could be seen. The trail struck the Powder on an
angle, and when within a mile of the river, the swing cattle left the
deep-trodden paths and started for the nearest water.

The left flank of our skirmish line encountered the cattle as they
reached the river, and prevented them from drifting up the stream. The
point men abandoned the leaders when within a few hundred yards of the
river. Then the rear guard of cripples and sore-footed cattle came up,
and the two flanks of horsemen pushed them all across the river until
they met, when we turned and galloped into camp, making the night
hideous with our yelling. The longest dry drive of the trip had been
successfully made, and we all felt jubilant. We stripped bridles and
saddles from our tired horses, and unrolling our beds, were soon lost
in well-earned sleep.

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

CHAPTER XXI

THE YELLOWSTONE

The tramping of our _remuda_ as they came trotting up to the wagon the
next morning, and Honeyman's calling, "Horses, horses," brought us to
the realization that another day had dawned with its duty. McCann had
stretched the ropes of our corral, for Flood was as dead to the world
as any of us were, but the tramping of over a hundred and forty horses
and mules, as they crowded inside the ropes, brought him into action
as well as the rest of us. We had had a good five hours' sleep, while
our mounts had been transformed from gaunt animals to round-barreled
saddle horses,--that fought and struggled amongst themselves or
artfully dodged the lariat loops which were being cast after them.
Honeyman reported the herd quietly grazing across the river, and after
securing our mounts for the morning, we breakfasted before looking
after the cattle. It took us less than an hour to round up and count
the cattle, and turn them loose again under herd to graze. Those of us
not on herd returned to the wagon, and our foreman instructed McCann
to make a two hours' drive down the river and camp for noon, as he
proposed only to graze the herd that morning. After seeing the wagon
safely beyond the rocky crossing, we hunted up a good bathing pool and
disported ourselves for half an hour, taking a much needed bath. There
were trails on either side of the Powder, and as our course was
henceforth to the northwest, we remained on