it was singular that avon burnet’s most humiliating experience overtook him on his first night in helping to watch his uncle’s herd of cattle, while following the great cattle trail toward kansas.

the starting point was so far north in texas that the first day carried them close to the indian nation, through whose territory they expected to tramp for several days.

the night, as has been explained, was raw, with a fine, misty rain and a cutting wind. the youth was seated on his fleet-footed and intelligent thunderbolt, with his back to the wind, after the fashion not only of all cowboys, under such circumstances, but of the animals themselves, who sometimes drift many miles before a driving storm.

he had his thick army blanket gathered about his body and shoulders, and, though the night was dismal and his situation far from pleasant, it still lacked the discomfort of many hours spent on the vast plains of the lone star state.

the young man had held his position for less than an hour when the wind changed, veering completely around, so that, instead of being in front of the herd and edging gradually from it, he was thrown behind the cattle, for they immediately faced about and began moving away from him.

the situation of the young herdsman became a delicate one at once. his proper place was in front, and to reach that point, he must ride around the animals, and not among them. one of the many singular features of herding and driving cattle is the wonderful sensitiveness shown at times by them. while there is nothing extraordinary in the wild panic often created by a thunderstorm, there are occasions when a whole herd is stampeded by a cause too trifling to be understood.

our experience leads us to agree with many veteran cowboys that the cattle, when lying on the ground asleep, are sometimes troubled with bad dreams which cause such fright on their part that their excitement becomes contagious. then again the electrical conditions produce a morbid uneasiness among them as well as among men, and there seem to be times when they are simply awaiting a pretext for dashing off in uncontrollable panic.

avon burnet’s fear was that if he rode directly after the cattle, the sound of his mustang’s hoofs would cause alarm, since it was too dark for them to identify him. a stampede is the terror of the cowmen’s life, and no labor or trouble is too great to avert it. he, therefore, checked thunderbolt and waited a few minutes until the cattle were so far off that he could wheel and gallop around their flank without frightening them.

when he thought sufficient time had elapsed, he decided to wait a brief while longer. his dread of a stampede was so strong that he was unusually careful, but 231with no thought of shirking any duty, he twitched the reins of his horse, spoke sharply, and without touch of spur, was off like an arrow.

although not an animal was visible, the rider had the contour of the herd so vividly impressed on his mind that he felt no misgiving, when he began edging his steed more to the left, and finally brought him to a stand-still, as he believed, at the very front of the collection. indeed, his confidence would not have been greater had the sun been shining.

but when he halted and listened he failed to hear anything of them.

“i must have ridden too far ahead,” was his conclusion, as he started his horse on a walk to meet them; “but they are surely near by.”

five, ten, fifteen minutes passed, and then he drew rein with an exclamation of amazement, for his keen sense of hearing did not catch the first sound of the cattle.

“i have lost the herd!” he muttered in dismay, and such was the fact. his cheeks burned with chagrin at the consciousness of what at first thought seems an impossible error on the part of man or youth with any experience in attending cattle.

it was avon’s first mishap of the kind, and he felt as though he could never face his comrades again, if they should discover the blunder, which, after all, was not so striking, when the attendant circumstances are borne in mind.

but if excuse could be accepted for his slip, there was none for inaction after its discovery. it was not to be supposed that the animals would set out to hunt him, nor that any knowledge could be gained of them by idleness. there were other men on duty, and he shouted at the top of his voice, in the hope of receiving a response, but there was none.

slipping from his saddle, he knelt down and placed his ear to the ground. he fancied he detected faint sounds, such as are made by multitudinous hoofs on the soft, wet earth, but the noises were so slight that he could not identify the direction whence they came, and he hastily climbed into the saddle again.

he realized that he was lost, and well aware that at such times it is useless to puzzle one’s brains about the point of the compass, he dashed in the direction which seemed to be the right one. of course, as in his recent experience, it proved to be wrong, and he now spurred toward the top of the ridge or hill, which it was easy to identify under the tread of his mustang. he was confident that this elevation would yield the key to the situation and he was not mistaken.

from the crest he observed the starlike glimmer of a lantern, and no sight, except that of the herd itself, could have been more welcome. it was the signal suspended every night from the front bow of the wagon, to guide the men whenever they needed guidance.

confident that someone would be found at that point who could give him the important news he was seeking, avon rode thither on a dead run. he saw no one stirring as he galloped up. the cook, who had charge of the wagon, was asleep, and the men off duty were slumbering soundly, while the chance was theirs.

but young burnet had scarcely checked his mustang, when the sound of someone riding his horse equally fast reached his ear, and the next instant oscar gleeson dashed beside him.

“howdy, baby, is that you?” he asked, peering at the young man dimly seen in the scant yellow rays of the lantern.

“yes, ballyhoo,” was the reply; “i’m in trouble.”

“what is it?”

“i’ve lost the herd.”

the texan shook in his saddle with laughter.

“that’s me, too; the first thing i knowed they was gone. i yelled for you, but you couldn’t have heard me, and, after cantering round awhile, i struck for the wagon in quest of news.”

avon drew a sigh of relief, and with a smile:

“i’m glad you lost them, for the boys won’t laugh at you, while they would at me.”

“i don’t think there’s anyone in that crowd that will laugh, for they all had the same experience. i know old bronze and short stop have lost a herd more than once.”

“it won’t do to stay here,” remarked avon, “for you know there is another herd only a mile off, and if the two become mixed, it will be a big job to cut out ours to-morrow.”

“i shouldn’t wonder,” replied gleeson, “if the cattle have gone back to the bed-ground; at any rate we’ll look for them there.”

the return to the wagon enabled the couple to obtain their bearings, and they knew the proper course to reach the spot, but the possibility of the theory being wrong caused them to separate, so as to proceed thither by routes which, while substantially parallel, were so far apart that they were out of each other’s sight and hearing, the latter being chiefly due to the direction of the wind.

avon spurred thunderbolt into an easy canter, the soft grass making the travel easy, though there was always the risk of his animal sinking one or more of his hoofs into a hole, with the prospect of a broken leg for the horse and a dislocated neck for his rider.

when it seemed to the latter that he had passed the intervening distance, he drew his mustang to a walk, listening and peering through the gloom with all the power at his command. there was no lighting of the darkness, the wind still blew keenly, and the fine drizzling rain continued.

no sight nor sound came to him, and, once more bringing his animal to a halt, he dismounted and pressed his ear to the ground.

this time he caught a distinct noise: it was that made by the hoofs of a horse. he was walking, and was so near that thunderbolt pricked his ears and uttered a faint whinny of salutation. avon instantly rose to his feet, and remounted.

looking keenly into the wet darkness, he became aware that a horse was standing motionless but a short distance off on his left. in the gloom the outlines could be traced, but so dimly that he was uncertain whether he had a rider or not. the steed held his head well up like thunderbolt, and appeared to be scrutinizing the youth and his animal with a curiosity equal to theirs.

there was something so impressive in the sight of the statue-like object, which emitted not the slightest sound, that young burnet hesitated whether to advance or to await its approach. the man could not be gleeson, and, whoever he was, it was evident that he regarded avon with inquiring suspicion.

but unwilling to maintain the trying situation, the latter touched the neck of his mustang in a way which the animal recognized as a command to move forward very slowly. he obeyed, and had advanced but a few short steps when avon to his astonishment perceived that the strange horse was without a rider.

“i don’t understand that,” mused the mystified young man, stopping his own animal, with several yards separating them; “he must have an owner, and what can have become of him, and why is–––”

at that instant he observed a suspicious movement, seemingly from the other side of the steed. before he could divine its nature, a rifle was discharged almost in his face and he went off his mustang like a flash.