OF A RANCHMAN 275 



the bed of a large dry creek. At its mouth 

 was a great space of ground much cut up 

 by the hoofs of the cattle, which was in sum- 

 mer overflowed and almost a morass; but 

 now the frost-bound earth was like wrinkled 

 iron beneath the horses' feet. Behind us 

 the westering moon sank down out of sight ; 

 and with no light but that of the stars, we 

 let our horses thread their own way up the 

 creek bottom. When we had gone a couple 

 of miles from the river the sky in front of 

 our faces took on a faint grayish tinge, the 

 forerunner of dawn. Every now and then 

 we passed by bunches of cattle, lying down 

 or standing huddled together in the patches 

 of brush or under the lee of some shelving 

 bank or other wind-break ; and as the east- 

 ern heavens grew brighter, a dark form sud- 

 denly appeared against the sky-line, on the 

 crest of a bluff directly ahead of us. An- 

 other and another came up beside it. A 

 glance told us that it was a troop of ponies, 

 which stood motionless, like so many sil- 

 houettes, their outstretched necks and long 



