drag steers, he complimented me on having the fewest
tender-footed animals of any herd that had passed Abilene since
his arrival. Encouraged, I ventured the double question as to how
this one would average with the other Buford herds, and did he
know their whereabouts. As I recall his reply, it was that all
Nueces Valley cattle were uniform, and if there was any
difference it was due to carelessness in receiving. In regard to
the locality of the other herds, it was easily to be seen that he
was provoked about something.

"Yes, I know where they are," said he, snappishly, "but that's
all the good it does me. They crossed the railroad, west, at
Sweetwater, about a week ago. I don't blame Quince, for he's just
trailing along, half a day behind Dave's herd. But Sponsilier,
knowing that I wanted to see him, had the nerve to write me a
postal card with just ten words on it, saying that all was well
and to meet him in Dodge. Tom, you don't know what a satisfaction
it is to me to spend a day or so with each of the herds. But
those rascals didn't pay any more attention to me than if I was
an old woman. There was some reason for it--sore-footed cattle,
or else they have skinned up their remudas and didn't want me to
see them. If I drive a hundred herds hereafter, Dave Sponsilier
will stay at home as far as I'm concerned. He may think it's
funny to slip past, but this court isn't indulging in any levity
just at present. I fail to see the humor in having two outfits
with sixty-seven hundred cattle somewhere between the Staked
Plain and No-Man's-Land, and unable to communicate with them. And
while my herds are all contracted, mature beeves have broke from
three to five dollars a head in price since these started, and it
won't do to shout before we're out of the woods. Those fool boys