74 The Wilderness Hunter 



natured horse play, to an accompaniment of yelling 

 mirth; most were grave and taciturn, greeting me 

 with a silent nod or a &quot;How ! friend. * A very talka 

 tive man, unless the acknowledged wit of the party, 

 according to the somewhat florid frontier notion 

 of wit, is always looked on with disfavor in a cow- 

 camp. After supper, eaten in silent haste, we gath 

 ered round the embers of the small fires, and the 

 conversation glanced fitfully over the threadbare sub 

 jects common to all such camps; the antics of some 

 particularly vicious bucking bronco, how the differ 

 ent brands of cattle were showing up, the smallness 

 of the calf drop, the respective merits of rawhide 

 lariats and grass ropes, and bits of rather startling 

 and violent news concerning the fates of certain 

 neighbors. Then one by one we began to turn in 

 under our blankets. 



Our wagon was to furnish the night guards for 

 the cattle; and each of us had his gentlest horse 

 tied ready to hand. The night guards went on duty 

 two at a time for two-hour watches. By good luck 

 my watch came last. My comrade was a happy-go- 

 lucky young Texan who for some inscrutable reason 

 was known as &quot;Latigo Strap&quot;; he had just come 

 from the South with a big drove of trail cattle. 



A few minutes before two, one of the guards 

 who had gone on duty at midnight rode into camp 

 and wakened us up by shaking our shoulders. Fum 

 bling in the dark, I speedily saddled my horse; 



