hub, manned the windlass and drew him ashore. When the steer was
freed, McCann, having no horse at hand, climbed into the wagon, while
the rest of us sought safety in our saddles, and gave him a wide
berth. When he came to his feet he was sullen with rage and refused to
move out of his tracks. Priest rode out and baited him at a distance,
and McCann, from his safe position, attempted to give him a scare,
when he savagely charged the wagon. McCann reached down, and securing
a handful of flour, dashed it into his eyes, which made him back away;
and, kneeling, he fell to cutting the sand with his horns. Rising, he
charged the wagon a second time, and catching the wagon sheet with his
horns, tore two slits in it like slashes of a razor. By this time The
Rebel ventured a little nearer, and attracted the steer's attention.
He started for Priest, who gave the quirt to his horse, and for the
first quarter mile had a close race. The steer, however, weakened by
the severe treatment he had been subjected to, soon fell to the rear,
and gave up the chase and continued on his way to the herd.

After this incident we worked down the river until the outfits met. We
finished the work before noon, having lost three full days by the
quicksands of the Canadian. As we pulled into the trail that afternoon
near the first divide and looked back to take a parting glance at the
river, we saw a dust cloud across the Canadian which we knew must he
the Ellison herd under Nat Straw. Quince Forrest, noticing it at the
same time as I did, rode forward and said to me, "Well, old Nat will
get it in the neck this time, if that old girl dallies with him as she
did with us. I don't wish him any bad luck, but I do hope he'll bog
enough cattle to keep his hand in practice. It will be just about his
luck, though, to find it settled and solid enough to cross." And the
next morning we saw his signal in the sky about the same distance
behind us, and knew he had forded without any serious trouble.