board bill to such devoted friends never
entered mine host's mind. Thus several months passed.

The warm sun and green blades of grass suggested springtime. The
boys had played the role as long as they cared to. It had served the
purpose that was intended. But they must not hurt the feelings of
Seigerman, or let the cause of their zeal become known to their
benefactor and candidate for sheriff. One day report came in of some
defection and a rival candidate in the eastern part of the county. All
hands volunteered to go out. Funds were furnished, which the central
committee assured their host would be refunded whenever they could get
in touch with headquarters, or could see some prominent cowman.

At the end of a week Mr. Seigerman received a letter. The excuses
offered at the rich man's feast were discounted by pressing orders.
One had gone to Texas to receive a herd of cattle, instead of a few
oxen, one had been summoned to Kansas City, one to Ohio. The letter
concluded with the assurance that Mr. Seigerman need have no fear but
that he would be the next sheriff.

The same night that the letter was received by mine host, this tale
was retold at a cow-camp in the Strip by the trio. The hard winter was
over.

At the county convention in May, Seigerman's name was presented. On
each of three ballots he received one lone vote. When the news reached
the boys in the Strip, they dubbed this one vote "Seigerman's Per
Cent," meaning the worst of anything, and that expression became a
byword on the range, from Brownsville, Texas, to the Milk River in
Montana.

III

"BAD MEDICINE"

The evening before the Cherokee Strip was thrown open for settlement,
a number of old timers met in the little town of Hennessey, Oklahoma.

On the next day the Strip would pass from us and our employers, the
cowmen. Some of the boys had spent from five to fifteen years on this
range. But we realized that we had come to the parting of the ways.

This was not the first time that the government had taken a hand in
cattle matters. Some of us in former days had moved cattle at the
command of negro soldiers, with wintry winds howling an accompaniment.

The cowman was never a government favorite. If the Indian wards of the
nation had a few million acres of idle land, "Let it lie idle," said
the guardian. Some of these civilized tribes maintained a fine system
of public schools from the rental of unoccupied lands. Nations, like
men, revive