much larger than the other and encumbered with its 148 large herds, had to use greater exertion and observe a more rigid discipline to keep pace with the more agile consort.
It is with the cow or more clumsy column that I propose to journey with the reader for a single day.
It is four o'clock a. m., the sentinels on duty have discharged their rifles, the signal that the hours of sleep are over; and every wagon or tent is pouring forth its night tenants, and slow kindling smokes begin to rise and float away on the morning air. Sixty men start from the corral, spreading as they make through the vast herd of cattle and horses that form a semi-circle around the encampment, the most distant, perhaps, two miles away.
The herders pass to the extreme verge and carefully examine for trails beyond, to see that none of the animals have been stolen or strayed during the night. This morning no trails lead beyond the outside animals in sight, and by five o'clock the herders begin to contract the great moving circle, and the well-trained animals move slowly toward camp, clipping here and there a thistle or tempting bunch of grass on the way.
In about an hour 5,000 animals are close up to the encampment, and the teamsters are busy selecting their teams, and driving them inside the "corral" to be yoked. The corral is a
