knocked off and could not swim and the boys had a good laugh at him
climbing over the sheep, looking like a drowned rat trying to get out of
a molasses barrel. Dick Stewart was a good swimmer and so he landed back
on the boat.

After this load full, the boatman would not ferry any more sheep over
and we were compelled to swim them. We would call the goat and tell him
to go into the water. The goat would strike for the opening on the
opposite side of the river, but goat or no goat, the sheep would not
attempt the swim unless the sun was shining. The mountains rose right at
the edge of the river, consequently the sun only struck the river from
eleven o'clock a.m. to two o'clock p.m. and we could only put over 150
or 200 sheep at a time. This operation took six days to perform. Getting
4000 sheep over a river under these trying conditions were anything but
pleasant, even in those days, when we knew no better method.

At this ferry a funny incident occurred. I had a sorrel, blazed face
mule, and while we were crossing the sheep an old Irishman on his way to
Montana with a white pony and a blazed face mule, the very picture of my
mule, crossed the river on the ferry. I saw the Irishman's lay-out, but
Johnnie Lynch did not see the mule. The next morning I told Johnnie to
go out to the herd and bring my mule in. The old Irishman had camped
near us and had picketed his mule out but did not know I had a mule so
near like his. Johnnie saw the Irishman's mule picketed out about half
way between our camp and our herd, and he pulled up the picket and
started on to the camp with the mule. Pretty soon the angry old Irishman
came up behind Johnnie and knocked him down for trying to steal his
mule. Johnnie ran into camp and got my carbine and started for the
Irishman, I ran after him and asked him what he was "up to" and he told
me he had my mule coming in with it and the Irishman had accosted him