OF A RANCHMAN 209 



the intruders; as we passed they charged 

 down by us, the ground rumbling beneath 

 their tread, while their long horns knocked 

 against each other with a sound like the 

 clattering of a multitude of castanets. We 

 could see clearly enough to keep our general 

 course over the trackless plain, steering by 

 the stars where the prairie was perfectly 

 level and without landmarks; and our ride 

 was timed well, for as we galloped down 

 into the valley of the Little Missouri the 

 sky above the line of level bluffs in our 

 front was crimson with the glow of the un- 

 risen sun. 



