nfronted it. From the information disclosed, it was evident
that the other Buford herds were then somewhere to the northwest, and
possibly over a hundred miles distant. Thus freed from any restraint,
we held a due northward course for several days, or until we encountered
some rocky country. Water was plentiful and grass fairly good, but those
flinty hills must be avoided or sorefooted beeves would be the result.
I had seen trails of blood left by cattle from sandy countries on
encountering rock, and now the feet of ours were a second consideration
to their stomachs. But long before the herd reached this menace, Morg
Tussler and myself, scouting two full days in advance, located a safe
route to the westward. Had we turned to the other hand, we should have
been forced into the main trail below Fredericksburg, and we preferred
the sea-room of the boundless plain. From every indication and report,
this promised to be the banner year in the exodus of cattle from the
South to the then new Northwest. This latter section was affording the
long-looked-for outlet, by absorbing the offerings of cattle which came
up from Texas over the trail, and marking an epoch barely covering a
single decade.

Turning on a western angle, a week's drive brought us out on a high
tableland. Veering again to the north, we snailed along through a
delightful country, rich in flora and the freshness of the season. From
every possible elevation, we scanned the west in the hope of sighting
some of the herd which had followed up the main Frio, but in vain.
Sweeping northward at a leisurely gait, the third week out we sighted
the Blue Mountains, the first familiar landmark on our course. As the
main western trail skirted its base on the eastward, our position was
easily established.

So far the cattle were well behaved, not a run, and only a single
incident occurring worth mention. About half an hour before dawn one
morning, the cook aroused the camp with the report that the herd was
missing. The beeves had been bedded within two hundred yards of the
wagon, and the last watch usually hailed the rekindling of the cook's
fire as the first harbinger of day. But on this occasion the absence of
the usual salutations from the bed-ground aroused Parent's suspicion. He
rushed into camp, and laboring under the impression that the cattle
had stampeded, trampled over our beds, yelling at the top of his lungs.
Aroused in the darkness from heavy sleep, bewildered by