dingly shifted, and
the stranger, after professing a profusion of thanks, rode away on the
livery horse by which my employer had arrived. Once the man was well out
of hearing, the old trail drover turned to my outfit and said:

"Boys, there goes a warning that the days of the trail are numbered. To
make a success of any business, a little common sense is necessary. Nine
tenths of the investing in cattle to-day in the Northwest is being done
by inexperienced men. No other line of business could prosper in such
incompetent hands, and it's foolish to think that cattle companies and
individuals, nearly all tenderfeet at the business, can succeed. They
may for a time,--there are accidents in every calling,--but when the
tide turns, there won't be one man or company in ten survive. I only
wish they would, as it means life and expansion for the cattle interests
in Texas. As long as the boom continues, and foreigners and tenderfeet
pour their money in, the business will look prosperous. Why, even the
business men are selling out their stores and going into cattle. But
there's a day of reckoning ahead, and there's many a cowman in this
Northwest country who will never see his money again. Now the government
demand is a healthy one: it needs the cattle for Indian and military
purposes; but this crazy investment, especially in she stuff, I wouldn't
risk a dollar in it."

During the conversation that evening, I was delighted to learn that my
employer expected to accompany the herds overland to Ogalalla. There was
nothing pressing elsewhere, and as all the other outfits were within a
short day's ride in the rear, he could choose his abode. He was too good
a cowman to interfere with the management of cattle, and the pleasure of
his company, when in good humor, was to be desired. The next morning
a horse was furnished him from our extras, and after seeing us safely
across the railroad track, he turned back to meet Forrest or Sponsilier.
This was the last we saw of him until after crossing into Nebraska. In
the mean time my boys kept an eye on the Mexican outfit in our front,
scarcely a day passing but what we sighted them either in person or by
signal. Once they dropped back opposite us on the western side of
the trail, when Cedardall, under the pretense of hunting lost horses,
visited their camp, finding them contented and enjoying a lay-over. They
were impatient to know the distance to the Rio Platte, and G--G assured
them that wit