midnight
Before we halted again there would be water for our dumb brutes and rest for ourselves . There was lots of singing that night . `` There 's One more River to cross , '' and `` Roll , Powder , roll , '' were wafted out on the night air to the coyotes that howled on our flanks , or to the prairie dogs as they peeped from their burrows at this weird caravan of the night , and the lights which flickered in our front and rear must have been real Jack-o ' - lanterns or Will-o ' - the-wisps to these occupants of the plain . Before we had covered half the distance , the herd was strung-out over two miles , and as Flood rode back to the rear every half hour or so , he showed no inclination to check the lead and give the sore-footed rear guard a chance to close up the column ; but about an hour before midnight we saw a light low down in our front , which gradually increased until the treetops were distinctly visible , and we knew that our wagon had reached the river . On sighting this beacon , the long yell went up and down the column , and the herd walked as only long-legged , thirsty Texas cattle can walk when they scent water . Flood called all the swing men to the rear , and we threw out a half-circle skirmish line covering a mile in width , so far back that only an occasional glimmer of the lead light could be seen . The trail struck the Powder on an angle , and when within a mile of the river , the swing cattle left the deep-trodden paths and started for the nearest water .