeman of Ellison's first herd on the trail, rode up to our camp. Hewas scouting for water for his herd, and, when our situation wasexplained and he had been interrogated regarding loose cattle, gave usthe good news that no stragglers in our road brand had been met bytheir outfit. This was welcome news, for we had made no count yet, andfeared some of them, in their locoed condition, might have passed thewater during the night. Our misfortune was an ill wind by which Strawprofited, for he had fully expected to keep on by the old route, butwith our disaster staring him in the face, a similar experience was tobe avoided. His herd reached the lakes during the middle of theafternoon, and after watering, turned and went westward over the newroute taken by the two herds which preceded us. He had a herd of aboutthree thousand steers, and was driving to the Dodge market. After theexperience we had just gone through, his herd and outfit were awelcome sight. Flood made inquiries after Lovell's second herd, undermy brother Bob as foreman, but Straw had seen or heard nothing ofthem, having come from Goliad County with his cattle. 

After the Ellison herd had passed on and out of sight, our squad whichhad been working the country to the northward, over the route by whichthe abandoned herd had returned, came in with the information thatthat section was clear of cattle, and that they had only found threehead dead from thirst. On the fourth morning, as the herd left the bedground, a count was ordered, and to our surprise we counted outtwenty-six head more than we had received on the banks of the RioGrande a month before. As there had been but one previous occasion tocount, the number of strays absorbed into our herd was easilyaccounted for by Priest: "If a steer herd could increase on the trail, why shouldn't ours, that had over a thousand cows in it?" Theobservation was hardly borne out when the ages of our herd were takeninto consideration. But 1882 in Texas was a liberal day andgeneration, and "cattle stealing" was too drastic a term to use forthe chance gain of a few cattle, when the foundations of princelyfortunes were being laid with a rope and a branding iron. 

In order to give the Ellison herd a good start of us, we only movedour wagon to the farthest lake and went into camp for the day. Theherd had recovered its normal condition by this time, and of thetroubles of the past week not a trace remained. Instead, our herdgrazed in leisurely content over a thousand acres, while with theexception of a few men on herd, the outfit lounged around the wagonand beguiled the time with cards. 

We had undergone an experience which my bunkie, The Rebel, termed "aninteresting incident in his checkered career, " but which not even hewould have cared to repeat. That night while on night herdtogether--the cattle resting in all contentment--we rode one roundtogether, and as he rolled a cigarette he gave me an old war story:--

"They used to tell the story in the army, that during one of thewinter retreats, a cavalryman, riding along in the wake of the columnat night, saw a hat apparently floating in the mud and water. In thehope that it might be a better hat than the one he was wearing, hedismounted to get it. Feeling his way carefully through the ooze untilhe reached the hat, he was surprised to find a man underneath andwearing it. 'Hello, comrade, ' he sang out, 'can I lend you a hand?'

"'No, no, ' replied the fellow, 'I'm all right; I've got a good muleyet under me. '"

CHAPTER VI

A REMINISCENT NIGHT

On the ninth morning we made our second start from the Indian Lakes. An amusing incident occurred during the last night of our camp atthese water holes. Coyotes had been hanging around our camp forseveral days, and during the quiet hours of the night these scavengersof the plain had often ventured in near the wagon in search of scrapsof meat or anything edible. Rod Wheat and Ash Borrowstone had madetheir beds down some distance from the wagon; the coyotes as theycircled round the camp came near their bed, and in sniffing aboutawoke Borrowstone. There was no more danger of attack from thesecowards than from field mice, but their presence annoyed Ash, and ashe dared not shoot, he threw his boots at the varmints. Imagine hischagrin the next morning to find that one boot had landed among thebanked embers of the camp-fire, and was burned to a crisp. It waslooked upon as a capital joke by the outfit, as there was no tellingwhen we would reach a store where he could secure another pair. 

The new trail, after bearing to the westward for several days, turnednorthward, paralleling the old one, and a week later we came into theold trail over a hundred miles north of the Indian Lakes. With theexception of one thirty-mile drive without water, no fault could befound with the new trail. A few days after coming into the old trail, we passed Mason, a point where trail herds usually put in forsupplies. As we passed during the middle of the afternoon, the wagonand a number of the boys went into the burg. Quince Forrest and BillyHoneyman were the only two in the outfit for whom there were anyletters, with the exception of a letter from Lovell, which was commonproperty. Never having been over the trail before, and not evenknowing that it was possible to hear from home, I wasn't expecting anyletter; but I felt a little twinge of homesickness that night whenHoneyman read us certain portions of his letter, which was from hissister. Forrest's letter was from a sweetheart, and after reading it afew times, he burnt it, and that was all we ever knew of its contents, for he was too foxy to say anything, even if it had not beenunfavorable. Borrowstone swaggered around camp that evening in a newpair of boots, which had the Lone Star set in filigree-work in theirred tops. 

At our last camp at the lakes, The Rebel and I, as partners, had beenshamefully beaten in a game of seven-up by Bull Durham and JohnOfficer, and had demanded satisfaction in another trial around thefire that night. We borrowed McCann's lantern, and by the aid of itand the camp-fire had an abundance of light for our game. In theabsence of a table, we unrolled a bed and sat down Indian fashion overa game of cards in which all friendship ceased. 

The outfit, with the exception of myself, had come from the sameneighborhood, and an item in Honeyman's letter causing considerablecomment was a wedding which had occurred since the outfit had left. Itseemed that a number of the boys had sparked the bride in times past, and now that she was married, their minds naturally became reminiscentover old sweethearts. 

"The way I make it out, " said Honeyman, in commenting on the news, "isthat the girl had met this fellow over in the next county whilevisiting her cousins the year before. My sister gives it as ahorseback opinion that she'd been engaged to this fellow nearly eightmonths; girls, you know, sabe each other that way. Well, it won'taffect my appetite any if all the girls I know get married while I'mgone. "

"You certainly have never experienced the tender passion, " said FoxQuarternight to our horse wrangler, as he lighted his pipe with abrand from the fire. "Now I have. That's the reason why I sympathizewith these old beaus of the bride. Of course I was too old to standany show on her string, and I reckon the fellow who got her ain't sopowerful much, except his veneering and being a stranger, which was abig advantage. To be sure, if she took a smile to this stranger, noother fellow could check her with a three-quarter rope and a snubbingpost. I've seen girls walk right by a dozen good fellows and fawn oversome scrub. My experience teaches me that when there's a woman in it, it's haphazard pot luck with no telling which way the cat will hop. You can't play any system, and merit cuts little figure in generalresults. "

"Fox, " said Durham, while Officer was shuffling the cards, "your augerseems well oiled and working keen to-night. Suppose you give us thatlittle experience of yours in love affairs. It will be a treat tothose of us who have never been in love, and won't interrupt the gamea particle. Cut loose, won't you?"

"It's a long time back, " said Quarternight, meditatively, "and thescars have all healed, so I don't mind telling it. I was born andraised on the border of the Blue Grass Region in Kentucky. I had themisfortune to be born of poor but honest parents, as they do instories; no hero ever had the advantage of me in that respect. In loveaffairs, however, it's a high card in your hand to be born rich. Thecountry around my old home had good schools, so we had the advantageof a good education. When I was about nineteen, I went away from homeone winter to teach school--a little country school about fifteenmiles from home. But in the old States fifteen miles from home makesyou a dead rank stranger. The trustee of the township was shuckingcorn when I went to apply for the school. I simply whipped out my pegand helped him shuck out a shock or two while we talked over schoolmatters. The dinner bell rang, and he insisted on my staying fordinner with him. Well, he gave me a better school than I had askedfor--better neighborhood, he said--and told me to board with a certainfamily who had no children; he gave his reasons, but that'simmaterial. They were friends of his, so I learned afterwards. Theyproved to be fine people. The woman was one of those kindly souls whonever know where to stop. She planned and schemed to marry me off inspite of myself. The first month that I was with them she told me allabout the girls in that immediate neighborhood. In fact, she rathergot me unduly excited, being a youth and somewhat verdant. She dweltpowerful heavy on a girl who lived in a big brick house which stoodback of the road some distance. This girl had gone to school at aseminary for young ladies near Lexington, --studied music and paintingand was 'way up on everything. She described her to me as black-eyedwith raven tresses, just like you read about in novels. 

"Things were rocking along nicely, when a few days before Christmas alittle girl who belonged to the family who lived in the brick housebrought me a note one morning. It was an invitation to take supperwith them the following evening. The note was written in a prettyhand, and the name signed to it--I'm satisfied now it was a forgery. My landlady agreed with me on that point; in fact, she may havementioned it first. I never ought to have taken her into my confidencelike I did. But I wanted to consult her, showed her the invitation, and asked her advice. She was in the seventh heaven of delight; had meanswer it at once, accept the invitation with pleasure and a lot ofstuff that I never used before--she had been young once herself. Iused up five or six sheets of paper in writing the answer, spoilt oneafter another, and the one I did send was a flat failure compared tothe one I received. Well, the next evening when it was time to start, I was nervous and uneasy. It was nearly dark when I reached the house, but I wanted it that way. Say, but when I knocked on the front door ofthat house it was with fear and trembling. 'Is this Mr. Quarternight?'inquired a very affable lady who received me. I knew I was one of oldman Quarternight's seven boys, and admitted that that was my name, though it was the first time any one had ever called me _mister_. Iwas welcomed, ushered in, and introduced all around. There were a fewsmall children whom I knew, so I managed to talk to them. The girlwhom I was being braced against was not a particle overrated, butsustained the Kentucky reputation for beauty. She made herself sopleasant and agreeable that my fears soon subsided. When the man ofthe house came in I was cured entirely. He was gruff and hearty, opened his mouth and laughed deep. I built right up to him. We talkedabout cattle and horses until supper was announced. He was reallysorry I hadn't come earlier, so as to look at a three year old coltthat he set a heap of store by. He showed him to me after supper witha lantern. Fine colt, too. I don't remember much about the supper, except that it was fine and I came near spilling my coffee severaltimes, my hands were so large and my coat sleeves so short. When wereturned from looking at the colt, we went into the parlor. Say, fellows, it was a little the nicest thing that ever I went against. Carpet that made you think you were going to bog down every step, springy like marsh land, and I was glad I came. Then the youngerchildren were ordered to retire, and shortly afterward the man and hiswife followed suit. 

"When I heard the old man throw his heavy boots on the floor in thenext room, I realized that I was left all alone with their charmingdaughter. All my fears of the early part of the evening tried to crowdon me again, but were calmed by the girl, who sang and played on thepiano with no audience but me. Then she interested me by telling herschool experiences, and how glad she was that they were over. Finallyshe lugged out a great big family album, and sat down aside of me onone of these horsehair sofas. That album had a clasp on it, a buckleof pure silver, same as these eighteen dollar bridles. While we werelooking at the pictures--some of the old varmints had fought in theRevolutionary war, so she said--I noticed how close we were sittingtogether. Then we sat farther apart after we had gone through thealbum, one on each end of the sofa, and talked about the neighborhood, until I suddenly remembered that I had to go. While she was getting myhat and I was getting away, somehow she had me promise to take dinnerwith them on Christmas. 

"For the next two or three months it was hard to tell if I lived at myboarding house or at the brick. If I failed to go, my landlady wouldhatch up some errand and send me over. If she hadn't been such a goodwoman, I'd never forgive her for leading me to the sacrifice like shedid. Well, about two weeks before school was out, I went home overSaturday and Sunday. Those were fatal days in my life. When I returnedon Monday morning, there was a letter waiting for me. It was from thegirl's mamma. There had been a quilting in the neighborhood onSaturday, and at this meet of the local gossips, some one had hintedthat there was liable to be a wedding as soon as school was out. Mammawas present, and neither admitted nor denied the charge. But there wasa woman at this quilting who had once lived over in our neighborhoodand felt it her duty to enlighten the company as to who I was. I gotall this later from my landlady. 'Law me, ' said this woman, 'folksround here in this section think our teacher is the son of that bigfarmer who raises so many cattle and horses. Why, I've known bothfamilies of those Quarternights for nigh on to thirty year. Ourteacher is one of old John Fox's boys, the Irish Quarternights, wholive up near the salt licks on Doe Run. They were always so poor thatthe children never had enough to eat and hardly half enough to wear. '

"This plain statement of facts fell like a bombshell on mamma. Shestarted a private investigation of her own, and her verdict was inthat letter. It was a centre shot. That evening when I locked theschoolhouse door it was for the last time, for I never unlocked itagain. My landlady, dear old womanly soul, tried hard to have me teachthe school out at least, but I didn't see it that way. The cause ofeducation in Kentucky might have gone straight to eternal hell, beforeI'd have stayed another day in that neighborhood. I had money enoughto get to Texas with, and here I am. When a fellow gets it burnt intohim like a brand that way once, it lasts him quite a while. He 'llfeel his way next time. "

"That was rather a raw deal to give a fellow, " said Officer, who hadbeen listening while playing cards. "Didn't you never see the girlagain?"

"No, nor you wouldn't want to either if that letter had been writtento you. And some folks claim that seven is a lucky number; there wereseven boys in our family and nary one ever married. "

"That experience of Fox's, " remarked Honeyman, after a short silence, "is almost similar to one I had. Before Lovell and Flood adopted me, Iworked for a horse man down on the Nueces. Every year he drove up thetrail a large herd of horse stock. We drove to the same point on thetrail each year, and I happened to get acquainted up there with afamily that had several girls in it. The youngest girl in the familyand I seemed to understand each other fairly well. I had to stay atthe horse camp most of the time, and in one way and another did notget to see her as much as I would have liked. When we sold out theherd, I hung around for a week or so, and spent a month's wagesshowing her the cloud with the silver lining. She stood it all easy, too. When the outfit went home, of course I went with them. I wasbanking plenty strong, however, that next year, if there was a goodmarket in horses, I'd take her home with me. I had saved my wages andrustled around, and when we started up the trail next year, I hadforty horses of my own in the herd. I had figured they would bring mea thousand dollars, and there was my wages besides. 

"When we reached this place, we held the herd out twenty miles, so itwas some time before I got into town to see the girl. But the firsttime I did get to see her I learned that an older sister of hers, whohad run away with some renegade from Texas a year or so before, haddrifted back home lately with tears in her eyes and a big fat baby boyin her arms. She warned me to keep away from the house, for men fromTexas were at a slight discount right then in that family. The girlseemed to regret it and talked reasonable, and I thought I could seeencouragement. I didn't crowd matters, nor did her folks forget mewhen they heard that Byler had come in with a horse herd from theNueces. I met the girl away from home several times during the summer, and learned that they kept hot water on tap to scald me if I everdared to show up. One son-in-law from Texas had simply surfeited thatfamily--there was no other vacancy. About the time we closed out andwere again ready to go home, there was a cattleman's ball given inthis little trail town. We stayed over several days to take in thisball, as I had some plans of my own. My girl was at the ball all easyenough, but she warned me that her brother was watching me. I paid noattention to him, and danced with her right along, begging her to runaway with me. It was obviously the only play to make. But the more I'd'suade her the more she'd 'fuse. The family was on the prod biggerthan a wolf, and there was no use reasoning with them. After I had hadevery dance with her for an hour or so, her brother coolly stepped inand took her home. The next morning he felt it his duty, as hissister's protector, to hunt me up and inform me that if I even spoketo his sister again, he'd shoot me like a dog. 

"'Is that a bluff, or do you mean it for a real play?' I inquired, politely. 

"'You'll find that it will be real enough, ' he answered, angrily. 

"'Well, now, that's too bad, ' I answered; 'I'm really sorry that Ican't promise to respect your request. But this much I can assure you:any time that you have the leisure and want to shoot me, just cutloose your dog. But remember this one thing--that it will be my secondshot. '"

"Are you sure you wasn't running a blazer yourself, or is the windmerely rising?" inquired Durham, while I was shuffling the cards forthe next deal. 

"Well, if I was, I hung up my gentle honk before his eyes and ears andgave him free license to call it. The truth is, I didn't pay any moreattention to him than I would to an empty bottle. I reckon the girlwas all right, but the family were these razor-backed, barnyardsavages. It makes me hot under the collar yet when I think of it. They'd have lawed me if I had, but I ought to have shot him andchecked the breed. "

"Why didn't you run off with her?" inquired Fox, dryly. 

"Well, of course a man of your nerve is always capable of advisingothers. But you see, I'm strong on the breed. Now a girl can't showher true colors like the girl's brother did, but get her in theharness once, and then she'll show you the white of her eye, balk, andpossibly kick over the wagon tongue. No, I believe in thebreed--blood'll tell. "

"I worked for a cowman once, " said Bull, irrelevantly, "and they toldit on him that he lost twenty thousand dollars the night he wasmarried. "

"How, gambling?" I inquired. 

"No. The woman he married claimed to be worth twenty thousand dollarsand she never had a cent. Spades trump?"

"No; hearts, " replied The Rebel. "I used to know a foreman up inDeWitt County, --'Honest' John Glen they called him. He claimed theonly chance he ever had to marry was a widow, and the reason he didn'tmarry her was, he was too honest to take advantage of a dead man. "

While we paid little attention to wind or weather, this was an idealnight, and we were laggard in seeking our blankets. Yarn followedyarn; for nearly every one of us, either from observation or frompractical experience, had a slight acquaintance with the greatmastering passion. But the poetical had not been developed in us to anappreciative degree, so we discussed the topic under considerationmuch as we would have done horses or cattle. 

Finally the game ended. A general yawn went the round of the loungersabout the fire. The second guard had gone on, and when the first rodein, Joe Stallings, halting his horse in passing the fire, called outsociably, "That muley steer, the white four year old, didn't like tobed down amongst the others, so I let him come out and lay down byhimself. You'll find him over on the far side of the herd. You allremember how wild he was when we first started? Well, you can ridewithin three feet of him to-night, and he'll grunt and act sociableand never offer to get up. I promised him that he might sleep alone aslong as he was good; I just love a good steer. Make down our bed, pardner; I'll be back as soon as I picket my horse. "

CHAPTER VII

THE COLORADO

The month of May found our Circle Dot herd, in spite of all drawbacks, nearly five hundred miles on its way. For the past week we had beentraveling over that immense tableland which skirts the arid portion ofwestern Texas. A few days before, while passing the blue mountainswhich stand as a southern sentinel in the chain marking the headwatersof the Concho River, we had our first glimpse of the hills. In itsalmost primitive condition, the country was generous, supplying everywant for sustenance of horses and cattle. The grass at this stage ofthe season was well matured, the herd taking on flesh in a verygratifying manner, and, while we had crossed some rocky country, lameand sore-footed cattle had as yet caused us no serious trouble. 

One morning when within one day's drive of the Colorado River, as ourherd was leaving the bed ground, the last guard encountered a bunch ofcattle drifting back down the trail. There were nearly fifty head ofthe stragglers; and as one of our men on guard turned them to throwthem away from our herd, the road brand caught his eye, and herecognized the strays as belonging to the Ellison herd which hadpassed us at the Indian Lakes some ten days before. Flood's attentiononce drawn to the brand, he ordered them thrown into our herd. It wasevident that some trouble had occurred with the Ellison cattle, possibly a stampede; and it was but a neighborly act to lend anyassistance in our power. As soon as the outfit could breakfast, mount, and take the herd, Flood sent Priest and me to scout the country tothe westward of the trail, while Bob Blades and Ash Borrowstonestarted on a similar errand to the eastward, with orders to throw inany drifting cattle in the Ellison road brand. Within an hour afterstarting, the herd encountered several straggling bands, and as Priestand I were on the point of returning to the herd, we almost overrode abunch of eighty odd head lying down in some broken country. They weregaunt and tired, and The Rebel at once pronounced their stiffenedmovements the result of a stampede. 

We were drifting them bask towards the trail, when Nat Straw and twoof his men rode out from our herd and met us. "I always did claim thatit was better to be born lucky than handsome, " said Straw as he rodeup. "One week Flood saves me from a dry drive, and the very next one, he's just the right distance behind to catch my drift from a nastystampede. Not only that, but my peelers and I are riding Circle Dothorses, as well as reaching the wagon in time for breakfast and liningour flues with Lovell's good chuck. It's too good luck to last, I'mafraid. 

"I'm not hankering for the dramatic in life, but we had a run lastnight that would curl your hair. Just about midnight a bunch of rangecattle ran into us, and before you could say Jack Robinson, our dogieshad vamoosed the ranch and were running in half a dozen differentdirections. We rounded them up the best we could in the dark, and thenI took a couple of men and came back down the trail about twenty milesto catch any drift when day dawned. But you see there's nothing likebeing lucky and having good neighbors, --cattle caught, fresh horses, and a warm breakfast all waiting for you. I'm such a lucky dog, it's awonder some one didn't steal me when I was little. I can't help it, but some day I'll marry a banker's daughter, or fall heir to a ranchas big as old McCulloch County. "

Before meeting us, Straw had confided to our foreman that he couldassign no other plausible excuse for the stampede than that it was thework of cattle rustlers. He claimed to know the country along theColorado, and unless it had changed recently, those hills to thewestward harbored a good many of the worst rustlers in the State. Headmitted it might have been wolves chasing the range cattle, butthought it had the earmarks of being done by human wolves. Hemaintained that few herds had ever passed that river without loss ofcattle, unless the rustlers were too busy elsewhere to give thepassing herd their attention. Straw had ordered his herd to drop backdown the trail about ten miles from their camp of the night previous, and about noon the two herds met on a branch of Brady Creek. By thattime our herd had nearly three hundred head of the Ellison cattle, sowe held it up and cut theirs out. Straw urged our foreman, whatever hedid, not to make camp in the Colorado bottoms or anywhere near theriver, if he didn't want a repetition of his experience. Afterstarting our herd in the afternoon, about half a dozen of us turnedback and lent a hand in counting Straw's herd, which proved to be overa hundred head short, and nearly half his outfit were still outhunting cattle. Acting on Straw's advice, we camped that night somefive or six miles back from the river on the last divide. From thetime the second guard went on until the third was relieved, we tookthe precaution of keeping a scout outriding from a half to threequarters of a mile distant from the herd, Flood and Honeyman servingin that capacity. Every precaution was taken to prevent a surprise;and in case anything did happen, our night horses tied to the wagonwheels stood ready saddled and bridled for any emergency. But thenight passed without incident. 

An hour or two after the herd had started the next morning, four wellmounted, strange men rode up from the westward, and representingthemselves as trail cutters, asked for our foreman. Flood met them, inhis usual quiet manner, and after admitting that we had been troubledmore or less with range cattle, assured our callers that if there wasanything in the herd in the brands they represented, he would gladlyhold it up and give them every opportunity to cut their cattle out. Ashe was anxious to cross the river before noon, he invited the visitorsto stay for dinner, assuring them that before starting the herd in theafternoon, he would throw the cattle together for their inspection. Flood made himself very agreeable, inquiring into cattle and rangematters in general as well as the stage of water in the river ahead. The spokesman of the trail cutters met Flood's invitation to dinnerwith excuses about the pressing demands on his time, and urged, if itdid not seriously interfere with our plans, that he be allowed toinspect the herd before crossing the river. His reasons seemed trivialand our foreman was not convinced. 

"You see, gentlemen, " he said, "in handling these southern cattle, wemust take advantage of occasions. We have timed our morning's drive soas to reach the river during the warmest hour of the day, or as nearnoon as possible. You can hardly imagine what a difference there is, in fording this herd, between a cool, cloudy day and a clear, hot one. You see the herd is strung out nearly a mile in length now, and tohold them up and waste an hour or more for your inspection wouldseriously disturb our plans. And then our wagon and _remuda_ have goneon with orders to noon at the first good camp beyond the river. Iperfectly understand your reasons, and you equally understand mine;but I will send a man or two back to help you recross any cattle youmay find in our herd. Now, if a couple of you gentlemen will ridearound on the far side with me, and the others will ride up near thelead, we will trail the cattle across when we reach the river withoutcutting the herd into blocks. "

Flood's affability, coupled with the fact that the lead cattle werenearly up to the river, won his point. Our visitors could only yield, and rode forward with our lead swing men to assist in forcing the leadcattle into the river. It was swift water, but otherwise an easycrossing, and we allowed the herd, after coming out on the fartherside, to spread out and graze forward at its pleasure. The wagon andsaddle stock were in sight about a mile ahead, and leaving two men onherd to drift the cattle in the right direction, the rest of us rodeleisurely on to the wagon, where dinner was waiting. Flood treated ourcallers with marked courtesy during dinner, and casually inquired ifany of their number had seen any cattle that day or the day previousin the Ellison road brand. They had not, they said, explaining thattheir range lay on both sides of the Concho, and that during the trailseason they kept all their cattle between that river and the mainColorado. Their work had kept them on their own range recently, exceptwhen trail herds were passing and needed to be looked through forstrays. It sounded as though our trail cutters could also usediplomacy on occasion. 

When dinner was over and we had caught horses for the afternoon andwere ready to mount, Flood asked our guests for their credentials asduly authorized trail cutters. They replied that they had none, butoffered in explanation the statement that they were merely cutting inthe interest of the immediate locality, which required no writtenauthority. 

Then the previous affability of our foreman turned to iron. "Well, men, " said he, "if you have no authority to cut this trail, then youdon't cut this herd. I must have inspection papers before I can move abrand out of the county in which it is bred, and I'll certainly let noother man, local or duly appointed, cut an animal out of this herdwithout written and certified authority. You know that without beingtold, or ought to. I respect the rights of every man posted on a trailto cut it. If you want to see my inspection papers, you have a rightto demand them, and in turn I demand of you your credentials, showingwho you work for and the list of brands you represent; otherwise noharm's done; nor do you cut any herd that I'm driving. "

"Well, " said one of the men, "I saw a couple of head in my ownindividual brand as we rode up the herd. I'd like to see the man whosays that I haven't the right to claim my own brand, anywhere I findit. "

"If there's anything in our herd in your individual brand, " saidFlood, "all you have to do is to give me the brand, and I'll cut itfor you. What's your brand?"

"The 'Window Sash. '"

"Have any of you boys seen such a brand in our herd?" inquired Flood, turning to us as we all stood by our horses ready to start. 

"I didn't recognize it by that name, " replied Quince Forrest, who rodein the swing on the branded side of the cattle and belonged to thelast guard, "but I remember seeing such a brand, though I would havegiven it a different name. Yes, come to think, I'm sure I saw it, andI'll tell you where: yesterday morning when I rode out to throw thosedrifting cattle away from our herd, I saw that brand among the Ellisoncattle which had stampeded the night before. When Straw's outfit cuttheirs out yesterday, they must have left the 'Window Sash' cattlewith us; those were the range cattle which stampeded his herd. Itlooked to me a little blotched, but if I'd been called on to name it, I'd called it a thief's brand. If these gentlemen claim them, though, it'll only take a minute to cut them out. "

"This outfit needn't get personal and fling out their insults, "retorted the claimant of the "Window Sash" brand, "for I'll claim myown if there were a hundred of you. And you can depend that any animalI claim, I'll take, if I have to go back to the ranch and bring twentymen to help me do it. "

"You won't need any help to get all that's coming to you, " replied ourforeman, as he mounted his horse. "Let's throw the herd together, boys, and cut these 'Window Sash' cattle out. We don't want any cattlein our herd that stampede on an open range at midnight; they mustcertainly be terrible wild. "

As we rode out together, our trail cutters dropped behind and kept arespectable distance from the herd while we threw the cattle together. When the herd had closed to the required compactness, Flood called ourtrail cutters up and said, "Now, men, each one of you can take one ofmy outfit with you and inspect this herd to your satisfaction. If yousee anything there you claim, we'll cut it out for you, but don'tattempt to cut anything yourselves. "

We rode in by pairs, a man of ours with each stranger, and afterriding leisurely through the herd for half an hour, cut out three headin the blotched brand called the "Window Sash. " Before leaving theherd, one of the strangers laid claim to a red cow, but FoxQuarternight refused to cut the animal. 

When the pair rode out the stranger accosted Flood. "I notice a cow ofmine in there, " said he, "not in your road brand, which I claim. Yourman here refuses to cut her for me, so I appeal to you. "

"What's her brand, Fox?" asked Flood. 

"She's a 'Q' cow, but the colonel here thinks it's an 'O. ' I happen toknow the cow and the brand both; she came into the herd four hundredmiles south of here while we were watering the herd in the NuecesRiver. The 'Q' is a little dim, but it's plenty plain to hold her forthe present. "

"If she's a 'Q' cow I have no claim on her, " protested the stranger, "but if the brand is an 'O, ' then I claim her as a stray from ourrange, and I don't care if she came into your herd when you werewatering in the San Fernando River in Old Mexico, I'll claim her justthe same. I'm going to ask you to throw her. "

"I'll throw her for you, " coolly replied Fox, "and bet you my saddleand six-shooter on the side that it isn't an 'O, ' and even if it was, you and all the thieves on the Concho can't take her. I know a few ofthe simple principles of rustling myself. Do you want her thrown?"

"That's what I asked for. "

"Throw her, then, " said Flood, "and don't let's parley. "

Fox rode back in to the herd, and after some little delay, located thecow and worked her out to the edge of the cattle. Dropping his rope, he cut her out clear of the herd, and as she circled around in anendeavor to reenter, he rode close and made an easy cast of the ropeabout her horns. As he threw his horse back to check the cow, I rodeto his assistance, my rope in hand, and as the cow turned ends, Iheeled her. A number of the outfit rode up and dismounted, and one ofthe boys taking her by the tail, we threw the animal as humanely aspossible. In order to get at the brand, which was on the side, weturned the cow over, when Flood took out his knife and cut the hairaway, leaving the brand easily traceable. 

"What is she, Jim?" inquired Fox, as he sat his horse holding the ropetaut. 

"I'll let this man who claims her answer that question, " repliedFlood, as her claimant critically examined the brand to hissatisfaction. 

"I claim her as an 'O' cow, " said the stranger, facing Flood. 

"Well, you claim more than you'll ever get, " replied our foreman. "Turn her loose, boys. "

The cow was freed and turned back into the herd, but the claimanttried to argue the matter with Flood, claiming the branding iron hadsimply slipped, giving it the appearance of a "Q" instead of an "O" asit was intended to be. Our foreman paid little attention to thestranger, but when his persistence became annoying checked hisargument by saying, --

"My Christian friend, there's no use arguing this matter. You asked tohave the cow thrown, and we threw her. You might as well try to tellme that the cow is white as to claim her in any other brand than a'Q. ' You may read brands as well as I do, but you're wasting timearguing against the facts. You'd better take your 'Window Sash' cattleand ride on, for you've cut all you're going to cut here to-day. Butbefore you go, for fear I may never see you again, I'll take thisoccasion to say that I think you're common cow thieves. "

By his straight talk, our foreman stood several inches higher in ourestimation as we sat our horses, grinning at the discomfiture of thetrail cutters, while a dozen six-shooters slouched languidly at ourhips to give emphasis to his words. 

"Before going, I'll take this occasion to say to you that you will seeme again, " replied the leader, riding up and confronting Flood. "Youhaven't got near enough men to bluff me. As to calling me a cow thief, that's altogether too common a name to offend any one; and from what Ican gather, the name wouldn't miss you or your outfit over a thousandmiles. Now in taking my leave, I want to tell you that you'll see mebefore another day passes, and what's more, I'll bring an outfit withme and we'll cut your herd clean to your road brand, if for no betterreasons, just to learn you not to be so insolent. "

After hanging up this threat, Flood said to him as he turned to rideaway, "Well, now, my young friend, you're bargaining for a whole lotof fun. I notice you carry a gun and quite naturally suppose you shoota little as occasion requires. Suppose when you and your outfit comeback, you come a-shooting, so we'll know who you are; for I 'llpromise you there's liable to be some powder burnt when you cut thisherd. "

Amid jeers of derision from our outfit, the trail cutters drove offtheir three lonely "Window Sash" cattle. We had gained the point wewanted, and now in case of any trouble, during inspection or at night, we had the river behind us to catch our herd. We paid little attentionto the threat of our disappointed callers, but several times Straw'sremarks as to the character of the residents of those hills to thewestward recurred to my mind. I was young, but knew enough, instead ofasking foolish questions, to keep mum, though my eyes and ears drankin everything. Before we had been on the trail over an hour, we mettwo men riding down the trail towards the river. Meeting us, theyturned and rode along with our foreman, some distance apart from theherd, for nearly an hour, and curiosity ran freely among us boysaround the herd as to who they might be. Finally Flood rode forward tothe point men and gave the order to throw off the trail and make ashort drive that afternoon. Then in company with the two strangers, herode forward to overtake our wagon, and we saw nothing more of himuntil we reached camp that evening. This much, however, our point manwas able to get from our foreman: that the two men were members of adetachment of Rangers who had been sent as a result of informationgiven by the first herd over the trail that year. This herd, which hadpassed some twenty days ahead of us, had met with a stampede below theriver, and on reaching Abilene had reported the presence of rustlerspreying on through herds at the crossing of the Colorado. 

On reaching camp that evening with the herd, we found ten of theRangers as our guests for the night. The detachment was under acorporal named Joe Hames, who had detailed the two men we had metduring the afternoon to scout this crossing. Upon the informationafforded by our foreman about the would-be trail cutters, thesescouts, accompanied by Flood, had turned back to advise the Rangersquad, encamped in a secluded spot about ten miles northeast of theColorado crossing. They had only arrived late the day before, and thiswas their first meeting with any trail herd to secure any definiteinformation. 

Hames at once assumed charge of the herd, Flood gladly rendering everyassistance possible. We night herded as usual, but during the twomiddle guards, Hames sent out four of his Rangers to scout theimmediate outlying country, though, as we expected, they met with noadventure. At daybreak the Bangers threw their packs into our wagonand their loose stock into our _remuda_, and riding up the trail amile or more, left us, keeping well out of sight. We were all hopefulnow that the trail cutters of the day before would make good theirword and return. In this hope we killed time for several hours thatmorning, grazing the cattle and holding the wagon in the rear. Sendingthe wagon ahead of the herd had been agreed on as the signal betweenour foreman and the Ranger corporal, at first sight of any possebehind us. We were beginning to despair of their coming, when a dustcloud appeared several miles back down the trail. We at once hurriedthe wagon and _remuda_ ahead to warn the Rangers, and allowed thecattle to string out nearly a mile in length. 

A fortunate rise in the trail gave us a glimpse of the cavalcade inour rear, which was entirely too large to be any portion of Straw'soutfit; and shortly we were overtaken by our trail cutters of the daybefore, now increased to twenty-two mounted men. Flood wasintentionally in the lead of the herd, and the entire outfit gallopedforward to stop the cattle. When they had nearly reached the lead, Flood turned back and met the rustlers. 

"Well, I'm as good as my word, " said the leader, "and I'm here to trimyour herd as I promised you I would. Throw off and hold up yourcattle, or I'll do it for you. "

Several of our outfit rode up at this juncture in time to hear Flood'sreply: "If you think you're equal to the occasion, hold them upyourself. If I had as big an outfit _as_ you have, I wouldn't ask anyman to help me. I want to watch a Colorado River outfit work aherd, --I might learn something. My outfit will take a rest, or perhapshold the cut or otherwise clerk for you. But be careful and don'tclaim anything that you are not certain is your own, for I reserve theright to look over your cut before you drive it away. "

The rustlers rode in a body to the lead, and when they had thrown theherd off the trail, about half of them rode back and drifted forwardthe rear cattle. Flood called our outfit to one side and gave us ourinstructions, the herd being entirely turned over to the rustlers. After they began cutting, we rode around and pretended to assist inholding the cut as the strays in our herd were being cut out. When thered "Q" cow came out, Fox cut her back, which nearly precipitated arow, for she was promptly recut to the strays by the man who claimedher the day before. Not a man of us even cast a glance up the trail, or in the direction of the Rangers; but when the work was over, Floodprotested with the leader of the rustlers over some five or six headof dim-branded cattle which actually belonged to our herd. But he wasexultant and would listen to no protests, and attempted to drive awaythe cut, now numbering nearly fifty head. Then we rode across theirfront and stopped them. 

In the parley which ensued, harsh words were passing, when one of ouroutfit blurted out in well feigned surprise, --

"Hello, who's that, coming over there?"

A squad of men were riding leisurely through our abandoned herd, coming over to where the two outfits were disputing. 

"What's the trouble here, gents?" inquired Hames as he rode up. 

"Who are you and what might be your business, may I ask?" inquired theleader of the rustlers. 

"Personally I'm nobody, but officially I'm Corporal in Company B, Texas Rangers--well, if there isn't smiling Ed Winters, the biggestcattle thief ever born in Medina County. Why, I've got papers for you;for altering the brands on over fifty head of 'C' cattle into a 'G'brand. Come here, dear, and give me that gun of yours. Come on, and nofalse moves or funny work or I'll shoot the white out of your eye. Surround this layout, lads, and let's examine them more closely. "

At this command, every man in our outfit whipped out his six-shooter, the Rangers leveled their carbines on the rustlers, and in less than aminute's time they were disarmed and as crestfallen a group of men asever walked into a trap of their own setting. Hames got out a "blackbook, " and after looking the crowd over concluded to hold the entirecovey, as the descriptions of the "wanted" seemed to include most ofthem. Some of the rustlers attempted to explain their presence, butHames decided to hold the entire party, "just to learn them to be morecareful of their company the next time, " as he put it. 

The cut had drifted away into the herd again during the arrest, andabout half our outfit took the cattle on to where the wagon camped fornoon. McCann had anticipated an extra crowd for dinner and wasprepared for the emergency. When dinner was over and the Rangers hadpacked and were ready to leave, Hames said to Flood, --

"Well, Flood, I'm powerful glad I met you and your outfit. This hasbeen one of the biggest round-ups for me in a long time. You don'tknow how proud I am over this bunch of beauties. Why, there's liableto be enough rewards out for this crowd to buy my girl a new pair ofshoes. And say, when your wagon comes into Abilene, if I ain't there, just drive around to the sheriff's office and leave those capturedguns. I'm sorry to load your wagon down that way, but I'm short onpack mules and it will be a great favor to me; besides, these fellowsare not liable to need any guns for some little time. I like yourcompany and your chuck, Flood, but you see how it is; the best offriends must part; and then I have an invitation to take dinner inAbilene by to-morrow noon, so I must be a-riding. Adios, everybody. "

CHAPTER VIII

ON THE BRAZOS AND WICHITA

As we neared Buffalo Gap a few days later, a deputy sheriff of TaylorCounty, who resided at the Gap, rode out and met us. He brought anurgent request from Hames to Flood to appear as a witness against therustlers, who were to be given a preliminary trial at Abilene thefollowing day. Much as he regretted to leave the herd for even asingle night, our foreman finally consented to go. To further hisconvenience we made a long evening drive, camping for the night wellabove Buffalo Gap, which at that time was little more than a landmarkon the trail. The next day we made an easy drive and passed Abileneearly in the afternoon, where Flood rejoined us, but refused any onepermission to go into town, with the exception of McCann with thewagon, which was a matter of necessity. It was probably for the best, for this cow town had the reputation of setting a pace that left thewayfarer purseless and breathless, to say nothing about headaches. Though our foreman had not reached those mature years in life when thepleasures and frivolities of dissipation no longer allure, yet it wasbut natural that he should wish to keep his men from the temptation ofthe cup that cheers and the wiles of the siren. But when the wagonreturned that evening, it was evident that our foreman was human, forwith a box of cigars which were promised us were several bottles ofOld Crow. 

After crossing the Clear Fork of the Brazos a few days later, weentered a well-watered, open country, through which the herd madesplendid progress. At Abilene, we were surprised to learn that ourherd was the twentieth that had passed that point. The weather so faron our trip had been exceptionally good; only a few showers hadfallen, and those during the daytime. But we were now nearing acountry in which rain was more frequent, and the swollen condition ofseveral small streams which have their headwaters in the Staked Plainswas an intimation to us of recent rains to the westward of our route. Before reaching the main Brazos, we passed two other herds of yearlingcattle, and were warned of the impassable condition of that river forthe past week. Nothing daunted, we made our usual drive; and when theherd camped that night, Flood, after scouting ahead to the river, returned with the word that the Brazos had been unfordable for over aweek, five herds being waterbound. 

As we were then nearly twenty miles south of the river, the nextmorning we threw off the trail and turned the herd to the northeast, hoping to strike the Brazos a few miles above Round Timber ferry. Oncethe herd was started and their course for the day outlined to ourpoint men by definite landmarks, Flood and Quince Forrest set out tolocate the ferry and look up a crossing. Had it not been for ourwagon, we would have kept the trail, but as there was no ferry on theBrazos at the crossing of the western trail, it was a question eitherof waiting or of making this detour. Then all the grazing for severalmiles about the crossing was already taken by the waterbound herds, and to crowd up and trespass on range already occupied would have beena violation of an unwritten law. Again, no herd took kindly to anotherattempting to pass them when in traveling condition the herds were onan equality. Our foreman had conceived the scheme of getting pastthese waterbound herds, if possible, which would give us a clear fielduntil the next large watercourse was reached. 

Flood and Forrest returned during the noon hour, the former havingfound, by swimming, a passable ford near the mouth of Monday Creek, while the latter reported the ferry in "apple-pie order. " No sooner, then, was dinner over than the wagon set out for the ferry underForrest as pilot, though we were to return to the herd once the ferrywas sighted. The mouth of Monday Creek was not over ten miles belowthe regular trail crossing on the Brazos, and much nearer our nooncamp than the regular one; but the wagon was compelled to make adirect elbow, first turning to the eastward, then doubling back afterthe river was crossed. We held the cattle off water during the day, soas to have them thirsty when they reached the river. Flood had swum itduring the morning, and warned us to be prepared for fifty or sixtyyards of swimming water in crossing. When within a mile, we held upthe herd and changed horses, every man picking out one with a testedability to swim. Those of us who were expected to take the water asthe herd entered the river divested ourselves of boots and clothing, which we intrusted to riders in the rear. The approach to crossing wasgradual, but the opposite bank was abrupt, with only a narrowpassageway leading out from the channel. As the current was certain tocarry the swimming cattle downstream, we must, to make due allowance, take the water nearly a hundred yards above the outlet on the othershore. All this was planned out in advance by our foreman, who nowtook the position of point man on the right hand or down theriverside; and with our saddle horses in the immediate lead, webreasted the angry Brazos. 

The water was shallow as we entered, and we reached nearly the middleof the river before the loose saddle horses struck swimming water. Honeyman was on their lee, and with the cattle crowding in their rear, there was no alternative but to swim. A loose horse swims easily, however, and our _remuda_ readily faced the current, though it wasswift enough to carry them below the passageway on the opposite side. By this time the lead cattle were adrift, and half a dozen of us wereon their lower side, for the footing under the cutbank was narrow, andshould the cattle become congested on landing, some were likely todrown. For a quarter of an hour it required cool heads to keep thetrail of cattle moving into the water and the passageway clear on theopposite landing. While they were crossing, the herd represented alarge letter "U, " caused by the force of the current drifting thecattle downstream, or until a foothold was secured on the fartherside. Those of us fortunate enough to have good swimming horses swamthe river a dozen times, and then after the herd was safely over, swamback to get our clothing. It was a thrilling experience to us youngerlads of the outfit, and rather attractive; but the elder and moreexperienced men always dreaded swimming rivers. Their reasons weremade clear enough when, a fortnight later, we crossed Red River, wherea newly made grave was pointed out to us, amongst others of men whohad lost their lives while swimming cattle. 

Once the bulk of the cattle were safely over, with no danger ofcongestion on the farther bank, they were allowed to loiter alongunder the cutbank and drink to their hearts' content. Quite a numberstrayed above the passageway, and in order to rout them out, BobBlades, Moss Strayhorn, and I rode out through the outlet and up theriver, where we found some of them in a passageway down a dry arroyo. The steers had found a soft, damp place in the bank, and were so busyhorning the waxy, red mud, that they hardly noticed our approach untilwe were within a rod of them. We halted our horses and watched theirantics. The kneeling cattle were cutting the bank viciously with theirhorns and matting their heads with the red mud, but on discovering ourpresence, they curved their tails and stampeded out as playfully asyoung lambs on a hillside. 

"Can you sabe where the fun comes in to a steer, to get down on hisknees in the mud and dirt, and horn the bank and muss up his curls andenjoy it like that?" inquired Strayhorn of Blades and me. 

"Because it's healthy and funny besides, " replied Bob, giving me acautious wink. "Did you never hear of people taking mud baths? You'veseen dogs eat grass, haven't you? Well, it's something on the sameorder. Now, if I was a student of the nature of animals, like you are, I'd get off my horse and imagine I had horns, and scar and otherwisemangle that mud bank shamefully. I'll hold your horse if you want totry it--some of the secrets of the humor of cattle might be revealedto you. "

The banter, though given in jest, was too much for this member of acraft that can always be depended on to do foolish things; and when werejoined the outfit, Strayhorn presented a sight no sane man save amember of our tribe ever would have conceived of. 

The herd had scattered over several thousand acres after leaving theriver, grazing freely, and so remained during the rest of the evening. Forrest changed horses and set out down the river to find the wagonand pilot it in, for with the long distance that McCann had to cover, it was a question if he would reach us before dark. Flood selected abed ground and camp about a mile out from the river, and those of theoutfit not on herd dragged up an abundance of wood for the night, andbuilt a roaring fire as a beacon to our absent commissary. Darknesssoon settled over camp, and the prospect of a supperless night wasconfronting us; the first guard had taken the herd, and yet there wasno sign of the wagon. Several of us youngsters then mounted our nighthorses and rode down the river a mile or over in the hope of meetingMcCann. We came to a steep bank, caused by the shifting of the firstbottom of the river across to the north bank, rode up this bluff somelittle distance, dismounted, and fired several shots; then with ourears to the earth patiently awaited a response. It did not come, andwe rode back again. "Hell's fire and little fishes!" said JoeStallings, as we clambered into our saddles to return, "it's notsupper or breakfast that's troubling me, but will we get any dinnerto-morrow? That's a more pregnant question. "

It must have been after midnight when I was awakened by the braying ofmules and the rattle of the wagon, to hear the voices of Forrest andMcCann, mingled with the rattle of chains as they unharnessed, condemning to eternal perdition the broken country on the north sideof the Brazos, between Round Timber ferry and the mouth of MondayCreek. 

"I think that when the Almighty made this country on the north side ofthe Brazos, " said McCann the next morning at breakfast, "the Creatormust have grown careless or else made it out of odds and ends. There'sjust a hundred and one of these dry arroyos that you can't see untilyou are right onto them. They wouldn't bother a man on horseback, butwith a loaded wagon it's different. And I'll promise you all right nowthat if Forrest hadn't come out and piloted me in, you might havetightened up your belts for breakfast and drank out of cow tracks andsmoked cigarettes for nourishment. Well, it'll do you good; this highliving was liable to spoil some of you, but I notice that you are allon your feed this morning. The black strap? Honeyman, get thatmolasses jug out of the wagon--it sits right in front of the chuckbox. It does me good to see this outfit's tastes once more going backto the good old staples of life. "

We made our usual early start, keeping well out from the river on acourse almost due northward. The next river on our way was theWichita, still several days' drive from the mouth of Monday Creek. Flood's intention was to parallel the old trail until near the river, when, if its stage of water was not fordable, we would again seek alower crossing in the hope of avoiding any waterbound herds on thatwatercourse. The second day out from the Brazos it rained heavilyduring the day and drizzled during the entire night. Not a hoof wouldbed down, requiring the guards to be doubled into two watches for thenight. The next morning, as was usual when off the trail, Floodscouted in advance, and near the middle of the afternoon's drive wecame into the old trail. The weather in the mean time had faired off, which revived life and spirit in the outfit, for in trail work thereis nothing that depresses the spirits of men like falling weather. Oncoming into the trail, we noticed that no herds had passed since therain began. Shortly afterward our rear guard was overtaken by ahorseman who belonged to a mixed herd which was encamped some four orfive miles below the point where we came into the old trail. Hereported the Wichita as having been unfordable for the past week, butat that time falling; and said that if the rain of the past few dayshad not extended as far west as the Staked Plains, the river would befordable in a day or two. 

Before the stranger left us, Flood returned and confirmed thisinformation, and reported further that there were two herds lying overat the Wichita ford expecting to cross the following day. With thisoutlook, we grazed our herd up to within five miles of the river andcamped for the night, and our visitor returned to his outfit withFlood's report of our expectation of crossing on the morrow. But withthe fair weather and the prospects of an easy night, we encampedentirely too close to the trail, as we experienced to our sorrow. Thegrazing was good everywhere, the recent rains having washed away thedust, and we should have camped farther away. We were all sleepy thatnight, and no sooner was supper over than every mother's son of us wasin his blankets. We slept so soundly that the guards were compelled todismount when calling the relief, and shake the next guards on dutyout of their slumber and see that they got up, for men wouldunconsciously answer in their sleep. The cattle were likewise tired, and slept as willingly as the men. 

About midnight, however, Fox Quarternight dashed into camp, firing hissix-shooter and yelling like a demon. We tumbled out of our blanketsin a dazed condition to hear that one of the herds camped near theriver had stampeded, the heavy rumbling of the running herd and theshooting of their outfit now being distinctly audible. We lost no timegetting our horses, and in less than a minute were riding for ourcattle, which had already got up and were timidly listening to theapproaching noise. Although we were a good quarter mile from thetrail, before we could drift our herd to a point of safety, thestampeding cattle swept down the trail like a cyclone and our herd wasabsorbed into the maelstrom of the onrush like leaves in a whirlwind. It was then that our long-legged Mexican steers set us a pace thatrequired a good horse to equal, for they easily took the lead, theother herd having run between three and four miles before striking us, and being already well winded. The other herd were Central Texascattle, and numbered over thirty-five hundred, but in running capacitywere never any match for ours. 

Before they had run a mile past our camp, our outfit, bunched welltogether on the left point, made the first effort to throw them outand off the trail, and try to turn them. But the waves of an angryocean could as easily have been brought under subjection as ourterrorized herd during this first mad dash. Once we turned a fewhundred of the leaders, and about the time we thought success was inreach, another contingent of double the number had taken the lead;then we had to abandon what few we had, and again ride to the front. When we reached the lead, there, within half a mile ahead, burned thecamp-fire of the herd of mixed cattle which had moved up the trailthat evening. They had had ample warning of impending trouble, just aswe had; and before the running cattle reached them about half a dozenof their outfit rode to our assistance, when we made another effort toturn or hold the herds from mixing. None of the outfit of the firstherd had kept in the lead with us, their horses fagging, and when theforeman of this mixed herd met us, not knowing that we were asinnocent of the trouble as himself, he made some slighting remarksabout our outfit and cattle. But it was no time to be sensitive, andwith his outfit to help we threw our whole weight against the leftpoint a second time, but only turned a few hundred; and before wecould get into the lead again their campfire had been passed and theirherd of over three thousand cattle more were in the run. As cows andcalves predominated in this mixed herd, our own southerners were stillleaders in the stampede. 

It is questionable if we would have turned this stampede beforedaybreak, had not the nature of the country come to our assistance. Something over two miles below the camp of the last herd was a deepcreek, the banks of which were steep and the passages few and narrow. Here we succeeded in turning the leaders, and about half the outfit ofthe mixed herd remained, guarding the crossing and turning the laggingcattle in the run as they came up. With the leaders once turned and nochance for the others to take a new lead, we had the entire run ofcattle turned back within an hour and safely under control. The firstoutfit joined us during the interim, and when day broke we had overforty men drifting about ten thousand cattle back up the trail. Thedifferent outfits were unfortunately at loggerheads, no one beingwilling to assume any blame. Flood hunted up the foreman of the mixedherd and demanded an apology for his remarks on our abrupt meetingwith him the night before; and while it was granted, it was plain thatit was begrudged. The first herd disclaimed all responsibility, holding that the stampede was due to an unavoidable accident, theircattle having grown restless during their enforced lay-over. Theindifferent attitude of their foreman, whose name was Wilson, won thefriendly regard of our outfit, and before the wagon of the mixedcattle was reached, there was a compact, at least tacit, between theiroutfit and ours. Our foreman was not blameless, for had we taken theusual precaution and camped at least a mile off the trail, which wasour custom when in close proximity to other herds, we might andprobably would have missed this mix-up, for our herd was inclined tobe very tractable. Flood, with all his experience, well knew that ifstampeded cattle ever got into a known trail, they were certain toturn backward over their course; and we were now paying the fiddlerfor lack of proper precaution. 

Within an hour after daybreak, and before the cattle had reached thecamp of the mixed herd, our saddle horses were sighted coming over aslight divide about two miles up the trail, and a minute laterMcCann's mules hove in sight, bringing up the rear. They had made astart with the first dawn, rightly reasoning, as there was no time toleave orders on our departure, that it was advisable for Mahomet to goto the mountain. Flood complimented our cook and horse wrangler ontheir foresight, for the wagon was our base of sustenance; and therewas little loss of time before Barney McCann was calling us to ahastily prepared breakfast. Flood asked Wilson to bring his outfit toour wagon for breakfast, and as fast as they were relieved from herd, they also did ample justice to McCann's cooking. During breakfast, Iremember Wilson explaining to Flood what he believed was the cause ofthe stampede. It seems that there were a few remaining buffalo rangingnorth of the Wichita, and at night when they came into the river todrink they had scented the cattle on the south side. The bellowing ofbuffalo bulls had been distinctly heard by his men on night herd forseveral nights past. The foreman stated it as his belief that a numberof bulls had swum the river and had by stealth approached near thesleeping cattle, --then, on discovering the presence of the herders, had themselves stampeded, throwing his herd into a panic. 

We had got a change of mounts during the breakfast hour, and when allwas ready Flood and Wilson rode over to the wagon of the mixed herd, the two outfits following, when Flood inquired of their foreman, --

"Have you any suggestions to make in the cutting of these herds?"

"No suggestions, " was the reply, "but I intend to cut mine first andcut them northward on the trail. "

"You intend to cut them northward, you mean, provided there are noobjections, which I'm positive there will be, " said Flood. "It takesme some little time to size a man up, and the more I see of you duringour brief acquaintance, the more I think there's two or three thingsthat you might learn to your advantage. I'll not enumerate them now, but when these herds are separated, if you insist, it will cost younothing but the asking for my opinion of you. This much you can dependon: when the cutting's over, you'll occupy the same position on thetrail that you did before this accident happened. Wilson, here, hasnothing but jaded horses, and his outfit will hold the herd whileyours and mine cut their cattle. And instead of you cutting north, youcan either cut south where you belong on the trail or sulk in yourcamp, your own will and pleasure to govern. But if you are a cowman, willing to do your part, you'll have your outfit ready to work by thetime we throw the cattle together. "

Not waiting for any reply, Flood turned away, and the double outfitcircled around the grazing herd and began throwing the sea of cattleinto a compact body ready to work. Rod Wheat and Ash Borrowstone weredetailed to hold our cut, and the remainder of us, including Honeyman, entered the herd and began cutting. Shortly after we had commenced thework, the mixed outfit, finding themselves in a lonesome minority, joined us and began cutting out their cattle to the westward. When wehad worked about half an hour, Flood called us out, and with thelarger portion of Wilson's men, we rode over and drifted the mixed cutaround to the southward, where they belonged. The mixed outfitpretended they meant no harm, and were politely informed that if theywere sincere, they could show it more plainly. For nearly three hourswe sent a steady stream of cattle out of the main herd into our cut, while our horses dripped with sweat. With our advantage in the start, as well as that of having the smallest herd, we finished our workfirst. While the mixed outfit were finishing their cutting, we changedmounts, and then were ready to work the separated herds. Wilson tookabout half his outfit, and after giving our herd a trimming, duringwhich he recut about twenty, the mixed outfit were given a similarchance, and found about half a dozen of their brand. These cattle ofWilson's and the other herd amongst ours were not to be wondered at, for we cut by a liberal rule. Often we would find a number of ours onthe outside of the main herd, when two men would cut the squad in abunch, and if there was a wrong brand amongst them, it was nomatter, --we knew our herd would have to be retrimmed anyhow, and theother outfits might be disappointed if they found none of their cattleamongst ours. 

The mixed outfit were yet working our herd when Wilson's wagon andsaddle horses arrived, and while they were changing mounts, we cut themixed herd of our brand and picked up a number of strays which we hadbeen nursing along, though when we first entered the main herd, strayshad received our attention, being well known to us by ranch brands aswell as flesh marks. In gathering up this very natural flotsam of thetrail, we cut nothing but what our herd had absorbed in its travels, showing due regard to a similar right of the other herds. Our work wasfinished first, and after Wilson had recut the mixed herd, we gave hisherd one more looking over in a farewell parting. Flood asked him ifhe wanted the lead, but Wilson waived his right in his open, frankmanner, saying, "If I had as long-legged cattle as you have, Iwouldn't ask no man for the privilege of passing. Why, you ought toout-travel horses. I'm glad to have met you and your outfit, personally, but regret the incident which has given you so muchtrouble. As I don't expect to go farther than Dodge or Ogalalla at themost, you are more than welcome to the lead. And if you or any ofthese rascals in your outfit are ever in Coryell County, hunt up FrankWilson of the Block Bar Ranch, and I'll promise you a drink of milk orsomething stronger if possible. "

We crossed the Wichita late that afternoon, there being not over fiftyfeet of swimming water for the cattle. Our wagon gave us the onlytrouble, for the load could not well be lightened, and it was animperative necessity to cross it the same day. Once the cattle weresafely over and a few men left to graze them forward, the remainder ofthe outfit collected all the ropes and went back after the wagon. Asmules are always unreliable in the water, Flood concluded to swim themloose. We lashed the wagon box securely to the gearing with ropes, arranged our bedding in the wagon where it would be on top, and ranthe wagon by hand into the water as far as we dared without floodingthe wagon box. Two men, with guy ropes fore and aft, were then left toswim with the wagon in order to keep it from toppling over, while theremainder of us recrossed to the farther side of the swimming channel, and fastened our lariats to two long ropes from the end of the tongue. We took a wrap on the pommels of our saddles with the loose end, andwhen the word was given our eight horses furnished abundant motivepower, and the wagon floated across, landing high and dry amid theshoutings of the outfit. 

CHAPTER IX

DOAN'S CROSSING

It was a nice open country between the Wichita and Pease rivers. Onreaching the latter, we found an easy stage of water for crossing, though there was every evidence that the river had been on a recentrise, the débris of a late freshet littering the cutbank, whilehigh-water mark could be easily noticed on the trees along the riverbottom. Summer had advanced until the June freshets were to beexpected, and for the next month we should be fortunate if our advancewas not checked by floods and falling weather. The fortunate stage ofthe Pease encouraged us, however, to hope that possibly Red River, twodays' drive ahead, would be fordable. The day on which we expected toreach it, Flood set out early to look up the ford which had then beenin use but a few years, and which in later days was known as Doan'sCrossing on Red River. Our foreman returned before noon and reported afavorable stage of water for the herd, and a new ferry that had beenestablished for wagons. With this good news, we were determined to putthat river behind us in as few hours as possible, for it was a commonoccurrence that a river which was fordable at night was the reverse bydaybreak. McCann was sent ahead with the wagon, but we held the saddlehorses with us to serve as leaders in taking the water at the ford. 

The cattle were strung out in trailing manner nearly a mile, and onreaching the river near the middle of the afternoon, we took the waterwithout a halt or even a change of horses. This boundary river on thenorthern border of Texas was a terror to trail drovers, but on ourreaching it, it had shallowed down, the flow of water followingseveral small channels. One of these was swimming, with shallow barsintervening between the channels. But the majestic grandeur of theriver was apparent on every hand, --with its red, bluff banks, thesediment of its red waters marking the timber along its course, whilethe driftwood, lodged in trees and high on the banks, indicated whatmight be expected when she became sportive or angry. That she wasmerciless was evident, for although this crossing had been in use onlya year or two when we forded, yet five graves, one of which was lessthan ten days made, attested her disregard for human life. It cansafely be asserted that at this and lower trail crossings on RedRiver, the lives of more trail men were lost by drowning than on allother rivers together. Just as we were nearing the river, an unknownhorseman from the south overtook our herd. It was evident that hebelonged to some through herd and was looking out the crossing. Hemade himself useful by lending a hand while our herd was fording, andin a brief conversation with Flood, informed him that he was one ofthe hands with a "Running W" herd, gave the name of Bill Mann as theirforeman, the number of cattle they were driving, and reported the herdas due to reach the river the next morning. He wasted little time withus, but recrossed the river, returning to his herd, while we grazedout four or five miles and camped for the night. 

I shall never forget the impression left in my mind of that firstmorning after we crossed Red River into the Indian lands. The countrywas as primitive as in the first day of its creation. The trail led upa divide between the Salt and North forks of Red River. To theeastward of the latter stream lay the reservation of the Apaches, Kiowas, and Comanches, the latter having been a terror to theinhabitants of western Texas. They were a warlike tribe, as therecords of the Texas Rangers and government troops will verify, buttheir last effective dressing down was given them in a fight at AdobeWalls by a party of buffalo hunters whom they hoped to surprise. As wewormed our way up this narrow divide, there was revealed to us apanorama of green-swarded plain and timber-fringed watercourse, withnot a visible evidence that it had ever been invaded by civilized man, save cattlemen with their herds. Antelope came up in bands andgratified their curiosity as to who these invaders might be, while oldsolitary buffalo bulls turned tail at our approach and lumbered awayto points of safety. Very few herds had ever passed over this route, but buffalo trails leading downstream, deep worn by generations oftravel, were to be seen by hundreds on every hand. We were not therefor a change of scenery or for our health, so we may have overlookedsome of the beauties of the landscape. But we had a keen eye for thethings of our craft. We could see almost back to the river, andseveral times that morning noticed clouds of dust on the horizon. Flood noticed them first. After some little time the dust clouds aroseclear and distinct, and we were satisfied that the "Running W" herdhad forded and were behind us, not more than ten or twelve miles away. 

At dinner that noon, Flood said he had a notion to go back and payMann a visit. "Why, I've not seen 'Little-foot' Bill Mann, " said ourforeman, as he helped himself to a third piece of "fried chicken"(bacon), "since we separated two years ago up at Ogalalla on thePlatte. I'd just like the best in the world to drop back and sleep inhis blankets one night and complain of his chuck. Then I'd like totell him how we had passed them, starting ten days' drive farthersouth. He must have been amongst those herds laying over on theBrazos. "

"Why don't you go, then?" said Fox Quarternight. "Half the outfitcould hold the cattle now with the grass and water we're in atpresent. "

"I'll go you one for luck, " said our foreman. "Wrangler, rustle inyour horses the minute you're through eating. I'm going visiting. "

We all knew what horse he would ride, and when he dropped his rope on"Alazanito, " he had not only picked his own mount of twelve, but thetop horse of the entire _remuda_, --a chestnut sorrel, fifteen handsand an inch in height, that drew his first breath on the prairies ofTexas. No man who sat him once could ever forget him. Now, when thetrail is a lost occupation, and reverie and reminiscence carry themind back to that day, there are friends and faces that may heforgotten, but there are horses that never will be. There wereemergencies in which the horse was everything, his rider merely theaccessory. But together, man and horse, they were the force that madeit possible to move the millions of cattle which passed up and overthe various trails of the West. 

When we had caught our horses for the afternoon, and Flood had saddledand was ready to start, he said to us, "You fellows just mosey alongup the trail. I'll not be gone long, but when I get back I shallexpect to find everything running smooth. An outfit that can't runitself without a boss ought to stay at home and do the milking. Solong, fellows!"

The country was well watered, and when rounded the cattle into the bedground that night, they were actually suffering from stomachs gorgedwith grass and water. They went down and to sleep like tired children;one man could have held them that night. We all felt good, and McCanngot up an extra spread for supper. We even had dried apples fordessert. McCann had talked the storekeeper at Doan's, where we got ourlast supplies, out of some extras as a _pelon_. Among them was a canof jam. He sprung this on us as a surprise. Bob Blades toyed with theempty can in mingled admiration and disgust over a picture on thepaper label. It was a supper scene, every figure wearing full dress. "Now, that's General Grant, " said he, pointing with his finger, "andthis is Tom Ochiltree. I can't quite make out this other duck, but Ireckon he's some big auger--a senator or governor, maybe. Them oldgirls have got their gall with them. That style of dress is what youcall _lo_ and _behold_. The whole passel ought to be ashamed. And theyseem to be enjoying themselves, too. "

Though it was a lovely summer night, we had a fire, and supper over, the conversation ranged wide and free. As the wagon on the trail ishome, naturally the fire is the hearthstone, so we gathered andlounged around it. 

"The only way to enjoy such a fine night as this, " remarked Ash, "isto sit up smoking until you fall asleep with your boots on. Betweentoo much sleep and just enough, there's a happy medium which suitsme. "

"Officer, " inquired Wyatt Roundtree, trailing into the conversationvery innocently, "why is it that people who live up among thoseYankees always say 'be' the remainder of their lives?"

"What's the matter with the word?" countered Officer. 

"Oh, nothing, I reckon, only it sounds a little odd, and there's atale to it. "

"A story, you mean, " said Officer, reprovingly. 

"Well, I'll tell it to you, " said Roundtree, "and then you can call itto suit yourself. It was out in New Mexico where this happened. Therewas a fellow drifted into the ranch where I was working, dead broke. To make matters worse, he could do nothing; he wouldn't fit anywhere. Still, he was a nice fellow and we all liked him. Must have had a goodeducation, for he had good letters from people up North. He had workedin stores and had once clerked in a bank, at least the letters saidso. Well, we put up a job to get him a place in a little town out onthe railroad. You all know how clannish Kentuckians are. Let two meetwho never saw each other before, and inside of half an hour they'll bechewing tobacco from the same plug and trying to loan each othermoney. "

"That's just like them, " interposed Fox Quarternight. 

"Well, there was an old man lived in this town, who was the genuineblend of bluegrass and Bourbon. If another Kentuckian came withintwenty miles of him, and he found it out, he'd hunt him up and they'dhold a two-handed reunion. We put up the job that this young manshould play that he was a Kentuckian, hoping that the old man wouldtake him to his bosom and give him something to do. So we took himinto town one day, coached and fully posted how to act and play hispart. We met the old man in front of his place of business, and, afterthe usual comment on the news over our way, weather, and other smalltalk, we were on the point of passing on, when one of our own crowdturned back and inquired, 'Uncle Henry, have you met the youngKentuckian who's in the country?'

"'No, ' said the old man, brightening with interest, 'who is he andwhere is he?'

"'He's in town somewhere, ' volunteered one of the boys. We pretendedto survey the street from where we stood, when one of the boys blurtedout, 'Yonder he stands now. That fellow in front of the drug storeover there, with the hard-boiled hat on. '

"The old man started for him, angling across the street, in disregardof sidewalks. We watched the meeting, thinking it was working allright. We were mistaken. We saw them shake hands, when the old manturned and walked away very haughtily. Something had gone wrong. Hetook the sidewalk on his return, and when he came near enough to us, we could see that he was angry and on the prod. When he came nearenough to speak, he said, 'You think you're smart, don't you? He's aKentuckian, is he? Hell's full of such Kentuckians!' And as he passedbeyond hearing he was muttering imprecations on us. The young fellowjoined us a minute later with the question, 'What kind of a crank isthat you ran me up against?'

"'He's as nice a man as there is in this country, ' said one of thecrowd. 'What did you say to him?'

"'Nothing'; he came up to me, extended his hand, saying, "My youngfriend, I understand that you're from Kentucky. " "I be, sir, " Ireplied, when he looked me in the eye and said, "You're a G---- d----liar, " and turned and walked away. Why, he must have wanted to insultme. And then we all knew why our little scheme had failed. There wasfood and raiment in it for him, but he would use that little word'be. '"

"Did any of you notice my saddle horse lie down just after we crossedthis last creek this afternoon?" inquired Rod Wheat. 

"No; what made him lie down?" asked several of the boys. 

"Oh, he just found a gopher hole and stuck his forefeet into it one ata time, and then tried to pull them both out at once, and when hecouldn't do it, he simply shut his eyes like a dying sheep and laydown. "

"Then you've seen sheep die, " said the horse wrangler. 

"Of course I have; a sheep can die any time he makes up his mind to bysimply shutting both eyes--then he's a goner. "

Quince Forrest, who had brought in his horse to go out with the secondwatch, he and Bob Blades having taken advantage of the foreman'sabsence to change places on guard for the night, had been listening tothe latter part of Wyatt's yarn very attentively. We all hoped that hewould mount and ride out to the herd, for though he was a goodstory-teller and meaty with personal experiences, where he thoughtthey would pass muster he was inclined to overcolor his statements. Weusually gave him respectful attention, but were frequently compelledto regard him as a cheerful, harmless liar. So when he showed nodisposition to go, we knew we were in for one from him. 

"When I was boss bull-whacker, " he began, "for a big army sutler atFort Concho, I used to make two round trips a month with my train. Itwas a hundred miles to wagon from the freight point where we got oursupplies. I had ten teams, six and seven yoke to the team, and trailwagons to each. I was furnished a night herder and a cook, saddlehorses for both night herder and myself. You hear me, it was a slam upfine layout. We could handle three or four tons to the team, and withthe whole train we could chamber two car loads of anything. One day wewere nearing the fort with a mixed cargo of freight, when a messengercame out and met us with an order from the sutler. He wanted us tomake the fort that night and unload. The mail buckboard had reportedus to the sutler as camped out back on a little creek about ten miles. We were always entitled to a day to unload and drive back to camp, which gave us good grass for the oxen, but under the orders the whipspopped merrily that afternoon, and when they all got well strung out, I rode in ahead, to see what was up. Well, it seems that fourcompanies of infantry from Fort McKavett, which were out for fieldpractice, were going to be brought into this post to be paid threemonths' wages. This, with the troops stationed at Concho, would turnloose quite a wad of money. The sutler called me into his office whenI reached the fort, and when he had produced a black bottle used forcutting the alkali in your drinking water, he said, 'Jack, '--he calledme Jack; my full name is John Quincy Forrest, --'Jack, can you make theround trip, and bring in two cars of bottled beer that will be on thetrack waiting for you, and get back by pay day, the 10th?'

"I figured the time in my mind; it was twelve days. 

"'There's five extra in it for each man for the trip, and I'll make itright with you, ' he added, as he noticed my hesitation, though I wasonly making a mental calculation. 

"'Why, certainly, Captain, ' I said. 'What's that fable about the jackrabbit and the land tarrapin?' He didn't know and I didn't either, soI said to illustrate the point: 'Put your freight on a bull train, andit always goes through on time. A race horse can't beat an ox on ahundred miles and repeat to a freight wagon. ' Well, we unloaded beforenight, and it was pitch dark before we made camp. I explained thesituation to the men. We planned to go in empty in five days, whichwould give us seven to come back loaded. We made every camp on timelike clockwork. The fifth morning we were anxious to get a daybreakstart, so we could load at night. The night herder had his orders tobring in the oxen the first sign of day, and I called the cook an hourbefore light. When the oxen were brought in, the men were up and readyto go to yoking. But the nigh wheeler in Joe Jenk's team, a bigbrindle, muley ox, a regular pet steer, was missing. I saw him myself, Joe saw him, and the night herder swore he came in with the rest. Well, we looked high and low for that Mr. Ox, but he had vanished. While the men were eating their breakfast, I got on my horse and thenight herder and I scoured and circled that country for miles around, but no ox. The country was so bare and level that a jack rabbit neededto carry a fly for shade. I was worried, for we needed every ox andevery moment of time. I ordered Joe to tie his mate behind the trailwagon and pull out one ox shy. 

"Well, fellows, that thing worried me powerful. Half the teamsters, good, honest, truthful men as ever popped a whip, swore they saw thatox when they came in. Well, it served a strong argument that a man canbe positive and yet be mistaken. We nooned ten miles from our nightcamp that day. Jerry Wilkens happened to mention it at dinner that hebelieved his trail needed greasing. 'Why, ' said Jerry, 'you'd thinkthat I was loaded, the way my team kept their chains taut. ' I noticedJoe get up from dinner before he had finished, as if an idea hadstruck him. He went over and opened the sheet in Jerry's trail wagon, and a smile spread over his countenance. 'Come here, fellows, ' was allhe said. 

"We ran over to the wagon and there"--

The boys turned their backs with indistinct mutterings of disgust. 

"You all don't need to believe this if you don't want to, but therewas the missing ox, coiled up and sleeping like a bear in the wagon. He even had Jerry's roll of bedding for a pillow. You see, the wagonsheet was open in front, and he had hopped up on the trail tongue andcrept in there to steal a ride. Joe climbed into the wagon, and gavehim a few swift kicks in the short ribs, when he opened his eyes, yawned, got up, and jumped out. "

Bull was rolling a cigarette before starting, while Fox's night horsewas hard to bridle, which hindered them. With this slight delay, Forrest turned his horse back and continued: "That same ox on the nexttrip, one night when we had the wagons parked into a corral, got awayfrom the herder, tip-toed over the men's beds in the gate, stood onhis hind legs long enough to eat four fifty-pound sacks of flour outof the rear end of a wagon, got down on his side, and wormed his wayunder the wagon back into the herd, without being detected or waking aman. "

As they rode away to relieve the first guard, McCann said, "Isn't he amuzzle-loading daisy? If I loved a liar I'd hug that man to death. "

The absence of our foreman made no difference. We all knew our placeson guard. Experience told us there would be no trouble that night. After Wyatt Roundtree and Moss Strayhorn had made down their bed andgot into it, Wyatt remarked, --

"Did you ever notice, old sidey, how hard this ground is?"

"Oh, yes, " said Moss, as he turned over, hunting for a soft spot, "itis hard, but we'll forget all that when this trip ends. Brother, dear, just think of those long slings with red cherries floating around inthem that we'll be drinking, and picture us smoking cigars in a blaze. That thought alone ought to make a hard bed both soft and warm. Thento think we'll ride all the way home on the cars. "

McCann banked his fire, and the first guard, Wheat, Stallings, andBorrowstone, rode in from the herd, all singing an old chorus that hadbeen composed, with little regard for music or sense, about a hotelwhere they had stopped the year before:--

 "Sure it's one cent for coffee and two cents for bread, Three for a steak and five for a bed, Sea breeze from the gutter wafts a salt water smell, To the festive cowboy in the Southwestern hotel. "

CHAPTER X

"NO MAN'S LAND"

Flood overtook us the next morning, and as a number of us gatheredround him to hear the news, told us of a letter that Mann had got atDoan's, stating that the first herd to pass Camp Supply had beenharassed by Indians. The "Running W" people, Mann's employers, had arepresentative at Dodge, who was authority for the statement. Floodhad read the letter, which intimated that an appeal would be made tothe government to send troops from either Camp Supply or Fort Sill togive trail herds a safe escort in passing the western border of thisIndian reservation. The letter, therefore, admonished Mann, if hethought the Indians would give any trouble, to go up the south side ofRed River as far as the Pan-handle of Texas, and then turn north tothe government trail at Fort Elliot. 

"I told Mann, " said our foreman, "that before I'd take one stepbackward, or go off on a wild goose chase through that Pan-handlecountry, I'd go back home and start over next year on the Chisholmtrail. It's the easiest thing in the world for some big auger to sitin a hotel somewhere and direct the management of a herd. I don't lookfor no soldiers to furnish an escort; it would take the government sixmonths to get a move on her, even in an emergency. I left Billy Mannin a quandary; he doesn't know what to do. That big auger at Dodge istroubling him, for if he don't act on his advice, and loses cattle asthe result--well, he'll never boss any more herds for King andKennedy. So, boys, if we're ever to see the Blackfoot Agency, there'sbut one course for us to take, and that's straight ahead. As oldOliver Loving, the first Texas cowman that ever drove a herd, used tosay, 'Never borrow trouble, or cross a river before you reach it. ' Sowhen the cattle are through grazing, let them hit the trail north. It's entirely too late for us to veer away from any Indians. "

We were following the regular trail, which had been slightly used fora year or two, though none of our outfit had ever been over it, whenlate on the third afternoon, about forty miles out from Doan's, abouta hundred mounted bucks and squaws sighted our herd and crossed theNorth Fork from their encampment. They did not ride direct to theherd, but came into the trail nearly a mile above the cattle, so itwas some little time from our first sighting them before we met. Wedid not check the herd or turn out of the trail, but when the leadcame within a few hundred yards of the Indians, one buck, evidentlythe chief of the band, rode forward a few rods and held up one hand, as if commanding a halt. At the sight of this gaudily bedeckedapparition, the cattle turned out of the trail, and Flood and I rodeup to the chief, extending our hands in friendly greeting. The chiefcould not speak a word of English, but made signs with his hands; whenI turned loose on him in Spanish, however, he instantly turned hishorse and signed back to his band. Two young bucks rode forward andgreeted Flood and myself in good Spanish. 

On thus opening up an intelligible conversation, I called FoxQuarternight, who spoke Spanish, and he rode up from his position ofthird man in the swing and joined in the council. The two youngIndians through whom we carried on the conversation were Apaches, nodoubt renegades of that tribe, and while we understood each other inSpanish, they spoke in a heavy guttural peculiar to the Indian. Floodopened the powwow by demanding to know the meaning of this visit. Whenthe question had been properly interpreted to the chief, the latterdropped his blanket from his shoulders and dismounted from his horse. He was a fine specimen of the Plains Indian, fully six feet in height, perfectly proportioned, and in years well past middle life. He lookedevery inch a chief, and was a natural born orator. There was a certaineasy grace to his gestures, only to be seen in people who use the signlanguage, and often when he was speaking to the Apache interpreters, Icould anticipate his requests before they were translated to us, although I did not know a word of Comanche. 

Before the powwow had progressed far it was evident that begging wasits object. In his prelude, the chief laid claim to all the country insight as the hunting grounds of the Comanche tribe, --an intimationthat we were intruders. He spoke of the great slaughter of the buffaloby the white hide-hunters, and the consequent hunger and povertyamongst his people. He dwelt on the fact that he had ever counseledpeace with the whites, until now his band numbered but a few squawsand papooses, the younger men having deserted him for other chiefs ofthe tribe who advocated war on the palefaces. When he had fully statedhis position, he offered to allow us to pass through his country inconsideration of ten beeves. On receiving this proposition, all of usdismounted, including the two Apaches, the latter seating themselvesin their own fashion, while we whites lounged on the ground in trulyAmerican laziness, rolling cigarettes. In dealing with people who knownot the value of time, the civilized man is taken at a disadvantage, and unless he can show an equal composure in wasting time, resultswill be against him. Flood had had years of experience in dealing withMexicans in the land of _mañana_, where all maxims regarding the valueof time are religiously discarded. So in dealing with this Indianchief he showed no desire to hasten matters, and carefully avoided allreference to the demand for beeves. 

[Illustration: MEETING WITH INDIANS]

His first question, instead, was to know the distance to Fort Sill andFort Elliot. The next was how many days it would take for cavalry toreach him. He then had us narrate the fact that when the first herd ofcattle passed through the country less than a month before, some badIndians had shown a very unfriendly spirit. They had taken many of thecattle and had killed and eaten them, and now the great white man'schief at Washington was very much displeased. If another single oxwere taken and killed by bad Indians, he would send his soldiers fromthe forts to protect the cattle, even though their owners drove theherds through the reservation of the Indians--over the grass wheretheir ponies grazed. He had us inform the chief that our entire herdwas intended by the great white man's chief at Washington as a presentto the Blackfeet Indians who lived in Montana, because they were goodIndians, and welcomed priests and teachers amongst them to teach themthe ways of the white man. At our foreman's request we then informedthe chief that he was under no obligation to give him even a singlebeef for any privilege of passing through his country, but as thesquaws and little papooses were hungry, he would give him two beeves. 

The old chief seemed not the least disconcerted, but begged for fivebeeves, as many of the squaws were in the encampment across the NorthFork, those present being not quite half of his village. It was nowgetting late in the day and the band seemed to be getting tired of theparleying, a number of squaws having already set out on their returnto the village. After some further talk, Flood agreed to add anotherbeef, on condition they be taken to the encampment before beingkilled. This was accepted, and at once the entire band set up achattering in view of the coming feast. The cattle had in the meantime grazed off nearly a mile, the outfit, however, holding them undera close herd during the powwowing. All the bucks in the band, numbering about forty, now joined us, and we rode away to the herd. Inoticed, by the way, that quite a number of the younger braves hadarms, and no doubt they would have made a display of force had Flood'sdiplomacy been of a more warlike character. While drifting the herdback to the trail we cut out a big lame steer and two stray cows forthe Indians, who now left us and followed the beeves which were beingdriven to their village. 

Flood had instructed Quarternight and me to invite the two Apaches toour camp for the night, on the promise of sugar, coffee, and tobacco. They consulted with the old chief, and gaining his consent came withus. We extended the hospitality of our wagon to our guests, and whensupper was over, promised them an extra beef if they would give usparticulars of the trail until it crossed the North Fork, after thatriver turned west towards the Pan-handle. It was evident that theywere familiar with the country, for one of them accepted our offer, and with his finger sketched a rude map on the ground where there hadformerly been a camp-fire. He outlined the two rivers between which wewere then encamped, and traced the trail until it crossed the NorthFork or beyond the Indian reservation. We discussed the outline of thetrail in detail for an hour, asking hundreds of unimportant questions, but occasionally getting in a leading one, always resulting in theinformation wanted. We learned that the big summer encampment of theComanches and Kiowas was one day's ride for a pony or two days' withcattle up the trail, at the point where the divide between Salt andNorth Fork narrows to about ten miles in width. We leeched out of themvery cautiously the information that the encampment was a large one, and that all herds this year had given up cattle, some as many astwenty-five head. 

Having secured the information we wanted, Flood gave to each Apache apackage of Arbuckle coffee, a small sack of sugar, and both smokingand chewing tobacco. Quarternight informed them that as the cattlewere bedded for the night, they had better remain until morning, whenhe would pick them out a nice fat beef. On their consenting, Foxstripped the wagon sheet off the wagon and made them a good bed, inwhich, with their body blankets, they were as comfortable as any ofus. Neither of them was armed, so we felt no fear of them, and afterthey had lain down on their couch, Flood called Quarternight and me, and we strolled out into the darkness and reviewed the information. Weagreed that the topography of the country they had given was mostlikely correct, because we could verify much of it by maps in ourpossession. Another thing on which we agreed was, that there was somemeans of communication between this small and seemingly peaceable bandand the main encampment of the tribe; and that more than likely ourapproach would be known in the large encampment before sunrise. Inspite of the good opinion we entertained of our guests, we were alsosatisfied they had lied to us when they denied they had been in thelarge camp since the trail herds began to pass. This was the lastquestion we had asked, and the artful manner in which they had parriedit showed our guests to be no mean diplomats themselves. 

Our camp was astir by daybreak, and after breakfast, as we werecatching our mounts for the day, one of the Apaches offered to take acertain pinto horse in our _remuda_ in lieu of the promised beef, butFlood declined the offer. On overtaking the herd after breakfast, Quarternight cut out a fat two year old stray heifer, and he and Iassisted our guests to drive their beef several miles toward theirvillage. Finally bidding them farewell, we returned to the herd, whenthe outfit informed us that Flood and The Rebel had ridden on ahead tolook out a crossing on the Salt Fork. From this move it was evidentthat if a passable ford could be found, our foreman intended toabandon the established route and avoid the big Indian encampment. 

On the return of Priest and Flood about noon, they reported havingfound an easy ford of the Salt Fork, which, from the indications oftheir old trails centring from every quarter at this crossing, musthave been used by buffalo for generations. After dinner we put ourwagon in the lead, and following close at hand with the cattle, turnedoff the trail about a mile above our noon camp and struck to thewestward for the crossing. This we reached and crossed early thatevening, camping out nearly five miles to the west of the river. Rainwas always to be dreaded in trail work, and when bedding down the herdthat night, we had one of the heaviest downpours which we hadexperienced since leaving the Rio Grande. It lasted several hours, butwe stood it uncomplainingly, for this fortunate drenching hadobliterated every trace left by our wagon and herd since abandoningthe trail, as well as the sign left at the old buffalo crossing on theSalt Fork. The rain ceased about ten o'clock, when the cattle beddeddown easily, and the second guard took them for their watch. Wood wastoo scarce to afford a fire, and while our slickers had partiallyprotected us from the rain, many of us went to bed in wet clothingthat night. After another half day's drive to the west, we turnednorthward and traveled in that direction through a nice country, moreor less broken with small hills, but well watered. On the morning ofthe first day after turning north, Honeyman reported a number of oursaddle horses had strayed from camp. This gave Flood some littleuneasiness, and a number of us got on our night horses without loss oftime and turned out to look up the missing saddle stock. The Rebel andI set out together to the southward, while others of the outfit setoff to the other points of the compass. 

I was always a good trailer, was in fact acknowledged to be one of thebest, with the exception of my brother Zack, on the San Antonio River, where we grew up as boys. In circling about that morning, I struck thetrail of about twenty horses--the missing number--and at once signaledto Priest, who was about a mile distant, to join me. The ground wasfortunately fresh from the recent rain and left an easy trail. Wegalloped along it easily for some little distance, when the trailsuddenly turned and we could see that the horses had been running, having evidently received a sudden scare. On following up the trailnearly a mile, we noticed where they had quieted down and hadevidently grazed for several hours, but in looking up the trail bywhich they had left these parts, Priest made the discovery of signs ofcattle. We located the trail of the horses soon, and were againsurprised to find that they had been running as before, though thetrail was much fresher, having possibly been made about dawn. We ranthe trail out until it passed over a slight divide, when there beforeus stood the missing horses. They never noticed us, but were standingat attention, cautiously sniffing the early morning air, on which wasborne to them the scent of something they feared. On reaching them, their fear seemed not the least appeased, and my partner and I had ourcuriosity sufficiently aroused to ride forward to the cause of theiralarm. As we rounded the spur of the hill, there in plain view grazeda band of about twenty buffalo. We were almost as excited as thehorses over the discovery. By dropping back and keeping the hillbetween us and them, then dismounting and leaving our horses, wethought we could reach the apex of the hill. It was but a smallelevation, and from its summit we secured a splendid view of theanimals, now less than three hundred yards distant. Flatteningourselves out, we spent several minutes watching the shaggy animals asthey grazed leisurely forward, while several calves in the bunchgamboled around their mothers. A buffalo calf, I had always heard, made delicious veal, and as we had had no fresh meat since we hadstarted, I proposed to Priest that we get one. He suggested trying ourropes, for if we could ever get within effective six-shooter range, arope was much the surest. Certainly such cumbrous, awkward lookinganimals, he said, could be no match for our Texas horses. Weaccordingly dropped back off the hill to our saddle stock, when Priestsaid that if he only had a certain horse of his out of the band we hadbeen trailing he would promise me buffalo veal if he had to followthem to the Pan-handle. It took us but a few minutes to return to ourhorses, round them in, and secure the particular horse he wanted. Iwas riding my Nigger Boy, my regular night horse, and as only one ofmy mount was in this bunch, --a good horse, but sluggish, --I concludedto give my black a trial, not depending on his speed so much as hisstaying qualities. It took but a minute for The Rebel to shift hissaddle from one horse to another, when he started around to the south, while I turned to the north, so as to approach the buffalosimultaneously. I came in sight of the band first, my partner having afarther ride to make, but had only a few moments to wait, before Inoticed the quarry take alarm, and the next instant Priest dashed outfrom behind a spur of the hill and was after them, I following suit. They turned westward, and when The Rebel and I came together on theangle of their course, we were several hundred yards in their rear. Mybunkie had the best horse in speed by all odds, and was soon crowdingthe band so close that they began to scatter, and though I passedseveral old bulls and cows, it was all I could do to keep in sight ofthe calves. After the chase had continued over a mile, the stayingqualities of my horse began to shine, but while I was nearing thelead, The Rebel tied to the largest calf in the bunch. The calf he hadon his rope was a beauty, and on overtaking him, I reined in my horse, for to have killed a second one would have been sheer waste. Priestwanted me to shoot the calf, but I refused, so he shifted the rope tothe pommel of my saddle, and, dismounting, dropped the calf at thefirst shot. We skinned him, cut off his head, and after disembowelinghim, lashed the carcass across my saddle. Then both of us mountedPriest's horse, and started on our return. 

On reaching the horse stock, we succeeded in catching a sleepy oldhorse belonging to Rod Wheat's mount, and I rode him bridleless andbareback to camp. We received an ovation on our arrival, the recoveryof the saddle horses being a secondary matter compared to the buffaloveal. "So it was buffalo that scared our horses, was it, and ran themout of camp?" said McCann, as he helped to unlash the calf. "Well, it's an ill wind that blows nobody good. " There was no particular lossof time, for the herd had grazed away on our course several miles, andafter changing our mounts we overtook the herd with the news that notonly the horses had been found, but that there was fresh meat incamp--and buffalo veal at that! The other men out horse hunting, seeing the cattle strung out in traveling shape, soon returned totheir places beside the trailing herd. 

We held a due northward course, which we figured ought to carry uspast and at least thirty miles to the westward of the big Indianencampment. The worst thing with which we had now to contend was theweather, it having rained more or less during the past day and night, or ever since we had crossed the Salt Fork. The weather had thrown theoutfit into such a gloomy mood that they would scarcely speak to oranswer each other. This gloomy feeling had been growing on us forseveral days, and it was even believed secretly that our foremandidn't know where he was; that the outfit was drifting and as good aslost. About noon of the third day, the weather continuing wet withcold nights, and with no abatement of the general gloom, our men onpoint noticed smoke arising directly ahead on our course, in a littlevalley through which ran a nice stream of water. When Flood'sattention was directed to the smoke, he rode forward to ascertain thecause, and returned worse baffled than I ever saw him. 

It was an Indian camp, and had evidently been abandoned only thatmorning, for the fires were still smouldering. Ordering the wagon tocamp on the creek and the cattle to graze forward till noon, Floodreturned to the Indian camp, taking two of the boys and myself withhim. It had not been a permanent camp, yet showed evidence of havingbeen occupied several days at least, and had contained nearly ahundred lean-tos, wickyups, and tepees--altogether too large anencampment to suit our tastes. The foreman had us hunt up the trailleaving, and once we had found it, all four of us ran it out five orsix miles, when, from the freshness of it, fearing that we might beseen, we turned back. The Indians had many ponies and possibly somecattle, though the sign of the latter was hard to distinguish frombuffalo. Before quitting their trail, we concluded they were from oneof the reservations, and were heading for their old stamping ground, the Pan-handle country, --peaceable probably; but whether peaceable ornot, we had no desire to meet with them. We lost little time, then, inreturning to the herd and making late and early drives until we wereout of that section. 

But one cannot foresee impending trouble on the cattle trail, any morethan elsewhere, and although we encamped that night a long distance tothe north of the abandoned Indian camp, the next morning we came nearhaving a stampede. It happened just at dawn. Flood had called the cookan hour before daybreak, and he had started out with Honeyman to drivein the _remuda_, which had scattered badly the morning before. Theyhad the horses rounded up and were driving them towards camp when, about half a mile from the wagon, four old buffalo bulls ranquartering past the horses. This was tinder among stubble, and intheir panic the horses outstripped the wranglers and came thunderingfor camp. Luckily we had been called to breakfast, and those of us whocould see what was up ran and secured our night horses. Before half ofthe horses were thus secured, however, one hundred and thirty loosesaddle stock dashed through camp, and every horse on picket went withthem, saddles and all, and dragging the picket ropes. Then the cattlejumped from the bed ground and were off like a shot, the fourth guard, who had them in charge, with them. Just for the time being it was anopen question which way to ride, our saddle horses going in onedirection and the herd in another. Priest was an early riser and hadhustled me out early, so fortunately we reached our horses, thoughover half the outfit in camp could only look on and curse their luckat being left afoot. The Rebel was first in the saddle, and turnedafter the horses, but I rode for the herd. The cattle were not badlyscared, and as the morning grew clearer, five of us quieted them downbefore they had run more than a short mile. 

The horses, however, gave us a long, hard run, and since a horse has asplendid memory, the effects of this scare were noticeable for nearlya month after. Honeyman at once urged our foreman to hobble at night, but Flood knew the importance of keeping the _remuda_ strong, andrefused. But his decision was forced, for just as it was growing duskthat evening, we heard the horses running, and all hands had to turnout, to surround them and bring them into camp. We hobbled every horseand side-lined certain leaders, and for fully a week following, onescare or another seemed to hold our saddle stock in constant terror. During this week we turned out our night horses, and taking the worstof the leaders in their stead, tied them solidly to the wagon wheelsall night, not being willing to trust to picket ropes. They would evenrun from a mounted man during the twilight of evening or early dawn, or from any object not distinguishable in uncertain light; but thewrangler now never went near them until after sunrise, and theirnervousness gradually subsided. Trouble never comes singly, however, and when we struck the Salt Fork, we found it raging, and impassablenearly from bank to bank. But get across we must. The swimming of itwas nothing, but it was necessary to get our wagon over, and therecame the rub. We swam the cattle in twenty minutes' time, but it tookus a full half day to get the wagon over. The river was at least ahundred yards wide, three quarters of which was swimming to a horse. But we hunted up and down the river until we found an eddy, where thebanks had a gradual approach to deep water, and started to raft thewagon over--a thing none of the outfit had ever seen done, though wehad often heard of it around camp-fires in Texas. The first thing wasto get the necessary timber to make the raft. We scouted along theSalt Fork for a mile either way before we found sufficient dry, deadcottonwood to form our raft. Then we set about cutting it, but we hadonly one axe, and were the poorest set of axemen that were ever calledupon to perform a similar task; when we cut a tree it looked as thougha beaver had gnawed it down. On horseback the Texan shines at the headof his class, but in any occupation which must be performed on foot heis never a competitor. There was scarcely a man in our outfit whocould not swing a rope and tie down a steer in a given space of time, but when it came to swinging an axe to cut logs for the raft, ourlustre faded. "Cutting these logs, " said Joe Stallings, as he moppedthe sweat from his brow, "reminds me of what the Tennessee girl whomarried a Texan wrote home to her sister. 'Texas, ' so she wrote, 'is agood place for men and dogs, but it's hell on women and oxen. '"

Dragging the logs up to the place selected for the ford was an easymatter. They were light, and we did it with ropes from the pommels ofour saddles, two to four horses being sufficient to handle any of thetrees. When everything was ready, we ran the wagon out into two-footwater and built the raft under it. We had cut the dry logs fromeighteen to twenty feet long, and now ran a tier of these under thewagon between the wheels. These we lashed securely to the axle, andeven lashed one large log on the underside of the hub on the outsideof the wheel. Then we cross-timbered under these, lashing everythingsecurely to this outside guard log. Before we had finished thecross-timbering, it was necessary to take an anchor rope ashore forfear our wagon would float away. By the time we had succeeded ingetting twenty-five dry cottonwood logs under our wagon, it wasafloat. Half a dozen of us then swam the river on our horses, takingacross the heaviest rope we had for a tow line. We threw the wagontongue back and lashed it, and making fast to the wagon with one endof the tow rope, fastened our lariats to the other. With the remainderof our unused rope, we took a guy line from the wagon and snubbed itto a tree on the south bank. Everything being in readiness, the wordwas given, and as those on the south bank eased away, those onhorseback on the other side gave the rowel to their horses, and ourcommissary floated across. The wagon floated so easily that McCann wasordered on to the raft to trim the weight when it struck the current. The current carried it slightly downstream, and when it lodged on theother side, those on the south bank fastened lariats to the guy rope;and with them pulling from that side and us from ours, it was soonbrought opposite the landing and hauled into shallow water. Once theraft timber was unlashed and removed, the tongue was lowered, and fromthe pommels of six saddles the wagon was set high and dry on the northbank. There now only remained to bring up the cattle and swim them, which was an easy task and soon accomplished. 

After putting the Salt Fork behind us, our spirits were againdampened, for it rained all the latter part of the night and untilnoon the next day. It was with considerable difficulty that McCanncould keep his fire from drowning out while he was getting breakfast, and several of the outfit refused to eat at all. Flood knew it wasuseless to rally the boys, for a wet, hungry man is not to be jolliedor reasoned with. Five days had now elapsed since we turned off theestablished trail, and half the time rain had been falling. Besides, our doubt as to where we were had been growing, so before we startedthat morning, Bull Durham very good-naturedly asked Flood if he hadany idea where he was. 

"No, I haven't. No more than you have, " replied our foreman. "But thismuch I do know, or will just as soon as the sun comes out: I knownorth from south. We have been traveling north by a little west, andif we hold that course we're bound to strike the North Fork, andwithin a day or two afterwards we will come into the government trail, running from Fort Elliot to Camp Supply, which will lead us into ourown trail. Or if we were certain that we had cleared the Indianreservation, we could bear to our right, and in time we would reënterthe trail that way. I can't help the weather, boys, and as long as Ihave chuck, I'd as lief be lost as found. "

If there was any recovery in the feelings of the outfit after thistalk of Flood's, it was not noticeable, and it is safe to say that twothirds of the boys believed we were in the Pan-handle of Texas. Oneman's opinion is as good as another's in a strange country, and whilethere wasn't a man in the outfit who cared to suggest it, I know themajority of us would have indorsed turning northeast. But the fatessmiled on us at last. About the middle of the forenoon, on thefollowing day, we cut an Indian trail, about three days old, ofprobably fifty horses. A number of us followed the trail several mileson its westward course, and among other things discovered that theyhad been driving a small bunch of cattle, evidently making for thesand hills which we could see about twenty miles to our left. How theyhad come by the cattle was a mystery, --perhaps by forced levy, perhapsfrom a stampede. One thing was certain: the trail must havecontributed them, for there were none but trail cattle in the country. This was reassuring and gave some hint of guidance. We were alltickled, therefore, after nooning that day and on starting the herd inthe afternoon, to hear our foreman give orders to point the herd alittle east of north. The next few days we made long drives, oursaddle horses recovered from their scare, and the outfit fast regainedits spirits. 

On the morning of the tenth day after leaving the trail, we loiteredup a long slope to a divide in our lead from which we sighted timberto the north. This we supposed from its size must be the North Fork. Our route lay up this divide some distance, and before we left it, some one in the rear sighted a dust cloud to the right and far behindus. As dust would hardly rise on a still morning without a cause, weturned the herd off the divide and pushed on, for we suspectedIndians. Flood and Priest hung back on the divide, watching the dustsignals, and after the herd had left them several miles in the rear, they turned and rode towards it, --a move which the outfit could hardlymake out. It was nearly noon when we saw them returning in a longlope, and when they came in sight of the herd, Priest waved his hat inthe air and gave the long yell. When he explained that there was aherd of cattle on the trail in the rear and to our right, the yellwent around the herd, and was reechoed by our wrangler and cook in therear. The spirits of the outfit instantly rose. We halted the herd andcamped for noon, and McCann set out his best in celebrating theoccasion. It was the most enjoyable meal we had had in the past tendays. After a good noonday rest, we set out, and having entered thetrail during the afternoon, crossed the North Fork late that evening. As we were going into camp, we noticed a horseman coming up the trail, who turned out to be smiling Nat Straw, whom we had left on theColorado River. "Well, girls, " said Nat, dismounting, "I didn't knowwho you were, but I just thought I'd ride ahead and overtake whoeverit was and stay all night. Indians? Yes; I wouldn't drive on a trailthat hadn't any excitement on it. I gave the last big encampment tenstrays, and won them all back and four ponies besides on a horse race. Oh, yes, got some running stock with us. How soon will supper beready, cusi? Get up something extra, for you've got company. "

CHAPTER XI

A BOGGY FORD

That night we learned from Straw our location on the trail. We werefar above the Indian reservation, and instead of having been astrayour foreman had held a due northward course, and we were probably asfar on the trail as if we had followed the regular route. So in spiteof all our good maxims, we had been borrowing trouble; we were neverover thirty miles to the westward of what was then the new WesternCattle Trail. We concluded that the "Running W" herd had turned back, as Straw brought the report that some herd had recrossed Red River theday before his arrival, giving for reasons the wet season and thedanger of getting waterbound. 

About noon of the second day after leaving the North Fork of RedRiver, we crossed the Washita, a deep stream, the slippery banks ofwhich gave every indication of a recent rise. We had no trouble incrossing either wagon or herd, it being hardly a check in our onwardcourse. The abandonment of the regular trail the past ten days hadbeen a noticeable benefit to our herd, for the cattle had had anabundance of fresh country to graze over as well as plenty of rest. But now that we were back on the trail, we gave them their freedom andfrequently covered twenty miles a day, until we reached the SouthCanadian, which proved to be the most delusive stream we had yetencountered. It also showed, like the Washita, every evidence ofhaving been on a recent rampage. On our arrival there was no volume ofwater to interfere, but it had a quicksand bottom that would bog asaddle blanket. Our foreman had been on ahead and examined the regularcrossing, and when he returned, freely expressed his opinion that wewould be unable to trail the herd across, but might hope to effect itby cutting it into small bunches. When we came, therefore, withinthree miles of the river, we turned off the trail to a near-by creekand thoroughly watered the herd. This was contrary to our practice, for we usually wanted the herd thirsty when reaching a large river. But any cow brute that halted in fording the Canadian that day wasdoomed to sink into quicksands from which escape was doubtful. 

We held the wagon and saddle horses in the rear, and when we were halfa mile away from the trail ford, cut off about two hundred head of theleaders and started for the crossing, leaving only the horse wranglerand one man with the herd. On reaching the river we gave them an extrapush, and the cattle plunged into the muddy water. Before the cattlehad advanced fifty feet, instinct earned them of the treacherousfooting, and the leaders tried to turn back; but by that time we hadthe entire bunch in the water and were urging them forward. They hadhalted but a moment and begun milling, when several heavy steers sank;then we gave way and allowed the rest to come back. We did not realizefully the treachery of this river until we saw that twenty cattle werecaught in the merciless grasp of the quicksand. They sank slowly tothe level of their bodies, which gave sufficient resistance to supporttheir weight, but they were hopelessly bogged. We allowed the freecattle to return to the herd, and immediately turned our attention tothose that were bogged, some of whom were nearly submerged by water. We dispatched some of the boys to the wagon for our heavy corral ropesand a bundle of horse-hobbles; and the remainder of us, stripped tothe belt, waded out and surveyed the situation at close quarters. Wewere all experienced in handling bogged cattle, though this quicksandwas the most deceptive that I, at least, had ever witnessed. Thebottom of the river as we waded through it was solid under our feet, and as long as we kept moving it felt so, but the moment we stopped wesank as in a quagmire. The "pull" of this quicksand was so strong thatfour of us were unable to lift a steer's tail out, once it wasimbedded in the sand. And when we had released a tail by burrowingaround it to arm's length and freed it, it would sink of its ownweight in a minute's time until it would have to be burrowed outagain. To avoid this we had to coil up the tails and tie them with asoft rope hobble. 

Fortunately none of the cattle were over forty feet from the bank, andwhen our heavy rope arrived we divided into two gangs and began thework of rescue. We first took a heavy rope from the animal's horns tosolid footing on the river bank, and tied to this five or six of ourlariats. Meanwhile others rolled a steer over as far as possible andbegan burrowing with their hands down alongside a fore and hind legsimultaneously until they could pass a small rope around the pasternabove the cloof, or better yet through the cloven in the hoof, whenthe leg could be readily lifted by two men. We could not stopburrowing, however, for a moment, or the space would fill andsolidify. Once a leg was freed, we doubled it back short and securelytied it with a hobble, and when the fore and hind leg were thussecured, we turned the animal over on that side and released the otherlegs in a similar manner. Then we hastened out of the water and intoour saddles, and wrapped the loose end of our ropes to the pommels, having already tied the lariats to the heavy corral rope from theanimal's horns. When the word was given, we took a good swingingstart, and unless something gave way there was one steer less in thehog. After we had landed the animal high and dry on the bank, it wasbut a minute's work to free the rope and untie the hobbles. Then itwas advisable to get into the saddle with little loss of time and givehim a wide berth, for he generally arose angry and sullen. 

It was dark before we got the last of the bogged cattle out andretraced our way to camp from the first river on the trip that hadturned us. But we were not the least discouraged, for we felt certainthere was a ford that had a bottom somewhere within a few miles, andwe could hunt it up on the morrow. The next one, however, we would trybefore we put the cattle in. There was no question that thetreacherous condition of the river was due to the recent freshet, which had brought down new deposits of sediment and had agitated theold, even to changing the channel of the river, so that it had not asyet had sufficient time to settle and solidify. 

The next morning after breakfast, Flood and two or three of the boysset out up the river, while an equal number of us started, under theleadership of The Rebel, down the river on a similar errand, --toprospect for a crossing. Our party scouted for about five miles, andthe only safe footing we could find was a swift, narrow channelbetween the bank and an island in the river, while beyond the islandwas a much wider channel with water deep enough in several places toswim our saddle horses. The footing seemed quite secure to our horses, but the cattle were much heavier; and if an animal ever bogged in theriver, there was water enough to drown him before help could berendered. We stopped our horses a number of times, however, to try thefooting, and in none of our experiments was there any indication ofquicksand, so we counted the crossing safe. On our return we found theherd already in motion, headed up the river where our foreman hadlocated a crossing. As it was then useless to make any mention of theisland crossing which we had located, at least until a trial had beengiven to the upper ford, we said nothing. When we came within half amile of the new ford, we held up the herd and allowed them to graze, and brought up the _remuda_ and crossed and recrossed them withoutbogging a single horse. Encouraged at this, we cut off about a hundredhead of heavy lead cattle and started for the ford. We had a good pushon them when we struck the water, for there were ten riders aroundthem and Flood was in the lead. We called to him several times thatthe cattle were bogging, but he never halted until he pulled out onthe opposite bank, leaving twelve of the heaviest steers in thequicksand. 

"Well, in all my experience in trail work, " said Flood, as he gazedback at the dozen animals struggling in the quicksand, "I never saw asdeceptive a bottom in any river. We used to fear the Cimarron andPlatte, but the old South Canadian is the girl that can lay it overthem both. Still, there ain't any use crying over spilt milk, and wehaven't got men enough to hold two herds, so surround them, boys, andwe'll recross them if we leave twenty-four more in the river. Takethem back a good quarter, fellows, and bring them up on a run, andI'll take the lead when they strike the water; and give them no showto halt until they get across. "

As the little bunch of cattle had already grazed out nearly a quarter, we rounded them into a compact body and started for the river torecross them. The nearer we came to the river, the faster we went, till we struck the water. In several places where there were channels, we could neither force the cattle nor ride ourselves faster than awalk on account of the depth of the water, but when we struck theshallows, which were the really dangerous places, we forced the cattlewith horse and quirt. Near the middle of the river, in shoal water, Rod Wheat was quirting up the cattle, when a big dun steer, trying toget out of his reach, sank in the quicksand, and Rod's horse stumbledacross the animal and was thrown. He floundered in attempting to rise, and his hind feet sank to the haunches. His ineffectual strugglescaused him to sink farther to the flanks in the loblolly which thetramping of the cattle had caused, and there horse and steer lay, sideby side, like two in a bed. Wheat loosened the cinches of the saddleon either side, and stripping the bridle off, brought up the rear, carrying saddle, bridle, and blankets on his back. The river was atleast three hundred yards wide, and when we got to the farther bank, our horses were so exhausted that we dismounted and let them blow. Asurvey showed we had left a total of fifteen cattle and the horse inthe quicksands. But we congratulated ourselves that we had bogged downonly three head in recrossing. Getting these cattle out was a muchharder task than the twenty head gave us the day before, for many ofthese were bogged more than a hundred yards from the bank. But no timewas to be lost; the wagon was brought up in a hurry, fresh horses werecaught, and we stripped for the fray. While McCann got dinner we gotout the horse, even saving the cinches that were abandoned in freeinghim of the saddle. 

During the afternoon we were compelled to adopt a new mode ofprocedure, for with the limited amount of rope at hand, we could onlyuse one rope for drawing the cattle out to solid footing, after theywere freed from the quagmire. But we had four good mules to our chuckwagon, and instead of dragging the cattle ashore from the pommels ofsaddles, we tied one end of the rope to the hind axle and used themules in snaking the cattle out. This worked splendidly, but everytime we freed a steer we had to drive the wagon well out of reach, forfear he might charge the wagon and team. But with three crews workingin the water, tying up tails and legs, the work progressed morerapidly than it had done the day before, and two hours before sunsetthe last animal had been freed. We had several exciting incidentsduring the operation, for several steers showed fight, and whenreleased went on the prod for the first thing in sight. The herd wasgrazing nearly a mile away during the afternoon, and as fast as asteer was pulled out, some one would take a horse and give the freedanimal a start for the herd. One big black steer turned on Flood, whogenerally attended to this, and gave him a spirited chase. In gettingout of the angry steer's way, he passed near the wagon, when themaddened beef turned from Flood and charged the commissary. McCann wasriding the nigh wheel mule, and when he saw the steer coming, hepoured the whip into the mules and circled around like a battery infield practice, trying to get out of the way. Flood made severalattempts to cut off the steer from the wagon, but he followed it likea mover's dog, until a number of us, fearing our mules would be gored, ran out of the water, mounted our horses, and joined in the chase. When we came up with the circus, our foreman called to us to rope thebeef, and Fox Quarternight, getting in the first cast, caught him bythe two front feet and threw him heavily. Before he could rise, several of us had dismounted and were sitting on him like buzzards oncarrion. McCann then drove the team around behind a sand dune, out ofsight; we released the beef, and he was glad to return to the herd, quite sobered by the throwing. 

Another incident occurred near the middle of the afternoon. From somecause or other, the hind leg of a steer, after having been tied up, became loosened. No one noticed this; but when, after severalsuccessive trials, during which Barney McCann exhausted a largevocabulary of profanity, the mule team was unable to move the steer, six of us fastened our lariats to the main rope, and dragged the beefashore with great _éclat_. But when one of the boys dismounted tounloose the hobbles and rope, a sight met our eyes that sent asickening sensation through us, for the steer had left one hind leg inthe river, neatly disjointed at the knee. Then we knew why the muleshad failed to move him, having previously supposed his size was thedifficulty, for he was one of the largest steers in the herd. No doubtthe steer's leg had been unjointed in swinging him around, but it hadtaken six extra horses to sever the ligaments and skin, while themerciless quicksands of the Canadian held the limb. A friendly shotended the steer's sufferings, and before we finished our work for theday, a flight of buzzards were circling around in anticipation of thecoming feast. 

Another day had been lost, and still the South Canadian defied us. Wedrifted the cattle back to the previous night camp, using the same bedground for our herd. It was then that The Rebel broached the subjectof a crossing at the island which we had examined that morning, andoffered to show it to our foreman by daybreak. We put two extra horseson picket that night, and the next morning, before the sun was half anhour high, the foreman and The Rebel had returned from the island downthe river with word that we were to give the ford a trial, though wecould not cross the wagon there. Accordingly we grazed the herd downthe river and came opposite the island near the middle of theforenoon. As usual, we cut off about one hundred of the lead cattle, the leaders naturally being the heaviest, and started them into thewater. We reached the island and scaled the farther bank without asingle animal losing his footing. We brought up a second bunch ofdouble, and a third of triple the number of the first, and crossedthem with safety, but as yet the Canadian was dallying with us. As wecrossed each successive bunch, the tramping of the cattle increasinglyagitated the sands, and when we had the herd about half over, webogged our first steer on the farther landing. As the water was soshallow that drowning was out of the question, we went back andtrailed in the remainder of the herd, knowing the bogged steer wouldbe there when we were ready for him, The island was about two hundredyards long by twenty wide, lying up and down the river, and in leavingit for the farther bank, we always pushed off at the upper end. Butnow, in trailing the remainder of the cattle over, we attempted toforce them into the water at the lower end, as the footing at thatpoint of this middle ground had not, as yet, been trampled up as hadthe upper end. Everything worked nicely until the rear guard of thelast five or six hundred congested on the island, the outfit beingscattered on both sides of the river as well as in the middle, leavinga scarcity of men at all points. When the final rear guard had reachedthe river the cattle were striking out for the farther shore fromevery quarter of the island at their own sweet will, stopping to drinkand loitering on the farther side, for there was no one to hustle themout. 

All were over at last, and we were on the point of congratulatingourselves, --for, although the herd had scattered badly, we had lessthan a dozen bogged cattle, and those near the shore, --when suddenlyup the river over a mile, there began a rapid shooting. Satisfied thatit was by our own men, we separated, and, circling right and left, began to throw the herd together. Some of us rode up the river bankand soon located the trouble. We had not ridden a quarter of a milebefore we passed a number of our herd bogged, these having reënteredthe river for their noonday drink, and on coming up with the men whohad done the shooting, we found them throwing the herd out from thewater. They reported that a large number of cattle were bogged fartherup the river. 

All hands rounded in the herd, and drifting them out nearly a milefrom the river, left them under two herders, when the remainder of usreturned to the bogged cattle. There were by actual count, includingthose down at the crossing, over eighty bogged cattle that requiredour attention, extending over a space of a mile or more above theisland ford. 

The outlook was anything but pleasing. Flood was almost speechlessover the situation, for it might have been guarded against. Butrealizing the task before us, we recrossed the river for dinner, wellknowing the inner man needed fortifying for the work before us. Nosooner had we disposed of the meal and secured a change of mounts allround, than we sent two men to relieve the men on herd. When they wereoff, Flood divided up our forces for the afternoon work. 

"It will never do, " said he, "to get separated from our commissary. So, Priest, you take the wagon and _remuda_ and go back up to theregular crossing and get our wagon over somehow. There will be thecook and wrangler besides yourself, and you may have two other men. You will have to lighten your load; and don't attempt to cross thosemules hitched to the wagon; rely on your saddle horses for getting thewagon over. Forrest, you and Bull, with the two men on herd, take thecattle to the nearest creek and water them well. After watering, driftthem back, so they will be within a mile of these bogged cattle. Thenleave two men with them and return to the river. I'll take theremainder of the outfit and begin at the ford and work up the river. Get the ropes and hobbles, boys, and come on. "

John Officer and I were left with The Rebel to get the wagon across, and while waiting for the men on herd to get in, we hooked up themules. Honeyman had the _remuda_ in hand to start the minute ourherders returned, their change of mounts being already tied to thewagon wheels. The need of haste was very imperative, for the rivermight rise without an hour's notice, and a two-foot rise would drownevery hoof in the river as well as cut us off from our wagon. TheSouth Canadian has its source in the Staked Plains and the mountainsof New Mexico, and freshets there would cause a rise here, localconditions never affecting a river of such width. Several of us hadseen these Plains rivers, --when the mountain was sportive and dallyingwith the plain, --under a clear sky and without any warning of fallingweather, rise with a rush of water like a tidal wave or the streamfrom a broken dam. So when our men from herd galloped in, we strippedtheir saddles from tired horses and cinched them to fresh ones, whilethey, that there might be no loss of time, bolted their dinners. Ittook us less than an hour to reach the ford, where we unloaded thewagon of everything but the chuck-box, which was ironed fast. We hadan extra saddle in the wagon, and McCann was mounted on a good horse, for he could ride as well as cook. Priest and I rode the river, selecting a route; and on our return, all five of us tied our lariatsto the tongue and sides of the wagon. We took a running start, anduntil we struck the farther bank we gave the wagon no time to sink, but pulled it out of the river with a shout, our horses' flanksheaving. Then recrossing the river, we lashed all the bedding to fourgentle saddle horses and led them over. But to get our provisionsacross was no easy matter, for we were heavily loaded, having taken ona supply at Doan's sufficient to last us until we reached Dodge, agood month's journey. Yet over it must go, and we kept a string ofhorsemen crossing and recrossing for an hour, carrying everything frompots and pans to axle grease, as well as the staples of life. When wehad got the contents of the wagon finally over and reloaded, thereremained nothing but crossing the saddle stock. 

The wagon mules had been turned loose, harnessed, while we werecrossing the wagon and other effects; and when we drove the _remuda_into the river, one of the wheel mules turned back, and in spite ofevery man, reached the bank again. Part of the boys hurried the othersacross, but McCann and I turned back after our wheeler. We caught himwithout any trouble, but our attempt to lead him across failed. Inspite of all the profanity addressed personally to him, he proved acredit to his sire, and we lost ground in trying to force him into theriver. The boys across the river watched a few minutes, when allrecrossed to our assistance. 

"Time's too valuable to monkey with a mule to-day, " said Priest, as herode up; "skin off that harness. "

It was off at once, and we blindfolded and backed him up to the riverbank; then taking a rope around his forelegs, we threw him, hog-tiedhim, and rolled him into the water. With a rope around his forelegsand through the ring in the bridle bit, we asked no further favors, but snaked him ignominiously over to the farther side and reharnessedhim into the team. 

The afternoon was more than half spent when we reached the firstbogged cattle, and by the time the wagon overtook us we had severaltied up and ready for the mule team to give us a lift. The herd hadbeen watered in the mean time and was grazing about in sight of theriver, and as we occasionally drifted a freed animal out to the herd, we saw others being turned in down the river. About an hour beforesunset, Flood rode up to us and reported having cleared the islandford, while a middle outfit under Forrest was working down towards it. During the twilight hours of evening, the wagon and saddle horsesmoved out to the herd and made ready to camp, but we remained untildark, and with but three horses released a number of light cows. Wewere the last outfit to reach the wagon, and as Honeyman had tied upour night horses, there was nothing for us to do but eat and go tobed, to which we required no coaxing, for we all knew that earlymorning would find us once more working with bogged cattle. 

The night passed without incident, and the next morning in thedivision of the forces, Priest was again allowed the wagon to do thesnaking out with, but only four men, counting McCann. The remainder ofthe outfit was divided into several gangs, working near enough eachother to lend a hand in case an extra horse was needed on a pull. Thethird animal we struck in the river that morning was the black steerthat had showed fight the day before. Knowing his temper would not beimproved by soaking in the quicksand overnight, we changed ourtactics. While we were tying up the steer's tail and legs, McCannsecreted his team at a safe distance. Then he took a lariat, lashedthe tongue of the wagon to a cottonwood tree, and jacking up a hindwheel, used it as a windlass. When all was ready, we tied the looseend of our cable rope to a spoke, and allowing the rope to coil on thehub, manned the windlass and drew him ashore. When the steer wasfreed, McCann, having no horse at hand, climbed into the wagon, whilethe rest of us sought safety in our saddles, and gave him a wideberth. When he came to his feet he was sullen with rage and refused tomove out of his tracks. Priest rode out and baited him at a distance, and McCann, from his safe position, attempted to give him a scare, when he savagely charged the wagon. McCann reached down, and securinga handful of flour, dashed it into his eyes, which made him back away;and, kneeling, he fell to cutting the sand with his horns. Rising, hecharged the wagon a second time, and catching the wagon sheet with hishorns, tore two slits in it like slashes of a razor. By this time TheRebel ventured a little nearer, and attracted the steer's attention. He started for Priest, who gave the quirt to his horse, and for thefirst quarter mile had a close race. The steer, however, weakened bythe severe treatment he had been subjected to, soon fell to the rear, and gave up the chase and continued on his way to the herd. 

After this incident we worked down the river until the outfits met. Wefinished the work before noon, having lost three full days by thequicksands of the Canadian. As we pulled into the trail that afternoonnear the first divide and looked back to take a parting glance at theriver, we saw a dust cloud across the Canadian which we knew must hethe Ellison herd under Nat Straw. Quince Forrest, noticing it at thesame time as I did, rode forward and said to me, "Well, old Nat willget it in the neck this time, if that old girl dallies with him as shedid with us. I don't wish him any bad luck, but I do hope he'll bogenough cattle to keep his hand in practice. It will be just about hisluck, though, to find it settled and solid enough to cross. " And thenext morning we saw his signal in the sky about the same distancebehind us, and knew he had forded without any serious trouble. 

CHAPTER XII

THE NORTH FORK

There was never very much love lost between government soldiers andour tribe, so we swept past Camp Supply in contempt a few days later, and crossed the North Fork of the Canadian to camp for the night. Flood and McCann went into the post, as our supply of flour and navybeans was running rather low, and our foreman had hopes that he mightbe able to get enough of these staples from the sutler to last untilwe reached Dodge. He also hoped to receive some word from Lovell. 

The rest of us had no lack of occupation, as a result of a chance findof mine that morning. Honeyman had stood my guard the night before, and in return, I had got up when he was called to help rustle thehorses. We had every horse under hand before the sun peeped over theeastern horizon, and when returning to camp with the _remuda_, as Irode through a bunch of sumach bush, I found a wild turkey's nest withsixteen fresh eggs in it. Honeyman rode up, when I dismounted, andputting them in my hat, handed them up to Billy until I could mount, for they were beauties and as precious to us as gold. There was an eggfor each man in the outfit and one over, and McCann threw a heap ofswagger into the inquiry, "Gentlemen, how will you have your eggs thismorning?" just as though it was an everyday affair. They were issuedto us fried, and I naturally felt that the odd egg, by rights, oughtto fall to me, but the opposing majority was formidable, --fourteen toone, --so I yielded. A number of ways were suggested to allot the oddegg, but the gambling fever in us being rabid, raffling or playingcards for it seemed to be the proper caper. Raffling had fewadvocates. 

"It reflects on any man's raising, " said Quince Forrest, contemptuously, "to suggest the idea of raffling, when we've got cardsand all night to play for that egg. The very idea of raffling for it!I'd like to see myself pulling straws or drawing numbers from a hat, like some giggling girl at a church fair. Poker is a science; thehighest court in Texas has said so, and I want some little show for myinterest in that speckled egg. What have I spent twenty years learningthe game for, will some of you tell me? Why, it lets me out if youraffle it. " The argument remained unanswered, and the play for it gaveinterest to that night. 

As soon as supper was over and the first guard had taken the herd, thepoker game opened, each man being given ten beans for chips. We hadonly one deck of cards, so one game was all that could be run at atime, but there were six players, and when one was frozen out anothersat in and took his place. As wood was plentiful, we had a good fire, and this with the aid of the cook's lantern gave an abundance oflight. We unrolled a bed to serve as a table, sat down on it Indianfashion, and as fast as one seat was vacated there was a man ready tofill it, for we were impatient for our turns in the game. The talkturned on an accident which had happened that afternoon. While we werecrossing the North Fork of the Canadian, Bob Blades attempted to rideout of the river below the crossing, when his horse bogged down. Heinstantly dismounted, and his horse after floundering around scrambledout and up the bank, but with a broken leg. Our foreman had ridden upand ordered the horse unsaddled and shot, to put him out of hissuffering. 

While waiting our turns, the accident to the horse was referred toseveral times, and finally Blades, who was sitting in the game, turnedto us who were lounging around the fire, and asked, "Did you allnotice that look he gave me as I was uncinching the saddle? If he hadbeen human, he might have told what that look meant. Good thing he wasa horse and couldn't realize. "

From then on, the yarning and conversation was strictly _horse_. 

"It was always a mystery to me, " said Billy Honeyman, "how a Mexicanor Indian knows so much more about a horse than any of us. I have seenthem trail a horse across a country for miles, riding in a long lope, with not a trace or sign visible to me. I was helping a horseman onceto drive a herd of horses to San Antonio from the lower Rio Grandecountry. We were driving them to market, and as there were norailroads south then, we had to take along saddle horses to ride homeon after disposing of the herd. We always took favorite horses whichwe didn't wish to sell, generally two apiece for that purpose. Thistime, when we were at least a hundred miles from the ranch, a Mexican, who had brought along a pet horse to ride home, thought he wouldn'thobble this pet one night, fancying the animal wouldn't leave theothers. Well, next morning his pet was missing. We scoured the countryaround and the trail we had come over for ten miles, but no horse. Asthe country was all open, we felt positive he would go back to theranch. 

"Two days later and about forty miles higher up the road, the Mexicanwas riding in the lead of the herd, when suddenly he reined in hishorse, throwing him back on his haunches, and waved for some of us tocome to him, never taking his eyes off what he saw in the road. Theowner was riding on one point of the herd and I on the other. Wehurried around to him and both rode up at the same time, when thevaquero blurted out, 'There's my horse's track. '

"'What horse?' asked the owner. 

"'My own; the horse we lost two days ago, ' replied the Mexican. 

"'How do you know it's your horse's track from the thousands of othersthat fill the road?' demanded his employer. 

"'Don Tomas, ' said the Aztec, lifting his hat, 'how do I know yourstep or voice from a thousand others?'

"We laughed at him. He had been a peon, and that made him respect ouropinions--at least he avoided differing with us. But as we drove onthat afternoon, we could see him in the lead, watching for thathorse's track. Several times he turned in his saddle and looked back, pointed to some track in the road, and lifted his hat to us. At campthat night we tried to draw him out, but he was silent. 

"But when we were nearing San Antonio, we overtook a number of wagonsloaded with wool, lying over, as it was Sunday, and there among theirhorses and mules was our Mexican's missing horse. The owner of thewagons explained how he came to have the horse. The animal had come tohis camp one morning, back about twenty miles from where we had losthim, while he was feeding grain to his work stock, and being a petinsisted on being fed. Since then, I have always had a lot of respectfor a Greaser's opinion regarding a horse. "

"Turkey eggs is too rich for my blood, " said Bob Blades, rising fromthe game. "I don't care a continental who wins the egg now, forwhenever I get three queens pat beat by a four card draw, I havemisgivings about the deal. And old Quince thinks he can stack cards. He couldn't stack hay. "

"Speaking about Mexicans and Indians, " said Wyatt Roundtree, "I've gotmore use for a good horse than I have for either of those grades ofhumanity. I had a little experience over east here, on the cut offfrom the Chisholm trail, a few years ago, that gave me all the Injun Iwant for some time to come. A band of renegade Cheyennes had hungalong the trail for several years, scaring or begging passing herdsinto giving them a beef. Of course all the cattle herds had more orless strays among them, so it was easier to cut out one of these thanto argue the matter. There was plenty of herds on the trail then, sothis band of Indians got bolder than bandits. In the year I'm speakingof, I went up with a herd of horses belonging to a Texas man, who wasin charge with us. When we came along with our horses--only six menall told--the chief of the band, called Running Bull Sheep, got on thebluff bigger than a wolf and demanded six horses. Well, that Texanwasn't looking for any particular Injun that day to give six of hisown dear horses to. So we just drove on, paying no attention to Mr. Bull Sheep. About half a mile farther up the trail, the chief overtookus with all his bucks, and they were an ugly looking lot. Well, thistime he held up four fingers, meaning that four horses would beacceptable. But the Texan wasn't recognizing the Indian levy oftaxation that year. When he refused them, the Indians never parleyed amoment, but set up a 'ki yi' and began circling round the herd ontheir ponies, Bull Sheep in the lead. 

"As the chief passed the owner, his horse on a run, he gave a specialshrill 'ki yi, ' whipped a short carbine out of its scabbard, and shottwice into the rear of the herd. Never for a moment consideringconsequences, the Texan brought his six-shooter into action. It was along, purty shot, and Mr. Bull Sheep threw his hands in the air andcame off his horse backward, hard hit. This shooting in the rear ofthe horses gave them such a scare that we never checked them short ofa mile. While the other Indians were holding a little powwow overtheir chief, we were making good time in the other direction, considering that we had over eight hundred loose horses. Fortunatelyour wagon and saddle horses had gone ahead that morning, but in therun we overtook them. As soon as we checked the herd from its scare, we turned them up the trail, stretched ropes from the wheels of thewagon, ran the saddle horses in, and changed mounts just a littlequicker than I ever saw it done before or since. The cook had a saddlein the wagon, so we caught him up a horse, clapped leather on him, andtied him behind the wagon in case of an emergency. And you can justbet we changed to our best horses. When we overtook the herd, we wereat least a mile and a half from where the shooting occurred, and therewas no Indian in sight, but we felt that they hadn't given it up. Wehadn't long to wait, though we would have waited willingly, before weheard their yells and saw the dust rising in clouds behind us. We quitthe herd and wagon right there and rode for a swell of ground aheadthat would give us a rear view of the scenery. The first view wecaught of them was not very encouraging. They were riding after uslike fiends and kicking up a dust like a wind storm. We had nothingbut six-shooters, no good for long range. The owner of the horsesadmitted that it was useless to try to save the herd now, and if ourscalps were worth saving it was high time to make ourselves scarce. 

"Cantonment was a government post about twenty-five miles away, so werode for it. Our horses were good Spanish stock, and the Indians'little bench-legged ponies were no match for them. But not satisfiedwith the wagon and herd falling into their hands, they followed usuntil we were within sight of the post. As hard luck would have it, the cavalry stationed at this post were off on some escort duty, andthe infantry were useless in this case. When the cavalry returned afew days later, they tried to round up those Indians, and the Indianagent used his influence, but the horses were so divided up andscattered that they were never recovered. "

"And did the man lose his horses entirely?" asked Flood, who hadanteed up his last bean and joined us. 

"He did. There was, I remember, a tin horn lawyer up about Dodge whothought he could recover their value, as these were agency Indians andthe government owed them money. But all I got for three months' wagesdue me was the horse I got away on. "

McCann had been frozen out during Roundtree's yarn, and had joined thecrowd of story-tellers on the other side of the fire. Forrest wasfeeling quite gala, and took a special delight in taunting thevanquished as they dropped out. 

"Is McCann there?" inquired he, well knowing he was. "I just wanted toask, would it be any trouble to poach that egg for my breakfast andserve it with a bit of toast; I'm feeling a little bit dainty. You'llpoach it for me, won't you, please?"

McCann never moved a muscle as he replied, "Will you please go tohell?"

The story-telling continued for some time, and while Fox Quarternightwas regaling us with the history of a little black mare that aneighbor of theirs in Kentucky owned, a dispute arose in the card gameregarding the rules of discard and draw. 

"I'm too old a girl, " said The Rebel, angrily, to Forrest, "to allow apullet like you to teach me this game. When it's my deal, I'll discardjust when I please, and it's none of your business so long as I keepwithin the rules of the game;" which sounded final, and the gamecontinued. 

Quarternight picked up the broken thread of his narrative, and thefirst warning we had of the lateness of the hour was Bull Durhamcalling to us from the game, "One of you fellows can have my place, just as soon as we play this jack pot. I've got to saddle my horse andget ready for our guard. Oh, I'm on velvet, anyhow, and before thisgame ends, I'll make old Quince curl his tail; I've got him goingsouth now. "

It took me only a few minutes to lose my chance at the turkey egg, andI sought my blankets. At one A. M. , when our guard was called, thebeans were almost equally divided among Priest, Stallings, and Durham;and in view of the fact that Forrest, whom we all wanted to seebeaten, had met defeat, they agreed to cut the cards for the egg, Stallings winning. We mounted our horses and rode out into the night, and the second guard rode back to our camp-fire, singing:--

 "Two little niggers upstairs in bed, One turned ober to de oder an' said, 'How 'bout dat short'nin' bread, How 'bout dat short'nin' bread?'"

CHAPTER XIII

DODGE

At Camp Supply, Flood received a letter from Lovell, requesting him tocome on into Dodge ahead of the cattle. So after the first night'scamp above the Cimarron, Flood caught up a favorite horse, informedthe outfit that he was going to quit us for a few days, and designatedQuince Forrest as the _segundo_ during his absence. 

"You have a wide, open country from here into Dodge, " said he, whenready to start, "and I'll make inquiry for you daily from men comingin, or from the buckboard which carries the mail to Supply. I'll tryto meet you at Mulberry Creek, which is about ten miles south ofDodge. I'll make that town to-night, and you ought to make theMulberry in two days. You will see the smoke of passing trains to thenorth of the Arkansaw, from the first divide south of Mulberry. Whenyou reach that creek, in case I don't meet you, hold the herd thereand three or four of you can come on into town. But I'm almost certainto meet you, " he called back as he rode away. 

"Priest, " said Quince, when our foreman had gone, "I reckon you didn'thandle your herd to suit the old man when he left us that time atBuffalo Gap. But I think he used rare judgment this time in selectinga _segundo_. The only thing that frets me is, I'm afraid he'll meet usbefore we reach the Mulberry, and that won't give me any chance to goin ahead like a sure enough foreman. Fact is I have business there; Ideposited a few months' wages at the Long Branch gambling house lastyear when I was in Dodge, and failed to take a receipt. I just want todrop in and make inquiry if they gave me credit, and if the account isdrawing interest. I think it's all right, for the man I deposited itwith was a clever fellow and asked me to have a drink with him just asI was leaving. Still, I'd like to step in and see him again. "

Early in the afternoon of the second day after our foreman left us, wesighted the smoke of passing trains, though they were at least fifteenmiles distant, and long before we reached the Mulberry, a livery rigcame down the trail to meet us. To Forrest's chagrin, Flood, alldressed up and with a white collar on, was the driver, while on a backseat sat Don Lovell and another cowman by the name of McNulta. Everyrascal of us gave old man Don the glad hand as they drove around theherd, while he, liberal and delighted as a bridegroom, passed out thecigars by the handful. The cattle were looking fine, which put the oldman in high spirits, and he inquired of each of us if our health wasgood and if Flood had fed us well. They loitered around the herd therest of the evening, until we threw off the trail to graze and campfor the night, when Lovell declared his intention of staying all nightwith the outfit. 

While we were catching horses during the evening, Lovell came up to mewhere I was saddling my night horse, and recognizing me gave me newsof my brother Bob. "I had a letter yesterday from him, " he said, "written from Red Fork, which is just north of the Cimarron River overon the Chisholm route. He reports everything going along nicely, andI'm expecting him to show up here within a week. His herd are all beefsteers, and are contracted for delivery at the Crow Indian Agency. He's not driving as fast as Flood, but we've got to have our beef forthat delivery in better condition, as they have a new agent there thisyear, and he may be one of these knowing fellows. Sorry you couldn'tsee your brother, but if you have any word to send him, I'll deliverit. "

I thanked him for the interest he had taken in me, and assured himthat I had no news for Robert; but took advantage of the opportunityto inquire if our middle brother, Zack Quirk, was on the trail withany of his herds. Lovell knew him, but felt positive he was not withany of his outfits. 

We had an easy night with the cattle. Lovell insisted on standing aguard, so he took Rod Wheat's horse and stood the first watch, andafter returning to the wagon, he and McNulta, to our great interest, argued the merits of the different trails until near midnight. McNultahad two herds coming in on the Chisholm trail, while Lovell had twoherds on the Western and only one on the Chisholm. 

The next morning Forrest, who was again in charge, received orders tocross the Arkansaw River shortly after noon, and then let half theoutfit come into town. The old trail crossed the river about a mileabove the present town of Dodge City, Kansas, so when we changedhorses at noon, the first and second guards caught up their tophorses, ransacked their war bags, and donned their best toggery. Wecrossed the river about one o'clock in order to give the boys a goodholiday, the stage of water making the river easily fordable. McCann, after dinner was over, drove down on the south side for the benefit ofa bridge which spanned the river opposite the town. It was the firstbridge he had been able to take advantage of in over a thousand milesof travel, and to-day he spurned the cattle ford as though he hadnever crossed at one. Once safely over the river, and with theunderstanding that the herd would camp for the night about six milesnorth on Duck Creek, six of our men quit us and rode for the town in along gallop. Before the rig left us in the morning, McNulta, who wasthoroughly familiar with Dodge, and an older man than Lovell, in afriendly and fatherly spirit, seeing that many of us were youngsters, had given us an earnest talk and plenty of good advice. 

"I've been in Dodge every summer since '77, " said the old cowman, "andI can give you boys some points. Dodge is one town where the averagebad man of the West not only finds his equal, but finds himself badlyhandicapped. The buffalo hunters and range men have protested againstthe iron rule of Dodge's peace officers, and nearly every protest hascost human life. Don't ever get the impression that you can ride yourhorses into a saloon, or shoot out the lights in Dodge; it may gosomewhere else, but it don't go there. So I want to warn you to behaveyourselves. You can wear your six-shooters into town, but you'd betterleave them at the first place you stop, hotel, livery, or businesshouse. And when you leave town, call for your pistols, but don't rideout shooting; omit that. Most cowboys think it's an infringement ontheir rights to give up shooting in town, and if it is, it stands, foryour six-shooters are no match for Winchesters and buckshot; andDodge's officers are as game a set of men as ever faced danger. "

Nearly a generation has passed since McNulta, the Texan cattle drover, gave our outfit this advice one June morning on the Mulberry, and insetting down this record, I have only to scan the roster of the peaceofficials of Dodge City to admit its correctness. Among the names thatgraced the official roster, during the brief span of the trail days, were the brothers Ed, Jim, and "Bat" Masterson, Wyatt Earp, JackBridges, "Doc" Holliday, Charles Bassett, William Tillman, "Shotgun"Collins, Joshua Webb, Mayor A. B. Webster, and "Mysterious" DaveMather. The puppets of no romance ever written can compare with theseofficers in fearlessness. And let it be understood, there were plentyto protest against their rule; almost daily during the range seasonsome equally fearless individual defied them. 

"Throw up your hands and surrender, " said an officer to a Texascowboy, who had spurred an excitable horse until it was rearing andplunging in the street, leveling meanwhile a double-barreled shotgunat the horseman. 

"Not to you, you white-livered s---- of a b----, " was the instantreply, accompanied by a shot. 

The officer staggered back mortally wounded, but recovered himself, and the next instant the cowboy reeled from his saddle, a load ofbuckshot through his breast. 

After the boys left us for town, the remainder of us, belonging to thethird and fourth guard, grazed the cattle forward leisurely during theafternoon. Through cattle herds were in sight both up and down theriver on either side, and on crossing the Mulberry the day before, welearned that several herds were holding out as far south as thatstream, while McNulta had reported over forty herds as having alreadypassed northward on the trail. Dodge was the meeting point for buyersfrom every quarter. Often herds would sell at Dodge whose destinationfor delivery was beyond the Yellowstone in Montana. Herds frequentlychanged owners when the buyer never saw the cattle. A yearling was ayearling and a two year old was a two year old, and the seller's word, that they were "as good or better than the string I sold you lastyear, " was sufficient. Cattle were classified as northern, central, and southern animals, and, except in case of severe drouth in thepreceding years, were pretty nearly uniform in size throughout eachsection. The prairie section of the State left its indelible imprinton the cattle bred in the open country, while the coast, as well asthe piney woods and black-jack sections, did the same, thus makingclassification easy. 

McCann overtook us early in the evening, and, being an obligingfellow, was induced by Forrest to stand the first guard with Honeymanso as to make up the proper number of watches, though with only twomen on guard at a time, for it was hardly possible that any of theothers would return before daybreak. There was much to be seen inDodge, and as losing a night's sleep on duty was considered nothing, in hilarious recreation sleep would be entirely forgotten. McCann hadnot forgotten us, but had smuggled out a quart bottle to cut thealkali in our drinking water. But a quart amongst eight of us was notdangerous, so the night passed without incident, though we felt agrowing impatience to get into town. As we expected, about sunrise thenext morning our men off on holiday rode into camp, having neverclosed an eye during the entire night. They brought word from Floodthat the herd would only graze over to Saw Log Creek that day, so asto let the remainder of us have a day and night in town. Lovell wouldonly advance half a month's wages--twenty-five dollars--to the man. Itwas ample for any personal needs, though we had nearly three months'wages due, and no one protested, for the old man was generally rightin his decisions. According to their report the boys had had ahog-killing time, old man Don having been out with them all night. Itseems that McNulta stood in well with a class of practical jokerswhich included the officials of the town, and whenever there wasanything on the tapis, he always got the word for himself and friends. During breakfast Fox Quarternight told this incident of the evening. 

"Some professor, a professor in the occult sciences I think he calledhimself, had written to the mayor to know what kind of a point Dodgewould be for a lecture. The lecture was to be free, but he alsointimated that he had a card or two on the side up his sleeve, bywhich he expected to graft onto some of the coin of the realm from thewayfaring man as well as the citizen. The mayor turned the letter overto Bat Masterson, the city marshal, who answered it, and invited theprofessor to come on, assuring him that he was deeply interested inthe occult sciences, personally, and would take pleasure in securinghim a hall and a date, besides announcing his coming through thepapers. 

"Well, he was billed to deliver his lecture last night. Those old longhorns, McNulta and Lovell, got us in with the crowd, and while theydidn't know exactly what was coming, they assured us that we couldn'tafford to miss it. Well, at the appointed hour in the evening, thehall was packed, not over half being able to find seats. It is safe tosay there were over five hundred men present, as it was announced for'men only. ' Every gambler in town was there, with a fair sprinkling ofcowmen and our tribe. At the appointed hour, Masterson, as chairman, rapped for order, and in a neat little speech announced the object ofthe meeting. Bat mentioned the lack of interest in the West in thehigher arts and sciences, and bespoke our careful attention to thesubject under consideration for the evening. He said he felt it hardlynecessary to urge the importance of good order, but if any one hadcome out of idle curiosity or bent on mischief, as chairman of themeeting and a peace officer of the city, he would certainly brook nointerruption. After a few other appropriate remarks, he introduced thespeaker as Dr. J. Graves-Brown, the noted scientist. 

"The professor was an oily-tongued fellow, and led off on the preludeto his lecture, while the audience was as quiet as mice and as graveas owls. After he had spoken about five minutes and was getting warmedup to his subject, he made an assertion which sounded a little fishy, and some one back in the audience blurted out, 'That's a damned lie. 'The speaker halted in his discourse and looked at Masterson, whoarose, and, drawing two six-shooters, looked the audience over as iftrying to locate the offender. Laying the guns down on the table, heinformed the meeting that another interruption would cost the offenderhis life, if he had to follow him to the Rio Grande or the Britishpossessions. He then asked the professor, as there would be no furtherinterruptions, to proceed with his lecture. The professor hesitatedabout going on, when Masterson assured him that it was evident thathis audience, with the exception of one skulking coyote, was deeplyinterested in the subject, but that no one man could interfere withthe freedom of speech in Dodge as long as it was a free country and hewas city marshal. After this little talk, the speaker braced up andlaunched out again on his lecture. When he was once more under goodheadway, he had occasion to relate an exhibition which he hadwitnessed while studying his profession in India. The incident relatedwas a trifle rank for any one to swallow raw, when the same party whohad interrupted before sang out, 'That's another damn lie. '

"Masterson came to his feet like a flash, a gun in each hand, saying, 'Stand up, you measly skunk, so I can see you. ' Half a dozen men rosein different parts of the house and cut loose at him, and as they didso the lights went out and the room filled with smoke. Masterson wasblazing away with two guns, which so lighted up the rostrum that wecould see the professor crouching under the table. Of course they wereusing blank cartridges, but the audience raised the long yell andpoured out through the windows and doors, and the lecture was over. Acouple of police came in later, so McNulta said, escorted theprofessor to his room in the hotel, and quietly advised him that Dodgewas hardly capable of appreciating anything so advanced as a lectureon the occult sciences. "

Breakfast over, Honeyman ran in the _remuda_, and we caught the besthorses in our mounts, on which to pay our respects to Dodge. Forrestdetailed Rod Wheat to wrangle the horses, for we intended to takeHoneyman with us. As it was only about six miles over to the Saw Log, Quince advised that they graze along Duck Creek until after dinner, and then graze over to the former stream during the afternoon. Beforeleaving, we rode over and looked out the trail after it left Duck, forit was quite possible that we might return during the night; and werequested McCann to hang out the lantern, elevated on the end of thewagon tongue, as a beacon. After taking our bearings, we reinedsouthward over the divide to Dodge. 

"The very first thing I do, " said Quince Forrest, as we rode leisurelyalong, "after I get a shave and hair-cut and buy what few tricks Ineed, is to hunt up that gambler in the Long Branch, and ask him totake a drink with me--I took the parting one on him. Then I'll simplyset in and win back every dollar I lost there last year. There'ssomething in this northern air that I breathe in this morning thattells me that this is my lucky day. You other kids had better let thegames alone and save your money to buy red silk handkerchiefs and sodawater and such harmless jimcracks. " The fact that The Rebel was tenyears his senior never entered his mind as he gave us this fatherlyadvice, though to be sure the majority of us were his juniors inyears. 

On reaching Dodge, we rode up to the Wright House, where Flood met usand directed our cavalcade across the railroad to a livery stable, theproprietor of which was a friend of Lovell's. We unsaddled and turnedour horses into a large corral, and while we were in the office of thelivery, surrendering our artillery, Flood came in and handed each ofus twenty-five dollars in gold, warning us that when that was gone nomore would be advanced. On receipt of the money, we scattered likepartridges before a gunner. Within an hour or two, we began to returnto the stable by ones and twos, and were stowing into our saddlepockets our purchases, which ran from needles and thread to . 45cartridges, every mother's son reflecting the art of the barber, whileJohn Officer had his blond mustaches blackened, waxed, and curled likea French dancing master. "If some of you boys will hold him, " saidMoss Strayhorn, commenting on Officer's appearance, "I'd like to takea good smell of him, just to see if he took oil up there where the endof his neck's haired over. " As Officer already had several drinkscomfortably stowed away under his belt, and stood up strong six feettwo, none of us volunteered. 

After packing away our plunder, we sauntered around town, drinkingmoderately, and visiting the various saloons and gambling houses. Iclung to my bunkie, The Rebel, during the rounds, for I had learned tolike him, and had confidence he would lead me into no indiscretions. At the Long Branch, we found Quince Forrest and Wyatt Roundtreeplaying the faro bank, the former keeping cases. They never recognizedus, but were answering a great many questions, asked by the dealer andlookout, regarding the possible volume of the cattle drive that year. Down at another gambling house, The Rebel met Ben Thompson, a farodealer not on duty and an old cavalry comrade, and the two croniedaround for over an hour like long lost brothers, pledging anew theirfriendship over several social glasses, in which I was alwaysincluded. There was no telling how long this reunion would havelasted, but happily for my sake, Lovell--who had been asleep all themorning--started out to round us up for dinner with him at the WrightHouse, which was at that day a famous hostelry, patronized almostexclusively by the Texas cowmen and cattle buyers. 

We made the rounds of the gambling houses, looking for our crowd. Weran across three of the boys piking at a monte game, who came with usreluctantly; then, guided by Lovell, we started for the Long Branch, where we felt certain we would find Forrest and Roundtree, if they hadany money left. Forrest was broke, which made him ready to come, andRoundtree, though quite a winner, out of deference to our employer'swishes, cashed in and joined us. Old man Don could hardly do enoughfor us; and before we could reach the Wright House, had lined us upagainst three different bars; and while I had confidence in mynavigable capacity, I found they were coming just a little too fastand free, seeing I had scarcely drunk anything in three months butbranch water. As we lined up at the Wright House bar for the finalbefore dinner, The Rebel, who was standing next to me, entered awaiver and took a cigar, which I understood to be a hint, and I didlikewise. 

We had a splendid dinner. Our outfit, with McNulta, occupied aten-chair table, while on the opposite side of the room was anotherlarge table, occupied principally by drovers who were waiting fortheir herds to arrive. Among those at the latter table, whom I nowremember, was "Uncle" Henry Stevens, Jesse Ellison, "Lum" Slaughter, John Blocker, Ike Pryor, "Dun" Houston, and last but not least, Colonel "Shanghai" Pierce. The latter was possibly the most widelyknown cowman between the Rio Grande and the British possessions. Hestood six feet four in his stockings, was gaunt and raw-boned, and thepossessor of a voice which, even in ordinary conversation, could bedistinctly heard across the street. 

"No, I'll not ship any more cattle to your town, " said Pierce to acattle solicitor during the dinner, his voice in righteous indignationresounding like a foghorn through the dining-room, "until you adjustyour yardage charges. Listen! I can go right up into the heart of yourcity and get a room for myself, with a nice clean bed in it, plenty ofsoap, water, and towels, and I can occupy that room for twenty-fourhours for two bits. And your stockyards, away out in the suburbs, wantto charge me twenty cents a head and let my steer stand out in theweather. "

After dinner, all the boys, with the exception of Priest and myself, returned to the gambling houses as though anxious to work overtime. Before leaving the hotel, Forrest effected the loan of ten fromRoundtree, and the two returned to the Long Branch, while the othersas eagerly sought out a monte game. But I was fascinated with theconversation of these old cowmen, and sat around for several hourslistening to their yarns and cattle talk. 

"I was selling a thousand beef steers one time to some Yankee armycontractors, " Pierce was narrating to a circle of listeners, "and Igot the idea that they were not up to snuff in receiving cattle out onthe prairie. I was holding a herd of about three thousand, and theyhad agreed to take a running cut, which showed that they had thereceiving agent fixed. Well, my foreman and I were counting the cattleas they came between us. But the steers were wild, long-leggedcoasters, and came through between us like scared wolves. I had lostthe count several times, but guessed at them and started over, thecattle still coming like a whirlwind; and when I thought about ninehundred had passed us, I cut them off and sang out, 'Here they comeand there they go; just an even thousand, by gatlins! What do you makeit, Bill?'

"'Just an even thousand, Colonel, ' replied my foreman. Of course thecontractors were counting at the same time, and I suppose didn't liketo admit they couldn't count a thousand cattle where anybody elsecould, and never asked for a recount, but accepted and paid for them. They had hired an outfit, and held the cattle outside that night, butthe next day, when they cut them into car lots and shipped them, theywere a hundred and eighteen short. They wanted to come back on me tomake them good, but, shucks! I wasn't responsible if their Jim Crowoutfit lost the cattle. "

Along early in the evening, Flood advised us boys to return to theherd with him, but all the crowd wanted to stay in town and see thesights. Lovell interceded in our behalf, and promised to see that weleft town in good time to be in camp before the herd was ready to movethe next morning. On this assurance, Flood saddled up and started forthe Saw Log, having ample time to make the ride before dark. By thistime most of the boys had worn off the wire edge for gambling and werecomparing notes. Three of them were broke, but Quince Forrest hadturned the tables and was over a clean hundred winner for the day. Those who had no money fortunately had good credit with those of uswho had, for there was yet much to be seen, and in Dodge in '82 ittook money to see the elephant. There were several variety theatres, anumber of dance halls, and other resorts which, like the wicked, flourish best under darkness. After supper, just about dusk, we wentover to the stable, caught our horses, saddled them, and tied them upfor the night. We fully expected to leave town by ten o'clock, for itwas a good twelve mile ride to the Saw Log. In making the rounds ofthe variety theatres and dance halls, we hung together. Lovell excusedhimself early in the evening, and at parting we assured him that theoutfit would leave for camp before midnight. We were enjoyingourselves immensely over at the Lone Star dance hall, when an incidentoccurred in which we entirely neglected the good advice of McNulta, and had the sensation of hearing lead whistle and cry around our earsbefore we got away from town. 

Quince Forrest was spending his winnings as well as drinking freely, and at the end of a quadrille gave vent to his hilarity in anold-fashioned Comanche yell. The bouncer of the dance hall of coursehad his eye on our crowd, and at the end of a change, took Quince totask. He was a surly brute, and instead of couching his request inappropriate language, threatened to throw him out of the house. Forrest stood like one absent-minded and took the abuse, forphysically he was no match for the bouncer, who was armed, moreover, and wore an officer's star. I was dancing in the same set with ared-headed, freckled-faced girl, who clutched my arm and wished toknow if my friend was armed. I assured her that he was not, or wewould have had notice of it before the bouncer's invective was ended. At the conclusion of the dance, Quince and The Rebel passed out, giving the rest of us the word to remain as though nothing was wrong. In the course of half an hour, Priest returned and asked us to takeour leave one at a time without attracting any attention, and meet atthe stable. I remained until the last, and noticed The Rebel and thebouncer taking a drink together at the bar, --the former apparently ina most amiable mood. We passed out together shortly afterward, andfound the other boys mounted and awaiting our return, it being nowabout midnight. It took but a moment to secure our guns, and once inthe saddle, we rode through the town in the direction of the herd. Onthe outskirts of the town, we halted. "I'm going back to that dancehall, " said Forrest, "and have one round at least with thatwhore-herder. No man who walks this old earth can insult me, as hedid, not if he has a hundred stars on him. If any of you don't want togo along, ride right on to camp, but I'd like to have you all go. Andwhen I take his measure, it will be the signal to the rest of you toput out the lights. All that's going, come on. " There were nodissenters to the programme. I saw at a glance that my bunkie washeart and soul in the play, and took my cue and kept my mouth shut. Wecircled round the town to a vacant lot within a block of the rear ofthe dance hall. Honeyman was left to hold the horses; then, taking offour belts and hanging them on the pommels of our saddles, we secretedour six-shooters inside the waistbands of our trousers. The hall wasstill crowded with the revelers when we entered, a few at a time, Forrest and Priest being the last to arrive. Forrest had changed hatswith The Rebel, who always wore a black one, and as the bouncercirculated around, Quince stepped squarely in front of him. There wasno waste of words, but a gun-barrel flashed in the lamplight, and thebouncer, struck with the six-shooter, fell like a beef. Before thebewildered spectators could raise a hand, five six-shooters wereturned into the ceiling. The lights went out at the first fire, andamidst the rush of men and the screaming of women, we reached theoutside, and within a minute were in our saddles. All would have gonewell had we returned by the same route and avoided the town; but aftercrossing the railroad track, anger and pride having not been properlysatisfied, we must ride through the town. 

On entering the main street, leading north and opposite the bridge onthe river, somebody of our party in the rear turned his gun loose intothe air. The Rebel and I were riding in the lead, and at theclattering of hoofs and shooting behind us, our horses started on therun, the shooting by this time having become general. At the secondstreet crossing, I noticed a rope of fire belching from a Winchesterin the doorway of a store building. There was no doubt in my mind butwe were the object of the manipulator of that carbine, and as wereached the next cross street, a man kneeling in the shadow of abuilding opened fire on us with a six-shooter. Priest reined in hishorse, and not having wasted cartridges in the open-air shooting, returned the compliment until he emptied his gun. By this time everyofficer in the town was throwing lead after us, some of which cried alittle too close for comfort. When there was no longer any shooting onour flanks, we turned into a cross street and soon left the leadbehind us. At the outskirts of the town we slowed up our horses andtook it leisurely for a mile or so, when Quince Forrest halted us andsaid, "I'm going to drop out here and see if any one follows us. Iwant to be alone, so that if any officers try to follow us up, I canhave it out with them. "

[Illustration: CELEBRATING IN DODGE]

As there was no time to lose in parleying, and as he had a good horse, we rode away and left him. On reaching camp, we secured a few hours'sleep, but the next morning, to our surprise, Forrest failed toappear. We explained the situation to Flood, who said if he did notshow up by noon, he would go back and look for him. We all feltpositive that he would not dare to go back to town; and if he waslost, as soon as the sun arose he would be able to get his bearings. While we were nooning about seven miles north of the Saw Log, some onenoticed a buggy coming up the trail. As it came nearer we saw thatthere were two other occupants of the rig besides the driver. When itdrew up old Quince, still wearing The Rebel's hat, stepped out of therig, dragged out his saddle from under the seat, and invited hiscompanions to dinner. They both declined, when Forrest, taking out hispurse, handed a twenty-dollar gold piece to the driver with an oath. He then asked the other man what he owed him, but the latter veryhaughtily declined any recompense, and the conveyance drove away. 

"I suppose you fellows don't know what all this means, " said Quince, as he filled a plate and sat down in the shade of the wagon. "Well, that horse of mine got a bullet plugged into him last night as we wereleaving town, and before I could get him to Duck Creek, he died on me. I carried my saddle and blankets until daylight, when I hid in a drawand waited for something to turn up. I thought some of you would comeback and look for me sometime, for I knew you wouldn't understand it, when all of a sudden here comes this livery rig along with thatdrummer--going out to Jetmore, I believe he said. I explained what Iwanted, but he decided that his business was more important than mine, and refused me. I referred the matter to Judge Colt, and the judgedecided that it was more important that I overtake this herd. I'd havemade him take pay, too, only he acted so mean about it. "

After dinner, fearing arrest, Forrest took a horse and rode on aheadto the Solomon River. We were a glum outfit that afternoon, but aftera good night's rest were again as fresh as daisies. When McCannstarted to get breakfast, he hung his coat on the end of the wagonrod, while he went for a bucket of water. During his absence, JohnOfficer was noticed slipping something into Barney's coat pocket, andafter breakfast when our cook went to his coat for his tobacco, heunearthed a lady's cambric handkerchief, nicely embroidered, and asilver mounted garter. He looked at the articles a moment, and, grasping the situation at a glance, ran his eye over the outfit forthe culprit. But there was not a word or a smile. He walked over andthrew the articles into the fire, remarking, "Good whiskey and badwomen will be the ruin of you varmints yet. "

CHAPTER XIV

SLAUGHTER'S BRIDGE

Herds bound for points beyond the Yellowstone, in Montana, alwaysconsidered Dodge as the halfway landmark on the trail, though we hadhardly covered half the distance to the destination of our CircleDots. But with Dodge in our rear, all felt that the backbone of thedrive was broken, and it was only the middle of June. In order todivide the night work more equitably, for the remainder of the tripthe first and fourth guards changed, the second and third remaining asthey were. We had begun to feel the scarcity of wood for cookingpurposes some time past, and while crossing the plains of westernKansas, we were frequently forced to resort to the old bed grounds ofa year or two previous for cattle chips. These chips were a poorsubstitute, and we swung a cowskin under the reach of the wagon, sothat when we encountered wood on creeks and rivers we could lay in asupply. Whenever our wagon was in the rear, the riders on either sideof the herd were always on the skirmish for fuel, which they leftalongside the wagon track, and our cook was sure to stow it awayunderneath on the cowskin. 

In spite of any effort on our part, the length of the days made longdrives the rule. The cattle could be depended on to leave the bedground at dawn, and before the outfit could breakfast, secure mounts, and overtake the herd, they would often have grazed forward two orthree miles. Often we never threw them on the trail at all, yet whenit came time to bed them at night, we had covered twenty miles. Theywere long, monotonous days; for we were always sixteen to eighteenhours in the saddle, while in emergencies we got the benefit of thelimit. We frequently saw mirages, though we were never led astray byshady groves of timber or tempting lakes of water, but always keptwithin a mile or two of the trail. The evening of the third day afterForrest left us, he returned as we were bedding down the cattle atdusk, and on being assured that no officers had followed us, resumedhis place with the herd. He had not even reached the Solomon River, but had stopped with a herd of Millet's on Big Boggy. This creek hereported as bottomless, and the Millet herd as having lost betweenforty and fifty head of cattle in attempting to force it at theregular crossing the day before his arrival. They had scouted thecreek both up and down since without finding a safe crossing. Itseemed that there had been unusually heavy June rains through thatsection, which accounted for Boggy being in its dangerous condition. Millet's foreman had not considered it necessary to test such aninsignificant stream until he got a couple of hundred head of cattlefloundering in the mire. They had saved the greater portion of themired cattle, but quite a number were trampled to death by the others, and now the regular crossing was not approachable for the stench ofdead cattle. Flood knew the stream, and so did a number of our outfit, but none of them had any idea that it could get into such animpassable condition as Forrest reported. 

The next morning Flood started to the east and Priest to the west tolook out a crossing, for we were then within half a day's drive of thecreek. Big Boggy paralleled the Solomon River in our front, the twonot being more than five miles apart. The confluence was far below insome settlements, and we must keep to the westward of all immigration, on account of the growing crops in the fertile valley of the Solomon. On the westward, had a favorable crossing been found, we would almosthave had to turn our herd backward, for we were already within thehalf circle which this creek described in our front. So after the twomen left us, we allowed the herd to graze forward, keeping severalmiles to the westward of the trail in order to get the benefit of thebest grazing. Our herd, when left to itself, would graze from a mileto a mile and a half an hour, and by the middle of the forenoon thetimber on Big Boggy and the Solomon beyond was sighted. On reachingthis last divide, some one sighted a herd about five or six miles tothe eastward and nearly parallel with us. As they were three or fourmiles beyond the trail, we could easily see that they were grazingalong like ourselves, and Forrest was appealed to to know if it wasthe Millet herd. He said not, and pointed out to the northeast aboutthe location of the Millet cattle, probably five miles in advance ofthe stranger on our right. When we overtook our wagon at noon, McCann, who had never left the trail, reported having seen the herd. Theylooked to him like heavy beef cattle, and had two yoke of oxen totheir chuck wagon, which served further to proclaim them as strangers. 

Neither Priest nor Flood returned during the noon hour, and when theherd refused to lie down and rest longer, we grazed them forward tillthe fringe of timber which grew along the stream loomed up not a miledistant in our front. From the course we were traveling, we wouldstrike the creek several miles above the regular crossing, and asForrest reported that Millet was holding below the old crossing on asmall rivulet, all we could do was to hold our wagon in the rear, andawait the return of our men out on scout for a ford. Priest was thefirst to return, with word that he had ridden the creek out fortwenty-five miles and had found no crossing that would be safe for amud turtle. On hearing this, we left two men with the herd, and therest of the outfit took the wagon, went on to Boggy, and made camp. Itwas a deceptive-looking stream, not over fifty or sixty feet wide. Inplaces the current barely moved, shallowing and deepening, from a fewinches in places to several feet in others, with an occasional poolthat would swim a horse. We probed it with poles until we weresatisfied that we were up against a proposition different fromanything we had yet encountered. While we were discussing thesituation, a stranger rode up on a fine roan horse, and inquired forour foreman. Forrest informed him that our boss was away looking for acrossing, but we were expecting his return at any time; and invitedthe stranger to dismount. He did so, and threw himself down in theshade of our wagon. He was a small, boyish-looking fellow, of sandycomplexion, not much, if any, over twenty years old, and smiledcontinuously. 

"My name is Pete Slaughter, " said he, by way of introduction, "andI've got a herd of twenty-eight hundred beef steers, beyond the trailand a few miles back. I've been riding since daybreak down the creek, and I'm prepared to state that the chance of crossing is as good righthere as anywhere. I wanted to see your foreman, and if he'll help, we'll bridge her. I've been down to see this other outfit, but theyridicule the idea, though I think they'll come around all right. Iborrowed their axe, and to-morrow morning you'll see me with my outfitcutting timber to bridge Big Boggy. That's right, boys; it's the onlything to do. The trouble is I've only got eight men all told. I don'taim to travel over eight or ten miles a day, so I don't need a bigoutfit. You say your foreman's name is Flood? Well, if he don't returnbefore I go, some of you tell him that he's wasting good time lookingfor a ford, for there ain't none. "

In the conversation which followed, we learned that Slaughter wasdriving for his brother Lum, a widely known cowman and drover, whom wehad seen in Dodge. He had started with the grass from north Texas, andby the time he reached the Platte, many of his herd would be fit toship to market, and what were not would be in good demand as feedersin the corn belt of eastern Nebraska. He asked if we had seen his herdduring the morning, and on hearing we had, got up and asked McCann tolet him see our axe. This he gave a critical examination, before hemounted his horse to go, and on leaving said, --

"If your foreman don't want to help build a bridge, I want to borrowthat axe of yours. But you fellows talk to him. If any of you boys hasever been over on the Chisholm trail, you will remember the bridge onRush Creek, south of the Washita River. I built that bridge in a daywith an outfit of ten men. Why, shucks! if these outfits would pulltogether, we could cross to-morrow evening. Lots of these old foremendon't like to listen to a cub like me, but, holy snakes! I've beenover the trail oftener than any of them. Why, when I wasn't big enoughto make a hand with the herd, --only ten years old, --in the days whenwe drove to Abilene, they used to send me in the lead with an oldcylinder gun to shoot at the buffalo and scare them off the trail. AndI've made the trip every year since. So you tell Flood when he comesin, that Pete Slaughter was here, and that he's going to build abridge, and would like to have him and his outfit help. "

Had it not been for his youth and perpetual smile, we might have takenyoung Slaughter more seriously, for both Quince Forrest and The Rebelremembered the bridge on Rush Creek over on the Chisholm. Still therewas an air of confident assurance in the young fellow; and the factthat he was the trusted foreman of Lum Slaughter, in charge of avaluable herd of cattle, carried weight with those who knew thatdrover. The most unwelcome thought in the project was that it requiredthe swinging of an axe to fell trees and to cut them into thenecessary lengths, and, as I have said before, the Texan never tookkindly to manual labor. But Priest looked favorably on the suggestion, and so enlisted my support, and even pointed out a spot where timberwas most abundant as a suitable place to build the bridge. 

"Hell's fire, " said Joe Stallings, with infinite contempt, "there'sthousands of places to build a bridge, and the timber's there, but theidea is to cut it. " And his sentiments found a hearty approval in themajority of the outfit. 

Flood returned late that evening, having ridden as far down the creekas the first settlement. The Rebel, somewhat antagonized by theattitude of the majority, reported the visit and message left for himby young Slaughter. Our foreman knew him by general reputation amongsttrail bosses, and when Priest vouched for him as the builder of theRush Creek bridge on the Chisholm trail, Flood said, "Why, I crossedmy herd four years ago on that Rush Creek bridge within a week afterit was built, and wondered who it could be that had the nerve toundertake that task. Rush isn't over half as wide a bayou as Boggy, but she's a true little sister to this miry slough. So he's going tobuild a bridge anyhow, is he?"

The next morning young Slaughter was at our camp before sunrise, andnever once mentioning his business or waiting for the formality of aninvitation, proceeded to pour out a tin cup of coffee and otherwiseprovide himself with a substantial breakfast. There was somethingamusing in the audacity of the fellow which all of us liked, though hewas fifteen years the junior of our foreman. McCann pointed out Floodto him, and taking his well-loaded plate, he went over and sat down byour foreman, and while he ate talked rapidly, to enlist our outfit inthe building of the bridge. During breakfast, the outfit listened tothe two bosses as they discussed the feasibility of theproject, --Slaughter enthusiastic, Flood reserved, and asking all sortsof questions as to the mode of procedure. Young Pete met everyquestion with promptness, and assured our foreman that the building ofbridges was his long suit. After breakfast, the two foremen rode offdown the creek together, and within half an hour Slaughter's wagon and_remuda_ pulled up within sight of the regular crossing, and shortlyafterwards our foreman returned, and ordered our wagon to pull down toa clump of cotton woods which grew about half a mile below our camp. Two men were detailed to look after our herd during the day, and theremainder of us returned with our foreman to the site selected for thebridge. On our arrival three axes were swinging against as manycottonwoods, and there was no doubt in any one's mind that we weregoing to be under a new foreman for that day at least. Slaughter had abig negro cook who swung an axe in a manner which bespoke him a jobfor the day, and McCann was instructed to provide dinner for the extraoutfit. 

The site chosen for the bridge was a miry bottom over which oozedthree or four inches of water, where the width of the stream was aboutsixty feet, with solid banks on either side. To get a good foundationwas the most important matter, but the brush from the trees wouldsupply the material for that; and within an hour, brush began toarrive, dragged from the pommels of saddles, and was piled into thestream. About this time a call went out for a volunteer who coulddrive oxen, for the darky was too good an axeman to be recalled. As Ihad driven oxen as a boy, I was going to offer my services, when JoeStallings eagerly volunteered in order to avoid using an axe. Slaughter had some extra chain, and our four mules were pressed intoservice as an extra team in snaking logs. As McCann was to provide forthe inner man, the mule team fell to me; and putting my saddle on thenigh wheeler, I rode jauntily past Mr. Stallings as he trudgedalongside his two yoke of oxen. 

About ten o'clock in the morning, George Jacklin, the foreman of theMillet herd, rode up with several of his men, and seeing the bridgetaking shape, turned in and assisted in dragging brush for thefoundation. By the time all hands knocked off for dinner, we had afoundation of brush twenty feet wide and four feet high, to saynothing about what had sunk in the mire. The logs were cut aboutfourteen feet long, and old Joe and I had snaked them up as fast asthe axemen could get them ready. Jacklin returned to his wagon fordinner and a change of horses, though Slaughter, with plenty ofassurance, had invited him to eat with us, and when he declined hadremarked, with no less confidence, "Well, then, you'll be back rightafter dinner. And say, bring all the men you can spare; and if you'vegot any gunny sacks or old tarpaulins, bring them; and by all meansdon't forget your spade. "

Pete Slaughter was a harsh master, considering he was workingvolunteer labor; but then we all felt a common interest in the bridge, for if Slaughter's beeves could cross, ours could, and so couldMillet's. All the men dragging brush changed horses during dinner, forthere was to be no pause in piling in a good foundation as long as thematerial was at hand. Jacklin and his outfit returned, ten strong, andwith thirty men at work, the bridge grew. They began laying the logson the brush after dinner, and the work of sodding the bridge wentforward at the same time. The bridge stood about two feet above thewater in the creek, but when near the middle of the stream wasreached, the foundation gave way, and for an hour ten horses were keptbusy dragging brush to fill that sink hole until it would bear theweight of the logs. We had used all the acceptable timber on our sideof the stream for half a mile either way, and yet there were notenough logs to complete the bridge. When we lacked only some ten ortwelve logs, Slaughter had the boys sod a narrow strip across theremaining brush, and the horsemen led their mounts across to thefarther side. Then the axemen crossed, felled the nearest trees, andthe last logs were dragged up from the pommels of our saddles. 

It now only remained to sod over and dirt the bridge thoroughly. Withonly three spades the work was slow, but we cut sod with axes, andafter several hours' work had it finished. The two yoke of oxen weredriven across and back for a test, and the bridge stood it nobly. Slaughter then brought up his _remuda_, and while the work of dirtingthe bridge was still going on, crossed and recrossed his band ofsaddle horses twenty times. When the bridge looked completed to everyone else, young Pete advised laying stringers across on either side;so a number of small trees were felled and guard rails strung acrossthe ends of the logs and staked. Then more dirt was carried in ontarpaulins and in gunny sacks, and every chink and crevice filled withsod and dirt. It was now getting rather late in the afternoon, butduring the finishing touches, young Slaughter had dispatched hisoutfit to bring up his herd; and at the same time Flood had sent anumber of our outfit to bring up our cattle. Now Slaughter and therest of us took the oxen, which we had unyoked, and went out about aquarter of a mile to meet his herd coming up. Turning the oxen in thelead, young Pete took one point and Flood the other, and pointed inthe lead cattle for the bridge. On reaching it the cattle hesitatedfor a moment, and it looked as though they were going to balk, butfinally one of the oxen took the lead, and they began to cross inalmost Indian file. They were big four and five year old beeves, andtoo many of them on the bridge at one time might have sunk it, butSlaughter rode back down the line of cattle and called to the men tohold them back. 

"Don't crowd the cattle, " he shouted. "Give them all the time theywant. We're in no hurry now; there's lots of time. "

They were a full half hour in crossing, the chain of cattle taking thebridge never for a moment being broken. Once all were over, his menrode to the lead and turned the herd up Boggy, in order to have itwell out of the way of ours, which were then looming up in sight. Slaughter asked Flood if he wanted the oxen; and as our cattle hadnever seen a bridge in their lives, the foreman decided to use them;so we brought them back and met the herd, now strung out nearly amile. Our cattle were naturally wild, but we turned the oxen in thelead, and the two bosses again taking the points, moved the herd up tothe bridge. The oxen were again slow to lead out in crossing, andseveral hundred head of cattle had congested in front of the newbridge, making us all rather nervous, when a big white ox led off, hismate following, and the herd began timidly to follow. Our cattlerequired careful handling, and not a word was spoken as we nursed themforward, or rode through them to scatter large bunches. A number oftimes we cut the train of cattle off entirely, as they were congestingat the bridge entrance, and, in crossing, shied and crowded so thatseveral were forced off the bridge into the mire. Our herd crossed inconsiderably less time than did Slaughter's beeves, but we had fivehead to pull out; this, however, was considered nothing, as they werelight, and the mire was as thin as soup. Our wagon and saddle horsescrossed while we were pulling out the bogged cattle, and about halfthe outfit, taking the herd, drifted them forward towards the Solomon. Since Millet intended crossing that evening, herds were likely to betoo thick for safety at night. The sun was hardly an hour high whenthe last herd came up to cross. The oxen were put in the lead, as withours, and all four of the oxen took the bridge, but when the cattlereached the bridge, they made a decided balk and refused to follow theoxen. Not a hoof of the herd would even set foot on the bridge. Theoxen were brought back several times, but in spite of all coaxing andnursing, and our best endeavors and devices, they would not risk it. We worked with them until dusk, when all three of the foremen decidedit was useless to try longer, but both Slaughter and Flood promised tobring back part of their outfits in the morning and make anothereffort. 

McCann's camp-fire piloted us to our wagon, at least three miles fromthe bridge, for he had laid in a good supply of wood during the day;and on our arrival our night horses were tied up, and everything madeready for the night. The next morning we started the herd, but Floodtook four of us with him and went back to Big Boggy. The Millet herdwas nearly two miles back from the bridge, where we found Slaughter atJacklin's wagon; and several more of his men were, we learned, comingover with the oxen at about ten o'clock. That hour was considered soonenough by the bosses, as the heat of the day would be on the herd bythat time, which would make them lazy. When the oxen arrived at thebridge, we rode out twenty strong and lined the cattle up for anothertrial. They had grazed until they were full and sleepy, but the memoryof some of them was too vivid of the hours they had spent in the slimyooze of Big Boggy once on a time, and they began milling on sight ofthe stream. We took them back and brought them up a second time withthe same results. We then brought them around in a circle a mile indiameter, and as the rear end of the herd was passing, we turned thelast hundred, and throwing the oxen into their lead, started them forthe bridge; but they too sulked and would have none of it. It was nowhigh noon, so we turned the herd and allowed them to graze back whilewe went to dinner. Millet's foreman was rather discouraged with theoutlook, but Slaughter said they must be crossed if he had to lay overa week and help. After dinner, Jacklin asked us if we wanted a changeof horses, and as we could see a twenty mile ride ahead of us inovertaking our herd, Flood accepted. 

When all was ready to start, Slaughter made a suggestion. "Let's goout, " he said, "and bring them up slowly in a solid body, and when weget them opposite the bridge, round them in gradually as if we weregoing to bed them down. I'll take a long lariat to my white wheeler, and when they have quieted down perfectly, I'll lead old Blancothrough them and across the bridge, and possibly they'll follow. There's no use crowding them, for that only excites them, and if youever start them milling, the jig's up. They're nice, gentle cattle, but they've been balked once and they haven't forgotten it. "

What we needed right then was a leader, for we were all ready to catchat a straw, and Slaughter's suggestion was welcome, for he hadestablished himself in our good graces until we preferred him toeither of the other foremen as a leader. Riding out to the herd, whichwere lying down, we roused and started them back towards Boggy. Whiledrifting them back, we covered a front a quarter of a mile in width, and as we neared the bridge we gave them perfect freedom. Slaughterhad caught out his white ox, and we gradually worked them into a body, covering perhaps ten acres, in front of the bridge. Several smallbunches attempted to mill, but some of us rode in and split them up, and after about half an hour's wait, they quieted down. Then Slaughterrode in whistling and leading his white ox at the end of a thirty-fivefoot lariat, and as he rode through them they were so logy that he hadto quirt them out of the way. When he came to the bridge, he stoppedthe white wheeler until everything had quieted down; then he led oldBlanco on again, but giving him all the time he needed and stoppingevery few feet. We held our breath, as one or two of the herd startedto follow him, but they shied and turned back, and our hopes of themoment were crushed. Slaughter detained the ox on the bridge forseveral minutes, but seeing it was useless, he dismounted and drovehim back into the herd. Again and again he tried the same ruse, but itwas of no avail. Then we threw the herd back about half a mile, and onFlood's suggestion cut off possibly two hundred head, a bunch whichwith our numbers we ought to handle readily in spite of their will, and by putting their _remuda_ of over a hundred saddle horses in theimmediate lead, made the experiment of forcing them. We took thesaddle horses down and crossed and recrossed the bridge several timeswith them, and as the cattle came up turned the horses into the leadand headed for the bridge. With a cordon of twenty riders around them, no animal could turn back, and the horses crossed the bridge on atrot, but the cattle turned tail and positively refused to haveanything to do with it. We held them like a block in a vise, socompactly that they could not even mill, but they would not cross thebridge. 

When it became evident that it was a fruitless effort, Jacklin, usually a very quiet man, gave vent to a fit of profanity which wouldhave put the army in Flanders to shame. Slaughter, somewhat to ouramusement, reproved him: "Don't fret, man; this is nothing, --I balkeda herd once in crossing a railroad track, and after trying for twodays to cross them, had to drive ten miles and put them under aculvert. You want to cultivate patience, young fellow, when you'rehandling dumb brutes. "

If Slaughter's darky cook had been thereabouts then, and suggested ameans of getting that herd to take the bridge, his suggestion wouldhave been welcomed, for the bosses were at their wits' ends. Jacklinswore that he would bed that herd at the entrance, and hold them thereuntil they starved to death or crossed, before he would let an animalturn back. But cooler heads were present, and The Rebel mentioned acertain adage, to the effect that when a bird or a girl, he didn'tknow which, could sing and wouldn't, she or it ought to be made tosing. He suggested that we hold the four oxen on the bridge, cut offfifteen head of cattle, and give them such a running start, theywouldn't know which end their heads were on when they reached thebridge. Millet's foreman approved of the idea, for he was nursing hiswrath. The four oxen were accordingly cut out, and Slaughter and oneof his men, taking them, started for the bridge with instructions tohold them on the middle. The rest of us took about a dozen head oflight cattle, brought them within a hundred yards of the bridge, thenwith a yell started them on a run from which they could not turn back. They struck the entrance squarely, and we had our first cattle on thebridge. Two men held the entrance, and we brought up another bunch inthe same manner, which filled the bridge. Now, we thought, if the herdcould be brought up slowly, and this bridgeful let off in their lead, they might follow. To June a herd of cattle across in this mannerwould have been shameful, and the foreman of the herd knew it as wellas any one present; but no one protested, so we left men to hold theentrance securely and went back after the herd. When we got themwithin a quarter of a mile of the creek, we cut off about two hundredhead of the leaders and brought them around to the rear, for amongstthese leaders were certain to be the ones which had been bogged, andwe wanted to have new leaders in this trial. Slaughter was on thefarther end of the bridge, and could be depended on to let the oxenlead off at the opportune moment. We brought them up cautiously, andwhen the herd came within a few rods of the creek the cattle on thebridge lowed to their mates in the herd, and Slaughter, consideringthe time favorable, opened out and allowed them to leave the bridge onthe farther side. As soon as the cattle started leaving on the fartherside, we dropped back, and the leaders of the herd to the number of adozen, after smelling the fresh dirt and seeing the others crossing, walked cautiously up on the bridge. It was a moment of extremeanxiety. None of us spoke a word, but the cattle crowding off thebridge at the farther end set it vibrating. That was enough: theyturned as if panic-stricken and rushed back to the body of the herd. Iwas almost afraid to look at Jacklin. He could scarcely speak, but herode over to me, ashen with rage, and kept repeating, "Well, wouldn'tthat beat hell!"

Slaughter rode back across the bridge, and the men came up andgathered around Jacklin. We seemed to have run the full length of ourrope. No one even had a suggestion to offer, and if any one had had, it needed to be a plausible one to find approval, for hope seemed tohave vanished. While discussing the situation, a one-eyed, pox-markedfellow belonging to Slaughter's outfit galloped up from the rear, andsaid almost breathlessly, "Say, fellows, I see a cow and calf in theherd. Let's rope the calf, and the cow is sure to follow. Get the ropearound the calf's neck, and when it chokes him, he's liable to bellow, and that will call the steers. And if you never let up on the chokingtill you get on the other side of the bridge, I think it'll work. Let's try it, anyhow. "

We all approved, for we knew that next to the smell of blood, nothingwill stir range cattle like the bellowing of a calf. At the meresuggestion, Jacklin's men scattered into the herd, and within a fewminutes we had a rope round the neck of the calf. As the roper camethrough the herd leading the calf, the frantic mother followed, with atrain of excited steers at her heels. And as the calf was draggedbellowing across the bridge, it was followed by excited, strugglingsteers who never knew whether they were walking on a bridge or on_terra firma_. The excitement spread through the herd, and theythickened around the entrance until it was necessary to hold themback, and only let enough pass to keep the chain unbroken. 

They were nearly a half hour in crossing, for it was fully as large aherd as ours; and when the last animal had crossed, Pete Slaughterstood up in his stirrups and led the long yell. The sun went down thatday on nobody's wrath, for Jacklin was so tickled that he offered tokill the fattest beef in his herd if we would stay overnight with him. All three of the herds were now over, but had not this herd balked onus the evening before, over nine thousand cattle would have crossedSlaughter's bridge the day it was built. 

It was now late in the evening, and as we had to wait some little timeto get our own horses, we stayed for supper. It was dark before we setout to overtake the herd, but the trail was plain, and letting ourhorses take their own time, we jollied along until after midnight. Wemight have missed the camp, but, by the merest chance, Priest sightedour camp-fire a mile off the trail, though it had burned to embers. Onreaching camp, we changed saddles to our night horses, and, callingOfficer, were ready for our watch. We were expecting the men on guardto call us any minute, and while Priest was explaining to Officer thetrouble we had had in crossing the Millet herd, I dozed off to sleepthere as I sat by the rekindled embers. In that minute's sleep my mindwandered in a dream to my home on the San Antonio River, but the nextmoment I was aroused to the demands of the hour by The Rebel shakingme and saying, --"Wake up, Tom, and take a new hold. They're calling uson guard. If you expect to follow the trail, son, you must learn to doyour sleeping in the winter. "

CHAPTER XV

THE BEAVER

After leaving the country tributary to the Solomon River, we crossed awide tableland for nearly a hundred miles, and with the exception ofthe Kansas Pacific Railroad, without a landmark worthy of a name. Western Kansas was then classified, worthily too, as belonging to theGreat American Desert, and most of the country for the last fivehundred miles of our course was entitled to a similar description. Once the freshness of spring had passed, the plain took on her naturalsunburnt color, and day after day, as far as the eye could reach, themonotony was unbroken, save by the variations of the mirages on everyhand. Except at morning and evening, we were never out of sight ofthese optical illusions, sometimes miles away, and then again closeup, when an antelope standing half a mile distant looked as tall as agiraffe. Frequently the lead of the herd would be in eclipse fromthese illusions, when to the men in the rear the horsemen and cattlein the lead would appear like giants in an old fairy story. If themonotony of the sea can be charged with dulling men's sensibilitiesuntil they become pirates, surely this desolate, arid plain might beequally charged with the wrongdoing of not a few of our craft. 

On crossing the railroad at Grinnell, our foreman received a letterfrom Lovell, directing him to go to Culbertson, Nebraska, and theremeet a man who was buying horses for a Montana ranch. Our employer hadhis business eye open for a possible purchaser for our _remuda_, andif the horses could be sold for delivery after the herd had reachedits destination, the opportunity was not to be overlooked. Accordingly, on reaching Beaver Creek, where we encamped, Flood leftus to ride through to the Republican River during the night. The trailcrossed this river about twenty miles west of Culbertson, and if theMontana horse buyer were yet there, it would be no trouble to come upto the trail crossing and look at our horses. 

So after supper, and while we were catching up our night horses, Floodsaid to us, "Now, boys, I'm going to leave the outfit and herd underJoe Stallings as _segundo_. It's hardly necessary to leave you underany one as foreman, for you all know your places. But some one must bemade responsible, and one bad boss will do less harm than half a dozenthat mightn't agree. So you can put Honeyman on guard in your place atnight, Joe, if you don't want to stand your own watch. Now behaveyourselves, and when I meet you on the Republican, I'll bring out abox of cigars and have it charged up as axle grease when we getsupplies at Ogalalla. And don't sit up all night telling foolstories. "

"Now, that's what I call a good cow boss, " said Joe Stallings, as ourforeman rode away in the twilight; "besides, he used passable goodjudgment in selecting a _segundo_. Now, Honeyman, you heard what hesaid. Billy dear, I won't rob you of this chance to stand a guard. McCann, have you got on your next list of supplies any jam and jellyfor Sundays? You have? That's right, son--that saves you from standinga guard tonight. Officer, when you come off guard at 3. 30 in themorning, build the cook up a good fire. Let me see; yes, and I'lldetail young Tom Quirk and The Rebel to grease the wagon and harnessyour mules before starting in the morning. I want to impress it onyour mind, McCann, that I can appreciate a thoughtful cook. What'sthat, Honeyman? No, indeed, you can't ride my night horse. Love me, love my dog; my horse shares this snap. Now, I don't want to be underthe necessity of speaking to any of you first guard, but flop intoyour saddles ready to take the herd. My turnip says it's eight o'clocknow. "

"Why, you've missed your calling--you'd make a fine second mate on ariver steamboat, driving niggers, " called back Quince Forrest, as thefirst guard rode away. 

When our guard returned, Officer intentionally walked acrossStallings's bed, and catching his spur in the tarpaulin, fell heavilyacross our _segundo_. 

"Excuse me, " said John, rising, "but I was just nosing around lookingfor the foreman. Oh, it's you, is it? I just wanted to ask if 4. 30wouldn't be plenty early to build up the fire. Wood's a little scarce, but I'll burn the prairies if you say so. That's all I wanted to know;you may lay down now and go to sleep. "

Our camp-fire that night was a good one, and in the absence of Flood, no one felt like going to bed until drowsiness compelled us. So welounged around the fire smoking the hours away, and in spite of theadmonition of our foreman, told stories far into the night. During theearly portion of the evening, dog stories occupied the boards. As theevening wore on, the subject of revisiting the old States came up fordiscussion. 

"You all talk about going back to the old States, " said Joe Stallings, "but I don't take very friendly to the idea. I felt that way once andwent home to Tennessee; but I want to tell you that after you live afew years in the sunny Southwest and get onto her ways, you can'tstand it back there like you think you can. Now, when I went back, andI reckon my relations will average up pretty well, --fought in theConfederate army, vote the Democratic ticket, and belong to theMethodist church, --they all seemed to be rapidly getting locoed. Why, my uncles, when they think of planting the old buck field or thewidow's acre into any crop, they first go projecting around in thesoil, and, as they say, analyze it, to see what kind of a fertilizerit will require to produce the best results. Back there if one manraises ten acres of corn and his neighbor raises twelve, the oneraising twelve is sure to look upon the other as though he lackedenterprise or had modest ambitions. Now, up around that old cow town, Abilene, Kansas, it's a common sight to see the cornfields stretch outlike an ocean. 

"And then their stock--they are all locoed about that. Why, I knowpeople who will pay a hundred dollars for siring a colt, and ifthere's one drop of mongrel blood in that sire's veins for tengenerations back on either side of his ancestral tree, it condemnshim, though he may be a good horse otherwise. They are strong onstandard bred horses; but as for me, my mount is all right. I wouldn'ttrade with any man in this outfit, without it would be Flood, andthere's none of them standard bred either. Why, shucks! if you had thepick of all the standard bred horses in Tennessee, you couldn't handlea herd of cattle like ours with them, without carrying a commissarywith you to feed them. No; they would never fit here--it takes arange-raised horse to run cattle; one that can rustle and live ongrass. "

[Illustration: STORY TELLING]

"Another thing about those people back in those old States: Not one inten, I'll gamble, knows the teacher he sends his children to schoolto. But when he has a promising colt to be shod, the owner goes to theblacksmith shop himself, and he and the smith will sit on the backsill of the shop, and they will discuss how to shoe that filly so asto give her certain knee action which she seems to need. Probably, says one, a little weight on her toe would give her reach. And therethey will sit and powwow and make medicine for an hour or two. Andwhile the blacksmith is shoeing her, the owner will tell him inconfidence what a wonderful burst of speed she developed yesterday, while he was speeding her on the back stretch. And then just as heturned her into the home stretch, she threw a shoe and he had to checkher in; but if there'd been any one to catch her time, he was certainit was better than a two-ten clip. And that same colt, you couldn'tcut a lame cow out of the shade of a tree on her. A man backthere--he's rich, too, though his father made it--gave a thousanddollars for a pair of dogs before they were born. The terms were onehalf cash and the balance when they were old enough to ship to him. And for fear they were not the proper mustard, he had that dog man suehim in court for the balance, so as to make him prove the pedigree. Now Bob, there, thinks that old hound of his is the real stuff, but hewouldn't do now; almost every year the style changes in dogs back inthe old States. One year maybe it's a little white dog with red eyes, and the very next it's a long bench-legged, black dog with a Dutchname that right now I disremember. Common old pot hounds and everydayyellow dogs have gone out of style entirely. No, you can all go backthat want to, but as long as I can hold a job with Lovell and Flood, I'll try and worry along in my own way. "

On finishing his little yarn, Stallings arose, saying, "I must take alisten to my men on herd. It always frets me for fear my men will ridetoo near the cattle. "

A minute later he called us, and when several of us walked out towhere he was listening, we recognized Roundtree's voice, singing:--

 "Little black bull came down the hillside, Down the hillside, down the hillside, Little black bull came down the hillside, Long time ago. "

"Whenever my men sing that song on guard, it tells me that everythingis amply serene, " remarked our _segundo_, with the air of afield-marshal, as we walked back to the fire. 

The evening had passed so rapidly it was now almost time for thesecond guard to be called, and when the lateness of the hour wasannounced, we skurried to our blankets like rabbits to their warrens. The second guard usually got an hour or two of sleep before beingcalled, but in the absence of our regular foreman, the mice wouldplay. When our guard was called at one o'clock, as usual, Officerdelayed us several minutes looking for his spurs, and I took thechance to ask The Rebel why it was that he never wore spurs. 

"It's because I'm superstitious, son, " he answered. "I own a fine pairof silver-plated spurs that have a history, and if you're ever atLovell's ranch I'll show them to you. They were given to me by amortally wounded Federal officer the day the battle of LookoutMountain was fought. I was an orderly, carrying dispatches, and inpassing through a wood from which the Union army had been recentlydriven, this officer was sitting at the root of a tree, fatallywounded. He motioned me to him, and when I dismounted, he said, 'Johnny Reb, please give a dying man a drink. ' I gave him my canteen, and after drinking from it he continued, 'I want you to have my spurs. Take them off. Listen to their history: as you have taken them off meto-day, so I took them off a Mexican general the day the American armyentered the capital of Mexico. '"

CHAPTER XVI

THE REPUBLICAN

The outfit were awakened out of sleep the next morning by shouts of"Whoa, _mula_! Whoa, you mongrel outcasts! Catch them blankety blankmules!" accompanied by a rattle of chain harness, and Quince Forrestdashed across our _segundo's_ bed, shaking a harness in each hand. Wekicked the blankets off, and came to our feet in time to see theoffender disappear behind the wagon, while Stallings sat up andyawningly inquired "what other locoed fool had got funny. " But thecamp was awake, for the cattle were leisurely leaving the bed ground, while Honeyman, who had been excused from the herd with the first signof dawn, was rustling up the horses in the valley of the Beaver belowcamp. With the understanding that the Republican River was a shortthree days' drive from our present camp, the herd trailed out thefirst day with not an incident to break the monotony of eating andsleeping, grazing and guarding. But near noon of the second day, wewere overtaken by an old, long-whiskered man and a boy of possiblyfifteen. They were riding in a light, rickety vehicle, drawn by asmall Spanish mule and a rough but clean-limbed bay mare. Thestrangers appealed to our sympathy, for they were guileless inappearance, and asked so many questions, indicating that ours mighthave been the first herd of trail cattle they had ever seen. The oldman was a free talker, and innocently allowed us to inveigle it out ofhim that he had been down on the North Beaver, looking up land tohomestead, and was then on his way up to take a look at the landsalong the Republican. We invited him and the boy to remain for dinner, for in that monotonous waste, we would have been only too glad toentertain a bandit, or an angel for that matter, provided he wouldtalk about something else than cattle. In our guest, however, we founda good conversationalist, meaty with stories not eligible to theretired list; and in return, the hospitality of our wagon was his andwelcome. The travel-stained old rascal proved to be a good mixer, andbefore dinner was over he had won us to a man, though Stallings, inthe capacity of foreman, felt it incumbent on him to act the host inbehalf of the outfit. In the course of conversation, the old manmanaged to unearth the fact that our acting foreman was a native ofTennessee, and when he had got it down to town and county, claimedacquaintanceship with a family of men in that locality who were famedas breeders of racehorses. Our guest admitted that he himself was anative of that State, and in his younger days had been a devotee ofthe racecourse, with the name of every horseman in that commonwealthas well as the bluegrass regions of Kentucky on his tongue's end. Butadversity had come upon him, and now he was looking out a new countryin which to begin life over again. 

After dinner, when our _remuda_ was corralled to catch fresh mounts, our guest bubbled over with admiration of our horses, and pointed outseveral as promising speed and action. We took his praise of ourhorseflesh as quite a compliment, never suspecting flattery at thehands of this nomadic patriarch. He innocently inquired which wasconsidered the fastest horse in the _remuda_, when Stallings pointedout a brown, belonging to Flood's mount, as the best quarter horse inthe band. He gave him a critical examination, and confessed he wouldnever have picked him for a horse possessing speed, though he admittedthat he was unfamiliar with range-raised horses, this being his firstvisit in the West. Stallings offered to loan him a horse out of hismount, and as the old man had no saddle, our _segundo_ prevailed onMcCann to loan his for the afternoon. I am inclined to think there wasa little jealousy amongst us that afternoon, as to who was bestentitled to entertain our company; and while he showed no partiality, Stallings seemed to monopolize his countryman to our disadvantage. Thetwo jollied along from point to rear and back again, and as theypassed us riders in the swing, Stallings ignored us entirely, thoughthe old man always had a pleasant word as he rode by. 

"If we don't do something to wean our _segundo_ from that old man, "said Fox Quarternight, as he rode up and overtook me, "he's liable toquit the herd and follow that old fossil back to Tennessee or someother port. Just look at the two now, will you? Old Joe's putting onas much dog as though he was asking the Colonel for his daughter. Between me and you and the gatepost, Quirk, I 'm a little dubiousabout the old varmint--he talks too much. "

But I had warmed up to our guest, and gave Fox's criticism very littleweight, well knowing if any one of us had been left in charge, hewould have shown the old man similar courtesies. In this view I wascorrect, for when Stallings had ridden on ahead to look up water thatafternoon, the very man that entirely monopolized our guest for anhour was Mr. John Fox Quarternight. Nor did he jar loose until wereached water, when Stallings cut him off by sending all the men onthe right of the herd to hold the cattle from grazing away until everyhoof had had ample time to drink. During this rest, the old mancirculated around, asking questions as usual, and when I informed himthat, with a half mile of water front, it would take a full hour towater the herd properly, he expressed an innocent amazement whichseemed as simple as sincere. When the wagon and _remuda_ came up, Inoticed the boy had tied his team behind our wagon, and was riding oneof Honeyman's horses bareback, assisting the wrangler in driving thesaddle stock. After the wagon had crossed the creek, and the kegs hadbeen filled and the teams watered, Stallings took the old man with himand the two rode away in the lead of the wagon and _remuda_ to selecta camp and a bed ground for the night. The rest of us grazed thecattle, now thoroughly watered, forward until the wagon was sighted, when, leaving two men as usual to nurse them up to bed, the remainderof us struck out for camp. As I rode in, I sought out my bunkie to gethis opinion regarding our guest. But The Rebel was reticent, as usual, of his opinions of people, so my inquiries remained unanswered, whichonly served to increase my confidence in the old man. 

On arriving at camp we found Stallings and Honeyman entertaining ourvisitor in a little game of freeze-out for a dollar a corner, whileMcCann looked wistfully on, as if regretting that his culinary dutiesprevented his joining in. Our arrival should have been the signal toour wrangler for rounding in the _remuda_ for night horses, butStallings was too absorbed in the game even to notice the lateness ofthe hour and order in the saddle stock. Quarternight, however, had afew dollars burning holes in his pocket, and he called our horserustler's attention to the approaching twilight; not that he was inany hurry, but if Honeyman vacated, he saw an opportunity to get intothe game. The foreman gave the necessary order, and Quarternight atonce bargained for the wrangler's remaining beans, and sat into thegame. While we were catching up our night horses, Honeyman told usthat the old man had been joking Stallings about the speed of Flood'sbrown, even going so far as to intimate that he didn't believe thatthe gelding could outrun that old bay harness mare which he wasdriving. He had confessed that he was too hard up to wager much on it, but he would risk a few dollars on his judgment on a running horse anyday. He also said that Stallings had come back at him, more in earnestthan in jest, that if he really thought his harness mare could outrunthe brown, he could win every dollar the outfit had. They had coddedone another until Joe had shown some spirit, when the old mansuggested they play a little game of cards for fun, but Stallings hadinsisted on stakes to make it interesting, and on the old homesteaderpleading poverty, they had agreed to make it for a dollar on thecorner. After supper our _segundo_ wanted to renew the game; the oldman protested that he was too unlucky and could not afford to lose, but was finally persuaded to play one more game, "just to pass awaythe evening. " Well, the evening passed, and within the short space oftwo hours, there also passed to the supposed lean purse of our guestsome twenty dollars from the feverish pockets of the outfit. Then theold man felt too sleepy to play any longer, but loitered around sometime, and casually inquired of his boy if he had picketed their marewhere she would get a good bait of grass. This naturally brought upthe proposed race for discussion. 

"If you really think that that old bay palfrey of yours can outrun anyhorse in our _remuda_, " said Stallings, tauntingly, "you're missingthe chance of your life not to pick up a few honest dollars as youjourney along. You stay with us to-morrow, and when we meet ourforeman at the Republican, if he'll loan me the horse, I'll give you arace for any sum you name, just to show you that I've got a few dropsof sporting blood in me. And if your mare can outrun a cow, you standan easy chance to win some money. "

Our visitor met Joe's bantering in a timid manner. Before turning in, however, he informed us that he appreciated our hospitality, but thathe expected to make an early drive in the morning to the Republican, where he might camp several days. With this the old man and the boyunrolled their blankets, and both were soon sound asleep. Then our_segundo_ quietly took Fox Quarternight off to one side, and I heardthe latter agree to call him when the third guard was aroused. Havingnotified Honeyman that he would stand his own watch that night, Stallings, with the rest of the outfit, soon joined the old man in theland of dreams. Instead of the rough shaking which was customary onarousing a guard, when we of the third watch were called, we wereawakened in a manner so cautious as to betoken something unusual inthe air. The atmosphere of mystery soon cleared after reaching theherd, when Bob Blades informed us that it was the intention ofStallings and Quarternight to steal the old man's harness mare off thepicket rope, and run her against their night horses in a trial race. Like love and war, everything is fair in horse racing, but theaudacity of this proposition almost passed belief. Both Blades andDurham remained on guard with us, and before we had circled the herdhalf a dozen times, the two conspirators came riding up to the bedground, leading the bay mare. There was a good moon that night;Quarternight exchanged mounts with John Officer, as the latter had asplendid night horse that had outstripped the outfit in every stampedeso far, and our _segundo_ and the second guard rode out of hearing ofboth herd and camp to try out the horses. 

After an hour, the quartette returned, and under solemn pledges ofsecrecy Stallings said, "Why, that old bay harness mare can't run fastenough to keep up with a funeral. I rode her myself, and if she's gotany run in her, rowel and quirt won't bring it out. That chestnut ofJohn's ran away from her as if she was hobbled and side-lined, whilethis coyote of mine threw dust in her face every jump in the road fromthe word 'go. ' If the old man isn't bluffing and will hack his mare, we'll get back our freeze-out money with good interest. Mind you, now, we must keep it a dead secret from Flood--that we've tried the mare;he might get funny and tip the old man. "

We all swore great oaths that Flood should never hear a breath of it. The conspirators and their accomplices rode into camp, and we resumedour sentinel rounds. I had some money, and figured that betting in acinch like this would be like finding money in the road. 

But The Rebel, when we were returning from guard, said, "Tom, you keepout of this race the boys are trying to jump up. I've met a good manyinnocent men in my life, and there's something about this old man thatreminds me of people who have an axe to grind. Let the other fellowsrun on the rope if they want to, but you keep your money in yourpocket. Take an older man's advice this once. And I'm going to roundup John in the morning, and try and beat a little sense into his head, for he thinks it's a dead immortal cinch. "

I had made it a rule, during our brief acquaintance, never to arguematters with my bunkie, well knowing that his years and experience inthe ways of the world entitled his advice to my earnest consideration. So I kept silent, though secretly wishing he had not taken the troubleto throw cold water on my hopes, for I had built several air castleswith the money which seemed within my grasp. We had been out then overfour months, and I, like many of the other boys, was getting ragged, and with Ogalalla within a week's drive, a town which it took money tosee properly, I thought it a burning shame to let this opportunitypass. When I awoke the next morning the camp was astir, and my firstlook was in the direction of the harness mare, grazing peacefully onthe picket rope where she had been tethered the night before. 

Breakfast over, our venerable visitor harnessed in his team, preparatory to starting. Stallings had made it a point to return tothe herd for a parting word. 

"Well, if you must go on ahead, " said Joe to the old man, as thelatter was ready to depart, "remember that you can get action on yourmoney, if you still think that your bay mare can outrun that brown cowhorse which I pointed out to you yesterday. You needn't let yourpoverty interfere, for we'll run you to suit your purse, light orheavy. The herd will reach the river by the middle of the afternoon, or a little later, and you be sure and stay overnight there, --staywith us if you want to, --and we'll make up a little race for any sumyou say, from marbles and chalk to a hundred dollars. I may be asbadly deceived in your mare as I think you are in my horse; but ifyou're a Tennesseean, here's your chance. "

But beyond giving Stallings his word that he would see him againduring the afternoon or evening, the old man would make no definiteproposition, and drove away. There was a difference of opinion amongstthe outfit, some asserting that we would never see him again, whilethe larger portion of us were at least hopeful that we would. Afterour guest was well out of sight, and before the wagon started, Stallings corralled the _remuda_ a second time, and taking out Flood'sbrown and Officer's chestnut, tried the two horses for a short dash ofabout a hundred yards. The trial confirmed the general opinion of theoutfit, for the brown outran the chestnut over four lengths, startinghalf a neck in the rear. A general canvass of the outfit was taken, and to my surprise there was over three hundred dollars amongst us. Ihad over forty dollars, but I only promised to loan mine if it wasneeded, while Priest refused flat-footed either to lend or bet his. Iwanted to bet, and it would grieve me to the quick if there was anychance and I didn't take it--but I was young then. 

Flood met us at noon about seven miles out from the Republican withthe superintendent of a cattle company in Montana, and, before westarted the herd after dinner, had sold our _remuda_, wagon, and mulesfor delivery at the nearest railroad point to the Blackfoot Agencysometime during September. This cattle company, so we afterwardslearned from Flood, had headquarters at Helena, while their rangeswere somewhere on the headwaters of the Missouri. But the sale of thehorses seemed to us an insignificant matter, compared with the racewhich was on the tapis; and when Stallings had made the ablest talk ofhis life for the loan of the brown, Flood asked the new owner, a Texanhimself, if he had any objections. 

"Certainly not, " said he; "let the boys have a little fun. I'm glad toknow that the _remuda_ has fast horses in it. Why didn't you tell me, Flood?--I might have paid you extra if I had known I was buyingracehorses. Be sure and have the race come off this evening, for Iwant to see it. "

And he was not only good enough to give his consent, but added a wordof advice. "There's a deadfall down here on the river, " said he, "thatrobs a man going and coming. They've got booze to sell you that wouldmake a pet rabbit fight a wolf. And if you can't stand the whiskey, why, they have skin games running to fleece you as fast as you can getyour money to the centre. Be sure, lads, and let both their whiskeyand cards alone. "

While changing mounts after dinner, Stallings caught out the brownhorse and tied him behind the wagon, while Flood and the horse buyerreturned to the river in the conveyance, our foreman having left hishorse at the ford. When we reached the Republican with the herd abouttwo hours before sundown, and while we were crossing and watering, whoshould ride up on the Spanish mule but our Tennessee friend. Ifanything, he was a trifle more talkative and boastful than before, which was easily accounted for, as it was evident that he wasdrinking; and producing a large bottle which had but a few drinks leftin it, insisted on every one taking a drink with him. He said he wasencamped half a mile down the river, and that he would race his mareagainst our horse for fifty dollars; that if we were in earnest, andwould go back with him and post our money at the tent, he would coverit. Then Stallings in turn became crafty and diplomatic, and afterasking a number of unimportant questions regarding conditions, returned to the joint with the old man, taking Fox Quarternight. Tothe rest of us it looked as though there was going to be no chance tobet a dollar even. But after the herd had been watered and we hadgrazed out some distance from the river, the two worthies returned. They had posted their money, and all the conditions were agreed upon;the race was to take place at sundown over at the saloon and gamblingjoint. In reply to an earnest inquiry by Bob Blades, the outfit wereinformed that we might get some side bets with the gamblers, but themoney already posted was theirs, win or lose. This selfishness was notlooked upon very favorably, and some harsh comments were made, butStallings and Quarternight were immovable. 

We had an early supper, and pressing in McCann to assist The Rebel ingrazing the herd until our return, the cavalcade set out, Flood andthe horse buyer with us. My bunkie urged me to let him keep my money, but under the pretense of some of the outfit wanting to borrow it, Itook it with me. The race was to be catch weights, and as Rod Wheatwas the lightest in our outfit, the riding fell to him. On the wayover I worked Bull Durham out to one side, and after explaining thejacketing I had got from Priest, and the partial promise I had madenot to bet, gave him my forty dollars to wager for me if he got achance. Bull and I were good friends, and on the understanding that itwas to be a secret, I intimated that some of the velvet would line hispurse. On reaching the tent, we found about half a dozen men loiteringaround, among them the old man, who promptly invited us all to have adrink with him. A number of us accepted and took a chance against thevintage of this canvas roadhouse, though the warnings of the Montanahorse buyer were fully justified by the quality of the goodsdispensed. While taking the drink, the old man was lamenting hispoverty, which kept him from betting more money, and after we had goneoutside, the saloonkeeper came and said to him, in a burst of generousfeeling, --

"Old sport, you're a stranger to me, but I can see at a glance thatyou're a dead game man. Now, if you need any more money, just give mea bill of sale of your mare and mule, and I'll advance you a hundred. Of course I know nothing about the merits of the two horses, but Inoticed your team as you drove up to-day, and if you can use any moremoney, just ask for it. "

The old man jumped at the proposition in delighted surprise; the tworeëntered the tent, and after killing considerable time in writing outa bill of sale, the old graybeard came out shaking a roll of bills atus. He was promptly accommodated, Bull Durham making the first bet offifty; and as I caught his eye, I walked away, shaking hands withmyself over my crafty scheme. When the old man's money was all taken, the hangers-on of the place became enthusiastic over the betting, andtook every bet while there was a dollar in sight amongst our crowd, the horse buyer even making a wager. When we were out of money theyoffered to bet against our saddles, six-shooters, and watches. Floodwarned us not to bet our saddles, but Quarternight and Stallings hadalready wagered theirs, and were stripping them from their horses toturn them over to the saloonkeeper as stakeholder. I managed to get aten-dollar bet on my six-shooter, though it was worth double themoney, and a similar amount on my watch. When the betting ended, everywatch and six-shooter in the outfit was in the hands of thestakeholder, and had it not been for Flood our saddles would have beenin the same hands. 

It was to be a three hundred yard race, with an ask and answer startbetween the riders. Stallings and the old man stepped off the courseparallel with the river, and laid a rope on the ground to mark thestart and the finish. The sun had already set and twilight wasdeepening when the old man signaled to his boy in the distance tobring up the mare. Wheat was slowly walking the brown horse over thecourse, when the boy came up, cantering the mare, blanketed with anold government blanket, over the imaginary track also. Thesepreliminaries thrilled us like the tuning of a fiddle for a dance. Stallings and the old homesteader went out to the starting point togive the riders the terms of the race, while the remainder of uscongregated at the finish. It was getting dusk when the blanket wasstripped from the mare and the riders began jockeying for a start. Inthat twilight stillness we could hear the question, "Are you ready?"and the answer "No, " as the two jockeys came up to the starting rope. But finally there was an affirmative answer, and the two horses werecoming through like arrows in their flight. My heart stood still forthe time being, and when the bay mare crossed the rope at the outcomean easy winner, I was speechless. Such a crestfallen-looking lot ofmen as we were would be hard to conceive. We had been beaten, and notonly felt it but looked it. Flood brought us to our senses by callingour attention to the approaching darkness, and setting off in a galloptoward the herd. The rest of us trailed along silently after him inthrees and fours. After the herd had been bedded and we had gone in tothe wagon my spirits were slightly lightened at the sight of the twoarch conspirators, Stallings and Quarternight, meekly riding inbareback. I enjoyed the laughter of The Rebel and McCann at theirplight; but when my bunkie noticed my six-shooter missing, and Iadmitted having bet it, he turned the laugh on me. 

"That's right, son, " he said; "don't you take anybody's advice. You'reyoung yet, but you'll learn. And when you learn it for yourself, you'll remember it that much better. "

That night when we were on guard together, I eased my conscience bymaking a clean breast of the whole affair to my bunkie, which resultedin his loaning me ten dollars with which to redeem, my six-shooter inthe morning. But the other boys, with the exception of Officer, had nobanker to call on as we had, and when Quarternight and Stallings askedthe foreman what they were to do for saddles, the latter suggestedthat one of them could use the cook's, while the other could take itbareback or ride in the wagon. But the Montana man interceded in theirbehalf, and Flood finally gave in and advanced them enough to redeemtheir saddles. Our foreman had no great amount of money with him, butMcCann and the horse buyer came to the rescue for what they had, andthe guns were redeemed; not that they were needed, but we would havebeen so lonesome without them. I had worn one so long I didn't trimwell without it, but toppled forward and couldn't maintain my balance. But the most cruel exposure of the whole affair occurred when NatStraw, riding in ahead of his herd, overtook us one day out fromOgalalla. 

"I met old 'Says I' Littlefield, " said Nat, "back at the ford of theRepublican, and he tells me that they won over five hundred dollarsoff this Circle Dot outfit on a horse race. He showed me a wholebasketful of your watches. I used to meet old 'Says I' over on theChisholm trail, and he's a foxy old innocent. He told me that he puttar on his harness mare's back to see if you fellows had stolen thenag off the picket rope at night, and when he found you had, he robbedyou to a finish. He knew you fool Texans would bet your last dollar onsuch a cinch. That's one of his tricks. You see the mare you triedwasn't the one you ran the race against. I've seen them both, and theylook as much alike as two pint bottles. My, but you fellows are easyfish!"

And then Jim Flood lay down on the grass and laughed until the tearscame into his eyes, and we understood that there were tricks in othertrades than ours. 

CHAPTER XVII

OGALALLA

From the head of Stinking Water to the South Platte was a waterlessstretch of forty miles. But by watering the herd about the middle ofone forenoon, after grazing, we could get to water again the followingevening. With the exception of the meeting with Nat Straw, the drivewas featureless, but the night that Nat stayed with us, he regaled uswith his experiences, in which he was as lucky as ever. Where we hadlost three days on the Canadian with bogged cattle, he had crossed itwithin fifteen minutes after reaching it. His herd was sold beforereaching Dodge, so that he lost no time there, and on reachingSlaughter's bridge, he was only two days behind our herd. His cattlewere then en route for delivery on the Crazy Woman in Wyoming, and, ashe put it, "any herd was liable to travel faster when it had a newowner. "

Flood had heard from our employer at Culbertson, learning that hewould not meet us at Ogalalla, as his last herd was due in Dodge aboutthat time. My brother Bob's herd had crossed the Arkansaw a weekbehind us, and was then possibly a hundred and fifty miles in ourrear. 

We all regretted not being able to see old man Don, for he believedthat nothing was too good for his men, and we all remembered the goodtime he had shown us in Dodge. The smoke of passing trains hung forhours in signal clouds in our front, during the afternoon of thesecond day's dry drive, but we finally scaled the last divide, andthere, below us in the valley of the South Platte, nestled Ogalalla, the Gomorrah of the cattle trail. From amongst its half hundredbuildings, no church spire pointed upward, but instead three fourthsof its business houses were dance halls, gambling houses, and saloons. We all knew the town by reputation, while the larger part of ouroutfit had been in it before. It was there that Joel Collins and hisoutfit rendezvoused when they robbed the Union Pacific train inOctober, '77. Collins had driven a herd of cattle for his father andbrother, and after selling them in the Black Hills, gambled away theproceeds. Some five or six of his outfit returned to Ogalalla withhim, and being moneyless, concluded to recoup their losses at theexpense of the railway company. Going eighteen miles up the river toBig Springs, seven of them robbed the express and passengers, theformer yielding sixty thousand dollars in gold. The next morning theywere in Ogalalla, paying debts, and getting their horses shod. InCollins's outfit was Sam Bass, and under his leadership, until he methis death the following spring at the hands of Texas Rangers, thecourse of the outfit southward was marked by a series of daring bankand train robberies. 

We reached the river late that evening, and after watering, grazeduntil dark and camped for the night. But it was not to be a night ofrest and sleep, for the lights were twinkling across the river intown; and cook, horse wrangler, and all, with the exception of thefirst guard, rode across the river after the herd had been bedded. Flood had quit us while we were watering the herd and gone in ahead toget a draft cashed, for he was as moneyless as the rest of us. But hisletter of credit was good anywhere on the trail where money was to behad, and on reaching town, he took us into a general outfitting storeand paid us twenty-five dollars apiece. After warning us to be on handat the wagon to stand our watches, he left us, and we scattered likelost sheep. Officer and I paid our loans to The Rebel, and the threeof us wandered around for several hours in company with Nat Straw. When we were in Dodge, my bunkie had shown no inclination to gamble, but now he was the first one to suggest that we make up a "cow, " andlet him try his luck at monte. Straw and Officer were both willing, and though in rags, I willingly consented and contributed my five tothe general fund. 

Every gambling house ran from two to three monte layouts, as it was afavorite game of cowmen, especially when they were from the farsouthern country. Priest soon found a game to his liking, and afterwatching his play through several deals, Officer and I left him withthe understanding that he would start for camp promptly at midnight. There was much to be seen, though it was a small place, for the endsof the earth's iniquity had gathered in Ogalalla. We wandered throughthe various gambling houses, drinking moderately, meeting anoccasional acquaintance from Texas, and in the course of our roundslanded in the Dew-Drop-In dance hall. Here might be seen the frailtyof women in every grade and condition. From girls in their teens, launching out on a life of shame, to the adventuress who had once hadyouth and beauty in her favor, but was now discarded and ready for thefinal dose of opium and the coroner's verdict, --all were there intinsel and paint, practicing a careless exposure of their charms. In atown which has no night, the hours pass rapidly; and before we wereaware, midnight was upon us. Returning to the gambling house where wehad left Priest, we found him over a hundred dollars winner, and, calling his attention to the hour, persuaded him to cash in and joinus. We felt positively rich, as he counted out to each partner hisshare of the winnings! Straw was missing to receive his, but we knewhe could be found on the morrow, and after a round of drinks, weforded the river. As we rode along, my bunkie said, --"I'msuperstitious, and I can't help it. But I've felt for a day or so thatI was in luck, and I wanted you lads in with me if my warning wastrue. I never was afraid to go into battle but once, and just as wewere ordered into action, a shell killed my horse under me and I wasleft behind. I've had lots of such warnings, good and bad, and I'minfluenced by them. If we get off to-morrow, and I'm in the mood, I'llgo back there and make some monte bank look sick. "

We reached the wagon in good time to be called on our guard, and afterit was over secured a few hours' sleep before the foreman aroused usin the morning. With herds above and below us, we would either have tograze contrary to our course or cross the river. The South Platte wasa wide, sandy river with numerous channels, and as easily crossed asan alkali flat of equal width, so far as water was concerned. The sunwas not an hour high when we crossed, passing within two hundred yardsof the business section of the town, which lay under a hill. Thevalley on the north side of the river, and beyond the railroad, wasnot over half a mile wide, and as we angled across it, the town seemedas dead as those that slept in the graveyard on the first hill besidethe trail. 

Finding good grass about a mile farther on, we threw the herd off thetrail, and leaving orders to graze until noon, the foreman with thefirst and second guard returned to town. It was only about ten milesover to the North Platte, where water was certain; and in the hopethat we would be permitted to revisit the village during theafternoon, we who were on guard threw riders in the lead of thegrazing cattle, in order not to be too far away should permission begranted us. That was a long morning for us of the third and fourthguards, with nothing to do but let the cattle feed, while easy moneyitched in our pockets. Behind us lay Ogalalla--and our craft diddearly love to break the monotony of our work by getting into town. But by the middle of the forenoon, the wagon and saddle horsesovertook us, and ordering McCann into camp a scant mile in our lead, we allowed the cattle to lie down, they having grazed to contentment. Leaving two men on guard, the remainder of us rode in to the wagon, and lightened with an hour's sleep in its shade the time which hungheavy on our hands. We were aroused by our horse wrangler, who hadsighted a cavalcade down the trail, which, from the color of theirhorses, he knew to be our outfit returning. As they came nearer andtheir numbers could be made out, it was evident that our foreman wasnot with them, and our hopes rose. On coming up, they informed us thatwe were to have a half holiday, while they would take the herd over tothe North River during the afternoon. Then emergency orders rang outto Honeyman and McCann, and as soon as a change of mounts could besecured, our dinners bolted, and the herders relieved, we were readyto go. Two of the six who returned had shed their rags and swaggeredabout in new, cheap suits; the rest, although they had money, simplyhad not had the time to buy clothes in a place with so manyattractions. 

When the herders came in deft hands transferred their saddles towaiting mounts while they swallowed a hasty dinner, and we set out forOgalalla, happy as city urchins in an orchard. We were less than fivemiles from the burg, and struck a free gait in riding in, where wefound several hundred of our craft holding high jinks. A number ofherds had paid off their outfits and were sending them home, whilefrom the herds for sale, holding along the river, every man not on dayherd was paying his respects to the town. We had not been there fiveminutes when a horse race was run through the main street, Nat Strawand Jim Flood acting as judges on the outcome. The officers ofOgalalla were a different crowd from what we had encountered at Dodge, and everything went. The place suited us. Straw had entirely forgottenour "cow" of the night before, and when The Rebel handed him his shareof the winnings, he tucked it away in the watch pocket of his trouserswithout counting. But he had arranged a fiddling match between a darkycook of one of the returning outfits and a locoed white man, amendicant of the place, and invited us to be present. Straw knew theforeman of the outfit to which the darky belonged, and the two hadfixed it up to pit the two in a contest, under the pretense that alarge wager had been made on which was the better fiddler. The contestwas to take place at once in the corral of the Lone Star liverystable, and promised to be humorous if nothing more. So after the racewas over, the next number on the programme was the fiddling match, andwe followed the crowd. The Rebel had given us the slip during therace, though none of us cared, as we knew he was hungering for a montegame. It was a motley crowd which had gathered in the corral, and allseemed to know of the farce to be enacted, though the Texas outfit towhich the darky belonged were flashing their money on their duskycook, "as the best fiddler that ever crossed Red River with a cowherd. "

"Oh, I don't know that your man is such an Ole Bull as all that, " saidNat Straw. "I just got a hundred posted which says he can't even playa decent second to my man. And if we can get a competent set of judgesto decide the contest, I'll wager a little more on the white againstthe black, though I know your man is a cracker-jack. "

A canvass of the crowd was made for judges, but as nearly every oneclaimed to be interested in the result, having made wagers, or wasincompetent to sit in judgment on a musical contest, there was somelittle delay. Finally, Joe Stallings went to Nat Straw and told himthat I was a fiddler, whereupon he instantly appointed me as judge, and the other side selected a redheaded fellow belonging to one ofDillard Fant's herds. Between the two of us we selected as the thirdjudge a bartender whom I had met the night before. The conditionsgoverning the contest were given us, and two chuck wagons were drawnup alongside each other, in one of which were seated the contestantsand in the other the judges. The gravity of the crowd was only brokenas some enthusiast cheered his favorite or defiantly offered to wageron the man of his choice. Numerous sham bets were being made, when theredheaded judge arose and announced the conditions, and urged thecrowd to remain quiet, that the contestants might have equal justice. Each fiddler selected his own piece. The first number was a waltz, onthe conclusion of which partisanship ran high, each faction cheeringits favorite to the echo. The second number was a jig, and as thedarky drew his bow several times across the strings tentatively, hisforeman, who stood six inches taller than any man in a crowd of tallmen, tapped himself on the breast with one forefinger, and with theother pointed at his dusky champion, saying, "Keep your eye on me, Price. We're going home together, remember. You black rascal, you canmake a mocking bird ashamed of itself if you try. You know I've sworeby you through thick and thin; now win this money. Pay no attention toany one else. Keep your eye on me. "

Straw, not to be outdone in encouragement, cheered his man withpromises of reward, and his faction of supporters raised such a dinthat Fant's man arose, and demanded quiet so the contest couldproceed. Though boisterous, the crowd was good-tempered, and after thesecond number was disposed of, the final test was announced, which wasto be in sacred music. On this announcement, the tall foreman wadedthrough the crowd, and drawing the darky to him, whispered somethingin his ear, and then fell back to his former position. The duskyartist's countenance brightened, and with a few preliminaries hestruck into "The Arkansaw Traveler, " throwing so many contortions intoits execution that it seemed as if life and liberty depended on hisexertions. The usual applause greeted him on its conclusion, when NatStraw climbed up on the wagon wheel, and likewise whispered somethingto his champion. The little, old, weazened mendicant took his cue, andcut into "The Irish Washerwoman" with a great flourish, and in therefrain chanted an unintelligible gibberish like the yelping of acoyote, which the audience so cheered that he repeated it severaltimes. The crowd now gathered around the wagons and clamored for thedecision, and after consulting among ourselves some little time, andknowing that a neutral or indefinite verdict was desired, we delegatedthe bartender to announce our conclusions. Taking off his hat, hearose, and after requesting quietness, pretended to read our decision. 

"Gentlemen, " he began, "your judges feel a delicacy in passing on themerits of such distinguished artists, but in the first number thedecision is unanimously in favor of the darky, while the second isclearly in favor of the white contestant. In regard to the last test, your judges cannot reach any decision, as the selections rendered failto qualify under the head of"--

But two shots rang out in rapid succession across the street, and thecrowd, including the judges and fiddlers, rushed away to witness thenew excitement. The shooting had occurred in a restaurant, and quite amob gathered around the door, when the sheriff emerged from thebuilding. 

"It's nothing, " said he; "just a couple of punchers, who had beendrinking a little, were eating a snack, and one of them asked for asecond dish of prunes, when the waiter got gay and told him that hecouldn't have them, --'that he was full of prunes now. ' So the lad tooka couple of shots at him, just to learn him to be more courteous tostrangers. There was no harm done, as the puncher was too unsteady. "

As the crowd dispersed from the restaurant, I returned to the liverystable, where Straw and several of our outfit were explaining to theold mendicant that he had simply outplayed his opponent, and it wastoo bad that they were not better posted in sacred music. UnderStraw's leadership, a purse was being made up amongst them, and theold man's eyes brightened as he received several crisp bills and ahandful of silver. Straw was urging the old fiddler to post himself inregard to sacred music, and he would get up another match for the nextday, when Rod Wheat came up and breathlessly informed Officer andmyself that The Rebel wanted us over at the Black Elephant gamblinghall. As we turned to accompany him, we eagerly inquired if there wereany trouble. Wheat informed us there was not, but that Priest wasplaying in one of the biggest streaks of luck that ever happened. "Why, the old man is just wallowing in velvet, " said Rod, as wehurried along, "and the dealer has lowered the limit from a hundred tofifty, for old Paul is playing them as high as a cat's tack. He isn'tdrinking a drop, and is as cool as a cucumber. I don't know what hewants with you fellows, but he begged me to hunt you up and send youto him. "

The Black Elephant was about a block from the livery, and as weentered, a large crowd of bystanders were watching the playing aroundone of the three monte games which were running. Elbowing our waythrough the crowd, we reached my bunkie, whom Officer slapped on theback and inquired what he wanted. 

"Why, I want you and Quirk to bet a little money for me, " he replied. "My luck is with me to-day, and when I try to crowd it, this layoutgets foxy and pinches the limit down to fifty. Here, take this moneyand cover both those other games. Call out as they fall the layouts, and I'll pick the card to bet the money on. And bet her carelessly, boys, for she's velvet. "

As he spoke he gave Officer and myself each a handful of uncountedmoney, and we proceeded to carry out his instructions. I knew the gameperfectly, having spent several years' earnings on my tuition, and waspast master in the technical Spanish terms of the game, while Officerwas equally informed. John took the table to the right, while I tookthe one on the left, and waiting for a new deal, called the cards asthey fell. I inquired the limit of the dealer, and was politelyinformed that it was fifty to-day. At first our director ordered anumber of small bets made, as though feeling his way, for cards willturn; but as he found the old luck was still with him, he graduallyincreased them to the limit. After the first few deals, I caught on tohis favorite cards, which were the queen and seven, and on these webet the limit. Aces and a "face against an ace" were also favoritebets of The Rebel's, but for a smaller sum. During the first hour ofmy playing--to show the luck of cards--the queen won five consecutivetimes, once against a favorite at the conclusion of a deal. Myjudgment was to take up this bet, but Priest ordered otherwise, for itwas one of his principles never to doubt a card as long as it won foryou. 

The play had run along some time, and as I was absorbed with watching, some one behind me laid a friendly hand on my shoulder. Having everycard in the layout covered with a bet at the time, and supposing it tobe some of our outfit, I never looked around, when there came a slapon my back which nearly loosened my teeth. Turning to see who wasmaking so free with me when I was absorbed, my eye fell on my brotherZack, but I had not time even to shake hands with him, for two cardswon in succession and the dealer was paying me, while the queen andseven were covered to the limit and were yet to be drawn for. When thedeal ended and while the dealer was shuffling, I managed to get a fewwords with my brother, and learned that he had come through with aherd belonging to one-armed Jim Reed, and that they were holding aboutten miles up the river. He had met Flood, who told him that I was intown; but as he was working on first guard with their herd, it washigh time he was riding. The dealer was waiting for me to cut thecards, and stopping only to wring Zack's hand in farewell, I turnedagain to the monte layout. 

Officer was not so fortunate as I was, partly by reason of delays, thedealer in his game changing decks on almost every deal, and underPriest's orders, we counted the cards with every change of the deck. Agambler would rather burn money than lose to a citizen, and everyhoodoo which the superstition of the craft could invoke to turn therun of the cards was used to check us. Several hours passed and thelamps were lighted, but we constantly added to the good--to thediscomfiture of the owners of the games. Dealers changed, but ourvigilance never relaxed for a moment. Suddenly an altercation sprangup between Officer and the dealer of his game. The seven had provedthe most lucky card to John, which fact was as plain to dealer as toplayer, but the dealer, by slipping one seven out of the pack after ithad been counted, which was possible in the hands of an adept in spiteof all vigilance, threw the percentage against the favorite card andin favor of the bank. Officer had suspected something wrong, for theseven had been loser during several deals, when with a seven-kinglayout, and two cards of each class yet in the pack, the dealer drewdown until there were less than a dozen cards left, when the kingcame, which lost a fifty dollar bet on the seven. Officer laid hishand on the money, and, as was his privilege, said to the dealer, "Letme look over the remainder of those cards. If there's two sevensthere, you have won. If there isn't, don't offer to touch this bet. "

But the gambler declined the request, and Officer repeated his demand, laying a blue-barreled six-shooter across the bet with the remark, "Well, if you expect to rake in this bet you have my terms. "

Evidently the demand would not have stood the test, for the dealerbunched the deck among the passed cards, and Officer quietly raked inthe money. "When I want a skin game, " said John, as he arose, "I'llcome back and see you. You saw me take this money, did you? Well, ifyou've got anything to say, now's your time to spit it out. "

But his calling had made the gambler discreet, and he deigned no replyto the lank Texan, who, chafing under the attempt to cheat him, slowlyreturned his six-shooter to its holster. Although holding my own in mygame, I was anxious to have it come to a close, but neither of uscared to suggest it to The Rebel; it was his money. But Officer passedoutside the house shortly afterward, and soon returned with Jim Floodand Nat Straw. 

As our foreman approached the table at which Priest was playing, helaid his hand on The Rebel's shoulder and said, "Come on, Paul, we'reall ready to go to camp. Where's Quirk?"

Priest looked up in innocent amazement, --as though he had beenawakened out of a deep sleep, for, in the absorption of the game, hehad taken no note of the passing hours and did not know that the lampswere burning. My bunkie obeyed as promptly as though the orders hadbeen given by Don Lovell in person, and, delighted with the turn ofaffairs, I withdrew with him. Once in the street, Nat Straw threw anarm around The Rebel's neck and said to him, "My dear sir, the secretof successful gambling is to quit when you're winner, and before luckturns. You may think this is a low down trick, but we're your friends, and when we heard that you were a big winner, we were determined toget you out of there if we had to rope and drag you out. How much areyou winner?"

Before the question could be correctly answered, we sat down on thesidewalk and the three of us disgorged our winnings, so that Flood andStraw could count. Priest was the largest winner, Officer thesmallest, while I never will know the amount of mine, as I had no ideawhat I started with. But the tellers' report showed over fourteenhundred dollars among the three of us. My bunkie consented to allowFlood to keep it for him, and the latter attempted to hurrah us off tocamp, but John Officer protested. 

"Hold on a minute, Jim, " said Officer. "We're in rags; we need someclothes. We've been in town long enough, and we've got the price, butit's been such a busy afternoon with us that we simply haven't had thetime. "

Straw took our part, and Flood giving in, we entered a generaloutfitting store, from which we emerged within a quarter of an hour, wearing cheap new suits, the color of which we never knew until thenext day. Then bidding Straw a hearty farewell, we rode for the NorthPlatte, on which the herd would encamp. As we scaled the bluffs, wehalted for our last glimpse of the lights of Ogalalla, and The Rebelremarked, "Boys, I've traveled some in my life, but that little holeback there could give Natchez-under-the-hill cards and spades, andthen outhold her as a tough town. "

CHAPTER XVIII

THE NORTH PLATTE

It was now July. We had taken on new supplies at Ogalalla, and a weekafterwards the herd was snailing along the North Platte on its way tothe land of the Blackfeet. It was always hard to get a herd past asupply point. We had the same trouble when we passed Dodge. Our longhours in the saddle, coupled with the monotony of our work, made thesesupply points of such interest to us that they were like oases indesert lands to devotees on pilgrimage to some consecrated shrine. Wecould have spent a week in Ogalalla and enjoyed our visit everyblessed moment of the time. But now, a week later, most of theheadaches had disappeared and we had settled down to our daily work. 

At Horse Creek, the last stream of water before entering Wyoming, alad who cut the trail at that point for some cattle companies, aftertrimming us up, rode along for half a day through their range, andtold us of an accident which happened about a week before. The horseof some peeler, working with one of Shanghai Pierce's herds, acted upone morning, and fell backward with him so that his gun accidentallydischarged. The outfit lay over a day and gave him as decent a burialas they could. We would find the new-made grave ahead on Squaw Creek, beyond the crossing, to the right hand side in a clump of cottonwoods. The next day, while watering the herd at this creek, we all rode overand looked at the grave. The outfit had fixed things up quite nicely. They had built a square pen of rough cottonwood logs around the grave, and had marked the head and foot with a big flat stone, edged up, heaping up quite a mound of stones to keep the animals away. In a treehis name was cut--sounded natural, too, though none of us knew him, asPierce always drove from the east coast country. There was nothingdifferent about this grave from the hundreds of others which madelandmarks on the Old Western Trail, except it was the latest. 

That night around the camp-fire some of the boys were moved to telltheir experiences. This accident might happen to any of us, and itseemed rather short notice to a man enjoying life, even though hiscalling was rough. 

"As for myself, " said Rod Wheat, "I'm not going to fret. You can'tavoid it when it comes, and every now and then you miss it by a hair. I had an uncle who served four years in the Confederate army, wentthrough thirty engagements, was wounded half a dozen times, and camehome well and sound. Within a month after his return, a plough handlekicked him in the side and we buried him within a week. "

"Oh, well, " said Fox, commenting on the sudden call of the man whosegrave we had seen, "it won't make much difference to this fellow backhere when the horn toots and the graves give up their dead. He mightjust as well start from there as anywhere. I don't envy him none, though; but if I had any pity to offer now, it would be for a motheror sister who might wish that he slept nearer home. "

This last remark carried our minds far away from their presentsurroundings to other graves which were not on the trail. There was along silence. We lay around the camp-fire and gazed into its depths, while its flickering light threw our shadows out beyond the circle. Our reverie was finally broken by Ash Borrowstone, who was by all oddsthe most impressionable and emotional one in the outfit, a man whoalways argued the moral side of every question, yet could not becredited with possessing an iota of moral stamina. Gloomy as we were, he added to our depression by relating a pathetic incident whichoccurred at a child's funeral, when Flood reproved him, saying, --

"Well, neither that one you mention, nor this one of Pierce's man isany of our funeral. We're on the trail with Lovell's cattle. Youshould keep nearer the earth. "

There was a long silence after this reproof of the foreman. It wasevident there was a gloom settling over the outfit. Our thoughts wereranging wide. At last Rod Wheat spoke up and said that in order to getthe benefit of all the variations, the blues were not a bad thing tohave. 

But the depression of our spirits was not so easily dismissed. Inorder to avoid listening to the gloomy tales that were being narratedaround the camp-fire, a number of us got up and went out as if to lookup the night horses on picket. The Rebel and I pulled our picket pinsand changed our horses to fresh grazing, and after lying down amongthe horses, out of hearing of the camp, for over an hour, returned tothe wagon expecting to retire. A number of the boys were making downtheir beds, as it was already late; but on our arrival at the fire oneof the boys had just concluded a story, as gloomy as the others whichhad preceded it. 

"These stories you are all telling to-night, " said Flood, "remind meof what Lige Link said to the book agent when he was shearing sheep. 'I reckon, ' said Lige, 'that book of yours has a heap sight morepoetry in it than there is in shearing sheep. ' I wish I had gone onguard to-night, so I could have missed these stories. "

At this juncture the first guard rode in, having been relieved, andJohn Officer, who had exchanged places on guard that night with MossStrayhorn, remarked that the cattle were uneasy. 

"This outfit, " said he, "didn't half water the herd to-day. One thirdof them hasn't bedded down yet, and they don't act as if they aim to, either. There's no excuse for it in a well-watered country like this. I'll leave the saddle on my horse, anyhow. "

"Now that's the result, " said our foreman, "of the hour we spentaround that grave to-day, when we ought to have been tending to ourjob. This outfit, " he continued, when Officer returned from picketinghis horse, "have been trying to hold funeral services over that Pierceman's grave back there. You'd think so, anyway, from the tales they'vebeen telling. I hope you won't get the sniffles and tell any. "

"This letting yourself get gloomy, " said Officer, "reminds me of atime we once had at the 'J. H. ' camp in the Cherokee Strip. It was nearChristmas, and the work was all done up. The boys had blowed in theirsummer's wages and were feeling glum all over. One or two of the boyswere lamenting that they hadn't gone home to see the old folks. Thisgloomy feeling kept spreading until they actually wouldn't speak toeach other. One of them would go out and sit on the wood pile forhours, all by himself, and make a new set of good resolutions. Anotherwould go out and sit on the ground, on the sunny side of the corrals, and dig holes in the frozen earth with his knife. They wouldn't cometo meals when the cook called them. 

"Now, Miller, the foreman, didn't have any sympathy for them; in facthe delighted to see them in that condition. He hadn't any use for aman who wasn't dead tough under any condition. I've known him to camphis outfit on alkali water, so the men would get out in the morning, and every rascal beg leave to ride on the outside circle on themorning roundup. 

"Well, three days before Christmas, just when things were lookinggloomiest, there drifted up from the Cheyenne country one of the oldtimers. None of them had seen him in four years, though he had workedon that range before, and with the exception of myself, they all knewhim. He was riding the chuckline all right, but Miller gave him awelcome, as he was the real thing. He had been working out in thePan-handle country, New Mexico, and the devil knows where, since hehad left that range. He was meaty with news and scarey stories. Theboys would sit around and listen to him yarn, and now and then a smilewould come on their faces. Miller was delighted with his guest. He hadshown no signs of letting up at eleven o'clock the first night, whenhe happened to mention where he was the Christmas before. 

"'There was a little woman at the ranch, ' said he, 'wife of the owner, and I was helping her get up dinner, as we had quite a number of folksat the ranch. She asked me to make the bear sign--doughnuts, shecalled them--and I did, though she had to show me how some little. Well, fellows, you ought to have seen them--just sweet enough, brownedto a turn, and enough to last a week. All the folks at dinner that daypraised them. Since then, I've had a chance to try my hand severaltimes, and you may not tumble to the diversity of all myaccomplishments, but I'm an artist on bear sign. '

"Miller arose, took him by the hand, and said, 'That's straight, now, is it?'

"'That's straight. Making bear sign is my long suit. '

"'Mouse, ' said Miller to one of the boys, 'go out and bring in hissaddle from the stable and put it under my bed. Throw his horse in thebig pasture in the morning. He stays here until spring; and the firstspear of green grass I see, his name goes on the pay roll. This outfitis shy on men who can make bear sign. Now, I was thinking that youcould spread down your blankets on the hearth, but you can sleep withme to-night. You go to work on this specialty of yours right afterbreakfast in the morning, and show us what you can do in that line. '

"They talked quite a while longer, and then turned in for the night. The next morning after breakfast was over, he got the needed articlestogether and went to work. But there was a surprise in store for him. There was nearly a dozen men lying around, all able eaters. By teno'clock he began to turn them out as he said he could. When theregular cook had to have the stove to get dinner, the taste which wehad had made us ravenous for more. Dinner over, he went at them againin earnest. A boy riding towards the railroad with an important letterdropped in, and as he claimed he could only stop for a moment, westood aside until he had had a taste, though he filled himself like apoisoned pup. After eating a solid hour, he filled his pockets androde away. One of our regular men called after him, 'Don't tellanybody what we got. '

"We didn't get any supper that night. Not a man could have eaten abite. Miller made him knock off along in the shank of the evening, ashe had done enough for any one day. The next morning after breakfasthe fell to at the bear sign once more. Miller rolled a barrel of flourinto the kitchen from the storehouse, and told him to fly at them. 'About how many do you think you'll want?' asked our bear sign man. 

"'That big tub full won't be any too many, ' answered Miller. 'Some ofthese fellows haven't had any of this kind of truck since they werelittle boys. If this gets out, I look for men from other camps. '

"The fellow fell to his work like a thoroughbred, which he surely was. About ten o'clock two men rode up from a camp to the north, which theboy had passed the day before with the letter. They never went nearthe dug-out, but straight to the kitchen. That movement showed thatthey were on to the racket. An hour later old Tom Cave rode in, hishorse all in a lather, all the way from Garretson's camp, twenty-fivemiles to the east. The old sinner said that he had been on thefrontier some little time, and that there were the best bear sign hehad tasted in forty years. He refused to take a stool and sit downlike civilized folks, but stood up by the tub and picked out the oneswhich were a pale brown. 

"After dinner our man threw off his overshirt, unbuttoned his redundershirt and turned it in until you could see the hair on hisbreast. Rolling up his sleeves, he flew at his job once more. He wasgetting his work reduced to a science by this time. He rolled hisdough, cut his dough, and turned out the fine brown bear sign to thesatisfaction of all. 

"His capacity, however, was limited. About two o'clock Doc Langfordand two of his peelers were seen riding up. When he came into thekitchen, Doc swore by all that was good and holy that he hadn't heardthat our artist had come back to that country. But any one that wasnoticing could see him edge around to the tub. It was easy to see thathe was lying. This luck of ours was circulating faster than a secretamongst women. Our man, though, stood at his post like the boy on theburning deck. When night came on, he hadn't covered the bottom of thetub. When he knocked off, Doc Langford and his men gobbled up what wasleft. We gave them a mean look as they rode off, but they came backthe next day, five strong. Our regular men around camp didn't like it, the way things were going. They tried to act polite to"--

"Calling bear sign doughnuts, " interrupted Quince Forrest, "reminds mewhat"--

"Will you kindly hobble your lip, " said Officer; "I have the floor atpresent. As I was saying, they tried to act polite to company thatway, but we hadn't got a smell the second day. Our man showed no signsof fatigue, and told several good stories that night. He was tough. The next day was Christmas, but he had no respect for a holiday, andmade up a large batch of dough before breakfast. It was a good thinghe did, for early that morning 'Original' John Smith and four of hispeelers rode in from the west, their horses all covered with frost. They must have started at daybreak--it was a good twenty-two mileride. They wanted us to believe that they had simply come over tospend Christmas with us. Company that way, you can't say anything. Butthe easy manner in which they gravitated around that tub--not evenwaiting to be invited--told a different tale. They were not nearlysatisfied by noon. 

"Then who should come drifting in as we were sitting down to dinner, but Billy Dunlap and Jim Hale from Quinlin's camp, thirty miles southon the Cimarron. Dunlap always holed up like a bear in the winter, andseveral of the boys spilled their coffee at sight of him. He put up athin excuse just like the rest. Any one could see through it. Butthere it was again--he was company. Lots of us had eaten at his campand complained of his chuck; therefore, we were nice to him. Millercalled our man out behind the kitchen and told him to knock off if hewanted to. But he wouldn't do it. He was clean strain--I'm nottalking. Dunlap ate hardly any dinner, we noticed, and the very firstbatch of bear sign turned out, he loads up a tin plate and goes outand sits behind the storehouse in the sun, all alone in his glory. Hesatisfied himself out of the tub after that. 

"He and Hale stayed all night, and Dunlap kept every one awake withthe nightmare. Yes, kept fighting the demons all night. The nextmorning Miller told him that he was surprised that an old gray-hairedman like him didn't know when he had enough, but must gorge himselflike some silly kid. Miller told him that he was welcome to stay aweek if he wanted to, but he would have to sleep in the stable. It wascruel to the horses, but the men were entitled to a little sleep, atleast in the winter. Miller tempered his remarks with all kindness, and Dunlap acted as if he was sorry, and as good as admitted that hisyears were telling on him. That day our man filled his tub. He wassimply an artist on bear sign. "

"Calling bear sign doughnuts, " cut in Quince Forrest again, as soon ashe saw an opening, "reminds me what the little boy said who went"--

But there came a rumbling of many hoofs from the bed ground. "There'shell for you, " said half a dozen men in a chorus, and every man incamp ran for his horse but the cook, and he climbed into the wagon. The roar of the running cattle was like approaching thunder, but theflash from the six-shooters of the men on guard indicated they werequartering by camp, heading out towards the hills. Horses became soexcited they were difficult to bridle. There was plenty of earnest andsincere swearing done that night. All the fine sentiment andmelancholy of the hour previous vanished in a moment, as the men threwthemselves into their saddles, riding deep, for it was uncertainfooting to horses. 

Within two minutes from the time the herd left the bed ground, fourteen of us rode on their left point and across their front, firingour six-shooters in their faces. By the time the herd had covered ascant mile, we had thrown them into a mill. They had run so compactlythat there were no stragglers, so we loosened out and gave them room;but it was a long time before they relaxed any, but continued goinground and round like a water wheel or an endless chain. The foremanordered three men on the heaviest horses to split them. The men rodeout a short distance to get the required momentum, wheeled theirhorses, and, wedge-shaped, struck this sea of cattle and entered, butit instantly closed in their wake as though it had been water. For anhour they rode through the herd, back and forth, now from thisquarter, now from that, and finally the mill was broken. Aftermidnight, as luck would have it, heavy dark clouds banked in thenorthwest, and lightning flashed, and before a single animal had laindown, a drizzling rain set in. That settled it; it was an all-nightjob now. We drifted about hither and yon. Horses, men, and cattleturned their backs to the wind and rain and waited for morning. Wewere so familiar with the signs of coming day that we turned themloose half an hour before dawn, leaving herders, and rode for camp. 

As we groped our way in that dark hour before dawn, hungry, drenched, and bedraggled, there was nothing gleeful about us, while Bob Bladesexpressed his disgust over our occupation. "If ever I get home again, "said he, and the tones of his voice were an able second to hisremarks, "you all can go up the trail that want to, but here's onechicken that won't. There isn't a cowman in Texas who has money enoughto hire me again. "

"Ah, hell, now, " said Bull, "you oughtn't to let a little rain ruffleyour feathers that way. Cheer up, sonny; you may be rich some day yetand walk on brussels and velvet. "

CHAPTER XIX

FORTY ISLANDS FORD

After securing a count on the herd that morning and finding nothingshort, we trailed out up the North Platte River. It was an easycountry in which to handle a herd; the trail in places would run backfrom the river as far as ten miles, and again follow close in near theriver bottoms. There was an abundance of small creeks putting intothis fork of the Platte from the south, which afforded water for theherd and good camp grounds at night. Only twice after leaving Ogalallahad we been compelled to go to the river for water for the herd, andwith the exception of thunderstorms and occasional summer rains, theweather had been all one could wish. For the past week as we trailedup the North Platte, some one of us visited the river daily to noteits stage of water, for we were due to cross at Forty Islands, abouttwelve miles south of old Fort Laramie. The North Platte was verysimilar to the South Canadian, --a wide sandy stream without banks; andour experience with the latter was fresh in our memories. The stage ofwater had not been favorable, for this river also had its source inthe mountains, and as now midsummer was upon us, the season of heavyrainfall in the mountains, augmented by the melting snows, theprospect of finding a fordable stage of water at Forty Islands was notvery encouraging. 

We reached this well-known crossing late in the afternoon the thirdday after leaving the Wyoming line, and found one of the PrairieCattle Company's herds water-bound. This herd had been wintered on oneof that company's ranges on the Arkansaw River in southern Colorado, and their destination was in the Bad Lands near the mouth of theYellowstone, where the same company had a northern range. Flood knewthe foreman, Wade Scholar, who reported having been waterbound over aweek already with no prospect of crossing without swimming. Scholarknew the country thoroughly, and had decided to lie over until theriver was fordable at Forty Islands, as it was much the easiestcrossing on the North Platte, though there was a wagon ferry at FortLaramie. He returned with Flood to our camp, and the two talked overthe prospect of swimming it on the morrow. 

"Let's send the wagons up to the ferry in the morning, " said Flood, "and swim the herds. If you wait until this river falls, you areliable to have an experience like we had on the South Canadian, --lostthree days and bogged over a hundred cattle. When one of these sandyrivers has had a big freshet, look out for quicksands; but you knowthat as well as I do. Why, we've swum over half a dozen riversalready, and I'd much rather swim this one than attempt to ford itjust after it has fallen. We can double our outfits and be safelyacross before noon. I've got nearly a thousand miles yet to make, andhave just _got_ to get over. Think it over to-night, and have yourwagon ready to start with ours. "

Scholar rode away without giving our foreman any definite answer as towhat he would do, though earlier in the evening he had offered tothrow his herd well out of the way at the ford, and lend us anyassistance at his command. But when it came to the question ofcrossing his own herd, he seemed to dread the idea of swimming theriver, and could not be induced to say what he would do, but said thatwe were welcome to the lead. The next morning Flood and I accompaniedour wagon up to his camp, when it was plainly evident that he did notintend to send his wagon with ours, and McCann started on alone, though our foreman renewed his efforts to convince Scholar of thefeasibility of swimming the herds. Their cattle were thrown well awayfrom the ford, and Scholar assured us that his outfit would be on handwhenever we were ready to cross, and even invited all hands of us tocome to his wagon for dinner. When returning to our herd, Flood toldme that Scholar was considered one of the best foremen on the trail, and why he should refuse to swim his cattle was unexplainable. He musthave time to burn, but that didn't seem reasonable, for the earlierthrough cattle were turned loose on their winter range the better. Wewere in no hurry to cross, as our wagon would be gone all day, and itwas nearly high noon when we trailed up to the ford. 

With the addition to our force of Scholar and nine or ten of his men, we had an abundance of help, and put the cattle into the wateropposite two islands, our saddle horses in the lead as usual. Therewas no swimming water between the south shore and the first island, though it wet our saddle skirts for some considerable distance, thischannel being nearly two hundred yards wide. Most of our outfit tookthe water, while Scholar's men fed our herd in from the south bank, anumber of their men coming over as far as the first island. The secondisland lay down the stream some little distance; and as we pushed thecattle off the first one we were in swimming water in no time, but thesaddle horses were already landing on the second island, and our leadcattle struck out, and, breasting the water, swam as proudly as swans. The middle channel was nearly a hundred yards wide, the greaterportion of which was swimming, though the last channel was much wider. But our saddle horses had already taken it, and when within fiftyyards of the farther shore, struck solid footing. With our own outfitwe crowded the leaders to keep the chain of cattle unbroken, andbefore Honeyman could hustle his horses out of the river, our leadcattle had caught a foothold, were heading up stream and edging outfor the farther shore. 

I had one of the best swimming horses in our outfit, and Flood put mein the lead on the point. As my horse came out on the farther bank, Iam certain I never have seen a herd of cattle, before or since, whichpresented a prettier sight when swimming than ours did that day. Therewas fully four hundred yards of water on the angle by which wecrossed, nearly half of which was swimming, but with the two islandswhich gave them a breathing spell, our Circle Dots were taking thewater as steadily as a herd leaving their bed ground. Scholar and hismen were feeding them in, while half a dozen of our men on each islandwere keeping them moving. Honeyman and I pointed them out of theriver; and as they grazed away from the shore, they spread outfan-like, many of them kicking up their heels after they left thewater in healthy enjoyment of their bath. Long before they were halfover, the usual shouting had ceased, and we simply sat in our saddlesand waited for the long train of cattle to come up and cross. Withinless than half an hour from the time our saddle horses entered theNorth Platte, the tail end of our herd had landed safely on thefarther bank. 

[Illustration: SWIMMING THE PLATTE]

As Honeyman and I were the only ones of our outfit on the north sideof the river during the passage, Flood called to us from across thelast channel to graze the herd until relieved, when the remainder ofthe outfit returned to the south side to recover their discardedeffects and to get dinner with Scholar's wagon. I had imitatedHoneyman, and tied my boots to my cantle strings, so that my effectswere on the right side of the river; and as far as dinner wasconcerned, --well, I'd much rather miss it than swim the Platte twicein its then stage of water. There is a difference in daring in one'sduty and in daring out of pure venturesomeness, and if we missed ourdinners it would not be the first time, so we were quite willing tomake the sacrifice. If the Quirk family never achieve fame for daringby field and flood, until this one of the old man's boys brings thefamily name into prominence, it will be hopelessly lost to posterity. 

We allowed the cattle to graze of their own free will, and merelyturned in the sides and rear, but on reaching the second bottom of theriver, where they caught a good breeze, they lay down for theirnoonday siesta, which relieved us of all work but keeping watch overthem. The saddle horses were grazing about in plain view on the firstbottom, so Honeyman and I dismounted on a little elevation overlookingour charges. We were expecting the outfit to return promptly afterdinner was over, for it was early enough in the day to have trailedeight or ten miles farther. It would have been no trouble to send someone up the river to meet our wagon and pilot McCann to the herd, forthe trail left on a line due north from the river. We had beenlounging about for an hour while the cattle were resting, when ourattention was attracted by our saddle horses in the bottom. They werelooking at the ford, to which we supposed their attention had beenattracted by the swimming of the outfit, but instead only two of theboys showed up, and on sighting us nearly a mile away, they rodeforward very leisurely. Before their arrival we recognized them bytheir horses as Ash Borrowstone and Rod Wheat, and on their riding upthe latter said as he dismounted, --

"Well, they're going to cross the other herd, and they want you tocome back and point the cattle with that famous swimming horse ofyours. You'll learn after a while not to blow so much about yourmount, and your cutting horses, and your night horses, and yourswimming horses. I wish every horse of mine had a nigger brand on him, and I had to ride in the wagon, when it comes to swimming theserivers. And I'm not the only one that has a distaste for a wetproposition, for I wouldn't have to guess twice as to what's thematter with Scholar. But Flood has pounded him on the back ever sincehe met him yesterday evening to swim his cattle, until it's eitherswim or say he's afraid to, --it's 'Shoot, Luke, or give up the gun'with him. Scholar's a nice fellow, but I'll bet my interest in gooseheaven that I know what's the matter with him. And I'm not blaminghim, either; but I can't understand why our boss should take such aninterest in having him swim. It's none of his business if he swimsnow, or fords a month hence, or waits until the river freezes over inthe winter and crosses on the ice. But let the big augers wrangle itout; you noticed, Ash, that riot one of Scholar's outfit ever said aword one way or the other, but Flood poured it into him until heconsented to swim. So fork that swimming horse of yours and wet yourbig toe again in the North Platte. "

As the orders had come from the foreman, there was nothing to do butobey. Honeyman rode as far as the river with me, where after sheddingmy boots and surplus clothing and secreting them, I rode up above theisland and plunged in. I was riding the gray which I had tried in theRio Grande the day we received the herd, and now that I understoodhandling him better, I preferred him to Nigger Boy, my night horse. Wetook the first and second islands with but a blowing spell between, and when I reached the farther shore, I turned in my saddle and sawHoneyman wave his hat to me in congratulation. On reaching theirwagon, I found the herd was swinging around about a mile out from theriver, in order to get a straight shoot for the entrance at the ford. I hurriedly swallowed my dinner, and as we rode out to meet the herd, asked Flood if Scholar were not going to send his wagon up to theferry to cross, for there was as yet no indication of it. Floodreplied that Scholar expected to go with the wagon, as he needed somesupplies which he thought he could get from the sutler at FortLaramie. 

Flood ordered me to take the lower point again, and I rode across thetrail and took my place when the herd came within a quarter of a mileof the river, while the remainder of the outfit took positions nearthe lead on the lower side. It was a slightly larger herd thanours, --all steers, three-year-olds that reflected in their glossycoats the benefits of a northern winter. As we came up to the water'sedge, it required two of their men to force their _remuda_ into thewater, though it was much smaller than ours, --six horses to the man, but better ones than ours, being northern wintered. The cattle werewell trail-broken, and followed the leadership of the saddle horsesnicely to the first island, but they would have balked at this secondchannel, had it not been for the amount of help at hand. We lined themout, however, and they breasted the current, and landed on the secondisland. The saddle horses gave some little trouble on leaving for thefarther shore, and before they were got off, several hundred head ofcattle had landed on the island. But they handled obediently and weresoon trailing out upon terra firma, the herd following across withouta broken link in the chain. There was nothing now to do but keep thetrain moving into the water on the south bank, see that they did notcongest on the islands, and that they left the river on reaching thefarther shore. When the saddle horses reached the farther bank, theywere thrown up the river and turned loose, so that the two men wouldbe available to hold the herd after it left the water. I had crossedwith the first lead cattle to the farther shore, and was turning themup the river as fast as they struck solid footing on that side. Butseveral times I was compelled to swim back to the nearest island, andreturn with large bunches which had hesitated to take the lastchannel. 

The two outfits were working promiscuously together, and I never knewwho was the directing spirit in the work; but when the last two orthree hundred of the tail-enders were leaving the first island for thesecond, and the men working in the rear started to swim the channel, amid the general hilarity I recognized a shout that was born of fearand terror. A hushed silence fell over the riotous riders in theriver, and I saw those on the sand bar nearest my side rush down thenarrow island and plunge back into the middle channel. Then it dawnedon my mind in a flash that some one had lost his seat, and thatterrified cry was for help. I plunged my gray into the river and swamto the first bar, and from thence to the scene of the trouble. Horsesand men were drifting with the current down the channel, and as Iappealed to the men I could get no answer but their blanched faces, though it was plain in every countenance that one of our number wasunder water if not drowned. There were not less than twenty horsemendrifting in the middle channel in the hope that whoever it was wouldcome to the surface, and a hand could be stretched out in succor. 

About two hundred yards down the river was an island near the middleof the stream. The current carried us near it, and, on landing, Ilearned that the unfortunate man was none other than Wade Scholar, theforeman of the herd. We scattered up and down this middle island andwatched every ripple and floating bit of flotsam in the hope that hewould come to the surface, but nothing but his hat was seen. In thedisorder into which the outfits were thrown by this accident, Floodfirst regained his thinking faculties, and ordered a few of us tocross to either bank, and ride down the river and take up positions onthe other islands, from which that part of the river took its name. Ahundred conjectures were offered as to how it occurred; but no one saweither horse or rider after sinking. A free horse would be hard todrown, and on the nonappearance of Scholar's mount it was concludedthat he must have become entangled in the reins or that Scholar hadclutched them in his death grip, and horse and man thus met deathtogether. It was believed by his own outfit that Scholar had nointention until the last moment to risk swimming the river, but whenhe saw all the others plunge into the channel, his better judgment wasovercome, and rather than remain behind and cause comment, he hadfollowed and lost his life. 

We patrolled the river until darkness without result, the two herds inthe mean time having been so neglected that they had mixed. Our wagonreturned along the north bank early in the evening, and Flood orderedPriest to go in and make up a guard from the two outfits and hold theherd for the night. Some one of Scholar's outfit went back and movedtheir wagon up to the crossing, within hailing distance of ours. Itwas a night of muffled conversation, and every voice of the night orcry of waterfowl in the river sent creepy sensations over us. The longnight passed, however, and the sun rose in Sabbath benediction, for itwas Sunday, and found groups of men huddled around two wagons insilent contemplation of what the day before had brought. A more brokenand disconsolate set of men than Scholar's would be hard to imagine. 

Flood inquired of their outfit if there was any sub-foreman, or_segundo_ as they were generally called. It seemed there was not, buttheir outfit was unanimous that the leadership should fall to aboyhood acquaintance of Scholar's by the name of Campbell, who wasgenerally addressed as "Black" Jim. Flood at once advised Campbell tosend their wagon up to Laramie and cross it, promising that we wouldlie over that day and make an effort to recover the body of thedrowned foreman. Campbell accordingly started his wagon up to theferry, and all the remainder of the outfits, with the exception of afew men on herd, started out in search of the drowned man. Within amile and a half below the ford, there were located over thirty of theforty islands, and at the lower end of this chain of sand bars webegan and searched both shores, while three or four men swam to eachisland and made a vigorous search. 

The water in the river was not very clear, which called for a closeinspection; but with a force of twenty-five men in the hunt, wecovered island and shore rapidly in our search. It was about eight inthe morning, and we had already searched half of the islands, when JoeStallings and two of Scholar's men swam to an island in the riverwhich had a growth of small cottonwoods covering it, while on theupper end was a heavy lodgment of driftwood. John Officer, The Rebel, and I had taken the next island above, and as we were riding theshallows surrounding it we heard a shot in our rear that told us thebody had been found. As we turned in the direction of the signal, Stallings was standing on a large driftwood log, and signaling. Westarted back to him, partly wading and partly swimming, while fromboth sides of the river men were swimming their horses for the brushyisland. Our squad, on nearing the lower bar, was compelled to swimaround the driftwood, and some twelve or fifteen men from either shorereached the scene before us. The body was lying face upward, in abouteighteen inches of eddy water. Flood and Campbell waded out, andtaking a lariat, fastened it around his chest under the arms. ThenFlood, noticing I was riding my black, asked me to tow the bodyashore. Forcing a passage through the driftwood, I took the loose endof the lariat and started for the north bank, the double outfitfollowing. On reaching the shore, the body was carried out of thewater by willing hands, and one of our outfit was sent to the wagonfor a tarpaulin to be used as a stretcher. 

Meanwhile, Campbell took possession of the drowned foreman's watch, six-shooter, purse, and papers. The watch was as good as ruined, butthe leather holster had shrunk and securely held the gun from beinglost in the river. On the arrival of the tarpaulin, the body was laidupon it, and four mounted men, taking the four corners of the sheet, wrapped them on the pommels of their saddles and started for ourwagon. When the corpse had been lowered to the ground at our camp, alook of inquiry passed from face to face which seemed to ask, "Whatnext?" But the inquiry was answered a moment later by Black JimCampbell, the friend of the dead man. Memory may have dimmed thelesser details of that Sunday morning on the North Platte, for overtwo decades have since gone, but his words and manliness have lived, not only in my mind, but in the memory of every other survivor ofthose present. "This accident, " said he in perfect composure, as hegazed into the calm, still face of his dead friend, "will impose on mea very sad duty. I expect to meet his mother some day. She will wantto know everything. I must tell her the truth, and I'd hate to tellher we buried him like a dog, for she's a Christian woman. And whatmakes it all the harder, I know that this is the third boy she haslost by drowning. Some of you may not have understood him, but amongthose papers which you saw me take from his pockets was a letter fromhis mother, in which she warned him to guard against just what hashappened. Situated as we are, I'm going to ask you all to help me givehim the best burial we can. No doubt it will be crude, but it will besome solace to her to know we did the best we could. "

Every one of us was eager to lend his assistance. Within five minutesPriest was galloping up the north bank of the river to intercept thewagon at the ferry, a well-filled purse in his pocket with which tosecure a coffin at Fort Laramie. Flood and Campbell selected a burialplace, and with our wagon spade a grave was being dug on a near-bygrassy mound, where there were two other graves. 

There was not a man among us who was hypocrite enough to attempt toconduct a Christian burial service, but when the subject came up, McCann said as he came down the river the evening before he noticed anemigrant train of about thirty wagons going into camp at a grove aboutfive miles up the river. In a conversation which he had had with oneof the party, he learned that they expected to rest over Sunday. Theirrespect for the Sabbath day caused Campbell to suggest that theremight be some one in the emigrant camp who could conduct a Christianburial, and he at once mounted his horse and rode away to learn. 

In preparing the body for its last resting-place we were badlyhandicapped, but by tearing a new wagon sheet into strips about a footin width and wrapping the body, we gave it a humble bier in the shadeof our wagon, pending the arrival of the coffin. The features were soashened by having been submerged in the river for over eighteen hours, that we wrapped the face also, as we preferred to remember him as wehad seen him the day before, strong, healthy, and buoyant. During theinterim, awaiting the return of Campbell from the emigrant camp and ofthe wagon, we sat around in groups and discussed the incident. Therewas a sense of guilt expressed by a number of our outfit over theirhasty decision regarding the courage of the dead man. When weunderstood that two of his brothers had met a similar fate in RedRiver within the past five years, every guilty thought or hasty wordspoken came back to us with tenfold weight. Priest and Campbellreturned together; the former reported having secured a coffin whichwould arrive within an hour, while the latter had met in the emigrantcamp a superannuated minister who gladly volunteered his services. Hehad given the old minister such data as he had, and two of theminister's granddaughters had expressed a willingness to assist bysinging at the burial services. Campbell had set the hour for four, and several conveyances would be down from the emigrant camp. Thewagon arriving shortly afterward, we had barely time to lay the corpsein the coffin before the emigrants drove up. The minister was a tall, homely man, with a flowing beard, which the frosts of many a winterhad whitened, and as he mingled amongst us in the final preparations, he had a kind word for every one. There were ten in his party; andwhen the coffin had been carried out to the grave, the twogranddaughters of the old man opened the simple service by singingvery impressively the first three verses of the Portuguese Hymn. I hadheard the old hymn sung often before, but the impression of the lastverse rang in my ears for days afterward. 

 "When through the deep waters I call thee to go, The rivers of sorrow shall not overflow; For I will be with thee thy troubles to bless, And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress. "

As the notes of the hymn died away, there was for a few momentsprofound stillness, and not a move was made by any one. The touchingwords of the old hymn expressed quite vividly the disaster of theprevious day, and awakened in us many memories of home. For a time wewere silent, while eyes unused to weeping filled with tears. I do notknow how long we remained so. It may have been only for a moment, itprobably was; but I do know the silence was not broken till the agedminister, who stood at the head of the coffin, began his discourse. Westood with uncovered heads during the service, and when the oldminister addressed us he spoke as though he might have been holdingfamily worship and we had been his children. He invoked Heaven tocomfort and sustain the mother when the news of her son's deathreached her, as she would need more than human aid in that hour; heprayed that her faith might not falter and that she might again meetand be with her loved ones forever in the great beyond. He then tookup the subject of life, --spoke of its brevity, its many hopes that arenever realized, and the disappointments from which no prudence orforesight can shield us. He dwelt at some length on the strangemingling of sunshine and shadow that seemed to belong to every life;on the mystery everywhere, and nowhere more impressively than inourselves. With his long bony finger he pointed to the cold, mute formthat lay in the coffin before us, and said, "But this, my friends, isthe mystery of all mysteries. " The fact that life terminated in death, he said, only emphasized its reality; that the death of our companionwas not an accident, though it was sudden and unexpected; that thedifficulties of life are such that it would be worse than folly in usto try to meet them in our own strength. Death, he said, might change, but it did not destroy; that the soul still lived and would liveforever; that death was simply the gateway out of time into eternity;and if we were to realize the high aim of our being, we could do so bycasting our burdens on Him who was able and willing to carry them forus. He spoke feelingly of the Great Teacher, the lowly Nazarene, whoalso suffered and died, and he concluded with an eloquent descriptionof the blessed life, the immortality of the soul, and the resurrectionof the body. After the discourse was ended and a brief and earnestprayer was covered, the two young girls sang the hymn, "Shall we meetbeyond the river?" The services being at an end, the coffin waslowered into the grave. 

Campbell thanked the old minister and his two granddaughters on theirtaking leave, for their presence and assistance; and a number of usboys also shook hands with the old man at parting. 

CHAPTER XX

A MOONLIGHT DRIVE

The two herds were held together a second night, but after they hadgrazed a few hours the next morning, the cattle were thrown together, and the work of cutting out ours commenced. With a double outfit ofmen available, about twenty men were turned into the herd to do thecutting, the remainder holding the main herd and looking after thecut. The morning was cool, every one worked with a vim, and in abouttwo hours the herds were again separated and ready for the finaltrimming. Campbell did not expect to move out until he couldcommunicate with the head office of the company, and would go up toFort Laramie for that purpose during the day, hoping to be able to geta message over the military wire. When his outfit had finishedretrimming our herd, and we had looked over his cattle for the lasttime, the two outfits bade each other farewell, and our herd startedon its journey. 

The unfortunate accident at the ford had depressed our feelings tosuch an extent that there was an entire absence of hilarity by theway. This morning the farewell songs generally used in parting with ariver which had defied us were omitted. The herd trailed out like animmense serpent, and was guided and controlled by our men as if bymutes. Long before the noon hour, we passed out of sight of FortyIslands, and in the next few days, with the change of scene, the gloomgradually lifted. We were bearing almost due north, and passingthrough a delightful country. To our left ran a range of mountains, while on the other hand sloped off the apparently limitless plain. Thescarcity of water was beginning to be felt, for the streams which hadnot a source in the mountains on our left had dried up weeks beforeour arrival. There was a gradual change of air noticeable too, for wewere rapidly gaining altitude, the heat of summer being now confinedto a few hours at noonday, while the nights were almost too cool forour comfort. 

When about three days out from the North Platte, the mountainsdisappeared on our left, while on the other hand appeared arugged-looking country, which we knew must be the approaches of theBlack Hills. Another day's drive brought us into the main stage roadconnecting the railroad on the south with the mining camps whichnestled somewhere in those rocky hills to our right. The stage roadfollowed the trail some ten or fifteen miles before we parted companywith it on a dry fork of the Big Cheyenne River. There was a roadhouse and stage stand where these two thoroughfares separated, the oneto the mining camp of Deadwood, while ours of the Montana cattle trailbore off for the Powder River to the northwest. At this stage stand welearned that some twenty herds had already passed by to the northernranges, and that after passing the next fork of the Big Cheyenne weshould find no water until we struck the Powder River, --a stretch ofeighty miles. The keeper of the road house, a genial host, informed usthat this drouthy stretch in our front was something unusual, thisbeing one of the dryest summers that he had experienced since thediscovery of gold in the Black Hills. 

Here was a new situation to be met, an eighty-mile dry drive; and withour experience of a few months before at Indian Lakes fresh in ourmemories, we set our house in order for the undertaking before us. Itwas yet fifteen miles to the next and last water from the stage stand. There were several dry forks of the Cheyenne beyond, but as they hadtheir source in the tablelands of Wyoming, we could not hope for waterin their dry bottoms. The situation was serious, with only thisencouragement: other herds had crossed this arid belt since thestreams had dried up, and our Circle Dots could walk with any herdthat ever left Texas. The wisdom of mounting us well for just such anemergency reflected the good cow sense of our employer; and we felteasy in regard to our mounts, though there was not a horse or a mantoo many. In summing up the situation, Flood said, "We've got thisadvantage over the Indian Lake drive: there is a good moon, and thedays are cool. We'll make twenty-five miles a day covering thisstretch, as this herd has never been put to a test yet to see how farthey could walk in a day. They'll have to do their sleeping at noon;at least cut it into two shifts, and if we get any sleep we'll have todo the same. Let her come as she will; every day's drive is a daynearer the Blackfoot agency. "

We made a dry camp that night on the divide between the road house andthe last water, and the next forenoon reached the South Fork of theBig Cheyenne. The water was not even running in it, but there wereseveral long pools, and we held the cattle around them for over anhour, until every hoof had been thoroughly watered. McCann had filledevery keg and canteen in advance of the arrival of the herd, and Floodhad exercised sufficient caution, in view of what lay before us, tobuy an extra keg and a bull's-eye lantern at the road house. Afterwatering, we trailed out some four or five miles and camped for noon, but the herd were allowed to graze forward until they lay down fortheir noonday rest. As the herd passed opposite the wagon, we cut afat two-year-old stray heifer and killed her for beef, for the innerman must be fortified for the journey before us. After a two hours'siesta, we threw the herd on the trail and started on our way. Thewagon and saddle horses were held in our immediate rear, for there wasno telling when or where we would make our next halt of anyconsequence. We trailed and grazed the herd alternately until nearevening, when the wagon was sent on ahead about three miles to getsupper, while half the outfit went along to change mounts and catch uphorses for those remaining behind with the herd. A half hour beforethe usual bedding time, the relieved men returned and took the grazingherd, and the others rode in to the wagon for supper and a change ofmounts. While we shifted our saddles, we smelled the savory odor offresh beef frying. 

"Listen to that good old beef talking, will you?" said Joe Stallings, as he was bridling his horse. "McCann, I'll take my _carne fresco_ atrifle rare to-night, garnished with a sprig of parsley and a wee bitof lemon. "

Before we had finished supper, Honeyman had rehooked the mules to thewagon, while the _remuda_ was at hand to follow. Before we left thewagon, a full moon was rising on the eastern horizon, and as we werestarting out Flood gave us these general directions: "I'm going totake the lead with the cook's lantern, and one of you rear men takethe new bull's-eye. We'll throw the herd on the trail; and between thelead and rear light, you swing men want to ride well outside, and youpoint men want to hold the lead cattle so the rear will never be morethan a half a mile behind. I'll admit that this is somewhat of anexperiment with me, but I don't see any good reason why she won'twork. After the moon gets another hour high we can see a quarter of amile, and the cattle are so well trail broke they'll never try toscatter. If it works all right, we'll never bed them short ofmidnight, and that will put us ten miles farther. Let's ride, lads. "

By the time the herd was eased back on the trail, our eveningcamp-fire had been passed, while the cattle led out as if walking on awager. After the first mile on the trail, the men on the point werecompelled to ride in the lead if we were to hold them within thedesired half mile. The men on the other side, or the swing, weregradually widening, until the herd must have reached fully a mile inlength; yet we swing riders were never out of sight of each other, andit would have been impossible for any cattle to leave the herdunnoticed. In that moonlight the trail was as plain as day, and afteran hour, Flood turned his lantern over to one of the point men, androde back around the herd to the rear. From my position that firstnight near the middle of the swing, the lanterns both rear and forwardbeing always in sight, I was as much at sea as any one as to thelength of the herd, knowing the deceitfulness of distance of campfiresand other lights by night. The foreman appealed to me as he rode downthe column, to know the length of the herd, but I could give him nomore than a simple guess. I could assure him, however, that the cattlehad made no effort to drop out and leave the trail. But a short timeafter he passed me I noticed a horseman galloping up the column on theopposite side of the herd, and knew it must be the foreman. Within ashort time, some one in the lead wig-wagged his lantern; it wasanswered by the light in the rear, and the next minute the old rearsong, --

 "Ip-e-la-ago, go 'long little doggie, You 'll make a beef-steer by-and-by, "--

reached us riders in the swing, and we knew the rear guard of cattlewas being pushed forward. The distance between the swing men graduallynarrowed in our lead, from which we could tell the leaders were beingheld in, until several times cattle grazed out from the herd, due tothe checking in front. At this juncture Flood galloped around the herda second time, and as he passed us riding along our side, I appealedto him to let them go in front, as it now required constant riding tokeep the cattle from leaving the trail to graze. When he passed up theopposite side, I could distinctly hear the men on that flank making asimilar appeal, and shortly afterwards the herd loosened out and westruck our old gait for several hours. 

Trailing by moonlight was a novelty to all of us, and in the stillnessof those splendid July nights we could hear the point men chattingacross the lead in front, while well in the rear, the rattling of ourheavily loaded wagon and the whistling of the horse wrangler to hischarges reached our ears. The swing men were scattered so far apartthere was no chance for conversation amongst us, but every once in awhile a song would be started, and as it surged up and down the line, every voice, good, bad, and indifferent, joined in. Singing issupposed to have a soothing effect on cattle, though I will vouch forthe fact that none of our Circle Dots stopped that night to listen toour vocal efforts. The herd was traveling so nicely that our foremanhardly noticed the passing hours, but along about midnight the singingceased, and we were nodding in our saddles and wondering if they inthe lead were never going to throw off the trail, when a greatwig-wagging occurred in front, and presently we overtook The Rebel, holding the lantern and turning the herd out of the trail. It was thenafter midnight, and within another half hour we had the cattle beddeddown within a few hundred yards of the trail. One-hour guards was theorder of the night, and as soon as our wagon and saddle horses cameup, we stretched ropes and caught out our night horses. These weeither tied to the wagon wheels or picketed near at hand, and then wesought our blankets for a few hours' sleep. It was half past three inthe morning when our guard was called, and before the hour passed, thefirst signs of day were visible in the east. But even before our watchhad ended, Flood and the last guard came to our relief, and we pushedthe sleeping cattle off the bed ground and started them grazingforward. 

Cattle will not graze freely in a heavy dew or too early in themorning, and before the sun was high enough to dry the grass, we hadput several miles behind us. When the sun was about an hour high, theremainder of the outfit overtook us, and shortly afterward the wagonand saddle horses passed on up the trail, from which it was evidentthat "breakfast would be served in the dining car ahead, " as thetraveled Priest aptly put it. After the sun was well up, the cattlegrazed freely for several hours; but when we sighted the _remuda_ andour commissary some two miles in our lead, Flood ordered the herdlined up for a count. The Rebel was always a reliable counter, and heand the foreman now rode forward and selected the crossing of a drywash for the counting. On receiving their signal to come on, weallowed the herd to graze slowly forward, but gradually pointed theminto an immense "V, " and as the point of the herd crossed the dryarroyo, we compelled them to pass in a narrow file between the twocounters, when they again spread out fan-like and continued theirfeeding. 

The count confirmed the success of our driving by night, and on itscompletion all but two men rode to the wagon for breakfast. By thetime the morning meal was disposed of, the herd had come up parallelwith the wagon but a mile to the westward, and as fast as fresh mountscould be saddled, we rode away in small squads to relieve the herdersand to turn the cattle into the trail. It was but a little after eighto'clock in the morning when the herd was again trailing out on thePowder River trail, and we had already put over thirty miles of thedry drive behind us, while so far neither horses nor cattle had beenput to any extra exertion. The wagon followed as usual, and for overthree hours we held the trail without a break, when sighting a dividein our front, the foreman went back and sent the wagon around the herdwith instructions to make the noon camp well up on the divide. Wethrew the herd off the trail, within a mile of this stopping place, and allowed them to graze, while two thirds of the outfit gallopedaway to the wagon. 

We allowed the cattle to lie down and rest to their completesatisfaction until the middle of the afternoon; meanwhile all hands, with the exception of two men on herd, also lay down and slept in theshade of the wagon. When the cattle had had several hours' sleep, thewant of water made them restless, and they began to rise and grazeaway. Then all hands were aroused and we threw them upon the trail. The heat of the day was already over, and until the twilight of theevening, we trailed a three-mile clip, and again threw the herd off tograze. By our traveling and grazing gaits, we could form anapproximate idea as to the distance we had covered, and the consensusof opinion of all was that we had already killed over half thedistance. The herd was beginning to show the want of water by evening, but amongst our saddle horses the lack of water was more noticeable, as a horse subsisting on grass alone weakens easily; and riding themmade them all the more gaunt. When we caught up our mounts thatevening, we had used eight horses to the man since we had left theSouth Fork, and another one would be required at midnight, or wheneverwe halted. 

We made our drive the second night with more confidence than the onebefore, but there were times when the train of cattle must have beennearly two miles in length, yet there was never a halt as long as theman with the lead light could see the one in the rear. We bedded theherd about midnight; and at the first break of day, the fourth guardwith the foreman joined us on our watch and we started the cattleagain. There was a light dew the second night, and the cattle, hungered by their night walk, went to grazing at once on the dampgrass, which would allay their thirst slightly. We allowed them toscatter over several thousand acres, for we were anxious to graze themwell before the sun absorbed the moisture, but at the same time everystep they took was one less to the coveted Powder River. 

When we had grazed the herd forward several miles, and the sun wasnearly an hour high, the wagon failed to come up, which caused ourforeman some slight uneasiness. Nearly another hour passed, and stillthe wagon did not come up nor did the outfit put in an appearance. Soon afterwards, however, Moss Strayhorn overtook us, and reportedthat over forty of our saddle horses were missing, while the workmules had been overtaken nearly five miles back on the trail. Onaccount of my ability as a trailer, Flood at once dispatched me toassist Honeyman in recovering the missing horses, instructing some oneelse to take the _remuda_, and the wagon and horses to follow up theherd. By the time I arrived, most of the boys at camp had secured achange of horses, and I caught up my _grulla_, that I was saving forthe last hard ride, for the horse hunt which confronted us. McCann, having no fire built, gave Honeyman and myself an impromptu breakfastand two canteens of water; but before we let the wagon get away, werustled a couple of cans of tomatoes and buried them in a cache nearthe camp-ground, where we would have no trouble in finding them on ourreturn. As the wagon pulled out, we mounted our horses and rode backdown the trail. 

Billy Honeyman understood horses, and at once volunteered the beliefthat we would have a long ride overtaking the missing saddle stock. The absent horses, he said, were principally the ones which had beenunder saddle the day before, and as we both knew, a tired, thirstyhorse will go miles for water. He recalled, also, that while we wereasleep at noon the day before, twenty miles back on the trail, thehorses had found quite a patch of wild sorrel plant, and were foolishover leaving it. Both of us being satisfied that this would hold themfor several hours at least, we struck a free gait for it. After wepassed the point where the mules had been overtaken, the trail of thehorses was distinct enough for us to follow in an easy canter. We sawfrequent signs that they left the trail, no doubt to graze, but onlyfor short distances, when they would enter it again, and keep it formiles. Shortly before noon, as we gained the divide above our nooncamp of the day before, there about two miles distant we saw ourmissing horses, feeding over an alkali flat on which grew wild sorreland other species of sour plants. We rounded them up, and finding nonemissing, we first secured a change of mounts. The only two horses ofmy mount in this portion of the _remuda_ had both been under saddlethe afternoon and night before, and were as gaunt as rails, andHoneyman had one unused horse of his mount in the hand. So when, taking down our ropes, we halted the horses and began riding slowlyaround them, forcing them into a compact body, I had my eye on a brownhorse of Flood's that had not had a saddle on in a week, and toldBilly to fasten to him if he got a chance. This was in violation ofall custom, but if the foreman kicked, I had a good excuse to offer. 

Honeyman was left-handed and threw a rope splendidly; and as wecircled around the horses on opposite sides, on a signal from him wewhirled our lariats and made casts simultaneously. The wranglerfastened to the brown I wanted, and my loop settled around the neck ofhis unridden horse. As the band broke away from our swinging ropes, anumber of them ran afoul of my rope; but I gave the rowel to my_grulla_, and we shook them off. When I returned to Honeyman, and wehad exchanged horses and were shifting our saddles, I complimented himon the long throw he had made in catching the brown, and incidentallymentioned that I had read of vaqueros in California who used asixty-five foot lariat. "Hell, " said Billy, in ridicule of the idea, "there wasn't a man ever born who could throw a sixty-five foot ropeits full length--without he threw it down a well. "

The sun was straight overhead when we started back to overtake theherd. We struck into a little better than a five-mile gait on thereturn trip, and about two o'clock sighted a band of saddle horses anda wagon camped perhaps a mile forward and to the side of the trail. Oncoming near enough, we saw at a glance it was a cow outfit, and afterdriving our loose horses a good push beyond their camp, turned androde back to their wagon. 

"We 'll give them a chance to ask us to eat, " said Billy to me, "andif they don't, why, they'll miss a hell of a good chance to entertainhungry men. "

But the foreman with the stranger wagon proved to be a Bee CountyTexan, and our doubts did him an injustice, for, although dinner wasover, he invited us to dismount and ordered his cook to set outsomething to eat. They had met our wagon, and McCann had insisted ontheir taking a quarter of our beef, so we fared well. The outfit wasfrom a ranch near Miles City, Montana, and were going down to receivea herd of cattle at Cheyenne, Wyoming. The cattle had been bought atOgalalla for delivery at the former point, and this wagon was goingdown with their ranch outfit to take the herd on its arrival. They hadbrought along about seventy-five saddle horses from the ranch, thoughin buying the herd they had taken its _remuda_ of over a hundredsaddle horses. The foreman informed us that they had met our cattleabout the middle of the forenoon, nearly twenty-five miles out fromPowder River. After we had satisfied the inner man, we lost no timegetting off, as we could see a long ride ahead of us; but we hadoccasion as we rode away to go through their _remuda_ to cut out a fewof our horses which had mixed, and I found I knew over a dozen oftheir horses by the ranch brands, while Honeyman also recognized quitea few. Though we felt a pride in our mounts, we had to admit thattheirs were better; for the effect of climate had transformed horsesthat we had once ridden on ranches in southern Texas. It does seemincredible, but it is a fact nevertheless, that a horse, havingreached the years of maturity in a southern climate, will grow half ahand taller and carry two hundred pounds more flesh, when he hasundergone the rigors of several northern winters. 

We halted at our night camp to change horses and to unearth our cachedtomatoes, and again set out. By then it was so late in the day thatthe sun had lost its force, and on this last leg in overtaking theherd we increased our gait steadily until the sun was scarcely an hourhigh, and yet we never sighted a dust-cloud in our front. Aboutsundown we called a few minutes' halt, and after eating our tomatoesand drinking the last of our water, again pushed on. Twilight hadfaded into dusk before we reached a divide which we had had in sightfor several hours, and which we had hoped to gain in time to sight thetimber on Powder River before dark. But as we put mile after milebehind us, that divide seemed to move away like a mirage, and theevening star had been shining for an hour before we finally reachedit, and sighted, instead of Powder's timber, the campfire of ouroutfit about five miles ahead. We fired several shots on seeing thelight, in the hope that they might hear us in camp and wait; otherwisewe knew they would start the herd with the rising of the moon. 

When we finally reached camp, about nine o'clock at night, everythingwas in readiness to start, the moon having risen sufficiently. Ourshooting, however, had been heard, and horses for a change were tiedto the wagon wheels, while the remainder of the _remuda_ was underherd in charge of Rod Wheat. The runaways were thrown into the horseherd while we bolted our suppers. Meantime McCann informed us thatFlood had ridden that afternoon to the Powder River, in order to getthe lay of the land. He had found it to be ten or twelve miles distantfrom the present camp, and the water in the river barely knee deep toa saddle horse. Beyond it was a fine valley. Before we started, Floodrode in from the herd, and said to Honeyman, "I'm going to send thehorses and wagon ahead to-night, and you and McCann want to camp onthis side of the river, under the hill and just a few hundred yardsbelow the ford. Throw your saddle horses across the river, and build afire before you go to sleep, so we will have a beacon light to pilotus in, in case the cattle break into a run on scenting the water. Theherd will get in a little after midnight, and after crossing, we'llturn her loose just for luck. "

It did me good to hear the foreman say the herd was to be turnedloose, for I had been in the saddle since three that morning, hadridden over eighty miles, and had now ten more in sight, whileHoneyman would complete the day with over a hundred to his credit. Welet the _remuda_ take the lead in pulling out, so that the wagon mulescould be spurred to their utmost in keeping up with the loose horses. Once they were clear of the herd, we let the cattle into the trail. They had refused to bed down, for they were uneasy with thirst, butthe cool weather had saved them any serious suffering. We all feltgala as the herd strung out on the trail. Before we halted again therewould be water for our dumb brutes and rest for ourselves. There waslots of singing that night. "There's One more River to cross, " and"Roll, Powder, roll, " were wafted out on the night air to the coyotesthat howled on our flanks, or to the prairie dogs as they peeped fromtheir burrows at this weird caravan of the night, and the lights whichflickered in our front and rear must have been real Jack-o'-lanternsor Will-o'-the-wisps to these occupants of the plain. Before we hadcovered half the distance, the herd was strung-out over two miles, andas Flood rode back to the rear every half hour or so, he showed noinclination to check the lead and give the sore-footed rear guard achance to close up the column; but about an hour before midnight wesaw a light low down in our front, which gradually increased until thetreetops were distinctly visible, and we knew that our wagon hadreached the river. On sighting this beacon, the long yell went up anddown the column, and the herd walked as only long-legged, thirstyTexas cattle can walk when they scent water. Flood called all theswing men to the rear, and we threw out a half-circle skirmish linecovering a mile in width, so far back that only an occasional glimmerof the lead light could be seen. The trail struck the Powder on anangle, and when within a mile of the river, the swing cattle left thedeep-trodden paths and started for the nearest water. 

The left flank of our skirmish line encountered the cattle as theyreached the river, and prevented them from drifting up the stream. Thepoint men abandoned the leaders when within a few hundred yards of theriver. Then the rear guard of cripples and sore-footed cattle came up, and the two flanks of horsemen pushed them all across the river untilthey met, when we turned and galloped into camp, making the nighthideous with our yelling. The longest dry drive of the trip had beensuccessfully made, and we all felt jubilant. We stripped bridles andsaddles from our tired horses, and unrolling our beds, were soon lostin well-earned sleep. 

The stars may have twinkled overhead, and sundry voices of the nightmay have whispered to us as we lay down to sleep, but we were tootired for poetry or sentiment that night. 

CHAPTER XXI

THE YELLOWSTONE

The tramping of our _remuda_ as they came trotting up to the wagon thenext morning, and Honeyman's calling, "Horses, horses, " brought us tothe realization that another day had dawned with its duty. McCann hadstretched the ropes of our corral, for Flood was as dead to the worldas any of us were, but the tramping of over a hundred and forty horsesand mules, as they crowded inside the ropes, brought him into actionas well as the rest of us. We had had a good five hours' sleep, whileour mounts had been transformed from gaunt animals to round-barreledsaddle horses, --that fought and struggled amongst themselves orartfully dodged the lariat loops which were being cast after them. Honeyman reported the herd quietly grazing across the river, and aftersecuring our mounts for the morning, we breakfasted before lookingafter the cattle. It took us less than an hour to round up and countthe cattle, and turn them loose again under herd to graze. Those of usnot on herd returned to the wagon, and our foreman instructed McCannto make a two hours' drive down the river and camp for noon, as heproposed only to graze the herd that morning. After seeing the wagonsafely beyond the rocky crossing, we hunted up a good bathing pool anddisported ourselves for half an hour, taking a much needed bath. Therewere trails on either side of the Powder, and as our course washenceforth to the northwest, we remained on the west side and grazedor trailed down it. It was a beautiful stream of water, having itssource in the Big Horn Mountains, frequently visible on our left. Forthe next four or five days we had easy work. There were range cattlethrough that section, but fearful of Texas fever, their owners gavethe Powder River a wide berth. With the exception of holding the herdat night, our duties were light. We caught fish and killed grouse; andthe respite seemed like a holiday after our experience of the past fewdays. During the evening of the second day after reaching the Powder, we crossed the Crazy Woman, a clear mountainous fork of the formerriver, and nearly as large as the parent stream. Once or twice weencountered range riders, and learned that the Crazy Woman was a stockcountry, a number of beef ranches being located on it, stocked withTexas cattle. 

Somewhere near or about the Montana line, we took a left-hand trail. Flood had ridden it out until he had satisfied himself that it ledover to the Tongue River and the country beyond. While large trailsfollowed on down the Powder, their direction was wrong for us, as theyled towards the Bad Lands and the lower Yellowstone country. On thesecond day out, after taking the left-hand trail, we encountered somerough country in passing across a saddle in a range of hills formingthe divide between the Powder and Tongue rivers. We were nearly awhole day crossing it, but had a well-used trail to follow, and downin the foothills made camp that night on a creek which emptied intothe Tongue. The roughness of the trail was well compensated for, however, as it was a paradise of grass and water. We reached theTongue River the next afternoon, and found it a similar stream to thePowder, --clear as crystal, swift, and with a rocky bottom. As thesewere but minor rivers, we encountered no trouble in crossing them, thegreatest danger being to our wagon. On the Tongue we met range ridersagain, and from them we learned that this trail, which crossed theYellowstone at Frenchman's Ford, was the one in use by herds bound forthe Musselshell and remoter points on the upper Missouri. From onerider we learned that the first herd of the present season which wentthrough on this route were cattle wintered on the Niobrara in westernNebraska, whose destination was Alberta in the British possessions. This herd outclassed us in penetrating northward, though in distancethey had not traveled half as far as our Circle Dots. 

After following the Tongue River several days and coming out on thatimmense plain tributary to the Yellowstone, the trail turned to thenorthwest, gave us a short day's drive to the Rosebud River, and afterfollowing it a few miles, bore off again on the same quarter. In ourrear hung the mountains with their sentinel peaks, while in our frontstretched the valley tributary to the Yellowstone, in extent, itself, an inland empire. The month was August, and, with the exception ofcool nights, no complaint could be made, for that rarefied atmospherewas a tonic to man and beast, and there was pleasure in the primitivefreshness of the country which rolled away on every hand. On leavingthe Rosebud, two days' travel brought us to the east fork of SweetGrass, an insignificant stream, with a swift current and rockycrossings. In the first two hours after reaching it, we must havecrossed it half a dozen times, following the grassy bottoms, whichshifted from one bank to the other. When we were full forty milesdistant from Frenchman's Ford on the Yellowstone, the wagon, incrossing Sweet Grass, went down a sidling bank into the bottom of thecreek, the left hind wheel collided with a boulder in the water, dishing it, and every spoke in the wheel snapped off at the shoulderin the felloe. McCann never noticed it, but poured the whip into themules, and when he pulled out on the opposite bank left the felloe ofhis wheel in the creek behind. The herd was in the lead at the time, and when Honeyman overtook us and reported the accident, we threw theherd off to graze, and over half the outfit returned to the wagon. 

When we reached the scene, McCann had recovered the felloe, but everyspoke in the hub was hopelessly ruined. Flood took in the situation ata glance. He ordered the wagon unloaded and the reach lengthened, tookthe axe, and, with The Rebel, went back about a mile to a thicket oflodge poles which we had passed higher up the creek. While the rest ofus unloaded the wagon, McCann, who was swearing by both note andrhyme, unearthed his saddle from amongst the other plunder and cinchedit on his nigh wheeler. We had the wagon unloaded and had reloadedsome of the heaviest of the plunder in the front end of the wagon box, by the time our foreman and Priest returned, dragging from theirpommels a thirty-foot pole as perfect as the mast of a yacht. Weknocked off all the spokes not already broken at the hub of the ruinedwheel, and after jacking up the hind axle, attached the "crutch. " Bycutting a half notch in the larger end of the pole, so that it fittedover the front axle, lashing it there securely, and allowing the otherend to trail behind on the ground, we devised a support on which thehub of the broken wheel rested, almost at its normal height. There wassufficient spring to the pole to obviate any jolt or jar, while therearrangement we had effected in distributing the load would relieveit of any serious burden. We took a rope from the coupling pole of thewagon and loosely noosed it over the crutch, which allowed leeway inturning, but prevented the hub from slipping off the support on ashort turn to the left. Then we lashed the tire and felloe to thefront end of the wagon, and with the loss of but a couple of hours ourcommissary was again on the move. 

The trail followed the Sweet Grass down to the Yellowstone; and untilwe reached it, whenever there were creeks to ford or extra pulls onhills, half a dozen of us would drop back and lend a hand from oursaddle pommels. The gradual decline of the country to the river was inour favor at present, and we should reach the ford in two days at thefarthest, where we hoped to find a wheelwright. In case we did not, our foreman thought he could effect a trade for a serviceable wagon, as ours was a new one and the best make in the market. The next dayFlood rode on ahead to Frenchman's Ford, and late in the day returnedwith the information that the Ford was quite a pretentious frontiervillage of the squatter type. There was a blacksmith and a wheelwrightshop in the town, but the prospect of an exchange was discouraging, asthe wagons there were of the heavy freighting type, while ours was awide tread--a serious objection, as wagons manufactured for southerntrade were eight inches wider than those in use in the north, andtherefore would not track on the same road. The wheelwright hadassured Flood that the wheel could be filled in a day, with theexception of painting, and as paint was not important, he had decidedto move up within three or four miles of the Ford and lie over a dayfor repairing the wagon, and at the same time have our mules reshod. Accordingly we moved up the next morning, and after unloading thewagon, both box and contents, over half the outfit--the first andsecond guards--accompanied the wagon into the Ford. They were toreturn by noon, when the remainder of us were to have our turn inseeing the sights of Frenchman's Ford. The horse wrangler remainedbehind with us, to accompany the other half of the outfit in theafternoon. The herd was no trouble to hold, and after watering aboutthe middle of the forenoon, three of us went into camp and got dinner. As this was the first time since starting that our cook was absent, werather enjoyed the opportunity to practice our culinary skill. Pridein our ability to cook was a weakness in our craft. The work wasdivided up between Joe Stallings, John Officer, and myself, Honeymanbeing excused on agreeing to rustle the wood and water. Stallingsprided himself on being an artist in making coffee, and while huntingfor the coffee mill, found a bag of dried peaches. 

"Say, fellows, " said Joe, "I'll bet McCann has hauled this fruit athousand miles and never knew he had it amongst all this plunder. I'mgoing to stew a saucepan full of it, just to show his royal nibs thathe's been thoughtless of his boarders. "

Officer volunteered to cut and fry the meat, for we were eating straybeef now with great regularity; and the making of the biscuits fell tome. Honeyman soon had a fire so big that you could not have got nearit without a wet blanket on; and when my biscuits were ready for theDutch oven, Officer threw a bucket of water on the fire, remarking:"Honeyman, if you was _cusi segundo_ under me, and built up such a bigfire for the chef, there would be trouble in camp. You may be a goodenough horse wrangler for a through Texas outfit, but when it comes toplaying second fiddle to a cook of my accomplishments--well, yousimply don't know salt from wild honey. A man might as well try tocook on a burning haystack as on a fire of your building. "

When the fire had burned down sufficiently, the cooks got theirrespective utensils upon the fire; I had an ample supply of live coalsfor the Dutch oven, and dinner was shortly afterwards announced asready. After dinner, Officer and I relieved the men on herd, but overan hour passed before we caught sight of the first and second guardsreturning from the Ford. They were men who could stay in town all dayand enjoy themselves; but, as Flood had reminded them, there wereothers who were entitled to a holiday. When Bob Blades and FoxQuarternight came to our relief on herd, they attempted to detain uswith a description of Frenchman's Ford, but we cut all conversationshort by riding away to camp. 

"We'll just save them the trouble, and go in and see it forourselves, " said Officer to me, as we galloped along. We had left wordwith Honeyman what horses we wanted to ride that afternoon, and lostlittle time in changing mounts; then we all set out to pay ourrespects to the mushroom village on the Yellowstone. Most of us hadmoney; and those of the outfit who had returned were clean shaven andbrought the report that a shave was two-bits and a drink the sameprice. The town struck me as something new and novel, two thirds ofthe habitations being of canvas. Immense quantities of buffalo hideswere drying or already baled, and waiting transportation as weafterward learned to navigable points on the Missouri. Large bulltrains were encamped on the outskirts of the village, while many suchoutfits were in town, receiving cargoes or discharging freight. Thedrivers of these ox trains lounged in the streets and thronged thesaloons and gambling resorts. The population was extremely mixed, andalmost every language could be heard spoken on the streets. The menwere fine types of the pioneer, --buffalo hunters, freighters, andother plainsmen, though hardly as picturesque in figure and costume asa modern artist would paint them. For native coloring, there weretypical specimens of northern Indians, grunting their jargon amid thebabel of other tongues; and groups of squaws wandered through theirregular streets in gaudy blankets and red calico. The onlycivilizing element to be seen was the camp of engineers, running thesurvey of the Northern Pacific railroad. 

Tying our horses in a group to a hitch-rack in the rear of a salooncalled The Buffalo Bull, we entered by a rear door and lined up at thebar for our first drink since leaving Ogalalla. Games of chance wererunning in the rear for those who felt inclined to try their luck, while in front of the bar, against the farther wall, were a number ofsmall tables, around which were seated the patrons of the place, playing for the drinks. One couldn't help being impressed with theunrestrained freedom of the village, whose sole product seemed to bebuffalo hides. Every man in the place wore the regulation six-shooterin his belt, and quite a number wore two. The primitive law of natureknown as self-preservation, was very evident in August of '82 atFrenchman's Ford. It reminded me of the early days at home in Texas, where, on arising in the morning, one buckled on his six-shooter asthough it were part of his dress. After a second round of drinks, westrolled out into the front street to look up Flood and McCann, andincidentally get a shave. We soon located McCann, who had a hunk ofdried buffalo meat, and was chipping it off and feeding it to someIndian children whose acquaintance he seemed to be cultivating. Onsighting us, he gave the children the remainder of the jerked buffalo, and at once placed himself at our disposal as guide to Frenchman'sFord. He had been all over the town that morning; knew the name ofevery saloon and those of several barkeepers as well; pointed out thebullet holes in a log building where the last shooting scrapeoccurred, and otherwise showed us the sights in the village which wemight have overlooked. A barber shop? Why, certainly; and he led theway, informing us that the wagon wheel would be filled by evening, that the mules were already shod, and that Flood had ridden down tothe crossing to look at the ford. 

Two barbers turned us out rapidly, and as we left we continued to takein the town, strolling by pairs and drinking moderately as we went. Flood had returned in the mean time, and seemed rather convivial andquite willing to enjoy the enforced lay-over with us. While taking adrink in Yellowstone Bob's place, the foreman took occasion to callthe attention of The Rebel to a cheap lithograph of General Grantwhich hung behind the bar. The two discussed the merits of thepicture, and Priest, who was an admirer of the magnanimity as well asthe military genius of Grant, spoke in reserved yet favorable terms ofthe general, when Flood flippantly chided him on his eulogisticremarks over an officer to whom he had once been surrendered. TheRebel took the chaffing in all good humor, and when our glasses werefilled, Flood suggested to Priest that since he was such an admirer ofGrant, possibly he wished to propose a toast to the general's health. 

"You're young, Jim, " said The Rebel, "and if you'd gone through what Ihave, your views of things might be different. My admiration for thegenerals on our side survived wounds, prisons, and changes of fortune;but time has tempered my views on some things, and now I don't enthuseover generals when the men of the ranks who made them famous areforgotten. Through the fortunes of war, I saluted Grant when we weresurrendered, but I wouldn't propose a toast or take off my hat now toany man that lives. "

During the comments of The Rebel, a stranger, who evidently overheardthem, rose from one of the tables in the place and sauntered over tothe end of the bar, an attentive listener to the succeedingconversation. He was a younger man than Priest, --with a head of heavyblack hair reaching his shoulders, while his dress was largely ofbuckskin, profusely ornamented with beadwork and fringes. He wasarmed, as was every one else, and from his languid demeanor as well asfrom his smart appearance, one would classify him at a passing glanceas a frontier gambler. As we turned away from the bar to an unoccupiedtable, Priest waited for his change, when the stranger accosted himwith an inquiry as to where he was from. In the conversation thatensued, the stranger, who had noticed the good-humored manner in whichThe Rebel had taken the chiding of our foreman, pretending to take himto task for some of his remarks. But in this he made a mistake. Whathis friends might safely say to Priest would be treated as an insultfrom a stranger. Seeing that he would not stand his chiding, the otherattempted to mollify him by proposing they have a drink together andpart friendly, to which The Rebel assented. I was pleased with thefavorable turn of affairs, for my bunkie had used some rather severelanguage in resenting the remarks of the stranger, which now had thepromise of being dropped amicably. 

I knew the temper of Priest, and so did Flood and Honeyman, and wewere all anxious to get him away from the stranger. So I asked ourforeman as soon as they had drunk together, to go over and tell Priestwe were waiting for him to make up a game of cards. The two werestanding at the bar in a most friendly attitude, but as they raisedtheir glasses to drink, the stranger, holding his at arm's length, said: "Here's a toast for you: To General Grant, the ablest"--

But the toast was never finished, for Priest dashed the contents ofhis glass in the stranger's face, and calmly replacing the glass onthe bar, backed across the room towards us. When half-across, a suddenmovement on the part of the stranger caused him to halt. But it seemedthe picturesque gentleman beside the bar was only searching hispockets for a handkerchief. 

"Don't get your hand on that gun you wear, " said The Rebel, whoseblood was up, "unless you intend to use it. But you can't shoot aminute too quick to suit me. What do you wear a gun for, anyhow? Let'ssee how straight you can shoot. "

As the stranger made no reply, Priest continued, "The next time youhave anything to rub in, pick your man better. The man who insultsme'll get all that's due him for his trouble. " Still eliciting noresponse, The Rebel taunted him further, saying, "Go on and finishyour toast, you patriotic beauty. I'll give you another: Jeff Davisand the Southern Confederacy. "

We all rose from the table, and Flood, going over to Priest, said, "Come along, Paul we don't want to have any trouble here. Let's goacross the street and have a game of California Jack. "

But The Rebel stood like a chiseled statue, ignoring the friendlycounsel of our foreman, while the stranger, after wiping the liquorfrom his face and person, walked across the room and seated himself atthe table from which he had risen. A stillness as of death pervadedthe room, which was only broken by our foreman repeating his requestto Priest to come away, but the latter replied, "No; when I leave thisplace it will not be done in fear of any one. When any man goes out ofhis way to insult me he must take the consequences, and he can alwaysfind me if he wants satisfaction. We'll take another drink before wego. Everybody in the house, come up and take a drink with PaulPriest. "

The inmates of the place, to the number of possibly twenty, who hadbeen witness to what had occurred, accepted the invitation, quittingtheir games and gathering around the bar. Priest took a position atthe end of the bar, where he could notice any movement on the part ofhis adversary as well as the faces of his guests, and smiling on them, said in true hospitality, "What will you have, gentlemen?" There was aforced effort on the part of the drinkers to appear indifferent to thesituation, but with the stranger sitting sullenly in their rear and aniron-gray man standing at the farther end of the line, hungering foran opportunity to settle differences with six-shooters, theirindifference was an empty mockery. Some of the players returned totheir games, while others sauntered into the street, yet Priest showedno disposition to go. After a while the stranger walked over to thebar and called for a glass of whiskey. 

The Rebel stood at the end of the bar, calmly rolling a cigarette, andas the stranger seemed not to notice him, Priest attracted hisattention and said, "I'm just passing through here, and shallonly be in town this afternoon; so if there's anything between us thatdemands settlement, don't hesitate to ask for it. "

The stranger drained his glass at a single gulp, and with admirablecomposure replied, "If there's anything between us, we'll settle it indue time, and as men usually settle such differences in this country. I have a friend or two in town, and as soon as I see them, you willreceive notice, or you may consider the matter dropped. That's all Icare to say at present. "

He walked away to the rear of the room, Priest joined us, and westrolled out of the place. In the street, a grizzled, gray-beardedman, who had drunk with him inside, approached my bunkie and said, "You want to watch that fellow. He claims to be from the Gallatincountry, but he isn't, for I live there. There 's a pal with him, andthey've got some good horses, but I know every brand on the headwatersof the Missouri, and their horses were never bred on any of its threeforks. Don't give him any the best of you. Keep an eye on him, comrade. " After this warning, the old man turned into the first opendoor, and we crossed over to the wheelwright's shop; and as the wheelwould not be finished for several hours yet, we continued our surveyof the town, and our next landing was at The Buffalo Bull. On enteringwe found four of our men in a game of cards at the very first table, while Officer was reported as being in the gambling room in the rear. The only vacant table in the bar-room was the last one in the farcorner, and calling for a deck of cards, we occupied it. I sat with myback to the log wall of the low one-story room, while on my left andfronting the door, Priest took a seat with Flood for his pardner, while Honeyman fell to me. After playing a few hands, Flood suggestedthat Billy go forward and exchange seats with some of our outfit, soas to be near the door, where he could see any one that entered, whilefrom his position the rear door would be similarly guarded. Under thischange, Rod Wheat came back to our table and took Honeyman's place. Wehad been playing along for an hour, with people passing in and out ofthe gambling room, and expected shortly to start for camp, whenPriest's long-haired adversary came in at the front door, and, walkingthrough the room, passed into the gambling department. 

John Officer, after winning a few dollars in the card room, wasstanding alongside watching our game; and as the stranger passed by, Priest gave him the wink, on which Officer followed the stranger and aheavy-set companion who was with him into the rear room. We had playedonly a few hands when the heavy-set man came back to the bar, took adrink, and walked over to watch a game of cards at the second tablefrom the front door. Officer came back shortly afterward, andwhispered to us that there were four of them to look out for, as hehad seen them conferring together. Priest seemed the least concernedof any of us, but I noticed he eased the holster on his belt forward, where it would be ready to his hand. We had called for a round ofdrinks, Officer taking one with us, when two men came out of thegambling hell, and halting at the bar, pretended to divide some moneywhich they wished to have it appear they had won in the card room. Their conversation was loud and intended to attract attention, butOfficer gave us the wink, and their ruse was perfectly understood. After taking a drink and attracting as much attention as possible overthe division of the money, they separated, but remained in the room. 

I was dealing the cards a few minutes later, when the long-haired manemerged from the gambling hell, and imitating the maudlin, saunteredup to the bar and asked for a drink. After being served, he walkedabout halfway to the door, then whirling suddenly, stepped to the endof the bar, placed his hands upon it, sprang up and stood upright onit. He whipped out two six-shooters, let loose a yell which caused acommotion throughout the room, and walked very deliberately the lengthof the counter, his attention centred upon the occupants of our table. Not attracting the notice he expected in our quarter, he turned, andslowly repaced the bar, hurling anathemas on Texas and Texans ingeneral. 

I saw The Rebel's eyes, steeled to intensity, meet Flood's across thetable, and in that glance of our foreman he evidently read approval, for he rose rigidly with the stealth of a tiger, and for the firsttime that day his hand went to the handle of his six-shooter. One ofthe two pretended winners at cards saw the movement in our quarter, and sang out as a warning, "Cuidado, mucho. " The man on the barwhirled on the word of warning, and blazed away with his two guns intoour corner. I had risen at the word and was pinned against the wall, where on the first fire a rain of dirt fell from the chinking in thewall over my head. As soon as the others sprang away from the table, Ikicked it over in clearing myself, and came to my feet just as TheRebel fired his second shot. I had the satisfaction of seeing hislong-haired adversary reel backwards, firing his guns into the ceilingas he went, and in falling crash heavily into the glassware on theback bar. 

The smoke which filled the room left nothing visible for a fewmoments. Meantime Priest, satisfied that his aim had gone true, turned, passed through the rear room, gained his horse, and wasgalloping away to the herd before any semblance of order was restored. As the smoke cleared away and we passed forward through the room, JohnOfficer had one of the three pardners standing with his hands to thewall, while his six-shooter lay on the floor under Officer's foot. Hehad made but one shot into our corner, when the muzzle of a gun waspushed against his ear with an imperative order to drop his arms, which he had promptly done. The two others, who had been under thesurveillance of our men at the forward table, never made a move oroffered to bring a gun into action, and after the killing of theirpicturesque pardner passed together out of the house. There had beenfive or six shots fired into our corner, but the first double shot, fired when three of us were still sitting, went too high for effect, while the remainder were scattering, though Rod Wheat got a bulletthrough his coat, close enough to burn the skin on his shoulder. 

The dead man was laid out on the floor of the saloon; and throughcuriosity, for it could hardly have been much of a novelty to theinhabitants of Frenchman's Ford, hundreds came to gaze on the corpseand examine the wounds, one above the other through his vitals, eitherof which would have been fatal. Officer's prisoner admitted that thedead man was his pardner, and offered to remove the corpse ifreleased. On turning his six-shooter over to the proprietor of theplace, he was given his freedom to depart and look up his friends. 

As it was after sundown, and our wheel was refilled and ready, we setout for camp, where we found that Priest had taken a fresh horse andstarted back over the trail. No one felt any uneasiness over hisabsence, for he had demonstrated his ability to protect himself; andtruth compels me to say that the outfit to a man was proud of him. Honeyman was substituted on our guard in The Rebel's place, sleepingwith me that night, and after we were in bed, Billy said in hisenthusiasm: "If that horse thief had not relied on pot shooting, andhad been modest and only used one gun, he might have hurt some of youfellows. But when I saw old Paul raising his gun to a level as heshot, I knew he was cool and steady, and I'd rather died right therethan see him fail to get his man. "

CHAPTER XXII

OUR LAST CAMP-FIRE

By early dawn the next morning we were astir at our last camp on SweetGrass, and before the horses were brought in, we had put on the wagonbox and reloaded our effects. The rainy season having ended in themountain regions, the stage of water in the Yellowstone would presentno difficulties in fording, and our foreman was anxious to make a longdrive that day so as to make up for our enforced lay-over. We hadbreakfasted by the time the horses were corralled, and when weovertook the grazing herd, the cattle were within a mile of the river. Flood had looked over the ford the day before, and took one point ofthe herd as we went down into the crossing. The water was quite chillyto the cattle, though the horses in the lead paid little attention toit, the water in no place being over three feet deep. A number ofspectators had come up from Frenchman's to watch the herd ford, thecrossing being about half a mile above the village. No one made anyinquiry for Priest, though ample opportunity was given them to seethat the gray-haired man was missing. After the herd had crossed, anumber of us lent a rope in assisting the wagon over, and when wereached the farther bank, we waved our hats to the group on the southside in farewell to them and to Frenchman's Ford. 

The trail on leaving the river led up Many Berries, one of thetributaries of the Yellowstone putting in from the north side; and weparalleled it mile after mile. It was with difficulty that riderscould be kept on the right hand side of the herd, for along it grewendless quantities of a species of upland huckleberry, and, breakingoff branches, we feasted as we rode along. The grade up this creek wasquite pronounced, for before night the channel of the creek hadnarrowed to several yards in width. On the second day out the wildfruit disappeared early in the morning, and after a continued gradualclimb, we made camp that night on the summit of the divide withinplain sight of the Musselshell River. From this divide there was asplendid view of the surrounding country as far as eye could see. Toour right, as we neared the summit, we could see in that rarefiedatmosphere the buttes, like sentinels on duty, as they dotted theimmense tableland between the Yellowstone and the mother Missouri, while on our left lay a thousand hills, untenanted save by the deer, elk, and a remnant of buffalo. Another half day's drive brought us tothe shoals on the Musselshell, about twelve miles above the entranceof Flatwillow Creek. It was one of the easiest crossings we hadencountered in many a day, considering the size of the river and theflow of water. Long before the advent of the white man, these shoalshad been in use for generations by the immense herds of buffalo andelk migrating back and forth between their summer ranges and winterpasturage, as the converging game trails on either side indicated. Itwas also an old Indian ford. After crossing and resuming our afternoondrive, the cattle trail ran within a mile of the river, and had it notbeen for the herd of northern wintered cattle, and possibly others, which had passed along a month or more in advance of us, it would havebeen hard to determine which were cattle and which were game trails, the country being literally cut up with these pathways. 

When within a few miles of the Flatwillow, the trail bore off to thenorthwest, and we camped that night some distance below the junctionof the former creek with the Big Box Elder. Before our watch had beenon guard twenty minutes that night, we heard some one whistling in thedistance; and as whoever it was refused to come any nearer the herd, athought struck me, and I rode out into the darkness and hailed him. 

"Is that you, Tom?" came the question to my challenge, and the nextminute I was wringing the hand of my old bunkie, The Rebel. I assuredhim that the coast was clear, and that no inquiry had been even madefor him the following morning, when crossing the Yellowstone, by anyof the inhabitants of Frenchman's Ford. He returned with me to the bedground, and meeting Honeyman as he circled around, was almost unhorsedby the latter's warmth of reception, and Officer's delight on meetingmy bunkie was none the less demonstrative. For nearly half an hour herode around with one or the other of us, and as we knew he had hadlittle if any sleep for the last three nights, all of us begged him togo on into camp and go to sleep. But the old rascal loafed around withus on guard, seemingly delighted with our company and reluctant toleave. Finally Honeyman and I prevailed on him to go to the wagon, butbefore leaving us he said, "Why, I've been in sight of the herd forthe last day and night, but I'm getting a little tired of lying outwith the dry cattle these cool nights, and living on huckleberries andgrouse, so I thought I'd just ride in and get a fresh horse and asquare meal once more. But if Flood says stay, you'll see me at my oldplace on the point to-morrow. "

Had the owner of the herd suddenly appeared in camp, he could not havereceived such an ovation as was extended Priest the next morning whenhis presence became known. From the cook to the foreman, they gatheredaround our bed, where The Rebel sat up in the blankets and held aninformal reception; and two hours afterward he was riding on the rightpoint of the herd as if nothing had happened. We had a fair trail upBig Box Elder, and for the following few days, or until the source ofthat creek was reached, met nothing to check our course. Our foremanhad been riding in advance of the herd, and after returning to us atnoon one day, reported that the trail turned a due northward coursetowards the Missouri, and all herds had seemingly taken it. As we hadto touch at Fort Benton, which was almost due westward, he hadconcluded to quit the trail and try to intercept the military roadrunning from Fort Maginnis to Benton. Maginnis lay to the south of us, and our foreman hoped to strike the military road at an angle on asnear a westward course as possible. 

Accordingly after dinner he set out to look out the country, and tookme with him. We bore off toward the Missouri, and within half anhour's ride after leaving the trail we saw some loose horses aboutthree miles distant, down in a little valley through which flowed acreek towards the Musselshell. We reined in and watched the horsesseveral minutes, when we both agreed from their movements that theywere hobbled. We scouted out some five or six miles, finding thecountry somewhat rough, but passable for a herd and wagon. Flood wasanxious to investigate those hobbled horses, for it bespoke the campof some one in the immediate vicinity. On our return, the horses werestill in view, and with no little difficulty, we descended from themesa into the valley and reached them. To our agreeable surprise, oneof them was wearing a bell, while nearly half of them were hobbled, there being twelve head, the greater portion of which looked like packhorses. Supposing the camp, if there was one, must be up in the hills, we followed a bridle path up stream in search of it, and soon cameupon four men, placer mining on the banks of the creek. 

When we made our errand known, one of these placer miners, an elderlyman who seemed familiar with the country, expressed some doubts aboutour leaving the trail, though he said there was a bridle path withwhich he was acquainted across to the military road. Flood at onceoffered to pay him well if he would pilot us across to the road, ornear enough so that we could find our way. The old placermanhesitated, and after consulting among his partners, asked how we werefixed for provision, explaining that they wished to remain a month orso longer, and that game had been scared away from the immediatevicinity, until it had become hard to secure meat. But he found Floodready in that quarter, for he immediately offered to kill a beef andload down any two pack horses they had, if he would consent to pilotus over to within striking distance of the Fort Benton road. The offerwas immediately accepted, and I was dispatched to drive in theirhorses. Two of the placer miners accompanied us back to the trail, both riding good saddle horses and leading two others under packsaddles. We overtook the herd within a mile of the point where thetrail was to be abandoned, and after sending the wagon ahead, ourforeman asked our guests to pick out any cow or steer in the herd. When they declined, he cut out a fat stray cow which had come into theherd down on the North Platte, had her driven in after the wagon, killed and quartered. When we had laid the quarters on convenientrocks to cool and harden during the night, our future pilot timidlyinquired what we proposed to do with the hide, and on being informedthat he was welcome to it, seemed delighted, remarking, as I helpedhim to stake it out where it would dry, that "rawhide was mighty handyrepairing pack saddles. "

Our visitors interested us, for it is probable that not a man in ouroutfit had ever seen a miner before, though we had read of the lifeand were deeply interested in everything they did or said. They werevery plain men and of simple manners, but we had great difficulty ingetting them to talk. After supper, while idling away a couple ofhours around our camp-fire, the outfit told stories, in the hope thatour guests would become reminiscent and give us some insight intotheir experiences, Bob Blades leading off. 

"I was in a cow town once up on the head of the Chisholm trail at atime when a church fair was being pulled off. There were lots of oldlong-horn cowmen living in the town, who owned cattle in that CherokeeStrip that Officer is always talking about. Well, there's lots offolks up there that think a nigger is as good as anybody else, andwhen you find such people set in their ways, it's best not to arguematters with them, but lay low and let on you think that way too. That's the way those old Texas cowmen acted about it. 

"Well, at this church fair there was to be voted a prize of a nicebaby wagon, which had been donated by some merchant, to the prettiestbaby under a year old. Colonel Bob Zellers was in town at the time, stopping at a hotel where the darky cook was a man who had once workedfor him on the trail. 'Frog, ' the darky, had married when he quit thecolonel's service, and at the time of this fair there was a pickaninnyin his family about a year old, and nearly the color of a new saddle. A few of these old cowmen got funny and thought it would be a goodjoke to have Frog enter his baby at the fair, and Colonel Bob beingthe leader in the movement, he had no trouble convincing the darkythat that baby wagon was his, if he would only enter his youngster. Frog thought the world of the old Colonel, and the latter assured himthat he would vote for his baby while he had a dollar or a cow left. The result was, Frog gave his enthusiastic consent, and the Colonelagreed to enter the pickaninny in the contest. 

"Well, the Colonel attended to the entering of the baby's name, andthen on the dead quiet went around and rustled up every cowman andpuncher in town, and had them promise to be on hand, to vote for theprettiest baby at ten cents a throw. The fair was being held in thelargest hall in town, and at the appointed hour we were all on hand, as well as Frog and his wife and baby. There were about a dozenentries, and only one blackbird in the covey. The list of contestantswas read by the minister, and as each name was announced, there was avigorous clapping of hands all over the house by the friends of eachbaby. But when the name of Miss Precilla June Jones was announced, theTexas contingent made their presence known by such a deafeningoutburst of applause that old Frog grinned from ear to ear--he sawhimself right then pushing that baby wagon. 

"Well, on the first heat we voted sparingly, and as the vote was readout about every quarter hour, Precilla June Jones on the first turnwas fourth in the race. On the second report, our favorite had movedup to third place, after which the weaker ones were deserted, and allthe voting blood was centered on the two white leaders, with ourblackbird a close third. We were behaving ourselves nicely, and ourmoney was welcome if we weren't. When the third vote was announced, Frog's pickaninny was second in the race, with her nose lapped on theflank of the leader. Then those who thought a darky was as good as anyone else got on the prod in a mild form, and you could hear themvoicing their opinions all over the hall. We heard it all, but sat asnice as pie and never said a word. 

"When the final vote was called for, we knew it was the home stretch, and every rascal of us got his weasel skin out and sweetened thevoting on Miss Precilla June Jones. Some of those old long-hornsdidn't think any more of a twenty-dollar gold piece than I do of awhite chip, especially when there was a chance to give those goodpeople a dose of their own medicine. I don't know how many votes wecast on the last whirl, but we swamped all opposition, and ourfavorite cantered under the wire an easy winner. Then you should haveheard the kicking, but we kept still and inwardly chuckled. Theminister announced the winner, and some of those good people didn'thave any better manners than to hiss and cut up ugly. We stayed untilFrog got the new baby wagon in his clutches, when we dropped outcasually and met at the Ranch saloon, where Colonel Zellers had takenpossession behind the bar and was dispensing hospitality in propercelebration of his victory. "

Much to our disappointment, our guests remained silent and showed nodisposition to talk, except to answer civil questions which Floodasked regarding the trail crossing on the Missouri, and what thatriver was like in the vicinity of old Fort Benton. When the questionshad been answered, they again relapsed into silence. The fire wasreplenished, and after the conversation had touched on severalsubjects, Joe Stallings took his turn with a yarn. 

"When my folks first came to Texas, " said Joe, "they settled in EllisCounty, near Waxahachie. My father was one of the pioneers in thatcounty at a time when his nearest neighbor lived ten miles from hisfront gate. But after the war, when the country had settled up, theseold pioneers naturally hung together and visited and chummed with oneanother in preference to the new settlers. One spring when I was aboutfifteen years old, one of those old pioneer neighbors of ours died, and my father decided that he would go to the funeral or burst a hamestring. If any of you know anything about that black-waxy, hog-wallowland in Ellis County, you know that when it gets muddy in the spring awagon wheel will fill solid with waxy mud. So at the time of thisfuneral it was impossible to go on the road with any kind of avehicle, and my father had to go on horseback. He was an old man atthe time and didn't like the idea, but it was either go on horsebackor stay at home, and go he would. 

"They raise good horses in Ellis County, and my father had raised someof the best of them--brought the stock from Tennessee. He liked goodblood in a horse, and was always opposed to racing, but he raised someboys who weren't. I had a number of brothers older than myself, andthey took a special pride in trying every colt we raised, to see whathe amounted to in speed. Of course this had to be done away from home;but that was easy, for these older brothers thought nothing of ridingtwenty miles to a tournament, barbecue, or round-up, and when awayfrom home they always tried their horses with the best in the country. At the time of this funeral, we had a crackerjack five year oldchestnut sorrel gelding that could show his heels to any horse in thecountry. He was a peach, --you could turn him on a saddle blanket andjump him fifteen feet, and that cow never lived that he couldn't cut. 

"So the day of the funeral my father was in a quandary as to whichhorse to ride, but when he appealed to his boys, they recommended thebest on the ranch, which was the chestnut gelding. My old man had somedoubts as to his ability to ride the horse, for he hadn't been on ahorse's back for years; but my brothers assured him that the chestnutwas as obedient as a kitten, and that before he had been on the roadan hour the mud would take all the frisk and frolic out of him. Therewas nearly fifteen miles to go, and they assured him that he wouldnever get there if he rode any other horse. Well, at last he consentedto ride the gelding, and the horse was made ready, properly groomed, his tail tied up, and saddled and led up to the block. It took everymember of the family to get my father rigged to start, but at last heannounced himself as ready. Two of my brothers held the horse until hefound the off stirrup, and then they turned him loose. The chestnutdanced off a few rods, and settled down into a steady clip that wasgood for five or six miles an hour. 

"My father reached the house in good time for the funeral services, but when the procession started for the burial ground, the horse wassomewhat restless and impatient from the cold. There was quite astring of wagons and other vehicles from the immediate neighborhoodwhich had braved the mud, and the line was nearly half a mile inlength between the house and the graveyard. There were also possibly ahundred men on horseback bringing up the rear of the procession; andthe chestnut, not understanding the solemnity of the occasion, wasright on his mettle. Surrounded as he was by other horses, he kept hisweather eye open for a race, for in coming home from dances andpicnics with my brothers, he had often been tried in short dashes ofhalf a mile or so. In order to get him out of the crowd of horses, myfather dropped back with another pioneer to the extreme rear of thefuneral line. 

"When the procession was nearing the cemetery, a number of horsemen, who were late, galloped up in the rear. The chestnut, supposing a racewas on, took the bit in his teeth and tore down past the procession asthough it was a free-for-all Texas sweepstakes, the old man's whitebeard whipping the breeze in his endeavor to hold in the horse. Nordid he check him until the head of the procession had been passed. When my father returned home that night, there was a family round-up, for he was smoking under the collar. Of course, my brothers deniedhaving ever run the horse, and my mother took their part; but the oldgent knew a thing or two about horses, and shortly afterwards he goteven with his boys by selling the chestnut, which broke their heartsproperly. "

The elder of the two placer miners, a long-whiskered, pock-marked man, arose, and after walking out from the fire some distance returned andcalled our attention to signs in the sky, which he assured us were asure indication of a change in the weather. But we were more anxiousthat he should talk about something else, for we were in the habit oftaking the weather just as it came. When neither one showed anydisposition to talk, Flood said to them, --

"It's bedtime with us, and one of you can sleep with me, while I 'vefixed up an extra bed for the other. I generally get out aboutdaybreak, but if that's too early for you, don't let my getting updisturb you. And you fourth guard men, let the cattle off the bedground on a due westerly course and point them up the divide. Now getto bed, everybody, for we want to make a big drive tomorrow. "

CHAPTER XXIII

DELIVERY

I shall never forget the next morning, --August 26, 1882. As we of thethird guard were relieved, about two hours before dawn, the windveered around to the northwest, and a mist which had been fallingduring the fore part of our watch changed to soft flakes of snow. Assoon as we were relieved, we skurried back to our blankets, drew thetarpaulin over our heads, and slept until dawn, when on being awakenedby the foreman, we found a wet, slushy snow some two inches in depthon the ground. Several of the boys in the outfit declared it was thefirst snowfall they had ever seen, and I had but a slight recollectionof having witnessed one in early boyhood in our old Georgia home. Wegathered around the fire like a lot of frozen children, and our onlysolace was that our drive was nearing an end. The two placermen paidlittle heed to the raw morning, and our pilot assured us that this wasbut the squaw winter which always preceded Indian summer. 

We made our customary early start, and while saddling up that morning, Flood and the two placer miners packed the beef on their two packhorses, first cutting off enough to last us several days. The cattle, when we overtook them, presented a sorry spectacle, apparently beingas cold as we were, although we had our last stitch of clothing on, including our slickers, belted with a horse hobble. But when Flood andour guide rode past the herd, I noticed our pilot's coat was not evenbuttoned, nor was the thin cotton shirt which he wore, but his chestwas exposed to that raw morning air which chilled the very marrow inour bones. Our foreman and guide kept in sight in the lead, the herdtraveling briskly up the long mountain divide, and about the middle ofthe forenoon the sun came out warm and the snow began to melt. Withinan hour after starting that morning, Quince Forrest, who was riding infront of me in the swing, dismounted, and picking out of the snow abrave little flower which looked something like a pansy, dropped backto me and said, "My weather gauge says it's eighty-eight degrees belowfreezo. But I want you to smell this posy, Quirk, and tell me on thedead thieving, do you ever expect to see your sunny southern homeagain? And did you notice the pock-marked colonel, baring his brisketto the morning breeze?"

Two hours after the sun came out, the snow had disappeared, and thecattle fell to and grazed until long after the noon hour. Our pilotled us up the divide between the Missouri and the headwaters of theMusselshell during the afternoon, weaving in and out around the headsof creeks putting into either river; and towards evening we crossedquite a creek running towards the Missouri, where we secured amplewater for the herd. We made a late camp that night, and our guideassured us that another half day's drive would put us on the JudithRiver, where we would intercept the Fort Benton road. 

The following morning our guide led us for several hours up a gradualascent to the plateau, till we reached the tableland, when he left usto return to his own camp. Flood again took the lead, and within amile we turned on our regular course, which by early noon haddescended into the valley of the Judith River, and entered the FortMaginnis and Benton military road. Our route was now clearly defined, and about noon on the last day of the month we sighted, beyond theMissouri River, the flag floating over Fort Benton. We made a crossingthat afternoon below the Fort, and Flood went into the post, expectingeither to meet Lovell or to receive our final instructions regardingthe delivery. 

After crossing the Missouri, we grazed the herd over to the TetonRiver, a stream which paralleled the former watercourse, --the militarypost being located between the two. We had encamped for the night whenFlood returned with word of a letter he had received from our employerand an interview he had had with the commanding officer of FortBenton, who, it seemed, was to have a hand in the delivery of theherd. Lovell had been detained in the final settlement of my brotherBob's herd at the Crow Agency by some differences regarding weights. Under our present instructions, we were to proceed slowly to theBlackfoot Agency, and immediately on the arrival of Lovell at Benton, he and the commandant would follow by ambulance and overtake us. Thedistance from Fort Benton to the agency was variously reported to befrom one hundred and twenty to one hundred and thirty miles, six orseven days' travel for the herd at the farthest, and then good-by, Circle Dots!

A number of officers and troopers from the post overtook us the nextmorning and spent several hours with us as the herd trailed out up theTeton. They were riding fine horses, which made our through saddlestock look insignificant in comparison, though had they coveredtwenty-four hundred miles and lived on grass as had our mounts, someof the lustre of their glossy coats would have been absent. Theylooked well, but it would have been impossible to use them or anydomestic bred horses in trail work like ours, unless a supply of graincould be carried with us. The range country produced a horse suitableto range needs, hardy and a good forager, which, when not overworkedunder the saddle, met every requirement of his calling, as well asbeing self-sustaining. Our horses, in fact, were in better flesh whenwe crossed the Missouri than they were the day we received the herd onthe Rio Grande. The spectators from the fort quitted us near themiddle of the forenoon, and we snailed on westward at our leisurelygait. 

There was a fair road up the Teton, which we followed for several dayswithout incident, to the forks of that river, where we turned up MuddyCreek, the north fork of the Teton. That noon, while catching saddlehorses, dinner not being quite ready, we noticed a flurry amongst thecattle, then almost a mile in our rear. Two men were on herd with themas usual, grazing them forward up the creek and watering as they came, when suddenly the cattle in the lead came tearing out of the creek, and on reaching open ground turned at bay. After several bunches hadseemingly taken fright at the same object, we noticed Bull Durham, whowas on herd, ride through the cattle to the scene of disturbance. Wesaw him, on nearing the spot, lie down on the neck of his horse, watchintently for several minutes, then quietly drop back to the rear, circle the herd, and ride for the wagon. We had been observing theproceedings closely, though from a distance, for some time. Daylightwas evidently all that saved us from a stampede, and as Bull Durhamgalloped up he was almost breathless. He informed us that an oldcinnamon bear and two cubs were berrying along the creek, and hadtaken the right of way. Then there was a hustling and borrowing ofcartridges, while saddles were cinched on to horses as though humanlife depended on alacrity. We were all feeling quite gala anyhow, andthis looked like a chance for some sport. It was hard to hold theimpulsive ones in check until the others were ready. The cattlepointed us to the location of the quarry as we rode forward. Whenwithin a quarter of a mile, we separated into two squads, in order togain the rear of the bears, cut them off from the creek, and forcethem into the open. The cattle held the attention of the bears untilwe had gained their rear, and as we came up between them and thecreek, the old one reared up on her haunches and took a mostastonished and innocent look at us. 

A single "woof" brought one of the cubs to her side, and she droppedon all fours and lumbered off, a half dozen shots hastening her pacein an effort to circle the horsemen who were gradually closing in. Inmaking this circle to gain the protection of some thickets whichskirted the creek, she was compelled to cross quite an open space, andbefore she had covered the distance of fifty yards, a rain of ropescame down on her, and she was thrown backward with no less than fourlariats fastened over her neck and fore parts. Then ensued a livelyscene, for the horses snorted and in spite of rowels refused to facethe bear. But ropes securely snubbed to pommels held them to thequarry. Two minor circuses were meantime in progress with the twocubs, but pressure of duty held those of us who had fastened on to theold cinnamon. The ropes were taut and several of them were about herthroat; the horses were pulling in as many different directions, yetthe strain of all the lariats failed to choke her as we expected. Atthis juncture, four of the loose men came to our rescue, and proposedshooting the brute. We were willing enough, for though we had betterthan a tail hold, we were very ready to let go. But while there wereplenty of good shots among us, our horses had now become wary, andcould not, when free from ropes, be induced to approach within twentyyards of the bear, and they were so fidgety that accurate aim wasimpossible. We who had ropes on the old bear begged the boys to getdown and take it afoot, but they were not disposed to listen to ourreasons, and blazed away from rearing horses, not one shot in tentaking effect. There was no telling how long this random shootingwould have lasted; but one shot cut my rope two feet from the noose, and with one rope less on her the old bear made some ugly surges, andhad not Joe Stallings had a wheeler of a horse on the rope, she wouldhave done somebody damage. 

The Rebel was on the opposite side from Stallings and myself, and assoon as I was freed, he called me around to him, and shifting his ropeto me, borrowed my six-shooter and joined those who were shooting. Dismounting, he gave the reins of his horse to Flood, walked up towithin fifteen steps of mother bruin, and kneeling, emptied bothsix-shooters with telling accuracy. The old bear winced at nearlyevery shot, and once she made an ugly surge on the ropes, but thethree guy lines held her up to Priest's deliberate aim. The vitalityof that cinnamon almost staggers belief, for after both six-shootershad been emptied into her body, she floundered on the ropes with allher former strength, although the blood was dripping and gushing fromher numerous wounds. Borrowing a third gun, Priest returned to thefight, and as we slacked the ropes slightly, the old bear reared, facing her antagonist. The Rebel emptied his third gun into her beforeshe sank, choked, bleeding, and exhausted, to the ground; and eventhen no one dared to approach her, for she struck out wildly with allfours as she slowly succumbed to the inevitable. 

One of the cubs had been roped and afterwards shot at close quarters, while the other had reached the creek and climbed a sapling which grewon the bank, when a few shots brought him to the ground. The two cubswere about the size of a small black bear, though the mother was alarge specimen of her species. The cubs had nice coats of soft fur, and their hides were taken as trophies of the fight, but the robe ofthe mother was a summer one and worthless. While we were skinning thecubs, the foreman called our attention to the fact that the herd haddrifted up the creek nearly opposite the wagon. During the encounterwith the bears he was the most excited one in the outfit, and was theman who cut my rope with his random shooting from horseback. But nowthe herd recovered his attention, and he dispatched some of us to ridearound the cattle. When we met at the wagon for dinner, the excitementwas still on us, and the hunt was unanimously voted the most excitingbit of sport and powder burning we had experienced on our trip. 

Late that afternoon a forage wagon from Fort Benton passed us withfour loose ambulance mules in charge of five troopers, who were goingon ahead to establish a relay station in anticipation of the trip ofthe post commandant to the Blackfoot Agency. There were to be tworelay stations between the post and the agency, and this detachmentexpected to go into camp that night within forty miles of ourdestination, there to await the arrival of the commanding officer andthe owner of the herd at Benton. These soldiers were out two days fromthe post when they passed us, and they assured us that the ambulancewould go through from Benton to Blackfoot without a halt, except forthe changing of relay teams. The next forenoon we passed the lastrelay camp, well up the Muddy, and shortly afterwards the road leftthat creek, turning north by a little west, and we entered on the lasttack of our long drive. On the evening of the 6th of September, as wewere going into camp on Two Medicine Creek, within ten miles of theagency, the ambulance overtook us, under escort of the troopers whomwe had passed at the last relay station. We had not seen Don Lovellsince June, when we passed Dodge, and it goes without saying that wewere glad to meet him again. On the arrival of the party, the cattlehad not yet been bedded, so Lovell borrowed a horse, and with Floodtook a look over the herd before darkness set in, having previouslyprevailed on the commanding officer to rest an hour and have supperbefore proceeding to the agency. 

When they returned from inspecting the cattle, the commandant andLovell agreed to make the final delivery on the 8th, if it wereagreeable to the agent, and with this understanding continued theirjourney. The next morning Flood rode into the agency, borrowingMcCann's saddle and taking an extra horse with him, having left usinstructions to graze the herd all day and have them in good shapewith grass and water, in case they were inspected that evening ontheir condition. Near the middle of the afternoon quite a cavalcaderode out from the agency, including part of a company of cavalrytemporarily encamped there. The Indian agent and the commandingofficer from Benton were the authorized representatives of thegovernment, it seemed, as Lovell took extra pains in showing them overthe herd, frequently consulting the contract which he held, regardingsex, age, and flesh of the cattle. 

The only hitch in the inspection was over a number of sore-footedcattle, which was unavoidable after such a long journey. But thecondition of these tender-footed animals being otherwise satisfactory, Lovell urged the agent and commandant to call up the men forexplanations. The agent was no doubt a very nice man, and there mayhave been other things that he understood better than cattle, for hedid ask a great many simple, innocent questions. Our replies, however, might have been condensed into a few simple statements. We had, werelated, been over five months on the trail; after the first month, tender-footed cattle began to appear from time to time in the herd, asstony or gravelly portions of the trail were encountered, --the numberso affected at any one time varying from ten to forty head. Frequentlywell-known lead cattle became tender in their feet and would drop backto the rear, and on striking soft or sandy footing recover and resumetheir position in the lead; that since starting, it was safe to say, fully ten per cent of the entire herd had been so affected, yet we hadnot lost a single head from this cause; that the general health of theanimal was never affected, and that during enforced layovers nearlyall so affected recovered. As there were not over twenty-fivesore-footed animals in the herd on our arrival, our explanation wassufficient and the herd was accepted. There yet remained the countingand classification, but as this would require time, it went over untilthe following day. The cows had been contracted for by the head, whilethe steers went on their estimated weight in dressed beef, thecontract calling for a million pounds with a ten per cent leeway overthat amount. 

I was amongst the first to be interviewed by the Indian agent, and onbeing excused, I made the acquaintance of one of two priests who werewith the party. He was a rosy-cheeked, well-fed old padre, whoinformed me that he had been stationed among the Blackfeet for overtwenty years, and that he had labored long with the government toassist these Indians. The cows in our herd, which were to bedistributed amongst the Indian families for domestic purposes, werethere at his earnest solicitation. I asked him if these cows would notperish during the long winter--my recollection was still vivid of thetouch of squaw winter we had experienced some two weeks previous. Buthe assured me that the winters were dry, if cold, and his people hadmade some progress in the ways of civilization, and had providedshelter and forage against the wintry weather. He informed me thatprevious to his labors amongst the Blackfeet their ponies winteredwithout loss on the native grasses, though he had since taught them tomake hay, and in anticipation of receiving these cows, such familiesas were entitled to share in the division had amply provided for theanimals' sustenance. 

Lovell returned with the party to the agency, and we were to bring upthe herd for classification early in the morning. Flood informed usthat a beef pasture had been built that summer for the steers, whilethe cows would be held under herd by the military, pending theirdistribution. We spent our last night with the herd singing songs, until the first guard called the relief, when realizing the latenessof the hour, we burrowed into our blankets. 

"I don't know how you fellows feel about it, " said Quince Forrest, when the first guard were relieved and they had returned to camp, "butI bade those cows good-by on their beds to-night without a regret or atear. The novelty of night-herding loses its charm with me when it'sdrawn out over five months. I might be fool enough to make anothersuch trip, but I 'd rather be the Indian and let the other fellowdrive the cows to me--there 's a heap more comfort in it. "

The next morning, before we reached the agency, a number of gaudilybedecked bucks and squaws rode out to meet us. The arrival of the herdhad been expected for several weeks, and our approach was a delight tothe Indians, who were flocking to the agency from the nearestvillages. Physically, they were fine specimens of the aborigines. Butour Spanish, which Quarternight and I tried on them, was asunintelligible to them as their guttural gibberish was to us. 

Lovell and the agent, with a detachment of the cavalry, met us about amile from the agency buildings, and we were ordered to cut out thecows. The herd had been grazed to contentment, and were accordinglyrounded in, and the task begun at once. Our entire outfit were turnedinto the herd to do the work, while an abundance of troopers held theherd and looked after the cut. It took about an hour and a half, during which time we worked like Trojans. Cavalrymen several timesattempted to assist us, but their horses were no match for ours in thework. A cow can turn on much less space than a cavalry horse, andexcept for the amusement they afforded, the military were of verylittle effect. 

After we had retrimmed the cut, the beeves were started for theirpasture, and nothing now remained but the counting to complete thereceiving. Four of us remained behind with the cows, but for over twohours the steers were in plain sight, while the two parties wereendeavoring to make a count. How many times they recounted them beforeagreeing on the numbers I do not know, for the four of us left withthe cows became occupied by a controversy over the sex of a youngIndian--a Blackfoot--riding a cream-colored pony. The controversyoriginated between Fox Quarternight and Bob Blades, who had discoveredthis swell among a band who had just ridden in from the west, and JohnOfficer and myself were appealed to for our opinions. The Indian waspointed out to us across the herd, easily distinguished by beads andbeaver fur trimmings in the hair, so we rode around to pass ourjudgment as experts on the beauty. The young Indian was not oversixteen years of age, with remarkable features, from which every traceof the aborigine seemed to be eliminated. Officer and myself were in aquandary, for we felt perfectly competent when appealed to for ouropinions on such a delicate subject, and we made every endeavor toopen a conversation by signs and speech. But the young Blackfoot paidno attention to us, being intent upon watching the cows. The neatlymoccasined feet and the shapely hand, however, indicated the feminine, and when Blades and Quarter-night rode up, we rendered our decisionaccordingly. Blades took exception to the decision and rode alongsidethe young Indian, pretending to admire the long plaits of hair, toyedwith the beads, pinched and patted the young Blackfoot, and finally, although the rest of us, for fear the Indian might take offense andraise trouble, pleaded with him to desist, he called the youth his"squaw, " when the young blood, evidently understanding theappellation, relaxed into a broad smile, and in fair English said, "Mebuck. "

Blades burst into a loud laugh at his success, at which the Indiansmiled but accepted a cigarette, and the two cronied together, whilewe rode away to look after our cows. The outfit returned shortlyafterward, when The Rebel rode up to me and expressed himself ratherprofanely at the inability of the government's representatives tocount cattle in Texas fashion. On the arrival of the agent and others, the cows were brought around; and these being much more gentle, andbeing under Lovell's instruction fed between the counters in thenarrowest file possible, a satisfactory count was agreed upon at thefirst trial. The troopers took charge of the cows after counting, and, our work over, we galloped away to the wagon, hilarious and care free. 

McCann had camped on the nearest water to the agency, and after dinnerwe caught out the top horses, and, dressed in our best, rode into theagency proper. There was quite a group of houses for the attachés, onelarge general warehouse, and several school and chapel buildings. Iagain met the old padre, who showed us over the place. One could nothelp being favorably impressed with the general neatness andcleanliness of the place. In answer to our questions, the priestinformed us that he had mastered the Indian language early in hiswork, and had adopted it in his ministry, the better to effect theobject of his mission. There was something touching in the zeal ofthis devoted padre in his work amongst the tribe, and the recognitionof the government had come as a fitting climax to his work anddevotion. 

As we rode away from the agency, the cows being in sight under herd ofa dozen soldiers, several of us rode out to them, and learned thatthey intended to corral the cows at night, and within a weekdistribute them to Indian families, when the troop expected to returnto Fort Benton. Lovell and Flood appeared at the camp aboutdusk--Lovell in high spirits. This, he said, was the easiest deliveryof the three herds which he had driven that year. He was justified infeeling well over the year's drive, for he had in his possession avoucher for our Circle Dots which would crowd six figures closely. Itwas a gay night with us, for man and horse were free, and as we madedown our beds, old man Don insisted that Flood and he should maketheirs down alongside ours. He and The Rebel had been joking eachother during the evening, and as we went to bed were taking anoccasional fling at one another as opportunity offered. 

"It's a strange thing to me, " said Lovell, as he was pulling off hisboots, "that this herd counted out a hundred and twelve head more thanwe started with, while Bob Quirk's herd was only eighty-one long atthe final count;"

"Well, you see, " replied The Rebel, "Quirk's was a steer herd, whileours had over a thousand cows in it, and you must make allowance forsome of them to calve on the way. That ought to be easy figuring for afoxy, long-headed Yank like you. "

CHAPTER XXIV

BACK TO TEXAS

The nearest railroad point from the Blackfoot Agency was Silver Bow, about a hundred and seventy-five miles due south, and at that time theterminal of the Utah Northern Railroad. Everything connected with thedelivery having been completed the previous day, our camp was astirwith the dawn in preparation for departure on our last ride together. As we expected to make not less than forty miles a day on the way tothe railroad, our wagon was lightened to the least possible weight. The chuck-box, water kegs, and such superfluities were dropped, andthe supplies reduced to one week's allowance, while beds wereoverhauled and extra wearing apparel of the outfit was discarded. Whocared if we did sleep cold and hadn't a change to our backs? We weregoing home and would have money in our pockets. 

"The first thing I do when we strike that town of Silver Bow, " saidBull Durham, as he was putting on his last shirt, "is to discard tothe skin and get me new togs to a finish. I'll commence on my littlepattering feet, which will require fifteen-dollar moccasins, and thenabout a six-dollar checked cottonade suit, and top off with aseven-dollar brown Stetson. Then with a few drinks under my belt and arim-fire cigar in my mouth, I'd admire to meet the governor of Montanaif convenient. "

Before the sun was an hour high, we bade farewell to the BlackfootAgency and were doubling back over the trail, with Lovell in ourcompany. Our first night's camp was on the Muddy and the second on theSun River. We were sweeping across the tablelands adjoining the maindivide of the Rocky Mountains like the chinook winds which sweep thatmajestic range on its western slope. We were a free outfit; even thecook and wrangler were relieved; their little duties were dividedamong the crowd and almost disappeared. There was a keen rivalry overdriving the wagon, and McCann was transferred to the hurricane deck ofa cow horse, which he sat with ease and grace, having served anapprenticeship in the saddle in other days. There were always half adozen wranglers available in the morning, and we traveled as if underforced marching orders. The third night we camped in the narrowsbetween the Missouri River and the Rocky Mountains, and on the eveningof the fourth day camped several miles to the eastward of Helena, thecapital of the territory. 

Don Lovell had taken the stage for the capital the night before; andon making camp that evening, Flood took a fresh horse and rode intotown. The next morning he and Lovell returned with the superintendentof the cattle company which had contracted for our horses and outfiton the Republican. We corralled the horses for him, and after ropingout about a dozen which, as having sore backs or being lame, heproposed to treat as damaged and take at half price, the _remuda_ wascounted out, a hundred and forty saddle horses, four mules, and awagon constituting the transfer. Even with the loss of two horses andthe concessions on a dozen others, there was a nice profit on theentire outfit over its cost in the lower country, due to the foresightof Don Lovell in mounting us well. Two of our fellows who had borrowedfrom the superintendent money to redeem their six-shooters after thehorse race on the Republican, authorized Lovell to return him theloans and thanked him for the favor. Everything being satisfactorybetween buyer and seller, they returned to town together for asettlement, while we moved on south towards Silver Bow, where theoutfit was to be delivered. 

Another day's easy travel brought us to within a mile of the railroadterminus; but it also brought us to one of the hardest experiences ofour trip, for each of us knew, as we unsaddled our horses, that wewere doing it for the last time. Although we were in the best ofspirits over the successful conclusion of the drive; although we wereglad to be free from herd duty and looked forward eagerly to thejourney home, there was still a feeling of regret in our hearts whichwe could not dispel. In the days of my boyhood I have shed tears whena favorite horse was sold from our little ranch on the San Antonio, and have frequently witnessed Mexican children unable to hide theirgrief when need of bread had compelled the sale of some favorite horseto a passing drover. But at no time in my life, before or since, haveI felt so keenly the parting between man and horse as I did thatSeptember evening in Montana. For on the trail an affection springs upbetween a man and his mount which is almost human. Every privationwhich he endures his horse endures with him, --carrying him throughfalling weather, swimming rivers by day and riding in the lead ofstampedes by night, always faithful, always willing, and alwayspatiently enduring every hardship, from exhausting hours under saddleto the sufferings of a dry drive. And on this drive, covering nearlythree thousand miles, all the ties which can exist between man andbeast had not only become cemented, but our _remuda_ as a whole hadwon the affection of both men and employer for carrying withoutserious mishap a valuable herd all the way from the Rio Grande to theBlackfoot Agency. Their hones may be bleaching in some coulee by now, but the men who knew them then can never forget them or the part theyplayed in that long drive. 

Three men from the ranch rode into our camp that evening, and the nextmorning we counted over our horses to them and they passed intostrangers' hands. That there might he no delay, Flood had ridden intotown the evening before and secured a wagon and gunny bags in which tosack our saddles; for while we willingly discarded all other effects, our saddles were of sufficient value to return and could be checkedhome as baggage. Our foreman reported that Lovell had arrived by stageand was awaiting us in town, having already arranged for ourtransportation as far as Omaha, and would accompany us to that city, where other transportation would have to be secured to ourdestination. In our impatience to get into town, we were trudging inby twos and threes before the wagon arrived for our saddles, and hadnot Flood remained behind to look after them, they might have beenabandoned. 

There was something about Silver Bow that reminded me of Frenchman'sFord on the Yellowstone. Being the terminal of the first railroad intoMontana, it became the distributing point for all the western portionof that territory, and immense ox trains were in sight for thetransportation of goods to remoter points in the north and west. Thepopulation too was very much the same as at Frenchman's, though thetown in general was an improvement over the former, there being somestability to its buildings. As we were to leave on an eleven o'clocktrain, we had little opportunity to see the town, and for the shorttime at our disposal, barber shops and clothing stores claimed ourfirst attention. Most of us had some remnants of money, while mybunkie was positively rich, and Lovell advanced us fifty dollarsapiece, pending a final settlement on reaching our destination. 

Within an hour after receiving the money, we blossomed out in newsuits from head to heel. Our guard hung together as if we were stillon night herd, and in the selection of clothing the opinion of thetrio was equal to a purchase. The Rebel was very easily pleased in hisselection, but John Officer and myself were rather fastidious. Officerwas so tall it was with some little difficulty that a suit could befound to fit him, and when he had stuffed his pants in his boots andthrown away the vest, for he never wore either vest or suspenders, heemerged looking like an Alpine tourist, with his new pink shirt andnappy brown beaver slouch hat jauntily cocked over one ear. As wesauntered out into the street, Priest was dressed as became his yearsand mature good sense, while my costume rivaled Officer's ingaudiness, and it is safe to assert two thirds of our outlay had gonefor boots and hats. 

Flood overtook us in the street, and warned us to be on hand at thedepot at least half an hour in advance of train time, informing usthat he had checked our saddles and didn't want any of us to get leftat the final moment. We all took a drink together, and Officer assuredour foreman that he would be responsible for our appearance at theproper time, "sober and sorry for it. " So we sauntered about thestraggling village, drinking occasionally, and on the suggestion ofThe Rebel, made a cow by putting in five apiece and had Officer playit on faro, he claiming to be an expert on the game. Taking the pursethus made up, John sat into a game, while Priest and myself, afterwatching the play some minutes, strolled out again and met others ofour outfit in the street, scarcely recognizable in their killing rigs. The Rebel was itching for a monte game, but this not being a cow townthere was none, and we strolled next into a saloon, where a piano wasbeing played by a venerable-looking individual, --who proved quiteamiable, taking a drink with us and favoring us with a number ofselections of our choosing. We were enjoying this musical treat whenour foreman came in and asked us to get the boys together. Priest andI at once started for Officer, whom we found quite a winner, butsucceeded in choking him off on our employer's order, and after thechecks had been cashed, took a parting drink, which made us the lastin reaching the depot. When we were all assembled, our employerinformed us that he only wished to keep us together until embarking, and invited us to accompany him across the street to Tom Robbins'ssaloon. 

On entering the saloon, Lovell inquired of the young fellow behind thebar, "Son, what will you take for the privilege of my entertainingthis outfit for fifteen minutes?"

"The ranch is yours, sir, and you can name your own figures, "smilingly and somewhat shrewdly replied the young fellow, and promptlyvacated his position. 

"Now, two or three of you rascals get in behind there, " said old manDon, as a quartet of the boys picked him up and set him on one end ofthe bar, "and let's see what this ranch has in the way ofrefreshment. "

McCann, Quarternight, and myself obeyed the order, but the fastidioustastes of the line in front soon compelled us to call to ourassistance both Bobbins and the young man who had just vacated the barin our favor. 

"That's right, fellows, " roared Lovell from his commanding position, as he jingled a handful of gold coins, "turn to and help wait on thesethirsty Texans; and remember that nothing's too rich for our bloodto-day. This outfit has made one of the longest cattle drives onrecord, and the best is none too good for them. So set out your best, for they can't cut much hole in the profits in the short time we haveto stay. The train leaves in twenty minutes, and see that every rascalis provided with an extra bottle for the journey. And drop down thisway when you get time, as I want a couple of boxes of your best cigarsto smoke on the way. Montana has treated us well, and we want to leavesome of our coin with you. "