I'd get off my horse and imagine I had horns, and scar and otherwise
mangle that mud bank shamefully. I'll hold your horse if you want to
try it--some of the secrets of the humor of cattle might be revealed
to you."

The banter, though given in jest, was too much for this member of a
craft that can always be depended on to do foolish things; and when we
rejoined the outfit, Strayhorn presented a sight no sane man save a
member of our tribe ever would have conceived of.

The herd had scattered over several thousand acres after leaving the
river, grazing freely, and so remained during the rest of the evening.
Forrest changed horses and set out down the river to find the wagon
and pilot it in, for with the long distance that McCann had to cover,
it was a question if he would reach us before dark. Flood selected a
bed ground and camp about a mile out from the river, and those of the
outfit not on herd dragged up an abundance of wood for the night, and
built a roaring fire as a beacon to our absent commissary. Darkness
soon settled over camp, and the prospect of a supperless night was
confronting us; the first guard had taken the herd, and yet there was
no sign of the wagon. Several of us youngsters then mounted our night
horses and rode down the river a mile or over in the hope of meeting
McCann. We came to a steep bank, caused by the shifting of the first
bottom of the river across to the north bank, rode up this bluff some
little distance, dismounted, and fired several shots; then with our
ears to the earth patiently awaited a response. It did not come, and
we rode back again. "Hell's fire and little fishes!" said Joe
Stallings, as we clambered into our saddles to return, "it's not
supper or breakfast that's troubling me, but will we get any dinner
to-morrow? That's a more pregnant question."