Bull was rolling a cigarette before starting, while Fox's night horse
was hard to bridle, which hindered them. With this slight delay,
Forrest turned his horse back and continued: "That same ox on the next
trip, one night when we had the wagons parked into a corral, got away
from the herder, tip-toed over the men's beds in the gate, stood on
his hind legs long enough to eat four fifty-pound sacks of flour out
of the rear end of a wagon, got down on his side, and wormed his way
under the wagon back into the herd, without being detected or waking a
man."

As they rode away to relieve the first guard, McCann said, "Isn't he a
muzzle-loading daisy? If I loved a liar I'd hug that man to death."

The absence of our foreman made no difference. We all knew our places
on guard. Experience told us there would be no trouble that night.
After Wyatt Roundtree and Moss Strayhorn had made down their bed and
got into it, Wyatt remarked,--

"Did you ever notice, old sidey, how hard this ground is?"

"Oh, yes," said Moss, as he turned over, hunting for a soft spot, "it
is hard, but we'll forget all that when this trip ends. Brother, dear,
just think of those long slings with red cherries floating around in
them that we'll be drinking, and picture us smoking cigars in a blaze.
That thought alone ought to make a hard bed both soft and warm. Then
to think we'll ride all the way home on the cars."

McCann banked his fire, and the first guard, Wheat, Stallings, and
Borrowstone, rode in from the herd, all singing an old chorus that had
been composed, with little regard for music or sense, about a hotel