Eventually I concluded that this was the wrong way - Crockett never mentioned running
the baying hounds gauntlet, so we backtracked a little. Provo was mighty relieved 
to escape with his life

Up the sandy hill we went, away from the excited hounds, only to encounter a
"gate". "Gates" in this part of the country are actually three strands of barbed wire
with three or four free-standing posts woven into them. They are stretched tightly
across an opening and either held to the fence post with a loop, or with the strands
of barbed wire wound around and twisted back onto themselves. Because they
are under great tension, once you've got them open, they are almost impossible
to get closed again.

Scrambled off, unwound the barbed wire, got the thing open without getting it tangled 
around my legs or Provo's, spent five minutes wrestling to get it closed again, only
sliced my thumb open a little bit on the barbs, got back on... and came across 
another gate a few hundred yards further up. Repeat performance... 
...and again a little further up. 

Riding on cattle range definitely has its downside <grin>.

At this point, the trail followed the fence line for a few miles, dipping up and
down with the hills (see photo above).