little east of north. The next few days we made long drives, our
saddle horses recovered from their scare, and the outfit fast regained
its spirits.

On the morning of the tenth day after leaving the trail, we loitered
up a long slope to a divide in our lead from which we sighted timber
to the north. This we supposed from its size must be the North Fork.
Our route lay up this divide some distance, and before we left it,
some one in the rear sighted a dust cloud to the right and far behind
us. As dust would hardly rise on a still morning without a cause, we
turned the herd off the divide and pushed on, for we suspected
Indians. Flood and Priest hung back on the divide, watching the dust
signals, and after the herd had left them several miles in the rear,
they turned and rode towards it,--a move which the outfit could hardly
make out. It was nearly noon when we saw them returning in a long
lope, and when they came in sight of the herd, Priest waved his hat in
the air and gave the long yell. When he explained that there was a
herd of cattle on the trail in the rear and to our right, the yell
went around the herd, and was reechoed by our wrangler and cook in the
rear. The spirits of the outfit instantly rose. We halted the herd and
camped for noon, and McCann set out his best in celebrating the
occasion. It was the most enjoyable meal we had had in the past ten
days. After a good noonday rest, we set out, and having entered the
trail during the afternoon, crossed the North Fork late that evening.
As we were going into camp, we noticed a horseman coming up the trail,
who turned out to be smiling Nat Straw, whom we had left on the
Colorado River. "Well, girls," said Nat, dismounting, "I didn't know
who you were, but I just thought I'd ride ahead and overtake whoever
it was and stay all night. Indians? Yes; I wouldn't drive on a trail
that hadn't any excitement on it. I gave the last big encampment ten