ng
towards a settlement; and treat those beeves well, so that there can be
no charge of damage to the cattle. Good-night, everybody."

CHAPTER XV. TOLLESTON BUTTS IN

Morning dawned on a scene of pastoral grandeur. The valley of the North
Platte was dotted with cattle from hill and plain. The river, well
confined within its low banks, divided an unsurveyed domain of
green-swarded meadows like a boundary line between vast pastures. The
exodus of cattle from Texas to the new Northwest was nearing flood-tide,
and from every swell and knoll the solitary figure of the herdsman
greeted the rising sun.

Sponsilier and I had agreed to rejoin our own outfits at the first
opportunity. We might have exchanged places the evening before, but I
had a horse and some ammunition at Dave's camp and was just contentious
enough not to give up a single animal from my own mount. On the other
hand, Mr. Dave Sponsilier would have traded whole remudas with me; but
my love for a good horse was strong, and Fort Buford was many a weary
mile distant. Hence there was no surprise shown as Sponsilier rode up to
his own wagon that morning in time for breakfast. We were good friends
when personal advantages did not conflict, and where our employer's
interests were at stake we stood shoulder to shoulder like comrades. Yet
Dave gave me a big jolly about being daffy over my horses, well knowing
that there is an indescribable nearness between one of our craft and his
own mount. But warding off his raillery, just the same and in due time,
I cantered away on my own horse.

As I rode up the North Fork towards my outfit, the attached herd was
in plain view across the river. Arriving at my own wagon, I saw a mute
appeal in every face for permission to go to town, and consent was
readily granted to all who had not been excused on a similar errand
the day before. The cook and horse-wrangler were included, and the
activities of the outfit in saddling and getting away were suggestive of
a prairie fire or a stampede. I accompanied them across the river, and
then turned upstream to my brother's camp, promising to join them later
and make a full day of it. At Bob's wagon they had stretched a fly, and
in its shade lounged half a dozen men, while an air of languid indolence
pervaded the camp. Without dismounting, I announced myself as on the way
to town, and invited any one who wished to accompany me. Lovell and Reed
both declined; half of Bob's men had been excu