The contingent numbered sixty-odd cattle, and with the help of the brothers were easily handled.  Before recrossing the line, the sun burst forth, and on reaching the slope, the trio halted in parting.  “A few hours of this sun,” said Sargent, “and we’ve got the upper hand of this storm.  The wind or sun must yield.  If the wind lulls, we’ll ride the inner line to-night and bed every hoof in the shelter of the creek.  Pick up Manly, and we’ll ride the valley line about the middle of the afternoon.”

Joel turned homeward, scouting that portion of the line under patrol from headquarters.  The drifting contingent was intrusted to Dell, leaving Sargent to retrace their division of the line, and before noon all had reached their quarters.  From twenty to thirty miles had been covered that morning, in riding the line and recovering the lost, and at the agreed time, the relay horses were under saddle for the afternoon task.  The sun had held sway, the wind had fallen, and as they followed up the valley, they encountered the cattle in large bunches, grazing to every quarter of the compass.  They were not molested on the outward ride, but on the return trip, near evening, they were all turned back to the sheltering nooks and coves which the bends of the Beaver afforded.  A crimpy night followed, but an early patrol in the morning found the cattle snug in the dry, rank grasses which grew in the first bottoms of the creek.

The first storm had been weathered.  The third day, of their own accord, the cattle left the valley and grazed out on the northern divide.  The line-riders relaxed their vigil, and in preparation for observing the Natal day, each camp put forth its best hunter to secure a venison.  The absence of snow, during the storm, had held the antelope tributary to the Beaver, and locating game was an easy matter.  To provide the roast, the spirit of rivalry was accented anew, and each camp fervently hoped for its own success.

A venison hung at headquarters before noon, Manly making a running shot at the leader of a band, which was surprised out of a morning siesta near the old trail crossing.  If a quarry could only be found in the sand hills, a natural shelter for antelope, Sargent had flattered Dell into believing that his aim was equal to the occasion.  The broken nature of the dune country admitted of stealthy approach, and its nearness to the upper camp recommended it as an inviting hunting ground.  The disappointment of the first effort, due to moderated weather, was in finding the quarry far afield.  A dozen bands were sighted from the protection of the sand hills, a mile out on the flat plain, but without shelter to screen a hunter.  Sargent was equal to the occasion, and selecting a quarry, the two horses were unsaddled, the bridle reins lengthened by adding ropes, and crouching low, their mounts afforded the necessary screen as they grazed or were driven forward.  By tacking right and left in a zigzag course they gained the wind, and a stealthy approach on the band was begun.  The stabled horses grazed ravenously, sometimes together, then apart, affording a perfect screen for stalking.