covered our mounts from withers to hips, and would weigh from thirty
to forty pounds, bedecked with the latest in the way of trimmings and
trappings.

Our bridles were in keeping with the saddles, the reins as long as
plough lines, while the bit was frequently ornamental and costly. The
indispensable slicker, a greatcoat of oiled canvas, was ever at hand,
securely tied to our cantle strings. Spurs were a matter of taste. If
a rider carried a quirt, he usually dispensed with spurs, though, when
used, those with large, dull rowels were the make commonly chosen. In
the matter of leggings, not over half our outfit had any, as a trail
herd always kept in the open, and except for night herding they were
too warm in summer. Our craft never used a cattle whip, but if
emergency required, the loose end of a rope served instead, and was
more humane.

Either Flood or Lovell went into town every afternoon with some of the
boys, expecting to hear from the cattle. On one trip they took along
the wagon, laying in a month's supplies. The rest of us amused
ourselves in various ways. One afternoon when the tide was in, we
tried our swimming horses in the river, stripping to our
underclothing, and, with nothing but a bridle on our horses, plunged
into tidewater. My Nigger Boy swam from bank to bank like a duck. On
the return I slid off behind, and taking his tail, let him tow me to
our own side, where he arrived snorting like a tugboat.

One evening, on their return from Brownsville, Flood brought word that
the herd would camp that night within fifteen miles of the river. At
daybreak Lovell and the foreman, with "Fox" Quarternight and myself,
started to meet the herd. The nearest ferry was at Brownsville, and it