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The Log of a Cowboy - A Narrative of the Old Trail Days by Andy Adams
page 21 of 300 (07%)
I had been detained to do any interpreting needful, and at parting
Lovell beckoned to me. When I rode alongside the carriage, he gave me
his hand and said,--

"Flood tells me to-day that you're a brother of Bob Quirk. Bob is to
be foreman of my herd that I'm putting up in Nueces County. I'm glad
you're here with Jim, though, for it's a longer trip. Yes, you'll get
all the circus there is, and stay for the concert besides. They say
God is good to the poor and the Irish; and if that's so, you'll pull
through all right. Good-by, son." And as he gave me a hearty, ringing
grip of the hand, I couldn't help feeling friendly toward him, Yankee
that he was.

After Lovell and the dons had gone, Flood ordered McCann to move his
wagon back from the river about a mile. It was now too late in the day
to start the herd, and we wanted to graze them well, as it was our
first night with them. About half our outfit grazed them around on a
large circle, preparatory to bringing them up to the bed ground as it
grew dusk. In the untrammeled freedom of the native range, a cow or
steer will pick old dry grass on which to lie down, and if it is
summer, will prefer an elevation sufficient to catch any passing
breeze. Flood was familiar with the habits of cattle, and selected a
nice elevation on which the old dry grass of the previous summer's
growth lay matted like a carpet.

Our saddle horses by this time were fairly well broken to camp life,
and, with the cattle on hand, night herding them had to be abandoned.
Billy Honeyman, however, had noticed several horses that were inclined
to stray on day herd, and these few leaders were so well marked in his
memory that, as a matter of precaution, he insisted on putting a rope
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