freshness of spring had passed, the plain took on her natural
sunburnt color, and day after day, as far as the eye could reach, the
monotony was unbroken, save by the variations of the mirages on every
hand. Except at morning and evening, we were never out of sight of
these optical illusions, sometimes miles away, and then again close
up, when an antelope standing half a mile distant looked as tall as a
giraffe. Frequently the lead of the herd would be in eclipse from
these illusions, when to the men in the rear the horsemen and cattle
in the lead would appear like giants in an old fairy story. If the
monotony of the sea can be charged with dulling men's sensibilities
until they become pirates, surely this desolate, arid plain might be
equally charged with the wrongdoing of not a few of our craft.

On crossing the railroad at Grinnell, our foreman received a letter
from Lovell, directing him to go to Culbertson, Nebraska, and there
meet a man who was buying horses for a Montana ranch. Our employer had
his business eye open for a possible purchaser for our _remuda_, and
if the horses could be sold for delivery after the herd had reached
its destination, the opportunity was not to be overlooked.
Accordingly, on reaching Beaver Creek, where we encamped, Flood left
us to ride through to the Republican River during the night. The trail
crossed this river about twenty miles west of Culbertson, and if the
Montana horse buyer were yet there, it would be no trouble to come up
to the trail crossing and look at our horses.

So after supper, and while we were catching up our night horses, Flood
said to us, "Now, boys, I'm going to leave the outfit and herd under
Joe Stallings as _segundo_. It's hardly necessary to leave you under
any one as foreman, for you all know your places. But some one must be
made responsible, and one bad boss will do less harm than half a dozen
that mightn't agree. So you can put Honeyman on guard in your place at
night, Joe, if you don't want to stand your own watch. Now behave
yourselves, and when I meet you on the Republican, I'll bring out a
box of cigars and have it charged up as axle grease when we get
supplies at Ogalalla. And don't sit up all night telling fool
stories."

"Now, that's what I call a good cow boss," said Joe Stallings, as our
foreman rode away in the twilight; "besides, he used passable good
judgment in selecting a _segundo_. Now, Honeyman, you heard what he
said. Billy dear, I won