Occasionally they broke into a little trot. At such times the dogs
ran forward, yelping, to turn them back into their appointed way. At an
especially bad break to right or left one or more of the men would dash
to the aid of the dogs, riding with a splendid recklessness through the
timber, over fallen trees, ditches, rocks, boulders and precipitous
hills. The dust rose chokingly. At the rear of the long procession
plodded the old, the infirm, the cripples and the young calves. Three or
four men rode compactly behind this rear guard, urging it to keep up.
Their means of persuasion were varied. Quirts, ropes, rattles made of
tin cans and pebbles, strong language were all used in turn and
simultaneously. Long after the multitude had passed, the vast and
composite voice of it reechoed through the forest; the dust eddied and
swirled among the trees.
The mountain men's cattle, on the other hand, came out sullenly, in
herds of a few hundred head. There was more barking of dogs; more
scurrying to and fro of mounted men, for small bands are more difficult
to drive than large ones. There were no songs, no boisterous high
spirits, no flash riding.
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