I'll do," Wilfred declared, settling back in his seat,
"I'll wait until that next letter comes."

CHAPTER XV

THE DAY OF FENCES

While waiting for Lahoma's letter, Wilfred Compton spent his days in
ceaseless activity, his evenings in dreamy musings. Over on the North
Fork of Red River--which was still regarded as Red River proper, and
therefore the dividing line between Texas and Indian Territory--he
renewed his acquaintance with the boys of Old Man Walker's ranch.
Henry Woodson, the cow-puncher, still known as Mizzoo was one of the
old gang who greeted Wilfred with extravagant joy which shaded away to
easy and picturesque melancholy in lamenting the passing of the good
old days.

"These is the days of fences," complained Mizzoo, as Wilfred, in answer
to his invitation, rode forth with him to view the changes. "Time was,
our cattle was bounded on the south by nothing but the south wind, and
on the north by nothing but the north wind; but these unmitigated
settlers has spiled the cattle business. I'm looking for the old man
to sell out and quit. Why, look at all the little towns that has
sprung up so confusing and handy that you don't know which to choose to
liquor up. They comes like a thief in the night, and in the morning
they're equipped to rob you. I can't keep no change by me--I've asked
the old man to hold back my wages till the end of the year. But I'm
calculating to make something out of these very misfortunes. You know
I always was sort of thrifty--yes, as they GOT to be a settled county
round us, it'll needs call for a sheriff, and if all signs don't fail,
I'll get the job this week. Then there'll be no more riding of the
line for old Mizzoo."

Wilfred rode with him to Mangum, and other villages, with names and
without, and he tingled to the spirit of the bounding West. There
might be only a few dugouts, some dingy tents and a building or so of
undressed pine, but each hamlet felt in itself the possibilities of a
city, and had its spaces in the glaring sands or the dead sagebrush
which it called "the Square" and "Main Street" and possibly "the park."
The air quivered with expectations of a railroad, maybe two or three,
and each cluster of hovels expected to find itself in a short time
constituted the county-seat, with a gleaming steel road at its back
door.

This spirit of optimism was but a reflection of the miraculous growth
of the new country of which Greer County, though owned by Texa