happened!  You remember old Redman, our teacher, back in Ohio.  Well, I saw him last night.  There was a black two-year-old steer among the lead cattle, and every time I looked at him, I saw old Redman, with his humped shoulder, his pug nose, and his half-shut eyes.  It took the storm, the sullen drift, to put that expression in the black steer’s face, but it was old Redman.  During the two terms of school that he taught, he licked me a score of times, but I dared him to come out of that black steer’s face and try it again.  He must have heard me, for the little black steer dropped back and never came to the lead again.”

“And had you any idea where you were?” inquired Dell, prompted by his own experience.

“I was right at home in the lead of the herd.  The tepee might get lost, but I couldn’t.  I knew we must strike the Prairie Dog, and the cattle were within half a mile of it when day broke.  Once I got my bearings, Rowdy and I turned on the herd and checked the drift.”

A late breakfast fortified the boys for the day.  It was fully twenty-five miles back to the Beaver, but with the cattle weakened, the horses worn, it was decided to rest a day before starting on the return.  During the afternoon, Dell went back and threw in the stragglers, and towards evening all the cattle were put under loose herd and pointed north.  The sun had stripped the snow, and a comfortable camp was made under the cliff.  Wood was scarce on the Prairie Dog, but the dry, rank stalks of the wild sunflower made a good substitute for fuel, and night settled over human and animal in the full enjoyment of every comfort.

It was a two-days’ trip returning.  To Rowdy fell the duty of pack horse.  He had led the outward march, and was entitled to an easy berth on retreat.  The tarpaulin was folded the full length of the horse’s body girth, both saddles being required elsewhere, and the corn and blankets laid within the pack and all lashed securely.  The commissary supplies being light, saddle pockets and cantle strings were found sufficient for their transportation.

The start was made at sunrise.  The cattle had grazed out several miles the evening before, and in their weakened condition it would require nursing to reach the Beaver.  A mile an hour was the pace, nothing like a compact herd or driving was permissible, and the cattle were allowed to feed or rest at their will.  Rowdy grazed along the flank, the boys walked as a relief, and near evening or on sighting the dunes, Dell took the pack horse and rode for their shelter, to locate a night camp.  The herd never swerved from its course, and after sunset Joel rounded the cattle into compact form and bedded them down for the night.  A beacon fire of plum brush led him to the chosen camp, in the sand hills, where supper awaited the brothers.

“Isn’t it lucky,” said Dell, as he snuggled under the blankets, “that the wolves are gone.  Suppose they were here yet, and we had to build fires, or stand guard over the herd to-night, like trail men, could we do it?”