The Log of a Cowboy: A Narrative of the Old Trail DaysAdams, Andy
General
The Log of a Cowboy: A Narrative of the Old Trail Days
Adams, Andy
Cattle drives -- Fiction; Cowboys -- Fiction; Western stories
We made our drive the second night with more confidence than the one
before, but there were times when the train of cattle must have been
nearly two miles in length, yet there was never a halt as long as the
man with the lead light could see the one in the rear. We bedded the
herd about midnight; and at the first break of day, the fourth guard
with the foreman joined us on our watch and we started the cattle
again. There was a light dew the second night, and the cattle,
hungered by their night walk, went to grazing at once on the damp
grass, which would allay their thirst slightly. We allowed them to
scatter over several thousand acres, for we were anxious to graze them
well before the sun absorbed the moisture, but at the same time every
step they took was one less to the coveted Powder River.
When we had grazed the herd forward several miles, and the sun was
nearly an hour high, the wagon failed to come up, which caused our
foreman some slight uneasiness. Nearly another hour passed, and still
the wagon did not come up nor did the outfit put in an appearance.
Soon afterwards, however, Moss Strayhorn overtook us, and reported
that over forty of our saddle horses were missing, while the work
mules had been overtaken nearly five miles back on the trail. On
account of my ability as a trailer, Flood at once dispatched me to
assist Honeyman in recovering the missing horses, instructing some one
else to take the _remuda_, and the wagon and horses to follow up the
herd. By the time I arrived, most of the boys at camp had secured a
change of horses, and I caught up my _grulla_, that I was saving for
the last hard ride, for the horse hunt which confronted us. McCann,
having no fire built, gave Honeyman and myself an impromptu breakfast
and two canteens of water; but before we let the wagon get away, we
rustled a couple of cans of tomatoes and buried them in a cache near
the camp-ground, where we would have no trouble in finding them on our
return. As the wagon pulled out, we mounted our horses and rode back
down the trail.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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