We reached the camp about two o'clock, and found the outfit cutting
out range cattle which had been absorbed into the herd during the run.
Throwing in our contingent, we joined in the work, and though Forrest
and Quarternight were as good as afoot, there were no orders for a
change of mounts, to say nothing of food and drink. Several hundred
mixed cattle were in the herd, and after they had been cut out, we
lined our cattle out for a count. In the absence of Priest, Flood and
John Officer did the counting, and as the hour of the day made the
cattle sluggish, they lined through between the counters as though
they had never done anything but walk in their lives. The count showed
sixteen short of twenty-eight hundred, which left us yet over three
hundred out. But good men were on their trail, and leaving two men on
herd, the rest of us obeyed the most welcome orders of the day when
Flood intimated that we would "eat a bite and go after the rest."

As we had been in our saddles since one or two o'clock the morning
before, it is needless to add that our appetites were equal to the
spread which our cook had waiting for us. Our foreman, as though
fearful of the loss of a moment's time, sent Honeyman to rustle in the
horses before we had finished our dinners. Once the _remuda_ was
corralled, under the rush of a tireless foreman, dinner was quickly
over, and fresh horses became the order of the moment. The Atascosa,
our nearest water, lay beyond the regular trail to the west, and
leaving orders for the outfit to drift the herd into it and water,
Flood and myself started in search of our absent men, not forgetting
to take along two extra horses as a remount for Blades and Priest. The
leading of these extra horses fell to me, but with the loose end of a
rope in Jim Flood's hand as he followed, it took fast riding to keep
clear of them.