of sacked corn from Omaha, and
within a month we'll be as snug as they are down in old Medina. Bob's
outfit will go home from Miles, and if he can't sell his remuda he'll
bring it up here. Two of these outfits can start back in a few days, and
afterward the camp will be reduced to ten men."

Two days later Forrest veered off and turned his cattle loose below the
junction of the Beaver with the Little Missouri. Sponsilier crossed the
former, scattering his beeves both up and down the latter, while I cut
mine into a dozen bunches and likewise freed them along the creek. The
range was about ten miles in length along the river, and a camp was
established at either end where men would be stationed until the beeves
were located. The commissaries had run low, there was a quiet rivalry as
to which outfits should go home, and we all waited with bated breath for
the final word. I had Dorg Seay secretly inform my employer that I
had given Sanders a horse without his permission, hoping that it might
displease him. But the others pointed out the fact that my outfit had
far the best remuda, and that it would require well-mounted men to
locate and hold that number of cattle through the winter. Old man Don
listened to them all, and the next morning, as all three of us foremen
were outlining certain improvements about the hay ranch with him, he
turned to me and said:

"Tom, I hear you gave Sanders a horse. Well, that was all right,
although it strikes me you were rather liberal in giving him the pick of
a choice remuda. But it may all come right in the long run, as Bob and
I have decided to leave you and your outfit to hold these cattle this
winter. So divide your men and send half of them down to Quince's camp,
and have your cook and wrangler come over to Dave's wagon to bring
back provision and the horses, as we'll start for the railroad in the
morning. I may not come back, but Bob will, and he'll see that you are
well fixed for the winter before he goes home. After he leaves, I want
you to write me every chance you have to send a letter to the railroad.
Now, I don't want any grumbling out of you or your men; you're a
disgrace to the state that raised you if you can't handle cattle
anywhere that any other man can."

I felt all along it would fall to me, the youngest of six foremen; and
my own dear brother consigning me to a winter in the North, while he
would bask in the sunshine of our own sunny South! It was hard to face;
but I