over half the outfit in camp could only look on and curse their luck
at being left afoot. The Rebel was first in the saddle, and turned
after the horses, but I rode for the herd. The cattle were not badly
scared, and as the morning grew clearer, five of us quieted them down
before they had run more than a short mile.

The horses, however, gave us a long, hard run, and since a horse has a
splendid memory, the effects of this scare were noticeable for nearly
a month after. Honeyman at once urged our foreman to hobble at night,
but Flood knew the importance of keeping the _remuda_ strong, and
refused. But his decision was forced, for just as it was growing dusk
that evening, we heard the horses running, and all hands had to turn
out, to surround them and bring them into camp. We hobbled every horse
and side-lined certain leaders, and for fully a week following, one
scare or another seemed to hold our saddle stock in constant terror.
During this week we turned out our night horses, and taking the worst
of the leaders in their stead, tied them solidly to the wagon wheels
all night, not being willing to trust to picket ropes. They would even
run from a mounted man during the twilight of evening or early dawn,
or from any object not distinguishable in uncertain light; but the
wrangler now never went near them until after sunrise, and their
nervousness gradually subsided. Trouble never comes singly, however,
and when we struck the Salt Fork, we found it raging, and impassable
nearly from bank to bank. But get across we must. The swimming of it
was nothing, but it was necessary to get our wagon over, and there
came the rub. We swam the cattle in twenty minutes' time, but it took
us a full half day to get the wagon over. The river was at least a
hundred yards wide, three quarters of which was swimming to a horse.
But we hunted up and down the river until we found an eddy, where the
banks had a gradual approach to deep water, and started to raft the