noon
The crack of a whip was unheard on the trail . A whispered order , followed by a signal to the men , and the herd turned , grazed to its contentment , fell into column formation , and took up its march -- a peaceful march that few armies have equaled . Contact with these men , the rank and file of that splendid cavalry which once patrolled the range industry of the West , was priceless to the boys . The lead herd reached the Beaver valley at noon . When within a mile of the water , the point men gave way to the foremen and Joel Wells . But instead of dropping back , the dust-covered men rode on into the lead , the action being seemingly understood by every one except the new hand on the point . Joel was alert , felt the massive column of beeves yield to his slightest pressure , as a ship to the hand of the helmsman , as he veered the leaders out of the broken trails and guided the herd around the field to the upper pools .