sent your herds up through Dakota, where there
is no native stock to interfere. I'd hate to have cattle coming down the
Powder River. A friend of mine passed through here yesterday; his herd
was sold for delivery on the Elkhorn, north of here, and he tells me
he may not be able to reach there before October. He saw your herds and
tells me you are driving the guts out of them. So if there's anything
in that old 'ship-fever theory,' you ought to be quarantined until it
snows. There's a right smart talk around here of fixing a dead-line
below somewhere, and if you get tied up before reaching the railroad,
it won't surprise me a little bit. When it comes to handling the cattle,
old man Don has the good hard cow-sense every time, but you shorthorns
give me a pain."

"What did I tell you?" said Radcliff, the elder one, to his partner, as
they turned to leave.

On nearing the door, Mr. Field halted and begrudgingly said, "See you
later, Quirk."

"Not if I see you first," I replied; "you ain't my kind of cowmen."

Not even waiting for them to pass outside, Sponsilier, from his elevated
position, called every one to the bar to irrigate. The boys quit their
games, and as they lined up in a double row, Dave begged the bartenders
to bestir themselves, and said to his guests: "Those are the kid-gloved
cowmen that I've been telling you about--the owners of the Texas cattle
that are coming through here. Did I hang it on them artistically, or
shall I call them back and smear it on a shade deeper? They smelt a
mouse all right, and when their cattle reach Cabin Creek, they'll smell
the rat in earnest. Now, set out the little and big bottle and everybody
have a cigar on the side. And drink hearty, lads, for to-morrow we may
be drinking branch water in a quarantine camp."

The arrival of Field and Radcliff was accepted as a defiance to the
local cattle interests. Popular feeling was intensified when it was
learned that they were determined not to recognize any local quarantine,
and were secretly inquiring for extra men to guard their herds in
passing Glendive. There was always a rabble element in every frontier
town, and no doubt, as strangers, they could secure assistance in
quarters that the local cowmen would spurn. Matters were approaching
a white heat, when late that night an expected courier arrived, and
reported the cattle coming through at the rate of twenty miles a day.
They were not following any particular trail, traveling