the
weather moderated in the hills to the west, there was no hope of
crossing the river; but men grew hungry and nights were chilly, and
bluster and bravado brought neither food nor warmth. A third wave was
noticed within an hour, raising the water-gauge over a foot. The
South Fork of the Big Cheyenne almost encircled the entire Black
Hills country, and with a hundred mountain affluents emptying in their
tribute, the waters commanded and we obeyed. Ordering my men to kill
a beef, I rode down the river in the hope of finding Sponsilier on our
side, and about noon sighted his camp and cattle on the opposite bank. A
group of men were dallying along the shore, but being out of hearing, I
turned back without exposing myself.

On my return a general camp had been established at the nearest wood,
and a stray killed. Stakes were driven to mark the rise or fall of
the water, and we settled down like prisoners, waiting for an expected
reprieve. Towards evening a fire was built up and the two sides of ribs
were spitted over it, our only chance for supper. Night fell with no
perceptible change in the situation, the weather remaining dry and
clear. Forrest's outfit had been furnished horses from my remuda for
guard duty, and about midnight, wrapping ourselves in slickers, we
lay down in a circle with our feet to the fire like cave-dwellers. The
camp-fire was kept up all night by the returning guards, even until the
morning hours, when we woke up shivering at dawn and hurried away to
note the stage of the water. A four-foot fall had taken place during the
night, another foot was added within an hour after sun-up, brightening
our hopes, when a tidal wave swept down the valley, easily establishing
a new high-water mark. Then we breakfasted on broiled beefsteak, and
fell back into the hills in search of the huckleberry, which abounded in
that vicinity.

A second day and night passed, with the water gradually falling. The
third morning a few of the best swimmers, tiring of the diet of beef and
berries, took advantage of the current and swam to the other shore. On
returning several hours later, they brought back word that Sponsilier
had been up to the wagons the afternoon before and reported an easy
crossing about five miles below. By noon the channel had narrowed to one
hundred yards of swimming water, and plunging into it on our horses,
we dined at the wagons and did justice to the spread. Both outfits were
anxious to move, and once