that they had got a splendid fill on them before bedding down.
That was the only safe thing to do, and after circling the saddle
stock on the opposite side of camp, I returned to find that a
stranger had arrived during my brief absence. Parent had fully
enlightened him as to who he was, who the outfit were, the
destination of the herd, the names of both buyer and seller, and,
on my riding in, was delivering a voluble dissertation on the
tariff and the possible effect on the state of putting hides on
the free list. And although in cow-camps a soldier's introduction
is usually sufficient, the cook inquired the stranger's name and
presented me to our guest with due formality. Supper being
waiting, the stranger was invited to take pot-luck with us, and
before the meal was over recognized me. He was a deputy cattle
inspector for Dimmit County, and had issued the certificate for
Flood's herd the year before. He had an eye for the main chance,
and informed me that fully one half the cattle making up our herd
belonged to Dimmit; that the county line was only a mile up the
river, and that if I would allow the herd to drift over into his
territory, he would shade the legal rate. The law compelling the
inspection of herds before they could be moved out of the county,
like the rain, fell upon the just and the unjust. It was not the
intent of the law to impose a burden on an honest drover. Yet he
was classed with the rustler, and must have in his possession a
certificate of inspection before he could move out a purchased
herd, or be subject to arrest. A list of brands was recorded, at
the county seat, of every herd leaving, and if occasion required
could be referred to in future years. No railroad would receive
any consignment of hides or live stock, unless accompanied by a
certificate from the county inspector. The legal rate was ten
cents on the first hundred, and three cents on all over that