y spectators, started
back to meet the herd, which was just then looming up in sight. But
before we had ridden any distance, the dusky foreman overtook us and
politely said, "Look-ee here, Cap'n; ain't you-all afraid of losin' some
of your cattle among ours?" Never halting, I replied, "Not a particle;
if we lose any, you eat them, and we'll do the same if our herd absorbs
any of yours. But it strikes me that you had better have those lazy
niggers throw your cattle to one side," I called back, as he halted his
horse. We did not look backward until we reached the herd; then as we
turned, one on each side to support the points, it was evident that a
clear field would await us on reaching the river. Every horseman in the
black outfit was pushing cattle with might and main, to give us a clean
cloth at the crossing.

The herd forded the Washita without incident. I remained on the south
bank while the cattle were crossing, and when they were about half over
some half-dozen of the darkies rode up and stopped apart, conversing
among themselves. When the drag cattle passed safely out on the farther
bank, I turned to the dusky group, only to find their foreman
absent. Making a few inquiries as to the ownership of their herd, its
destination, and other matters of interest, I asked the group to express
my thanks to their foreman for moving his cattle aside. Our commissary
crossed shortly afterward, and the Washita was in our rear. But that
night, as some of my outfit returned from the river, where they had been
fishing, they reported the negro outfit as having crossed and encamped
several miles in our rear.

"All they needed was a good example," said Dorg Seay. "Under a white
foreman, I'll bet that's a good lot of darkies. They were just about the
right shade--old shiny black. As good cowhands as ever I saw were nigs,
but they need a white man to blow and brag on them. But it always ruins
one to give him any authority."

Without effort we traveled fifteen miles a day. In the absence of any
wet weather to gall their backs, there was not a horse in our remuda
unfit for the saddle. In fact, after reaching the Indian Territory, they
took on flesh and played like lambs. With the exception of long hours
and night-herding, the days passed in seeming indolence as we swept
northward, crossing rivers without a halt which in previous years had
defied the moving herds. On arriving at the Cimarron River, in reply to
a letter written to my emp