and the delay in the appearing of the herd was very annoying to him.
Old George was as tickled as a little boy to meet us all.

The cattle were looking as fine as silk. The lay-overs had rested
them. The horses were in good trim, considering the amount of wet
weather we had had. Here and there was a nigger brand, but these
saddle galls were unavoidable when using wet blankets. The cattle were
twos and threes. We had left western Texas with a few over thirty-two
hundred head and were none shy. We could have counted out more, but on
some of them the Hat brand had possibly faded out. We went into a
cosy camp early in the evening. Everything needful was at hand, wood,
water, and grass. Cowmen in those days prided themselves on their
outfits, and Carter was a trifle gone on his men.

With the cattle on hand, drinking was out of the question, so the only
way to show us any regard was to bring us a box of cigars. He must
have brought those cigars from Texas, for they were wrapped in a copy
of the Fort Worth "Gazette." It was a month old and full of news.
Every man in the outfit read and reread it. There were several train
robberies reported in it, but that was common in those days. They had
nominated for Governor "The Little Cavalryman," Sol Ross, and this
paper estimated that his majority would be at least two hundred
thousand. We were all anxious to get home in time to vote for him.

Theodore Baughman was foreman of our outfit. Baugh was a typical
trail-boss. He had learned to take things as they came, play the cards
as they fell, and not fret himself about little things that could not
be helped. If we had been a month behind he would never have thought
to explain the why or wherefore to old man Carter. Several years after
this, when he was scouting for the army, he rode up to a herd over on