hay and plowing fire guards the last few years have given me all the
taste of farming that I want. I'm going to Montana in the spring."

"Why don't you go this winter? Is your underwear too light?" asked
Ace Gee. "Now, I'm going to make a farewell play," continued Ace. "I'm
going to take a claim, and before I file on it, sell my rights, go
back to old Van Zandt County, Texas, this winter, rear up my feet, and
tell it to them scarey. That's where all my folks live."

"Well, for a winter's stake," chimed in Joe Box, "Ace's scheme is
all right. We can get five hundred dollars out of a claim for simply
staking it, and we know some good ones. That sized roll ought to
winter a man with modest tastes."

"You didn't know that I just came from Montana, did you, Tom?" asked
Ace. "I can tell you more about that country than you want to
know. I've been up the trail this year; delivered our cattle on the
Yellowstone, where the outfit I worked for has a northern range. When
I remember this summer's work, I sometimes think that I will burn
my saddle and never turn or look a cow in the face again, nor ride
anything but a plow mule and that bareback.

"The people I was working for have a range in Tom Green County, Texas,
and another one in Montana. They send their young steers north to
mature--good idea, too!--but they are not cowmen like the ones we
know. They made their money in the East in a patent medicine--got
scads of it, too. But that's no argument that they know anything
about a cow. They have a board of directors--it is one of those cattle
companies. Looks like they started in the cattle business to give
their income a healthy outlet from the medicine branch. They operate