“Put ’em in warm, men,” he said to his men at the camp fire in a great arm of the river. “Ef a cow’s warm and the sun’s shining he’ll take the water easy. Ef he’s chilly he begins to think of home and mother. We’ll rest ’em here till late to-morrer morning. The bank’s highest on the south side and we can throw ’em in easy. I don’t think there’s more’n a hunderd yards or so of swimming, no ways.”
His judgment proved good for an amateur—as all trail drovers then were. Well warmed, the herd strung into the ford amiably enough, led by the point men and pushed by the swings. The horse herd already had been crossed, for horses swim better than cattle, and have more courage at a wide crossing; and this laid down the line for the herd leaders, who went in readily enough.
The long line of the cattle, as it reached the swimming channel, was swept down stream in a deep U, but when they caught footing and made up the farther bank the line was established and the crossing went on steadily, the line never broken and not a head lost out of the great total. It went forward as though in an accustomed routine; and this first successful essay in crossing big water gave confidence to all.
All the saddle horses, including Blancocito, had to swim, and so did the yoke oxen of the carts. The owner of the herd patiently waited her turn. Old Anita crossed herself for two solid hours, sure her end had come. Milly found her relief in loud and tearful lamentations.
“What ever brung us-all ’way up yere?” she exclaimed. “My folks wuz Baptists, and so’m me; but what I says is, I done been baptized oncet and dat’s plenty. I’m a notion to walk back home.”
“No you won’t,” said the trail boss, who with his best man had come back to see to this last work. “You and Anita set right on yore cart seats. Miss Taisie’ll take care of you. Ef you drownd we can get plenty better cooks, so don’t you worry. Ef you did float off, you couldn’t sink noways. Anita’s the one in danger—she’s all bones. You set in the middle and say yore prayers like Anita does.
“Don’t you worry none, ma’am,” he added, addressing Taisie. “I’m going to take them two John boats somebody has left here and make a raft that’s safer than a bridge.”
His process gave proof of the Texan’s strange distrust in all boats and confidence in all horses, although it showed no less the resourcefulness of the real explorer, crossing country with such means as lay at hand.
It was no great matter to rope the two broad-horn scows together side and side, and to lay a pole platform across to receive the carts, which were run on by hand. Remained the question of propulsion, and none of these knew aught of sail or pole or oars. This meant falling back on the vade mecum—the horse, without which in his day the railroads and bridges might as well never have been.
Nabours lashed his cart wheels fast to his craft, so that he could risk strain on them. Then he got a long pole, some thirty feet in length. All the time singing and whistling to himself, and vouchsafing no answer to any, he passed this across the body of the foremost cart and lashed it fast. The ends projected widely at each side.