ON A CATTLE-RANGE 303 



scattered the work of weeks was undone, and all 

 to do over again. 



It was at this inopportune moment that one of 

 Frank Earnest's stories recurred to my mind, of a 

 foreman who, under similar circumstances, was once 

 riding in a mad gallop at the head of a stampeding 

 herd. The brilliant idea occurred to him of firing 

 his six-shooter in order to stop the stampede. The 

 herd turned suddenly at right angles, frightened by 

 the shot, and ran over and literally trampled to 

 pieces an unfortunate cowboy who was riding on 

 their flank. 



But no casualty occurred on the present occasion. 

 We gradually stopped our stampede. Cattle will tire 

 in time. Sunrise came at length, and witnessed a 

 fatigued procession of the main part of the Pick 

 round-up party back to camp, leaving a contingent 

 behind to herd the cattle, now at length calmed down 

 and spreading out for feed and water. 



We had no more serious night stampedes. Possibly 

 the demon of mischief was satisfied with his work. 

 A week later saw our beef round-up accomplished, 

 and in due course a fair average sample of Wyoming 

 range cattle was entrained at Rock Creek for the 

 Chicago market. Our party of cowboys went back 

 to Rawlins to ' paint the town red ' after the manner 

 of their kind, while my friend and myself, in company 

 with the ranch manager, spent another ten days in 

 hunting elk during the whistling season on the Rim 

 of the Hole. It was not a regular orthodox hunt, but 

 only a sort of minor incident in what had proved to 

 be a hard and serious autumn on the cattle-range. 

 Curiously enough, however, and as sometimes happens 

 on such occasions, it was in this little incidental sport- 



