o cover the mouth while riding
through sand and windstorms.

Flankers ride on each side of the herd at regular intervals. The
chuck-wagon and the spare horses follow far enough in the rear to avoid
the dust.

For the first few days the drives are long and hard, averaging from
twenty-five to thirty miles a day, until the cattle are well tired.
Then the pace is set at twelve to fifteen miles.

From dawn until noon the herd is allowed to water and graze along the
trail toward their destination. About noon they become restive. The
cowboys then drive them steadily forward for eight or ten miles, until
early evening, when they are halted for another graze. As night falls
they are turned into the bedding grounds. The men ride slowly around
the herd, crowding them into a compact mass. As the circle lessens the
beasts lie down to rest and chew their cuds.

About midnight the cattle usually get up, stand a while, and then lie
down again, having changed sides. The night-guard slowly circles the
herd, the men relieving each other at stated intervals.

On rainy, stormy nights, the guard has to double, as the cattle are
restless and easily stampeded. Under a clear sky, breathing the
bracing air of the plains, with the herd well in hand, the day's work
is a pleasant one. But in a steady downpour, with the thunder rolling
and the animals full of fear, the task is one to tax the stoutest heart.

The cause of a stampede is always some trifle. A heavy clap of
thunder, a flash of lightning, the breaking of a stick, the howl of a
wolf, will start the herd off in a blind rush in any direction,
heedless of cliffs over which they may tumble, or of rivers whose
current will sweep hundreds of the frightened beasts to death.

Once the cattle are off on a stampede, the cowboys ride recklessly,
madly to the head of the herd, getting to one side of the leaders.
With shouts and pistol-shots they turn the leaders to one side,
gradually at first, and then into the arc of a great circle. Blindly
racing after the leaders the other cattle follow; and round they plunge
until head and tail of the herd meet, and "milling" begins. Any that
fall are ground to death by the hoofs of the others. This mighty grind
continues until the animals are exhausted or they have recovered from
the fight.

To soothe the hysterical beasts, the men begin to sing. Any song will
do, but the drawling old hymn tunes of the Methodist camp-meetings have
the be