It now only remained to sod over and dirt the bridge thoroughly.  With only three spades the work was slow, but we cut sod with axes, and after several hours’ work had it finished.  The two yoke of oxen were driven across and back for a test, and the bridge stood it nobly.  Slaughter then brought up his remuda, and while the work of dirting the bridge was still going on, crossed and recrossed his band of saddle horses twenty times.  When the bridge looked completed to every one else, young Pete advised laying stringers across on either side; so a number of small trees were felled and guard rails strung across the ends of the logs and staked.  Then more dirt was carried in on tarpaulins and in gunny sacks, and every chink and crevice filled with sod and dirt.  It was now getting rather late in the afternoon, but during the finishing touches, young Slaughter had dispatched his outfit to bring up his herd; and at the same time Flood had sent a number of our outfit to bring up our cattle.  Now Slaughter and the rest of us took the oxen, which we had unyoked, and went out about a quarter of a mile to meet his herd coming up.  Turning the oxen in the lead, young Pete took one point and Flood the other, and pointed in the lead cattle for the bridge.  On reaching it the cattle hesitated for a moment, and it looked as though they were going to balk, but finally one of the oxen took the lead, and they began to cross in almost Indian file.  They were big four and five year old beeves, and too many of them on the bridge at one time might have sunk it, but Slaughter rode back down the line of cattle and called to the men to hold them back.

“Don’t crowd the cattle,” he shouted.  “Give them all the time they want.  We’re in no hurry now; there’s lots of time.”

They were a full half hour in crossing, the chain of cattle taking the bridge never for a moment being broken.  Once all were over, his men rode to the lead and turned the herd up Boggy, in order to have it well out of the way of ours, which were then looming up in sight.  Slaughter asked Flood if he wanted the oxen; and as our cattle had never seen a bridge in their lives, the foreman decided to use them; so we brought them back and met the herd, now strung out nearly a mile.  Our cattle were naturally wild, but we turned the oxen in the lead, and the two bosses again taking the points, moved the herd up to the bridge.  The oxen were again slow to lead out in crossing, and several hundred head of cattle had congested in front of the new bridge, making us all rather nervous, when a big white ox led off, his mate following, and the herd began timidly to follow.  Our cattle required careful handling, and not a word was spoken as we nursed them forward, or rode through them to scatter large bunches.  A number of times we cut the train of cattle off entirely, as they were congesting at the bridge entrance, and, in crossing, shied and crowded so that several were forced off the bridge