had started to meet Sponsilier early that morning, and that the
probability of all the herds moving out in a few days was good.

Seay and his charge were still absent, and the programme, as
outlined, was working out nicely. With the exception of Forrest
and myself, the other foremen were busy looking after their
outfits, while Bob Quirk had his wagon to load and start on its
return. Quince confided to me that though he had stayed on Duck
Creek the night before, his herd would noon that day on Saw Log,
and camp that evening on the next creek north. When pressed for
his reasons, he shrugged his shoulders, and with a quiet wink,
said: "If this new outfit put a man over me, just the minute we
get out of the jurisdiction of this county, off his horse he goes
and walks back. If it's Tolleston, the moment he sees me and
recognizes my outfit as belonging to Lovell, he'll raise the long
yell and let the cat out. When that happens, I want to be in an
unorganized country where a six-shooter is the highest
authority." The idea was a new one to me, and I saw the advantage
of it, but could not move without Siringo's permission, which
Forrest had. Accordingly about noon, Quince summoned his men
together, and they rode out of town. Looking up a map of Ford
County, I was delighted to find that my camp on Saw Log was but a
few miles below the north line.

Among the boys the day passed in riotousness. The carousing was a
necessary stimulant after the long, monotonous drive and exposure
to the elements. Near the middle of the forenoon, Flood and The
Rebel rounded up their outfits and started south for the
Mulberry, while Bob Quirk gathered his own and my lads
preparatory to leaving for the Saw Log. I had agreed to remain on