CHAPTER V.THE STORM.
The third night he was detailed to stand with Bob MacGregor on the middle guard, which lasts from eleven o'clock until two.

The outfit had camped near the head of a long, shallow basin that had a creek running through; down the winding banks of it lay the white-tented camps of seven other trail-herds, the cattle making great brown blotches against the green at sundown.

Thurston hoped they would all be there in the morning when the sun came up, so that he could get a picture.
"Aw, they'll be miles away by then," Bob assured him unfeelingly.

"By the signs, you can take snap-shots by lightning in another hour.

Got your slicker, Bud ?" Thurston said he hadn't, and Bob shook his head prophetically.