About three o'clock
As it only lacked an hour of noon on our arrival , the promised fresh beef would not be available in time for dinner ; but we were not like guests who had to hurry home -- we would be right there when supper was ready . The loss of a night 's sleep on my outfit was a good excuse for an after-dinner siesta . Untying our slickers , we strolled out of hearing of the camp , and for several hours obliterated time . About three o'clock Bob Quirk aroused and informed us that he had ordered our horses , and that the signal of Sponsilier 's cattle had been seen south on the trail . Dave was impatient to intercept his herd and camp them well down the creek , at least below the regular crossing . This would throw Bob 's and my cattle still farther down the stream ; and we were all determined to honor Forrest with our presence for supper and the evening hours . Quince 's wrangler rustled in the horses , and as we rejoined the camp the quarters of a beef hung low on a cottonwood , while a smudge beneath them warned away all insect life .