d," said Dell, as their friends dipped from sight. "The
government, so he says, allows three cents for watering cavalry horses
and harness mules. He tells me that the new settlers, in control of the
water on the trail, in northern Texas, fairly robbed the drovers this
year. The pastoral Texan, he contends, shared his canteen with the
wayfarer, and never refused to water cattle. He wants us to pattern
after the Texans--to give our water and give it freely. When Mr. Lovell
raised the question of arranging to water his herds from our beaver
ponds, do you remember how Mr. Quince answered for us? I'm mighty glad
money wasn't mentioned. No money could buy Dog-toe from me. And Mr.
Lovell gave us three of our best horses."

"He offered me ten dollars for taking him to the railroad," said Joel,
"but I looked him square in the eye and refused the money. He says we
must buy more cattle. He wants me to come to Dodge in August, and
I'm going."

Dell treated the idea of buying cattle with slight disdain.
"You--going--to--buy--more--cattle?" said he, accenting each word. "Any
one tell your fortune lately?"

"Yes," answered the older boy. "I'm having it told every day. One of
those two men, the gray-haired one on that buckboard,--stand here and
you can see them,--told me over a year ago that this range had a value,
and that we ought to skirmish some cattle, some way, and stock it. What
he saw clearly then, I see now, and what Mr. Lovell sees now, you may
see a year hence. These men have proved their friendship, and why stand
in our own light? Our ability to hold cattle was tested last winter, and
if this range is an asset, there may be some way to buy more cattle. I'm
going to Dodge in August."

Dell was silenced. There was ample time to set the ranch in order.
Turning away from the old trail, on the divide, and angling in to
headquarters, and thence northward, was but a slight elbow on the
general course of the trail herds. The long distance across to the
Republican would compel an early watering on the Beaver, that the cattle
might reach the former river the following evening. The brothers knew to
a fraction the grazing gait of a herd, the trailing pace, and could
anticipate to an hour the time required to move a herd from the Prairie
Dog to the Beaver.

The milk cows and calves were turned back into the general herd. The
dead-line was drawn safely below Hackberry Grove, between imaginary
landmarks on either slope, while on the