no The Wilderness Hunter 



become wholly impassable, and even the smaller 

 are formidable obstacles. It is not easy to get cat- 

 tle across a swollen stream, where the current runs 

 like a turbid mill-race over the bed of shifting quick- 

 sand. Once five of us took a thousand head of trail 

 steers across the Little Missouri when the river was 

 up, and it was no light task. The muddy current 

 was boiling past the banks, covered with driftwood 

 and foul, yellow froth, and the frightened cattle 

 shrank from entering it. At last, by hard riding, 

 with much loud shouting and swinging of ropes, we 

 got the leaders in, and the whole herd followed. 

 After them we went in our turn, the horses swim- 

 ming at one moment, and the next staggering and 

 floundering through the quicksand. I was riding 

 my pet cutting horse, Muley, which has the provok- 

 ing habit of making great bounds where the water 

 is just not deep enough for swimming; once he al- 

 most unseated me. Some of the cattle were caught 

 by the currents and rolled over and over; most of 

 these we were able, with the help of our ropes, to 

 put on their feet again; only one was drowned, or 

 rather choked in a quicksand. Many swam down 

 stream, and in consequence struck a difficult land- 

 ing, where the river ran under a cut bank ; these we 

 had to haul out with our ropes. Both men and 

 horses were well tired by the time the whole herd 

 was across. 



Although I have often had a horse down in quick- 



