his herd and camp them well down the creek, at least below the
regular crossing. This would throw Bob's and my cattle still
farther down the stream; and we were all determined to honor
Forrest with our presence for supper and the evening hours.
Quince's wrangler rustled in the horses, and as we rejoined the
camp the quarters of a beef hung low on a cottonwood, while a
smudge beneath them warned away all insect life. Leaving word
that we would return during the evening, the eleventh-hour guests
rode away in the rough, uneven order in which we had arrived.
Sponsilier and his men veered off to the south, Bob Quirk and his
lads soon following, while the rest of us continued on down the
creek. My cattle were watering when we overtook them, occupying
fully a mile of the stream, and nearly an hour's ride below the
trail crossing. It takes a long time to water a big herd
thoroughly, and we repeatedly turned them back and forth across
the creek, but finally allowed them to graze away with a broad,
fan-like front. As ours left the stream, Bob's cattle were coming
in over a mile above, and in anticipation of a dry camp that
night, Parent had been advised to fill his kegs and supply
himself with wood.

Detailing the third and fourth guard to wrangle the remuda, I
sent Levering up the creek with my brother's horses and to
recover our loaned saddle stock; even Bob Quirk was just
thoughtless enough to construe a neighborly act into a horse
trade. About two miles out from the creek and an equal distance
from the trail, I found the best bed-ground of the trip. It
sloped to the northwest, was covered with old dry grass, and
would catch any vagrant breeze except an eastern one. The wagon
was ordered into camp, and the first and second guards were