It's mostly luck, anyhow.

Thet canyon just ahead--looks like it leads a long way--toward the Powder.

Its middling deep down, an' if there ain't Injuns in it--them fellers out yonder--never cud git no sight at us.

Thet's my notion--thet ivery mile helps in this--business." "You mean we should start now ?" "Better--let the cattle rest--first.

An'-- if ye ever feed prisoners--I 'd like ter eat a bite--mesilf." They rested there for over two hours, the tired horses contentedly munching the succulent grass of the _coulee_, their two masters scarcely exchanging a word.