"No, I haven't. No more than you have," replied our foreman. "But this
much I do know, or will just as soon as the sun comes out: I know
north from south. We have been traveling north by a little west, and
if we hold that course we're bound to strike the North Fork, and
within a day or two afterwards we will come into the government trail,
running from Fort Elliot to Camp Supply, which will lead us into our
own trail. Or if we were certain that we had cleared the Indian
reservation, we could bear to our right, and in time we would reënter
the trail that way. I can't help the weather, boys, and as long as I
have chuck, I'd as lief be lost as found."

If there was any recovery in the feelings of the outfit after this
talk of Flood's, it was not noticeable, and it is safe to say that two
thirds of the boys believed we were in the Pan-handle of Texas. One
man's opinion is as good as another's in a strange country, and while
there wasn't a man in the outfit who cared to suggest it, I know the
majority of us would have indorsed turning northeast. But the fates
smiled on us at last. About the middle of the forenoon, on the
following day, we cut an Indian trail, about three days old, of
probably fifty horses. A number of us followed the trail several miles
on its westward course, and among other things discovered that they
had been driving a small bunch of cattle, evidently making for the
sand hills which we could see about twenty miles to our left. How they
had come by the cattle was a mystery,--perhaps by forced levy, perhaps
from a stampede. One thing was certain: the trail must have
contributed them, for there were none but trail cattle in the country.
This was reassuring and gave some hint of guidance. We were all
tickled, therefore, after nooning that day and on starting the herd in
the afternoon, to hear our foreman give orders to point the herd a