132 WHERE ROLLS THE OREGON 



passed, but the third day began ominously. The 

 line started forward at dawn, a hot early dawn, 

 and all day long kept moving, with the sun cook- 

 ing the bitter smell of the sage into the air, and 

 with sixteen thousand hoofs kicking up a still 

 bitterer cloud of alkali dust which inflamed eyes 

 and nostrils and coated the very lungs of the 

 cattle. The fierce desert thirst was upon the 

 herd long before it reached the creek where it 

 was to bed for the night. The heat and the dust 

 made slow work of the driving, and it was already 

 late when they reached the watering place, only 

 to find it dry. 



This was bad. The men were tired, but the 

 cattle were thirsty, and Wade, the boss of the 

 " buckaroos," pushed the herd on toward the next 

 rim rock, hoping to get down to the plain below 

 before the end of the slow desert twilight. Any- 

 thing for the night but a dry camp I 



They had hardly started on when a whole flank 

 of the herd, suddenly breaking away as if by pre- 

 arrangement, tore off through the brush. The 

 horses were as tired as the men, and, before the 

 chase was over, the twilight was gray in the sage, 

 making it necessary to halt at once and camp 



