The lightning struck almost into the
herd itself, and with heads and tails high the panic-stricken animals
plunged off into the darkness.

Will Dow was at Roosevelt's side. The tumult evidently had not
affected his imperturbable gayety. "There'll be racing and chasing on
Cannobie lea," Roosevelt heard him gayly quote. An instant later the
night had swallowed him.

For a minute or two Roosevelt could make out nothing except the dark
forms of the beasts, running on every side of him like the black
waters of a roaring river. He was conscious that if his horse should
stumble there would be no hope for him in the path of those panicky
hoofs. The herd split, a part turning to one side, while the other
part kept straight ahead. Roosevelt galloped at top speed, hoping to
reach the leaders and turn them.

He heard a wild splashing ahead. One instant he was aware that the
cattle in front of him and beside him were disappearing; the next, he
himself was plunging over a cutbank into the Little Missouri. He bent
far back in the saddle. His horse almost fell, recovered himself,
plunged forward, and, struggling through water and quicksand, made the
other side.

For a second he saw another cowboy beside him. The man disappeared in
the darkness and the deluge, and Roosevelt galloped off through a
grove of cottonwoods after the diminished herd. The ground was rough
and full of pitfalls. Once his horse turned a somersault and threw
him. At last the cattle came to a halt, but soon they were again away
through the darkness. Thrice again he halted them, and thrice again
they stampeded.

"The country was muddy and wet," said Lincoln Lang afterward. "We were
having a heavy rain all night. I don't know how we ever got through.
All we had was lightning flashes to go by. It was really one of the
worst mix-ups I ever saw. That surely was a night."

[Illustration: The scene of the stampede. On the farther side of the
river is the cutbank over which the cattle rushed in the dark.]

Day broke at last, and as the light filtered through the clouds
Roosevelt could dimly discern where he was. He succeeded at last in
turning back what remained of the cattle in the direction of the camp,
gathering in stray groups of cattle as he went, and driving them
before him. He came upon a cowboy on foot carrying his saddle on his
head. It was the man he had seen for a flash during the storm. His
horse had run into a tree and been killed. He himself had escap