n to Ogalalla,
an easy night's ride, and I was conscious that our whereabouts would
be known at the latter place the next morning. For several days before
starting across this arid stretch, we had watered at ten o'clock in the
morning, so when Flood and Forrest came up, mine being the third herd
to reach the last water, I was all ready to pull out. But old man Don
counseled another day's lie-over, as it would be a sore trial for the
herds under a July sun, and for a full day twenty thousand beeves grazed
in sight of each other on the mesas surrounding the head of Stinking
Water. All the herds were aroused with the dawn, and after a few hours'
sun on the cattle, the Indian beeves were turned onto the water and held
until the middle of the forenoon, when the start was made for the Platte
and Ogalalla.

I led out with "The Apple" cattle, throwing onto the trail for the first
ten miles, which put me well in advance of Bob Quirk and Forrest,
who were in my immediate rear. A well-known divide marked the halfway
between the two waters, and I was determined to camp on it that night.
It was fully nine o'clock when we reached it, Don Lovell in the mean
time having overtaken us. This watershed was also recognized as the
line of Keith County, an organized community, and the next morning
expectation ran high as to what the day would bring forth. Lovell
insisted on staying with the lead herd, and pressing him in as
horse-wrangler, I sent him in the lead with the remuda and wagon, while
Levering fell into the swing with the trailing cattle. A breakfast halt
was made fully seven miles from the bed-ground, a change of mounts, and
then up divide, across mesa, and down slope at the foot of which ran the
Platte. Meanwhile several wayfaring men were met, but in order to avoid
our dust, they took the right or unbranded side of our herd on meeting,
and passed on their way without inquiry. Near noon a party of six men,
driving a number of loose mounts and a pack-horse, were met, who also
took the windward side. Our dragmen learned that they were on their way
to Dodge to receive a herd of range horses. But when about halfway
down the slope towards the river, two mounted men were seen to halt the
remuda and wagon for a minute, and then continue on southward. Billy
Tupps was on the left point, myself next in the swing; and as the two
horsemen turned out on the branded side, their identity was suspected.
In reply to some inquiry, Tupps jerked his