with him the night before; and while it was granted, it was plain that
it was begrudged. The first herd disclaimed all responsibility,
holding that the stampede was due to an unavoidable accident, their
cattle having grown restless during their enforced lay-over. The
indifferent attitude of their foreman, whose name was Wilson, won the
friendly regard of our outfit, and before the wagon of the mixed
cattle was reached, there was a compact, at least tacit, between their
outfit and ours. Our foreman was not blameless, for had we taken the
usual precaution and camped at least a mile off the trail, which was
our custom when in close proximity to other herds, we might and
probably would have missed this mix-up, for our herd was inclined to
be very tractable. Flood, with all his experience, well knew that if
stampeded cattle ever got into a known trail, they were certain to
turn backward over their course; and we were now paying the fiddler
for lack of proper precaution.

Within an hour after daybreak, and before the cattle had reached the
camp of the mixed herd, our saddle horses were sighted coming over a
slight divide about two miles up the trail, and a minute later
McCann's mules hove in sight, bringing up the rear. They had made a
start with the first dawn, rightly reasoning, as there was no time to
leave orders on our departure, that it was advisable for Mahomet to go
to the mountain. Flood complimented our cook and horse wrangler on
their foresight, for the wagon was our base of sustenance; and there
was little loss of time before Barney McCann was calling us to a
hastily prepared breakfast. Flood asked Wilson to bring his outfit to
our wagon for breakfast, and as fast as they were relieved from herd,
they also did ample justice to McCann's cooking. During breakfast, I
remember Wilson explaining to Flood what he believed was the cause of
the stampede. It seems that there were a few remaining buffalo ranging