So he built some blinds made out of green rawhide stretched on frames and put them on the river bank where the cattle were to cross and put a man behind each blind. So when the cowboys drove the cattle to the edge of the river and the captain got his position he gave the command, “Men behind rawhide—charge!” which they did. Now one can imagine those wild cattle when a lot of men charged in among them on foot. They stampeded and went to the hills and the captain had a hard time gathering them and getting them back to the river, and he immediately removed the blinds, as the cattle would not work the regimental way. That is something I never found out about cattle—you may try for days to get cattle to take swimming water and use every means that you can think of and they will not go. Then some other day they will walk right into the water without any trouble. Another thing in the old days a cowman weaned his calves. The range cow would wean it herself and when I was ranching in a small way I would wean the calves and keep them away from the cows for months, and some of them would go back to the mothers and when the cow would have a calf the next year she would leave the young calf and take up with the yearling. I have had cows that would nurse a steer sometimes until he was three years old and bigger than she was. My guess is that nobody knows these secrets but the cows themselves. I believe cows has different ideas just like cowboys have. I worked for an outfit one time and the boss sent two of us out together to hunt some saddle horses we had lost on the roundup. We had a pack horse, bedding and grub. I noticed the first day out this fellow was eating some little pills and he wouldn’t tell me what they were, and thinking of his disposition and the way he acted, I know now it was morphine. Those horses we were hunting were supposed to be ranging on a big flat down on the Missouri River and we had to take one certain ridge to get in there. The ridge was about 15 miles long and if at any time we found out we were on the wrong ridge we had to come back and take another one. Now we were both uncertain about this ridge and I tried every way I knew to get his opinion on which ridge to take, as he was in a very bad mood just at that time. It was getting late in the evening. I was anxious to get to the river and make camp before dark. Anyway I had to choose the ridge, which proved to be the wrong one and we had to make camp in a very disagreeable place—no shelter—and we were pretty cold before morning. While we were making camp, I made the remark it was tough luck that we got on the wrong ridge. He said he knew damn well we were taking the wrong ridge, but it was none of his business, and he wasn’t going to say anything about it, so one can see he had a very lovable disposition.