14 - The Log of a Cowboy: Slaughter's Bridge

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter fourteen of The Log of a Cowboy by Andy Adams.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Slaughter's Bridge
Herds bound for points beyond the Yellowstone in Montana, always
considered Dodge has the half way landmark on the trail,

(00:21):
though we had hardly covered half the distance to the
destination of our circle dots. But with Dodge in our rear,
all felt that the backbone of the drive was broken,
and it was only the middle of June. In order
to divide the night work more equitably for the remainder
of the trip, the first and fourth guards changed, the

(00:42):
second and third remaining as they were. We had begun
to feel the scarcity of wood for cooking purposes sometime
passed while crossing the plains of western Kansas, and were
frequently forced to resort to the old bed grounds of
a year or two previous for cattle chips. These chips
were a poor substitute, and we swung a cowskin under

(01:06):
the reach of the wagon, so that when we encountered
wood on creeks and rivers, we could lay in a supply.
Whenever our wagon was in the rear, the riders on
either side of the herd were always on the skirmish
for fuel, which they left alongside the wagon track, and
our cook was sure to stow it away underneath on

(01:27):
the cowskin. In spite of any effort on our part.
The length of the days made long drives to rule.
The cattle could be depended on to leave the bed
ground at dawn, and before the outfit could breakfast secure
mounts and overtake the herd, they would often have grazed
forward two or three miles. Often we never threw them

(01:50):
on the trail at all, yet when it came time
to bed them at night, we had covered twenty miles.
They were long, monotonous days, for we were always sick
sixteen to eighteen hours in the saddle, while in emergencies
we got the benefit of the limit. We frequently saw mirages,
though we were never led astray by shady groves of

(02:12):
timber or tempting lakes of water, but always kept within
a mile or two of the trail. The evening of
the third day, after Forrest left us, he returned as
we were betting down the cattle at dusk, and, on
being assured that no officer had followed us, resumed his
place with the herd. He had not even reached the

(02:32):
Solomon River, but had stopped with a herd of millets
on Big Boggie. The creek, he reported, has bottomless and
the millet herd as having lost between forty and fifty
head of cattle in attempting to force it at the
regular crossing. The day before his arrival, they had scouted
the creek both up and down since without finding a

(02:54):
safe crossing. It seemed that there had been unusually heavy
June rain through that section, which accounted for Boggy being
in its dangerous condition. Millet's foreman had not considered it
necessary to test such an insignificant stream until he got
a couple of hundred head of cattle floundered in the mire.

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They had saved the greater portion of the mired cattle,
but quite a number were trampled to death by the others,
and now the regular crossing was not approachable for the
stench of dead cattle. Flood knew the stream, and so
did a number of our outfit but none of them
had any idea that it could get into such an
impassable condition. As Forrest reported, the next morning, floods started

(03:41):
to the east and priest to the west to look
out a crossing, for we were then within half a
day's drive of the creek Big Boggy paralleled the Solomon
River in our front, the two not being more than
five miles apart. The confluence was far below in some settlements,
and we must keep to the westward of all emigration

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on account of the growing crops in the fertile valley
of the Solomon on the westward. Had a favorable crossing
been found, we would have almost had to turn our
herd backwards, for we were already within half the circle
which this creek described in our front. So after the
two men left us, we allowed the herd to graze forward,

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keeping several miles to the westward of the trail, in
order to get the benefit of the best grazing. Our herd,
when left to itself, would graze from a mile to
a mile and a half an hour, and by the
middle of the forenoon the timber on Big Boggy and
the Solomon beyond was sighted. On reaching this last divide,

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some one sighted a herd about five or six miles
to the eastward, and nearly parallel with us, as they
were three or four miles beyond the trail. We could
easily see that they were grazing along like ourselves, and
Forrest was appealed to know if it was the Millet herd.
He said nought, and pointed out to the northeast about

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the location of the Millet cattle, probably five miles in
advance of the stranger on our right. When we overtook
our wagon at noon, mic Can, who had never left
the trail, reported having seen the herd. They looked to
him like heavy beef cattle, and had two yoke of
oxen to their chuck wagon, which served further to proclaim

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them as strangers. Neither priests nor Flood returned during the
noon hour, and when the herd refused to lie down
and rest longer, we grazed them forward to the fringe
of the timber, which grew along the stream loomed up
not a mile distant in our front. From the course
we were traveling, we would strike the creek several miles

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above the regular crossing, and as for us, reported that
Millet was holding below the old crossing on a small rivulet.
All we could do was to hold our wagon in
the rear and await the return of our men. Out
on scout for a Ford priest was the first to
return with word that he had ridden the creek out
for twenty five miles and had found no crossing that

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would be safe for a mud turtle. On hearing this,
we left two men with the herd, and the rest
of the outfit took the wagon, went on to Boggy
and made camp. It was a deceptive looking stream, not
over fifty or sixty feet wide in places, the current
barely moved, shallowing and deepening from a few inches in

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places to several feet in others, with an occasional pool
that would swim a horse. We probed it with poles
until we were satisfied that we were up against a
proposition different from anything we had yet encountered. While we
were discussing the situation, a stranger rode up on a
fine roan horse and inquired for our foreman. Forrest informed

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him that our boss was away looking for a crossing,
but we were expecting his return at any time, and
invited the stranger to dismount. He did so and threw
himself down in the shade of our wagon. He was
a small, boyish looking fellow of sandy complexion, not much
if any over twenty years old, and smiled continuously. My

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name is Pete Slaughter, said he by way of introduction,
and I've got a herd of twenty eight hundred beef
steers beyond the trail and a few miles back. I've
been riding since daybreak down the creek, and I'm prepared
to state that the chance of crossing is as good
right here as anywhere. I wanted to see your foreman,

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and if he'll help, we'll bridge her I've been down
to see this other outfit, but they ridiculed the idea,
though I think they'll come around all right. I borrowed
their axe, and tomorrow morning you'll see me with my
outfit cutting timber to bridge big boggy. That's right, boys,
it's the only thing to do. The trouble is, I've

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only got eight men all told. I don't aim to
travel over eight or ten miles a day, so I
don't need a big outfit. You say your foreman's name
is Flood. Well, if he don't return before I go,
some of you tell him that he's wasting good time
looking for a ford, for there ain't none. In the

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conversation which followed we learned that Slaughter was driving for
his brother Lum, a widely known cowman and drover, whom
we had seen in Dodge. He had started with the
grass from North Texas, and by the time he reached
the Platte, many of his herd would be fit to
ship to market, and what were not would be in
good demand as feeders in the corn belt of eastern Nebraska.

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He asked if we had seen his herd during the morning,
and on hearing we had got up and asked, MI
can to let him see our axe. This he gave
a critical examination before he mounted his horse to go,
and on leaving being said, if your foreman don't want
to help to build a bridge, I want to borrow
that axe of yours, But you fellows talk to him.

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If any of you boys has ever been over on
the Chisholm Trail, you will remember the bridge on Rush
Creek south of the Washita River. I built that bridge
in a day with an outfit of ten men. Why shucks.
If these outfits would pull together, we could cross tomorrow evening.
Lots of these old foremen don't like to listen to

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a cub like me, But holy snakes, I've been over
the trail oftener than any of them. Why when I
wasn't big enough to make a hand with a herd
only ten years old, In the days when we drove
to Ablene, they used to send me in the lead
with an old cylinder gun to shoot at the buffalo
and scare them off the trail. And I've made a

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trip every year since. So you tell Flood when he
comes in that Peter Slaughter was here, and that he's
going to build a bridge and would like to have him,
and is out fit help. Had it not been for
his youth and perpetual smile, we might have taken young
Slaughter more seriously, for both quince Forest and the Rebel

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remembered the bridge on Rush Creek over on the Chisholm. Still,
there was an air of confident assurance in the young fellow,
and the fact that he was the trusted foreman of
Lumslaughter in charge of a valuable herd of cattle carried
weight with those who knew that drover. The most unwelcome
thought in the project was that it required the swinging

(10:31):
of an axe to fell trees and to cut them
into the necessary lengths. And as I have said before,
the Texan never took kindly to manual labor, but Priest
looked favorably on the suggestion, and so enlisted my support,
and even pointed out a spot where timber was most abundant,
has a suitable place to build the bridge Hell's fire,

(10:55):
said Joe Stalins, with infinite contempt. There's thousands of places
to build a bridge, and the timbers there, but the
idea is to cut it, and his sentiments found hearty
approval in the majority of the outfit. Flood returned late
that evening, having ridden as far down the creek as

(11:15):
the first settlement. The rebel, somewhat antagonized by the attitude
of the majority, reported the visit and message left for
him by young Slaughter. Our foreman knew him by general
reputation amongst trail bosses, and when Priest vouched for him
as the builder of the Rush Creek bridge on that
Chisholm trail, Flood said, why I crossed my herd four

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years ago on that Rush Creek bridge within a week
after it was built, and wondered who it could be
that had the nerve to undertake that task. Rush isn't
over half as wide as by you Boggie, But she's
a true little sister to this miry Slough. So he's
going to build a bridge anyhow is he? Next morning,

(12:00):
young Slaughter was at our camp before sunrise, and never
once mentioning his business or waiting for the formality of
an invitation, proceeded to pour out a tin cup of
coffee and otherwise provide himself with a substantial breakfast. There
was something amusing in the audacity of the fellow, which
all of us liked, though he was fifteen years The

(12:22):
junior of our foreman, McCann pointed out Flood to him,
and taking his well loaded plate, he went over and
sat down by our foreman, and while he ate, talked
rapidly to enlist our outfit in the building of the bridge.
During breakfast, the outfit listened to the two bosses as
they discussed the feasibility of the project. Slaughter, enthusiastic, Flood

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reserved and asking all sorts of questions as to the
mode of procedure. Young Pete met every question with promptness
and assured our foreman that the building of bridges was
his long suit. After breakfast, the two foremen rode off
down the creek together, and within half an hour Slaughter's
wagon and Ramuda pulled up within sight of the regular crossing,

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and shortly afterwards our foreman returned and ordered our wagon
to pull down to a clump of cottonwoods which grew
about half a mile below our camp. Two men were
detailed to look after our herd during the day, and
the remainder of us returned with our foreman to the
site selected for the bridge. On our arrival, three axes

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were swinging against as many cottonwoods, and there was no
doubt in any one's mind that we were going to
be under a new foreman for that day. At least,
Slaughter had a big Negro cook who swung an axe
in a manner which bespoke him a job for the day,
and mac cann was instructed to provide dinner for the
extra outfit. The site chosen for the bridge was a

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miery bottom over which oozed three or four inches of water,
where the width the stream was about sixty feet, with
solid banks on either side. To get good foundation was
the most important matter, but the brush from the trees
would supply the material for that, and within an hour
brush began to arrive, dragged from the pommels of saddles

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and was piled into the stream. About this time a
call went out for a volunteer who could drive Oxen
for the dark. He was too good an axemen to
be recalled. As I had driven Oxen as a boy,
I was going to offer my services when Joe Stallings
eagerly volunteered in order to avoid using an axe. Slaughter

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had some extra chain, and our four mules were pressed
into service as an extra team in snaking logs. As
mac cann was to provide for the inner man. The
mule team fell to me, and putting my saddle on
the nigh wheeler, I rode jauntily past mister Stallings as
he trudged alongside his two yoke of Oxen. About ten

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o'clock in the morning, George Jacklin, the foreman of the
millet herd, rode up with several of his men, and,
seeing the bridge taking shape, turned in and assisted in
dragging brush for the foundation. By the time all hands
knocked off for dinner, we had a foundation of brush
twenty feet wide and four feet high, to say nothing

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about what had sunk in the mire. The logs were
cut about fourteen feet long and old Joe, and I
had snaked them up as fast as the axemen could
get them ready. Jacqueline returned to his wagon for dinner
and a change of horses, though Slaughter, with plenty of assurance,
had invited him to eat with us, and when he declined,

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had remarked with no less confidence, well, then you'll be
back right after dinner, and say, bring all the men
you can spare, and if you've got any gunny sacks
or old tarplins, bring them, and by all means, don't
forget your spade. Pete Slaughter was a harsh master can
considering he was working volunteer labor. But then we all

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felt a common interest in the bridge, for if slaughters
beaves could cross, ours could, and so could millets. All
the men dragging brush changed horses during dinner, for there
was to be no pause in piling in a good
foundation as long as the material was at hand. Jacqueline
and his outfit returned ten strong, and with thirty men

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at work, the bridge grew. They began laying the logs
on the brush after dinner, and the work of sotting
the bridge went forward. At the same time, the bridge
stood about two feet above the water in the creek.
But when near the middle of the stream was reached,
the foundation gave way, and for an hour ten horses
were kept busy dragging brush to fill that sink hole

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until it would bear the weight of the logs. We
had used all the acceptable timber on our side of
the stream for a half mile either way, and yet
there was not enough logs to completed the bridge. When
we lacked only some ten or twelve logs, Sawder had
the boys sought a narrow strip across the remaining brush,

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and the horsemen led their mounts across to the farther side.
Then the axemen crossed, felled the nearest trees, and the
last logs were dragged up from the pommels of our saddles.
It now only remained to sod over the dirt bridge thoroughly,
with only three spades. The work was slow, but we
cut sod with axes, and after several hours work had

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it finished. The two yoke of oxen were driven across
and back for a test, and the bridge stood it nobly.
Sawder then brought up his Ermuda, 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 everyone else, Young Peter advised laying

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stringers across on either side. So a number of small
trees were felled and go guardrails strung across the ends
of the logs and staked. Then more dirt was carried
on in tarpaulins and in gunnysacks, and every chink and
crevice filled with sod and dirt. It was now getting
rather late in the afternoon. But during the finishing touches,

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Young Slaughter had despatched 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 Peter took one point and flooded

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the other and pointed in the lead cattle for the bridge.
On reaching it, the cattle hesitated a moment, and it
looked as though they were going to balk, But finally
one of the oxen took the lead, and they began
the cross in almost indian file. They were big, four
and five year old beaves. Too many of them on
the bridge at one time might have sunk it, but

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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

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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

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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

(20:04):
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

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the bridge entrance, and in crossing shied and crowded, so
that several were forced off the bridge into the mire.
Our herd crossed in considerably less time then did sauters beaves,
but we had five head to pull out. This, however,
was considered nothing, as they were light and the mire
was thin as soup. Our wagon and saddle horses crossed

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while we were pulling out the bogged cattle, and about
half the outfit taking the herd drifted them forward towards
the Solomon. Since Millet intended crossing that evening, herds were
likely to be too thick for safety at night, the
sun was hardly an hour high. When the last herd
came up the cross. The oxen were put in the

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lead as with ours, and all four of the oxen
took the bridge, But when the cattle reached the bridge,
they made a decided balk and refused to follow the oxen.
Not a hoof of the herd would even set foot
on the bridge. The oxen were brought back several times,
but in spite of all coaxing and nursing and our

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best endeavors and devices, they would not risk it. We
worked with them until dusk, when all three of the
foremen decided it was useless to try longer, but both
Slaughter and Flood promised to bring back part of their
outfits in the morning and make another effort. Mc cann's
camp fire piloted us to our wagon at least three

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miles from the bridge, for he had laid in a
good supply of wood during the day, and on our
arrival our night horses were tied up and everything made
ready for the night. The next morning we started the herd,
but Flood took four of us with him and went
back to Big Boggie. The Millet herd was nearly two
miles back from the bridge, where we found Slaughter at

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Jacklin's wagon and several more of his men were, we
learned coming over with the oxen at about ten o'clock.
The hour was considered soon enough by the bosses, as
the heat of the day would be on the herd
by that time, which would make them lazy. When the
oxen arrived at the bridge, we rode out twenty strong
and lined the cattle up for another trial. They had

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grazed until they were full and sleepy, but the memory
of some of them was too vivid of the hour,
as they had spent in the slimy ooze of Big
Boggie once on a time, and they began milling on
sight of the stream. We took them back and brought
them up a second time, with the same results. We
then brought them around in a circle a mile and
dice diamateur, and as the rear end of the herd

(23:02):
was passing, we turned the last hundred, and, throwing the
oxen into their lead, started them for the bridge, but
they too sulked and would have none of it. It
was now high noon, so we turned the herd and
allowed them to Gray's back while we went to dinner.
Millet's foreman was rather discouraged with the outlook. Slaughter said

(23:22):
they must be crossed if he had to lay over
a week and help. After dinner, Jacqueline asked us if
we wanted a change of horses, and as we could
see a twenty mile ride ahead of us and overtaking
our herd, Flood excepted. When all was ready to start,
Slaughter made a suggestion. Let's go out, he said, and
bring them up slowly in his solid body, and when

(23:45):
we get them opposite the bridge, round them in gradually,
as if we were going to bed them down. I'll
take a long lariat to my white wheeler, and when
they have quieted down perfectly, I'll lead Old Blanco through
them and across the bridge, and possibly they'll follow. There's
no use in crowding them, for that only excites them.

(24:06):
And if you ever start them milling the jigs up.
They're nice, gentle cattle, but they've been balked once and
they haven't forgotten it. What we needed right then was
the leader, for we were all ready to catch at
a straw, and Slaughter's suggestion was welcome, for he had
established himself and our good graces until we've preferred him

(24:27):
to either of the other foremen as a leader. Riding
out to the herd, which were lying down. We roused
and started them back towards boggy While drifting them back,
we covered a front a quarter mile in width, and
as we neared the bridge we gave them perfect freedom.
Slawter had caught out his white ox, and we gradually

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worked them into a body covering perhaps ten acres in
front of the bridge. Several small bunches attempted to mill,
but some of us rode in and split them up,
and after about half hour's wait, they quieted down. Then
Slaughter rode in, whistling and leading his white ox at
the end of a thirty five foot lariat, and as

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he rode through them, they was so loggy that he
had to quirt them out of the way. When he
came to the bridge, he stopped the white wheeler until
everything had quieted down. Then he led old Blanco on again,
but giving him all the time he needed and stopping
every few feet. We held our breath as one or
two of the herds started to follow him, but they

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shied and turned back, and our hopes of the moment
were crushed. Slaughter detained the ox on the bridge for
several minutes, but seeing it was useless, He dismounted and
drove him back into the herd. Again and again he
tried the same ruse, but it was of no avail.
Then we threw the herd back about half a mile, and,

(25:53):
on Flood's suggestion, cut off possibly two hundred head, a
bunch with which our numbers we ought to handle readily
in spite of their will, and by putting their remuta
of over a hundred saddle horses in the immediate lead,
made the experiment of forcing them. We took the saddle
horses down and crossed and recrossed the bridge several times

(26:14):
with them, and as the cattle came up, turned the
horses into the lead and headed for the bridge. With
a cordon of twenty riders around them, no animal could
turn back, and the horses crossed the bridge on a trot,
but the cattle turned tail and positively refuse to have
anything to do with it. We held them like a
block in a vice, so compactly that they could not

(26:36):
even mill, but they would not cross the bridge. When
it became evident that it was a fruitless effort, Jacqueline,
usually a very quiet man, gave vent to a fit
of profanity which would have put the army in Flanders
to shame Slaughter somewhat to our amusement, reproved him. Don't fret, ma'am,

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this is nothing. I walked to herd once in crossing
a railroad track, and after trying for two days to
cross them, had to drive ten miles and put them
under a calvert. You want to cultivate patience, young fellow,
when you're handling dumb brutes. If Slaughter's darky cook had
been thereabouts then and suggested a means of getting the

(27:18):
herd to take the bridge, his suggestion would have been welcomed,
for the bosses were at their wits end. Jacqueline swore
that he would bed the herd at the entrance and
hold them there until they starved the death or crossed
before he would let an animal turn back. But cooler
heads were present, and the rebel mentioned a certain adage

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to the effect that when a bird or a girl
he didn't know which could sing, and wouldn't she or
it ought to be made to sing. He suggested that
we hold the four oxen on the bridge, cut off
fifteen head of cattle, and give them such a running
start that they wouldn't know which end their heads were on.
When they reached the bridge, Millis's foreman approved of the idea,

(28:02):
for he was nursing his wrath. The four oxen were
accordingly cut out and slaughter, and one of his men,
taking them, started for the bridge, with instructions to hold
them on the middle. The rest of us took about
a dozen head of light cattle, brought them within a
hundred yards of the bridge, then with a yell, started
them on a run from which they could not turn back.

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They struck the entrance squarely, and we had our first
cattle on the bridge. Two men held the entrance, and
we brought up another bunch in the same manner, which
filled the bridge. Now we thought if the herd could
be brought up slowly and this bridge full let off
in their lead, they might follow to June. A herd
of cattle across in this manner would have been shameful,

(28:49):
and the foreman of the herd knew it as well
as any one present. But no one protested, So we
left men to hold the entrance securely and went back
after the herd. When they got them within a quarter
mile of the creek, we cut off about two hundred
head of the leaders and brought them around to the rear,
for amongst these leaders were certain to be the ones

(29:10):
which had been bogged, and we wanted to have new
leaders in this trial. Slaughter was on the farther end
of the bridge and could be depended upon to let
the oxen lead off at the opportune moment. We brought
them up cautiously, and when the herd came within a
few rods of the creek, the cattle on the bridge
lowed to their mates in the herd, and slaughter, considering

(29:32):
the time favorable, opened out and allowed them to leave
the bridge on the farther side. As soon as the
cattle started leaving on the farther side, we dropped back,
and the leaders of the herd, to the number of
a dozen, after smelling the fresh dirt and seeing the
others crossing, walked cautiously upon the bridge. It was a
moment of extreme anxiety. None of us spoke a word,

(29:56):
but the cattle crowding off the bridge at the farther
end said it vib that was enough. They turned as
if panic stricken, and rushed back to the body of
the herd. I was almost afraid to look at Jacqueline.
He could scarcely speak, but he rode over to me,
ashen with rage, and kept repeating, well, wouldn't that beat hell.

(30:18):
Slaughter rode back across the bridge, and the men came
up and gathered around Jacqueline. We seem to have run
the full length of our rope. No one even had
a suggestion the offer, and if any one had had,
it needed to be a plausible one to find Approval
for hope seemed to have vanished. While we were discussing

(30:39):
the situation, A one eyed, pox smarked fellow belonging to
Slaughter's outfit, galloped up from the rear and said, almost breathlessly, say, fellows,
I see a cow and a calf in the herd.
Let's rope the calf, and the cow is sure to follow.
Get the rope around the calf's neck, and when it
chokes him, he's liable to bellow, and that will call

(31:01):
the steers. And if you never let up on the
choking till you get the other side of the bridge,
I think it'll work. Let's try it anyhow, we all approved,
for we knew that next to the smell of blood,
nothing will stir range cattle like the bellowing of a calf.
At the mere suggestion, Jacqueline's men scattered into the herd,

(31:22):
and within a few minutes we had a rope round
the neck of the calf. As the roper came through
the herd leading the calf, the frantic mother followed with
the train of excited steers at her heels, and as
the calf was dragged bellowing across the bridge, it was
followed by excited, struggling steers who never knew whether they

(31:42):
were walking on a bridge or on terra firma. The
excitement spread through the herd, and they thickened around the
entrance until it was necessary to hold them back and
only let enough pass to keep the chain unbroken. They
were nearly a half hour in crossing, for it was
full as large a herd as ours, and when the

(32:02):
last animal had crossed, Pete Slaughter stood up in his
stirrfs and led the long yell. The sun went down
that day on nobody's wrath, for Jacqueline was so tickled
that he offered to kill the fattest beef in his
herd if we would stay overnight with him. All three
of the herds were now over, but had not this
herd balked on us the evening before. Over nine thousand

(32:25):
cattle would have crossed Slaughter's Bridge the day it was built.
It was now late in the evening and we had
to wait some little time to get our own horses.
We stayed for supper. It was dark before we set
out to overtake the herd, but the trail was plain,
and letting our horses take their own time, we jollied
along until after midnight. We might have missed the camp,

(32:49):
but by the merest chance, priests sighted our camp fire
a mile off the trail, though it had burned to embers.
On reaching camp, we changed saddles to night horses and
calling officer were ready for our watch. We were expecting
the men on guard to call us any minute, and
while Priest was explaining the officer the trouble we had

(33:12):
in crossing the millet heard, I dozed off to sleep
there as I sat by the rekindled embers. In that
minute's sleep, my mind wandered in a dream to my
home on the San Antonio River. But the next moment
I was aroused to the demands of the hour by
the rebel shaking me and saying wake up Tom and

(33:33):
take a new hold. They're calling us on guard. If
you expect to follow the Trail's sun, you must learn
to do your sleeping in the winter. End of chapter fourteen,