buyers drove past the barn with a flourish. Taking a back street,
we avoided meeting them, and just as darkness was falling, rode
into our camp some twelve miles distant.

My brother Bob's camp was just above us on the creek, and a few
miles nearer town. As his wagon expected to go in after supplies
the next morning, a cavalcade of fifteen men from the two outfits
preceded it. My horse-wrangler had made arrangements with the
cook to look after his charges, and in anticipation of the day
before him, had our mounts corralled before sun-up. Bob's
wrangler was also with us, and he and Levering quarreled all the
way in about the respective merits of each one's remuda. A match
was arranged between the two horses which they were riding, and
on reaching a straight piece of road, my man won it and also
considerable money. But no matter how much we differed among
ourselves, when the interests of our employer were at stake, we
were a unit. On reaching town, our numbers were augmented by
fully twenty more from the other Lovell outfits, including the
three foremen. My old bunkie, The Rebel, nearly dragged me from
my horse, while Forrest and I forgot past differences over a
social glass. And then there was Flood, my first foreman, under
whom I served my apprenticeship on the trail, the same quiet,
languid old Jim. The various foremen and their outfits were aware
of the impending trouble over the Buford delivery, and quietly
expressed their contempt for such underhand dealings. Quince
Forrest had spent the evening before in town, and about midnight
his herd of "Drooping T's" were sold at about the same figures as
mine, except five thousand more earnest-money, and the privilege
of the buyers placing their own foreman in charge thereafter.
Forrest further reported that the fiscal agent and the strangers