generation, and "cattle stealing" was too drastic a term to use for
the chance gain of a few cattle, when the foundations of princely
fortunes were being laid with a rope and a branding iron.

In order to give the Ellison herd a good start of us, we only moved
our wagon to the farthest lake and went into camp for the day. The
herd had recovered its normal condition by this time, and of the
troubles of the past week not a trace remained. Instead, our herd
grazed in leisurely content over a thousand acres, while with the
exception of a few men on herd, the outfit lounged around the wagon
and beguiled the time with cards.

We had undergone an experience which my bunkie, The Rebel, termed "an
interesting incident in his checkered career," but which not even he
would have cared to repeat. That night while on night herd
together--the cattle resting in all contentment--we rode one round
together, and as he rolled a cigarette he gave me an old war story:--

"They used to tell the story in the army, that during one of the
winter retreats, a cavalryman, riding along in the wake of the column
at night, saw a hat apparently floating in the mud and water. In the
hope that it might be a better hat than the one he was wearing, he
dismounted to get it. Feeling his way carefully through the ooze until
he reached the hat, he was surprised to find a man underneath and
wearing it. 'Hello, comrade,' he sang out, 'can I lend you a hand?'

"'No, no,' replied the fellow, 'I'm all right; I've got a good mule
yet under me.'"