"I think it's the great Deadwood trail over which all the supplies are drawn to the mines by mule or horse or ox teams," said Jack. "There's no railroad, you know, and everything has to go by wagon--goods and supplies in, and a great deal of ore out. Let's go over and see."
The moon was not yet risen and the sky was covered with clouds, so it was extremely dark. We took along our lantern, but it did not make much impression on the darkness. When we reached the road we found that everywhere we stepped we went over our shoe-tops in the soft dust. We beard a deep, strange creaking noise, mixed with what sounded like reports of a pistol, around the bend in the trail. Soon we could make out what seemed to be a long herd of cattle winding towards us, with what might have been a circus tent swaying about behind them.
"What's coming?" we asked of a boy who was going by.
"Old Henderson," he replied.
"What's he got?"
"Just his outfit."
"But what are all the cattle?"
"His team."
"Not one team?"
"Yes; eleven yoke."