The cattle were drifting now before the storm which had settled
to a monotonous downpour. The riders--two or three men for
every herd that had joined in the panic--circled, a veritable
picket line without the password. There would be no relief ride
out to them that night, and they knew it and settled to the long
wait for morning.

Thurston took up his station next to Bob; rode until he met the
next man, and then retraced his steps till he faced Bob again;
rode until the world seemed unreal and far away, with nothing
left but the night and the riding back and forth on his beat,
and the rain that oozed through Ms clothes and trickled
uncomfortably down inside his collar. He lost all count of time,
and was startled when at last came gray dawn.

As the light grew brighter his eyes widened and forgot their
sleep-hunger; he had not thought it would be like this. He was
riding part way across one end of a herd larger than his
imagination had ever pictured; three thousand cattle had seemed
to him a multitude--yet here were more than twenty thousand,
wet, draggled, their backs humped miserably from the rain which
but a half hour since had ceased. He was still gazing and
wondering when Park rode up to him.

"Lord! Bud, you're a sight! Did the bunch walk over yuh?" he
greeted.

"No, only Sunfish," snapped Thurston crossly. Time was when
Philip Thurston would not have answered any man abruptly,
however great the provocation. He was only lately getting down