Andy Adams, who was born in Georgia of Scotch-Irish parents, moved to Texas after the Civil War. He grew up in the cattle country and naturally drifted into cow-punching as a career. When he was in his early twenties, he joined a long cattle drive from Texas to Montana under the leadership of a foreman named Jim Flood. The expedition, which he describes vividly in _The Log of a Cowboy_, began along the Rio Grande River in Texas in April, 1882. Six men rode on either side of a long cow column that stretched out over three quarters of a mile of crooked trail. The main problem until the herd reached the Colorado River in central Texas was to find watering places, but as the animals approached the river, the cowboys learned that rustlers were active in that area. Their chief worry was that the rustlers would sneak into their midst at night, stampede the cattle, and then drive off part of the herd under cover of darkness. We camped that night some five or six miles back from the river on the last divide. From the time the second guard went on until the third was relieved, we took the precaution of keeping a scout outriding from a half to three quarters of a mile distant from the herd, Flood and Honeyman serving in that capacity. Every precaution was taken to prevent a surprise; and in case anything did happen, our night horses tied to the wagon wheels stood ready and saddled and bridled for any emergency. But the night passed without incident. An hour or two after the herd had started the next morning, four well-mounted, strange men rode up from the westward, and representing themselves as trail cutters, asked for our foreman. Flood met them, in his usual quiet manner, and after admitting that we had been troubled more or less with range cattle, assured our callers that if there was anything in the herd in the brands they represented, he would gladly hold it up and give them every opportunity to cut their cattle out. As he was anxious to cross the river before noon, he invited the visitors to stay for dinner, assuring them that before starting the herd in the afternoon, he would throw the cattle together for their inspection. Flood made himself very agreeable, inquiring into cattle and range matters in general as well as the stage of water in the river ahead. The spokesman of the trail cutters met Flood’s invitation to dinner with excuses about the pressing demands on his time, and urged, if it did not seriously interfere with our plans, that he be allowed to inspect the herd before crossing the river. His reasons seemed trivial and our foreman was not convinced.