r
horses, and, wedge-shaped, struck this sea of cattle and entered, but
it instantly closed in their wake as though it had been water. For an
hour they rode through the herd, back and forth, now from this
quarter, now from that, and finally the mill was broken. After
midnight, as luck would have it, heavy dark clouds banked in the
northwest, and lightning flashed, and before a single animal had lain
down, a drizzling rain set in. That settled it; it was an all-night
job now. We drifted about hither and yon. Horses, men, and cattle
turned their backs to the wind and rain and waited for morning. We
were so familiar with the signs of coming day that we turned them
loose 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 Blades
expressed his disgust over our occupation. "If ever I get home again,"
said he, and the tones of his voice were an able second to his
remarks, "you all can go up the trail that want to, but here's one
chicken that won't. There isn't a cowman in Texas who has money enough
to hire me again."

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

CHAPTER XIX

FORTY ISLANDS FORD

After securing a count on the herd that morning and finding nothing
short, we trailed out up the North Platte River. It was an easy
country in which to handle a herd; the trail in places would run back
from the river as far as ten miles, and again follow close in near the
river bottoms. There was an abundance of small creeks putting into
this fork of the Platte from the south, which afforded water for the
herd and good camp grounds at night. Only twice after leaving Ogalalla
had we been compelled to go to the river for water for the herd, and
with the exception of thunderstorms and occasional summer rains, the
weather had been all one could wish. For the past week as we trailed
up the North Platte, some one of us visited the river daily to note
its stage of water, for we were due to cross at Forty Islands, about
twelve miles south of old Fort Laramie. The North Platte was very
similar to the South Canadian,--a wide sandy stream without banks; and
our experience with the latter was fresh in our memories. The stage of
water had not been favorable, for this riv