dazed by the sudden and unexpected turn of affairs, but rallied and
met the emergency.

"There's but one thing left to do," said he, as we rode along, "and
that is to hurry the outfit back to Indian Lakes. The herd will travel
day and night, and instinct can be depended on to carry them to the
only water they know. It's too late to be of any use now, but it's
plain why those last two herds turned off at the lakes; some one had
gone back and warned them of the very thing we've met. We must beat
them to the lakes, for water is the only thing that will check them
now. It's a good thing that they are strong, and five or six days
without water will hardly kill any. It was no vague statement of the
man who said if he owned hell and Texas, he'd rent Texas and live in
hell, for if this isn't Billy hell, I'd like to know what you call
it."

We spent an hour watering the horses from the wells of our camp of the
night before, and about two o'clock started back over the trail for
Indian Lakes. We overtook the abandoned herd during the afternoon.
They were strung out nearly five miles in length, and were walking
about a three-mile gait. Four men were given two extra horses apiece
and left to throw in the stragglers in the rear, with instructions to
follow them well into the night, and again in the morning as long as
their canteens lasted. The remainder of the outfit pushed on without a
halt, except to change mounts, and reached the lakes shortly after
midnight. There we secured the first good sleep of any consequence for
three days.

It was fortunate for us that there were no range cattle at these
lakes, and we had only to cover a front of about six miles to catch