After reaching the trail of the missing cattle, our foreman set a pace
for five or six miles which would have carried us across the Nueces by
nightfall, and we were only checked by Moss Strayhorn riding in on an
angle and intercepting us in our headlong gait. The missing cattle
were within a mile of us to the right, and we turned and rode to them.
Strayhorn explained to us that the cattle had struck some recent
fencing on their course, and after following down the fence several
miles had encountered an offset, and the angle had held the squad
until The Rebel and Blades overtook them. When Officer and he reached
them, they were unable to make any accurate count, because of the
range cattle amongst them, and they had considered it advisable to
save horseflesh, and not cut them until more help was available. When
we came up with the cattle, my bunkie and Blades looked wistfully at
our saddles, and anticipating their want, I untied my slicker, well
remembering the reproof of Quarternight and Forrest, and produced a
full canteen of water,--warm of course, but no less welcome.

No sooner were saddles shifted than we held up the bunch, cut out the
range cattle, counted, and found we had some three hundred and thirty
odd Circle Dots,--our number more than complete. With nothing now
missing, Flood took the loose horses and two of the boys with him and
returned to the herd, leaving three of us behind to bring in this last
contingent of our stampeded cattle. This squad were nearly all large
steers, and had run fully twenty miles, before, thanks to an angle in
a fence, they had been checked. As our foreman galloped away, leaving
us behind, Bob Blades said,--

"Hasn't the boss got a wiggle on himself today! If he'd made this old
world, he'd have made it in half a day, and gone fishing in the
afternoon--if his horses had held out."