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nice level valley and I said to myself, if I do not catch the horses now, right here, I am going to let them go. So I put spurs to my horse and it seemed to me that he was flying. The leading horse had a piece of rope around his neck and I gained on him and caught him, holding to the rope on his neck. The other horses following as soon as I caught him. After having put my rope on him I started back in the direction of the camp. I had gone about a mile when I met one of my hands, coining to my rescue. So it made me feel happy, because I was afraid I never would find my way back, as it was getting late in the day, almost dark, and we were some fifteen miles from camp. As we were going back we met about 1,000 buffaloes coming over a ridge toward us. I asked my companion if he wanted to see my horse get on top of those buffaloes, and he answered, yes. So I turned my horse after the buffaloes and I scattered them in all directions. Finally we got into camp all right without getting lost in the wilderness. Next day we continued our journey toward North Platte, Nebraska, our destination, where we found our boss, Colin Campbell, waiting for us,, after being on the trail for six months.
There we delivered the cattle to the parties to whom he had sold them.
This story is not eloquent ; but it is genuine, and perhaps will never be repeated again.
The following was published in a Houston paper at the time of the convention of the Old Time Trail Drivers in that City in 1916:
"Y' know," observed the little old man with the thin, brown fingers, "y' know, when the boys went into Mexico befo', I drove one of the wagons. That was 'way back in '46.