to do. Why, there's men in this outfit right now that couldn't have
greased my wagon that year.

"Well, the men on the points brought the herd to the water with a good
head on, and before the leaders knew it, they were halfway across
the channel, swimming like fish. The swing-men fed them in, free and
plenty. Most of my outfit took to the water, and kept the cattle
from drifting downstream. The boys from the other herds--good men,
too--kept shooting them into the water, and inside fifteen minutes'
time we were in the big Injun Territory. After crossing the saddle
stock and the wagon, I swam my horse back to the Texas side. I wanted
to eat dinner with Blocker's man, just to see how they fed. Might want
to work for him some time, you see. I pretended that I'd help him over
if he wanted to cross, but he said his dogies could never breast that
water. I remarked to him at dinner, 'You're feeding a mite better this
year, ain't you?' 'Not that I can notice,' he replied, as the cook
handed him a tin plate heaping with navy beans, 'and I'm eating rather
regular with the wagon, too.' I killed time around for a while, and
then we rode down to the river together. The cattle had tramped out
his peg, so after setting a new one, and pow-wowing around, I told him
good-by and said to him, 'Bob, old man, when I hit Dodge, I'll take a
drink and think of you back here on the trail, and regret that you are
not with me, so as to make it two-handed.' We said our 'so-longs' to
each other, and I gave the gray his head and he took the water like a
duck. He could outswim any horse I ever saw, but I drowned him in
the Washita two weeks later. Yes, tangled his feet in some vines in
a sunken treetop, and the poor fellow's light went out. My own candle
came near being snuffed. I never felt so bad over a little thing since
I burned my new red topboots when I was a kid, as in drownding that
horse.