Hunting the Prong-Buck. 91 



ing quicksand. 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 enter- 

 ing 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 swimming at one moment, and the next stag- 

 gering and floundering through the quicksand. I was 

 riding my pet cutting horse, Muley, which has the pro- 

 voking habit of making great bounds where the water is 

 just not deep enough for swimming ; once he almost 

 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 conse- 

 quence struck a difficult landing, 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- 

 sand, or in crossing a swollen river, and have had 

 to work hard to save him, I have never myself lost 

 one under such circumstances. Yet once I saw the 

 horse of one of my men drown under him directly in 

 front of the ranch house, while he was trying to cross 

 the river. This was in early spring, soon after the ice 

 had broken. 



