up the
wagon train. My herd fell to grazing, and Sponsilier rode up to inquire
the cause of my halting. I explained the request of the wagon-master,
his loss the year before and present fear of fever, and called attention
to the clash which was imminent between the long freight outfit in our
front and Forrest's herd to the left, both anxious for the right of way.
A number of us rode forward in clear view of the impending meeting. It
was evident that Forrest would be the first to reach the freight road,
and would naturally hold it while his cattle were crossing it. But when
this also became apparent to the bull train, the lead teams drove out of
the road and halted, the rear wagons passing on ahead, the two outfits
being fully a mile apart. There were about twenty teams of ten yoke
each, and when the first five or six halted, they unearthed old needle
rifles and opened fire across Forrest's front. Once the range was found,
those long-range buffalo guns threw up the dust in handfuls in the lead
of the herd, and Forrest turned his cattle back, while the bull train
held its way, undisputed. It was immaterial to Forrest who occupied the
road first, and with the jeers of the freighters mingled the laughter
of Sponsilier and my outfit, as John Quincy Forrest reluctantly turned
back.

This incident served as a safety-valve, and whenever Forrest forged to
the lead in coming down the Little Missouri, all that was necessary to
check him was to inquire casually which held the right of way, a trail
herd or a bull train.

Throughout the North, Texas fever was generally accepted as a fact,
and any one who had ever come in contact with it once, dreaded it ever
afterward. So when the devil was sick the devil a monk would be; and
if there was any advantage in taking the contrary view to the one
entertained by all drovers, so long as our herds were free, we were not
like men who could not experience a change of opinion, if in doing so
the wind was tempered to us. Also in this instance we were fighting an
avowed enemy, and all is fair in love and war. And amid the fumes of bad
cigars, Sponsilier drew out the plan of campaign.

"Now, let's see," said old man Don, "tomorrow will be the 25th day of
August. I've got to be at the Crow Agency a few days before the 10th
of next month, as you know we have a delivery there on that date. Flood
will have to attend to matters at Rosebud on the 1st, and then hurry on
west and be present at Paul's d