The bad weather continued for five days, raining all the time, the ship tossing from side to side. After we had fully cleared the banks the weather began to get better and three days before we landed it was again calm. During clear weather, on afternoons when work was finished we used to go up on deck, strip, and then turn the hose on one another. It was a trifle cold but after we had given ourselves a friction bath with a rough towel, we felt like new beings and were ready for our beds of hay and a good night's rest, to be followed by another day's labor. Often we would amuse ourselves on deck by a wrestle or a round or two with some of the sailors, who thought themselves the best men on the ship. Three rounds in the ring with a husky sailor is positively guaranteed to remedy any case of indigestion. There were some great characters on our boat besides Mike Johnson, the big Irish foreman. There was old man Dunn, "the locator." I believe he sometimes went by the name of Colonel Dunn, but he was generally known among the cow-punchers as the "Locator," for at every available opportunity he applied the word "Locate," generally humorously inappropriate. Colonel Dunn was a man of sixty-seven years, born in Scotland, near Edinburgh. At the age of ten he ran away and joined a ship bound for Australia. On his arrival there he spent several months on a ranch some hundred miles in the bush. Soon tiring of this, he embarked for England where he enlisted in the English cavalry. He subsequently served in the French cavalry for three years and in Uncle Sam's cavalry for six years. He was in the West with General Custer, but just a few days before Custer made his last stand Dunn was taken ill, consequently not participating in that historic fight. He had crossed the Atlantic over twenty times and had been around the world more than once; besides he had traveled in almost every land of the world. The winter before I met him, he had spent on a ranch in the range country of Montana, and the spring he passed trapping fur bearing animals in the wildest parts of the Rocky Mountains. Even in his old age he could, it was said, handle a rifle and pistol to perfection and could sit a bronco as long as the next man. Such was the Honorable Colonel Dunn. The three cattlemen were "Yorky Kid," "Cockney," and "Willie off the Yacht." "Yorky Kid" was a young fellow of twenty, born in New York and who took to beating trains at the early age of twelve. Before he was sixteen he had traveled in every state and territory of the Union; and while with us he was making his fourth voyage across the Atlantic. He was a fairly decent looking chap, big hearted and generous.