illy said in his
enthusiasm: "If that horse thief had not relied on pot shooting, and
had been modest and only used one gun, he might have hurt some of you
fellows. But when I saw old Paul raising his gun to a level as he
shot, I knew he was cool and steady, and I'd rather died right there
than see him fail to get his man."

CHAPTER XXII

OUR LAST CAMP-FIRE

By early dawn the next morning we were astir at our last camp on Sweet
Grass, and before the horses were brought in, we had put on the wagon
box and reloaded our effects. The rainy season having ended in the
mountain regions, the stage of water in the Yellowstone would present
no difficulties in fording, and our foreman was anxious to make a long
drive that day so as to make up for our enforced lay-over. We had
breakfasted by the time the horses were corralled, and when we
overtook the grazing herd, the cattle were within a mile of the river.
Flood had looked over the ford the day before, and took one point of
the herd as we went down into the crossing. The water was quite chilly
to the cattle, though the horses in the lead paid little attention to
it, the water in no place being over three feet deep. A number of
spectators had come up from Frenchman's to watch the herd ford, the
crossing being about half a mile above the village. No one made any
inquiry for Priest, though ample opportunity was given them to see
that the gray-haired man was missing. After the herd had crossed, a
number of us lent a rope in assisting the wagon over, and when we
reached the farther bank, we waved our hats to the group on the south
side in farewell to them and to Frenchman's Ford.

The trail on leaving the river led up Many Berries, one of the
tributaries of the Yellowstone putting in from the north side; and we
paralleled it mile after mile. It was with difficulty that riders
could be kept on the right hand side of the herd, for along it grew
endless quantities of a species of upland huckleberry, and, breaking
off branches, we feasted as we rode along. The grade up this creek was
quite pronounced, for before night the channel of the creek had
narrowed to several yards in width. On the second day out the wild
fruit disappeared early in the morning, and after a continued gradual
climb, we made camp that night on the summit of the divide within
plain sight of the Musselshell River. From this divide there was a
splendid view of the surrounding country as far as eye could see. To