continue their homeward journey. All the
men engaged were unmarried, and taken as a whole, I flattered myself on
having secured a crack outfit.

I was in a hurry to get back to the ranch. There had been nothing said
about the remudas before leaving, and while we had an abundance of
horses, no one knew them better than I did. For that reason I wanted to
be present when their allotment was made, for I knew that every foreman
would try to get the best mounts, and I did not propose to stand behind
the door and take the culls. Many of the horses had not had a saddle on
them in eight months, while all of them had run idle during the winter
in a large mesquite pasture and were in fine condition with the opening
of spring. So bidding my folks farewell, I saddled at noon and took a
cross-country course for the ranch, covering the hundred and odd miles
in a day and a half. Reaching headquarters late at night, I found that
active preparations had been going on during my absence. There were new
wagons to rig, harness to oil, and a carpenter was then at work building
chuck-boxes for each of the six commissaries. A wholesale house in the
city had shipped out a stock of staple supplies, almost large enough to
start a store. There were whole coils of new rope of various sizes, from
lariats to corral cables, and a sufficient amount of the largest size to
make a stack of hobbles as large as a haycock. Four new branding-irons
to the wagon, the regulation "Circle Dot," completed the main
essentials.

All the foremen had reported at the ranch, with the exception of
Forrest, who came in the next evening with three men. The division of
the horses had not even come up for discussion, but several of the boys
about headquarters who were friendly to my interests posted me that the
older foremen were going to claim first choice. Archie Tolleston, next
to Jim Flood in seniority in Lovell's employ, had spent every day riding
among the horses, and had even boasted that he expected to claim fifteen
of the best for his own saddle. Flood was not so particular, as his
destination was in southern Dakota, but my brother Bob was again
ticketed for the Crow Agency in Montana, and would naturally expect
a good remuda. Tolleston was going to western Wyoming, while the Fort
Buford cattle were a two-weeks' later delivery and fully five hundred
miles farther travel. On my return Lovell was in the city, but I felt
positive that if he took a hand in the division,