bed-ground aroused Parent's suspicion. He rushed into camp, and
laboring under the impression that the cattle had stampeded,
trampled over our beds, yelling at the top of his lungs. Aroused
in the darkness from heavy sleep, bewildered by a bright fire
burning and a crazy man shouting, "The beeves have stampeded! the
herd's gone! Get up, everybody!" we were almost thrown into a
panic. Many of the boys ran for their night-horses, but Clay
Zilligan and I fell on the cook and shook the statement out of
him that the cattle had left their beds. This simplified the
situation, but before I could recall the men, several of them had
reached the bed-ground. As fast as horses could be secured,
others dashed through the lighted circle and faded into the
darkness. From the flickering of matches it was evident that the
boys were dismounting and looking for some sign of trouble.
Zilligan was swearing like a pirate, looking for his horse in the
murky night; but instead of any alarm, oaths and derision greeted
our ears as the men returned to camp. Halting their horses within
the circle of the fire, Dorg Seay said to the cook:

"Neal, the next time you find a mare's nest, keep the secret to
yourself. I don't begrudge losing thirty minutes' beauty sleep,
but I hate to be scared out of a year's growth. Haven't you got
cow-sense enough to know that if those beeves had run, they'd
have shook the earth? If they had stampeded, that alarm clock of
yours wouldn't be a circumstance to the barking of the boys'
guns. Why, the cattle haven't been gone thirty minutes. You can
see where they got up and then quietly walked away. The ground
where they lay is still steaming and warm. They were watered a
little too soon yesterday and naturally got up early this
morning. The boys on guard didn't want to alarm the outfit, and