68 RANCH LIFE AND THE HUNTING-TRAIL 



guard. But very soon after nightfall, when the darkness had become com- 

 plete, the thirsty brutes of one accord got on their feet and tried to break 

 out. The only salvation was to keep them close together, as, if they once 

 got scattered, we knew they could never be gathered ; so I kept on one 

 side, and the cowboy on the other, and never in my life did I ride so hard. 

 In the darkness I could but dimly see the shadowy outlines of the herd, as 

 with whip and spurs I ran the pony along its edge, turning back the beasts 

 at one point barely in time to wheel and keep them in at another. The 

 ground was cut up by numerous little gullies, and each of us got several 

 falls, horses and riders turning complete somersaults. We were dripping 

 with sweat, and our ponies quivering and trembling like quaking aspens, 

 when, after more than an hour of the most violent exertion, we finally got 

 the herd quieted again. 



On another occasion while with the round-up we were spared an 

 excessively unpleasant night only because there happened to be two or 

 three great corrals not more than a mile or so away. All day long it 

 had been raining heavily, and we were well drenched ; but towards even- 

 ing it lulled a little, and the day herd, a very large one, of some two thou- 

 sand head, was gathered on an open bottom. We had turned the horses 

 loose, and in our oilskin slickers cowered, soaked and comfortless, under 

 the lee of the wagon, to take a meal of damp bread and lukewarm tea, 

 the sizzling embers of the fire having about given up the ghost after a 

 fruitless struggle with the steady downpour. Suddenly the wind began 

 to come in quick, sharp gusts, and soon a regular blizzard was blowing, 

 driving the rain in stinging level sheets before it. Just as we were pre- 

 paring to turn into bed, with the certainty of a night of more or less 

 chilly misery ahead of us, one of my men, an iron-faced personage, whom 

 no one would ever have dreamed had a weakness for poetry, looked 

 towards the plain where the cattle were, and remarked, "I guess there's 

 'racing and chasing on Cannobie Lea' now, sure." Following his gaze, I 

 saw^ that the cattle had begun to drift before the storm, the night guards 

 being evidently unable to cope with them, while at the other wagons 

 riders were saddling in hot haste and spurring off to their help through 

 the blinding rain. Some of us at once ran out to our own saddle-band. 

 All of the ponies were standing huddled together, with their heads down 

 and their tails to the wind. They were wild and restive enough usually ; 

 but the storm had cowed them, and we were able to catch them without 

 either rope or halter. We made quick work of saddling ; and the second 

 each man was ready, away he loped through the dusk, splashing and slip- 

 ping in the pools of water that studded the muddy plain. Most of the 



