We had hell with the herd that night, an' if the sage an' grass hadn't been wet--we, hosses, steers, an' all would hev burned up.
But I said I wasn't goin' to tell you any of the tricks....

Strange now, Miss Withersteen, when the stampede did come it was from natural cause--jest a whirlin' devil of dust.

You've seen the like often.

An' this wasn't no big whirl, fer the dust was mostly settled.

It had dried out in a little swale, an' ordinarily no steer would ever hev run fer it.