brought him brandy and food, and while he partook of refreshments, of
which he appeared badly in need, she asked no questions.

"No one rider--could hev done more--Miss Withersteen," he went on,
presently.

"Judkins, don't be distressed. You've done more than any other rider.
I've long expected to lose the white herd. It's no surprise. It's
in line with other things that are happening. I'm grateful for your
service."

"Miss Withersteen, I knew how you'd take it. But if anythin', that makes
it harder to tell. You see, a feller wants to do so much fer you, an'
I'd got fond of my job. We led the herd a ways off to the north of
the break in the valley. There was a big level an' pools of water an'
tip-top browse. But the cattle was in a high nervous condition. Wild--as
wild as antelope! You see, they'd been so scared they never slept. I
ain't a-goin' to tell you of the many tricks that were pulled off out
there in the sage. But there wasn't a day for weeks thet the herd didn't
get started to run. We allus managed to ride 'em close an' drive 'em
back an' keep 'em bunched. Honest, Miss Withersteen, them steers was
thin. They was thin when water and grass was everywhere. Thin at this
season--thet'll tell you how your steers was pestered. Fer instance, one
night a strange runnin' streak of fire run right through the herd. That
streak was a coyote--with an oiled an' blazin' tail! Fer I shot it an'
found out. We had hell with the herd that night, an' if the sage an'
grass hadn't been wet--we, hosses, steers, an' all would hev burned up.
But I said I wasn't goin' to tell you any of the tricks.... Strange
now, Miss Withersteen, when the stampede did come it was from natural
cause--jest a whirlin' devil of dust. You've seen the like often. An'
this wasn't no big whirl, fer the dust was mostly settled. It had dried
out in a little swale, an' ordinarily no steer would ever hev run fer
it. But the herd was nervous en' wild. An' jest as Lassiter said, when
that bunch of white steers got to movin' they was as bad as buffalo.
I've seen some buffalo stampedes back in Nebraska, an' this bolt of the
steers was the same kind.

"I tried to mill the herd jest as Lassiter did. But I wasn't equal to
it, Miss Withersteen. I don't believe the rider lives who could hev
turned thet herd. We kept along of the herd fer miles, an' more 'n one
of my boys tried to get the steers a-millin'. It wasn't no use. We got
off level ground, goin' down, an' then