e were early, fully two thirds of the drive
being in our rear. One sultry morning south of Buffalo Gap, as we were
grazing past the foot of Table Mountain, several of us rode to the
summit of that butte. From a single point of observation we counted
twelve herds within a space of thirty miles both south and north, all
moving in the latter direction.

When about midway between the Gap and the railroad we were met at noon
one day by Don Lovell. This was his first glimpse of my herd, and his
experienced eye took in everything from a broken harness to the peeling
and legibility of the road brand. With me the condition of the cattle
was the first requisite, but the minor details as well as the more
important claimed my employer's attention. When at last, after riding
with the herd for an hour, he spoke a few words of approbation on the
condition, weight, and uniformity of the beeves, I felt a load lifted
from my shoulders. That the old man was in a bad humor on meeting us was
evident; but as he rode along beside the cattle, lazy and large as oxen,
the cockles of his heart warmed and he grew sociable. Near the middle of
the afternoon, as we were in the rear, looking over the drag steers, he
complimented me on having the fewest tender-footed animals of any herd
that had passed Abilene since his arrival. Encouraged, I ventured the
double question as to how this one would average with the other Buford
herds, and did he know their whereabouts. As I recall his reply, it
was that all Nueces Valley cattle were uniform, and if there was any
difference it was due to carelessness in receiving. In regard to the
locality of the other herds, it was easily to be seen that he was
provoked about something.

"Yes, I know where they are," said he, snappishly, "but that's all the
good it does me. They crossed the railroad, west, at Sweetwater, about a
week ago. I don't blame Quince, for he's just trailing along, half a day
behind Dave's herd. But Sponsilier, knowing that I wanted to see him,
had the nerve to write me a postal card with just ten words on it,
saying that all was well and to meet him in Dodge. Tom, you don't know
what a satisfaction it is to me to spend a day or so with each of the
herds. But those rascals didn't pay any more attention to me than if I
was an old woman. There was some reason for it--sore-footed cattle, or
else they have skinned up their remudas and didn't want me to see them.
If I drive a hundred herds hereafter,