convenience we made a long evening drive, camping for the night well
above Buffalo Gap, which at that time was little more than a landmark
on the trail. The next day we made an easy drive and passed Abilene
early in the afternoon, where Flood rejoined us, but refused any one
permission to go into town, with the exception of McCann with the
wagon, which was a matter of necessity. It was probably for the best,
for this cow town had the reputation of setting a pace that left the
wayfarer purseless and breathless, to say nothing about headaches.
Though our foreman had not reached those mature years in life when the
pleasures and frivolities of dissipation no longer allure, yet it was
but natural that he should wish to keep his men from the temptation of
the cup that cheers and the wiles of the siren. But when the wagon
returned that evening, it was evident that our foreman was human, for
with a box of cigars which were promised us were several bottles of
Old Crow.

After crossing the Clear Fork of the Brazos a few days later, we
entered a well-watered, open country, through which the herd made
splendid progress. At Abilene, we were surprised to learn that our
herd was the twentieth that had passed that point. The weather so far
on our trip had been exceptionally good; only a few showers had
fallen, and those during the daytime. But we were now nearing a
country in which rain was more frequent, and the swollen condition of
several small streams which have their headwaters in the Staked Plains
was an intimation to us of recent rains to the westward of our route.
Before reaching the main Brazos, we passed two other herds of yearling
cattle, and were warned of the impassable condition of that river for
the past week. Nothing daunted, we made our usual drive; and when the
herd camped that night, Flood, after scouting ahead to the river,
returned with the word that the Brazos had been unfordable for over a