ts for their consideration, Ullmer and I
had arrived at the first quarantine station shortly before the return of
my partner.

Upon the report of Sponsilier, Ullmer was appointed captain, and lost
no time in taking action. After dark, a scout was sent to Camp No. 2, a
meeting-place was appointed on Wolf Creek below, and orders were given
to bring along every possible man from the local outfits and to meet
at the rendezvous within an hour after sun-up the next morning. Ullmer
changed horses and left for Powderville, assuring us that he would rally
every man interested in quarantine, and have his posse below, on the
creek by sunrise. The remainder of us at headquarters were under orders
to bring all the arms and ammunition, and join the quarantine forces at
the meeting-place some five miles from our camp. We were also to touch
at and command the presence of one of the four outfits while en route.
I liked the determined action of Captain Ullmer, who I learned had
emigrated with his parents to Montana when a boy, and had grown into
manhood on the frontier. Sponsilier was likewise pleased with the
quarantine leader, and we lay awake far into the night, reviewing the
situation and trying to anticipate any possible contingency that might
thwart our plans. But to our best reasoning the horizon was clear, and
if Field, Radcliff & Co.'s cattle reached Fort Buford on the day of
delivery, well, it would be a miracle.

Fresh horses were secured at dawn, and breakfast would be secured en
route with the cow outfit. There were a dozen large-calibre rifles in
scabbards, and burdening ourselves with two heavy guns to the man and an
abundance of ammunition, we abandoned Quarantine Station No. 1 for the
time being. The camp which we were to touch at was the one nearest the
river and north of Wolf Creek, and we galloped up to it before the sun
had even risen. Since everything was coming our way, Sponsilier and I
observed a strict neutrality, but a tow-headed Texan rallied the outfit,
saying:

"Make haste, fellows, and saddle up your horses. Those three herds
which raised such a rumpus up on Little Powder have sent down word that
they're going to cross our dead-line to-day if they have to prize up
hell and put a chunk under it. We have decided to call their bluff
before they even reach the line, and make them show their hand for
all this big talk. Here's half a dozen guns and cartridges galore, but
hustle yourselves. Fred went into Powder