The outlook was anything but encouraging. Flood and Forrest scouted
the creek up and down for ten miles in a fruitless search for water.
The outfit held the herd back until the twilight of evening, when
Flood returned and confirmed McCann's report. It was twenty miles yet
to the next water ahead, and if the horse stock could only be watered
thoroughly, Flood was determined to make the attempt to nurse the herd
through to water. McCann was digging an extra well, and he expressed
the belief that by hollowing out a number of holes, enough water could
be secured for the saddle stock. Honeyman had corralled the horses and
was letting only a few go to the water at a time, while the night
horses were being thoroughly watered as fast as the water rose in the
well.

Holding the herd this third night required all hands. Only a few men
at a time were allowed to go into camp and eat, for the herd refused
even to lie down. What few cattle attempted to rest were prevented by
the more restless ones. By spells they would mill, until riders were
sent through the herd at a break-neck pace to break up the groups.
During these milling efforts of the herd, we drifted over a mile from
camp; but by the light of moon and stars and the number of riders,
scattering was prevented. As the horses were loose for the night, we
could not start them on the trail until daybreak gave us a change of
mounts, so we lost the early start of the morning before.

Good cloudy weather would have saved us, but in its stead was a sultry
morning without a breath of air, which bespoke another day of sizzling
heat. We had not been on the trail over two hours before the heat
became almost unbearable to man and beast. Had it not been for the
condition of the herd, all might yet have gone well; but over three
days had now elapsed without water for the cattle, and they became