avalryman, riding along in the wake of the column
at night, saw a hat apparently floating in the mud and water. In the
hope that it might be a better hat than the one he was wearing, he
dismounted to get it. Feeling his way carefully through the ooze until
he reached the hat, he was surprised to find a man underneath and
wearing it. 'Hello, comrade,' he sang out, 'can I lend you a hand?'

"'No, no,' replied the fellow, 'I'm all right; I've got a good mule
yet under me.'"

CHAPTER VI

A REMINISCENT NIGHT

On the ninth morning we made our second start from the Indian Lakes.
An amusing incident occurred during the last night of our camp at
these water holes. Coyotes had been hanging around our camp for
several days, and during the quiet hours of the night these scavengers
of the plain had often ventured in near the wagon in search of scraps
of meat or anything edible. Rod Wheat and Ash Borrowstone had made
their beds down some distance from the wagon; the coyotes as they
circled round the camp came near their bed, and in sniffing about
awoke Borrowstone. There was no more danger of attack from these
cowards than from field mice, but their presence annoyed Ash, and as
he dared not shoot, he threw his boots at the varmints. Imagine his
chagrin the next morning to find that one boot had landed among the
banked embers of the camp-fire, and was burned to a crisp. It was
looked upon as a capital joke by the outfit, as there was no telling
when we would reach a store where he could secure another pair.

The new trail, after bearing to the westward for several days, turned
northward, paralleling the old one, and a week later we came into the
old trail over a hundred miles north of the Indian Lakes. With the
exception of one thirty-mile drive without water, no fault could be
found with the new trail. A few days after coming into the old trail,
we passed Mason, a point where trail herds usually put in for
supplies. As we passed during the middle of the afternoon, the wagon
and a number of the boys went into the burg. Quince Forrest and Billy
Honeyman were the only two in the outfit for whom there were any
letters, with the exception of a letter from Lovell, which was common
property. Never having been over the trail before, and not even
knowing that it was possible to hear from home, I wasn't expecting any
letter; but I felt a little twinge of homesickness that night when
Honeyman read us certain portions of his letter, wh