posts, extending from Red River on the north to the Rio
Grande on the south, made a pretense of holding the Comanches and
their allies in check, while this arm of the service was ably seconded
by the Texas Rangers. Yet in spite of all precaution, the redskins
raided the settlements at their pleasure, stealing horses and adding
rapine and murder to their category of crimes. Hence for a number of
years after my marriage we lived at the Edwards ranch as a matter of
precaution against Indian raids. I was absent from home so much that
this arrangement suited me, and as the new ranch was distant but a
day's ride, any inconvenience was more than recompensed in security.
It was my intention to follow the trail and trading, at the same time
running a ranch where anything unfit for market might be sent to
mature or increase. As long as I could add to my working capital, I
was content, while the remnants of my speculations found a refuge on
the Clear Fork.

During the winter of 1871-72 very little of importance transpired.
Several social letters passed between Major Mabry and myself, in one
of which he casually mentioned the fact that land scrip had declined
until it was offered on the streets of the capital as low as twenty
dollars a section. He knew I had been dabbling in land certificates,
and in a friendly spirit wanted to post me on their decline, and had
incidentally mentioned the fact for my information. Some inkling
of horse sense told me that I ought to secure more land, and after
thinking the matter over, I wrote to a merchant in Austin, and had him
buy me one hundred sections. He was very anxious to purchase a second
hundred at the same figure, but it would make too serious an inroad
into my trading capital, and I declined his friendly assistance. My
wife was the only person whom I took into confidence in buying the
scrip, and I even had her secrete it in the bottom of a trunk, with
strict admonitions never to mention it unless it became of value. It
was not taxable, the public domain was bountiful, and I was young
enough man those days to bide my time.

The winter proved a severe one in Kansas. Nearly every drover who
wintered his cattle in the north met with almost complete loss. The
previous summer had been too wet for cattle to do well, and they
had gone into winter thin in flesh. Instead of curing like hay, the
buffalo grass had rotted from excessive rains, losing its nutritive
qualities, and this resulted in se