should change, and it was high
time our outfit was riding for camp. The innate modesty of my wrangler,
in calling attention to the time, was not forgotten, but instead of
permitting him to turn servant, I asked him to help our cook look after
his utensils. On my return to the wagon, Parent was trying to quiet a
nervous horse so as to allow him to carry the Dutch oven returning.
But as Levering was in the act of handing up the heavy oven, one of
Forrest's men, hoping to make the animal buck, attempted to place a
briar stem under the horse's tail. Sponsilier detected the movement in
time to stop it, and turning to the culprit, said: "None of that, my
bully boy. I have no objection to killing a cheap cow-hand, but these
cooks have won me, hands down. If ever I run across a girl who can make
as good pies as we had for supper, she can win the affections of my
young and trusting heart."

CHAPTER XVII. WATER-BOUND

Our route was carrying us to the eastward of the Black Hills. The
regular trail to the Yellowstone and Montana points was by the way of
the Powder River, through Wyoming; but as we were only grazing across to
our destination, the most direct route was adopted. The first week after
leaving the Niobrara was without incident, except the meeting with a
band of Indians, who were gathering and drying the wild fruit in which
the country abounded. At first sighting their camp we were uneasy,
holding the herd close together; but as they proved friendly, we relaxed
and shared our tobacco with the men. The women were nearly all of one
stature, short, heavy, and repulsive in appearance, while the men were
tall, splendid specimens of the aborigines, and as uniform in a dozen
respects as the cattle we were driving. Communication was impossible,
except by signs, but the chief had a letter of permission from the agent
at Pine Ridge, allowing himself and band a month's absence from the
reservation on a berrying expedition. The bucks rode with us for hours,
silently absorbed in the beeves, and towards evening turned and galloped
away for their encampment.

It must have been the latter part of July when we reached the South Fork
of the Big Cheyenne River. The lead was first held by one and then
the other herd, but on reaching that watercourse, we all found it more
formidable than we expected. The stage of water was not only swimming,
but where we struck it, the river had an abrupt cut-bank on one side or
the other. Sponsilier