90 SUMMER 



The runaways were brought up and the herd closed 

 in till it formed a circle nearly a mile around. This 

 was as close as it could be drawn, for the cattle would 

 not bed lie down. They wanted water more than 

 they wanted rest. Their eyes were red, their tongues 

 raspy with thirst. The situation was a serious one. 



But camp was made. Two of the riders were sent 

 back along the trail to bring up the " drags," while 

 Wade with his other men circled the uneasy cattle, 

 closing them in, quieting them, and doing everything 

 possible to make them bed. 



But they were thirsty, and, instead of bedding, the 

 herd began to " growl " a distant mutter of throats, 

 low, rumbling, ominous, as when faint thunder rolls 

 behind the hills. Every plainsman fears the growl, 

 for it usually is a prelude to the " milling," as it 

 proved to be now, when the whole vast herd began 

 to stir, slowly, singly, and without direction, till at 

 length it moved together, round and round, a great 

 compact circle, the multitude of clicking hoofs, of 

 clashing horns, and chafing sides like the sound 

 of rushing rain across a field of corn. 



Nothing could be worse for the cattle. The cooler 

 twilight was falling, but, mingling with it, rose and 

 thickened and spread the choking dust from their feet 

 that soon covered them and shut out all but the dark 

 wall of the herd from sight. 



Slowly, evenly swung the wall, round and round 

 without a break. Only one who has watched a mill- 



