night herder and I scoured and circled that country for miles around,
but no ox. The country was so bare and level that a jack rabbit needed
to carry a fly for shade. I was worried, for we needed every ox and
every moment of time. I ordered Joe to tie his mate behind the trail
wagon and pull out one ox shy.

"Well, fellows, that thing worried me powerful. Half the teamsters,
good, honest, truthful men as ever popped a whip, swore they saw that
ox when they came in. Well, it served a strong argument that a man can
be positive and yet be mistaken. We nooned ten miles from our night
camp that day. Jerry Wilkens happened to mention it at dinner that he
believed his trail needed greasing. 'Why,' said Jerry, 'you'd think
that I was loaded, the way my team kept their chains taut.' I noticed
Joe get up from dinner before he had finished, as if an idea had
struck him. He went over and opened the sheet in Jerry's trail wagon,
and a smile spread over his countenance. 'Come here, fellows,' was all
he said.

"We ran over to the wagon and there"--

The boys turned their backs with indistinct mutterings of disgust.

"You all don't need to believe this if you don't want to, but there
was the missing ox, coiled up and sleeping like a bear in the wagon.
He even had Jerry's roll of bedding for a pillow. You see, the wagon
sheet was open in front, and he had hopped up on the trail tongue and
crept in there to steal a ride. Joe climbed into the wagon, and gave
him a few swift kicks in the short ribs, when he opened his eyes,
yawned, got up, and jumped out."