with the stampede. Then, feeling the anger of temporary
authority, "What in hell are you up to, letting your cattle
run?" If Park could have heard him say that for Reeve-Howard!

Down the long length of the valley they swept, gathering to
themselves other herds and other riders as incensed as were
themselves. It is not pretty work, nor amusing, to gallop madly
in the wake of a stampede at night, keeping up the stragglers
and taking the chance of a broken neck with the rain to make
matters worse.

Bob MacGregor sought Thurston with much shouting, and having
found him they rode side by side. And always the thunder boomed
overhead, and by the lightning flashes they glimpsed the
turbulent sea of cattle fleeing, they knew not where or why,
with blind fear crowding their heels.

The noise of it roused the camps as they thundered by; men rose
up, peered out from bed-tents as the stampede swept past, cursed
the delay it would probably make, hoped none of the boys got
hurt, and thanked the Lord the tents were pitched close to the
creek and out of the track of the maddened herds.

Then they went back to bed to wait philosophically for daylight.

When Sunfish, between flashes, stumbled into a shallow washout,
and sent Thurston sailing unbeautifully over his head, Bob
pulled up and slid off his horse in a hurry.

"Yuh hurt, Bud?" he cried anxiously, bending over him. For