Summary

Portrait of Andy Adams Andy Adams The Log of a Cowboy: A Narrative of the Old Trail Days

We all felt gala as the herd strung out on the trail. Before we halted again there would be water for our dumb brutes and rest for ourselves. There was lots of singing that night. “There’s One more River to cross,” and “Roll, Powder, roll,” were wafted out on the night air to the coyotes that howled on our flanks, or to the prairie dogs as they peeped from their burrows at this weird caravan of the night, and the lights which flickered in our front and rear must have been real Jack-o’-lanterns or Will-o’-the-wisps to these occupants of the plain.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Andy Adams Andy Adams The Log of a Cowboy: A Narrative of the Old Trail Days

When the herd was within a mile of the river, Fox and I shed our saddles, boots, and surplus clothing and started to meet it. The water was chilly, but we struck it with a shout, and with the cheers of our outfit behind us, swam like smugglers. A swimming horse needs freedom, and we scarcely touched the reins, but with one hand buried in a mane hold, and giving gentle slaps on the neck with the other, we guided our horses for the other shore.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Andy Adams Andy Adams The Log of a Cowboy: A Narrative of the Old Trail Days

Trailing by moonlight was a novelty to all of us, and in the stillness of those splendid July nights we could hear the point men chatting across the lead in front, while well in the rear, the rattling of our heavily loaded wagon and the whistling of the horse wrangler to his charges reached our ears. The swing men were scattered so far apart there was no chance for conversation amongst us, but every once in a while a song would be started, and as it surged up and down the line, every voice, good, bad, and indifferent, joined in.
Source: Gutenberg

Get perspective with Kwize: daily news enlightened by great literature