The start across the arid stretch was made at noon. Every hoof had
been thoroughly watered in advance, and with the heat of summer on us
it promised to be an ordeal to man and beast. But Loving had driven it
before, and knew fully what was before him as we trailed out under a
noonday sun. An evening halt was made for refreshing the inner man,
and as soon as darkness settled over us the herd was again started.
We were conscious of the presence of Indians, and deceived them
by leaving our camp-fire burning, but holding our effects closely
together throughout the night, the remuda even mixing with the cattle.
When day broke we were fully thirty miles from our noon camp of the
day before, yet with the exception of an hour's rest there was never a
halt. A second day and night were spent in forging ahead, though it
is doubtful if we averaged much over a mile an hour during that time.
About fifteen miles out from the Pecos we were due to enter a cañon
known as Castle Mountain Gap, some three or four miles long, the exit
of which was in sight of the river. We were anxious to reach the
entrance of this cañon before darkness on the third day, as we could
then cut the cattle into bunches, the cliffs on either side forming a
lane. Our horses were as good as worthless during the third day, but
the saddle mules seemed to stand grief nobly, and by dint of ceaseless
effort we reached the cañon and turned the cattle loose into it. This
was the turning-point in the dry drive. That night two men took half
the remuda and went through to Horsehead Crossing, returning with them
early the next morning, and we once more had fresh mounts. The herd
had been nursed through the cañon during the night, and although it
was still twelve miles to the river, I have always believed that those
beeves knew that water was at hand. They walked along briskly; instead
of the constant moaning, their heads were erect, bawling loud and
deep. The oxen drawing the wagon held their chains taut, and the