the animals as they came out of the water; so the order went forward
to let them hit the trail for the first water. We made a fine stream,
watering early in the afternoon. As they grazed out from the creek we
fed them through between two of the boys. The count showed no cattle
short. In fact, the Val Verde boy's count was confirmed. It was then
that our medicine man played his cards wrong. He still insisted
that we were cattle out, thus queering himself with his men. He was
gradually getting into a lone minority, though he didn't have sense
enough to realize it. He would even fight with and curse his horses to
impress us with his authority. Very little attention was paid to him
after this, and as grass and water improved right along nothing of
interest happened.

"While crossing 'No-Man's-Land' a month later,--I was on herd myself
at the time, a bright moonlight night,--they jumped like a cat shot
with No. 8's, and quit the bed-ground instanter. There were three of
us on guard at the time, and before the other boys could get out of
their blankets and into their saddles the herd had gotten well under
headway. Even when the others came to our assistance, it took us
some time to quiet them down. As this scare came during last guard,
daylight was on us before they had quit milling, and we were three
miles from the wagon. As we drifted them back towards camp, for fear
that something might have gotten away, most of the boys scoured the
country for miles about, but without reward. When all had returned
to camp, had breakfasted, and changed horses, the counting act was
ordered by Mr. Medicine. Our foreman naturally felt that he would have
to take a hand in this count, evidently forgetting his last experience
in that line. He was surprised, when he asked one of the boys to help
him, by receiving a flat refusal.