It had been reported to Bissell by the scouts that with the sheep were a body of cattle. Consequently when the steers charged all had expected the sheep to follow. But in all that grisly battle-field there was not a head of mutton to be found, and the punchers looked at one another in mystified wonder. "They must be crossin' somewheres else," said Bissell, wringing his hands in despair. "Oh, blast that man that stampeded them horses!" The thought was in every man's mind, for here the beauty of that strategy was made manifest. Uninjured, full of fight, and furious, the forces of the cowmen were helpless because they had nothing to ride, and were utterly useless on foot. Two miles away on the bank of the river another scene was being enacted. Here the eight thousand sheep had come to a halt with the leaders on the very bank, and the herders walking back and forth talking to them to keep them quiet. The river was not more deep than the height of a man, but the current was swift and icy with the snows of the far-off Shoshone Mountains. "Are you ready, boys?" sang out Larkin. "All ready." "Strip and into it, then," and, the first to obey his own command, he hurried off his clothes and plunged into the frigid river. Sims, who had devised this scheme from memory of an Indian custom, stood at the head of the leaders to superintend the crossing. Now the men entered the water by tens, and stretched out in a double line all the way from bank to bank, facing each other and leaving but a scant yard between them. "Ready?" yelled Sims. "Ready! Let 'em go!" sang out Larkin. The chief herder and others heaved the leading sheep into the water between the first two men. These lifted it along to the next pair who shoved it on, swimming all the time. So it came snorting and blatting to the other side and climbed up the bank. After it came the next, and then the next, and as the work became easier the sheep caught the notion that man had suggested and incorporated it into the flock mind. They took to the water because their predecessors had. And now the stream of sheep was steady and continuous. The current was swift and the men's bodies ached and grew numb in the intense cold, but they stood their ground. Only in one place was the water too deep to work, and here they lost a few terror-stricken animals who turned aside from the chain and were swept downstream. The river between the men was churned like that of a rapid; there was heard the constant _slap-slap!_ of their arms as they smote the water in pushing the sheep along. A man took cramp and clung to a companion until he could kick it out of himself. At last, though, all the sheep had passed over the river, and Bud Larkin had won! Then came the getting over of the wagons and camp outfits, all done in the dark, and with scarcely sound enough to be heard a furlong away. As some men worked, others dressed and swam the horses over, leading them in bunches.