“Yonder’s a smoke-cloud!” excitedly said Joel.  “See it! in the valley! above that motte of cotton-woods!”

“It’s a camp!  Come on!”

The herd had every appearance of being under control.  As the scouts advanced, the outline of an immense loose herd was noticeable, and on a far, low horizon, a horseman was seen on duty.  On reaching the cattle, a single glance was given, when the brands told the remainder of the story.

A detail of men was met leaving camp.  Sargent was among them, and after hearty greetings were over, Joel outlined the programme:  “After leaving the Republican,” said he, “there’s water between here and home in two places.  None of them are over thirty miles apart—­a day and a half’s drive.  I have a bill of health for these cattle, and turn the herd down the river in the morning.”

The new trail crossing was only a few miles above on the river.  The herd had arrived three days before, and finding grass and water in abundance, the outfit had gone into camp, awaiting word from home.  There was no object in waiting any great distance from headquarters, and after a day’s travel down the Republican, a tack was made for the sand hills.

A full day’s rest was allowed the herd on the chain of lakes.  By watering early, a long drive was made during the afternoon, followed by a dry camp, and the lagoon where the wild horses had been sighted was reached at evening the next day.

It was yet early in September, and for fear of fever, it was decided to isolate the herd until after the first frost.  The camp was within easy touch of headquarters; and leaving Sargent and five men, the commissary, and half the remuda, the remainder returned to the Beaver valley.  The water would hold the cattle, and even if a month elapsed before frost lifted the ban, the herd would enjoy every freedom.

The end of the summer’s work was in sight.  The men from the Republican were paid for their services, commended for their faithfulness, and went their way.  Preparations for winter were the next concern; and while holding the dead-line, plans for two new line-camps were outlined, one below the old trail crossing and the other an emergency shelter on the Prairie Dog.  Forage had been provided at both points, and in outlining the winter lines, Joel submitted his idea for Manly’s approval.

“Sargent thinks we can hold the cattle on twenty miles of the Beaver valley,” said he, sketching the range on the ground at his feet.  “We’ll have to ride lines again, and in case the cattle break through during a storm, we can work from our emergency camp on the Prairie Dog.  In case that line is broken, we can drop down to the railroad and make another attempt to check any drift.  And as a last resort, whether we hold the line or not, we’ll send an outfit as far south as the Arkansas River, and attend the spring round-ups from there north to the Republican.  We have the horses and men, and no one can throw out a wider drag-net than our outfit.  Let the winter come as it will; we can ride to the lead when spring comes.”