h reluctance that
I left that primitive valley. Somehow or other, primal conditions
possessed a charm for me which, coupled with an innate love of the
land and the animals that inhabit it, seemed to influence and outline
my future course of life. The pride of possession was mine; with my
own hands and abilities had I earned the land, while the overflow from
a thousand hills stocked my new ranch. I was now the owner of lands
and cattle; my father in his palmiest days never dreamed of such
possessions as were mine, while youth and opportunity encouraged me to
greater exertions.

We reached the Edwards ranch a few days before Christmas. The boys
were settled with and returned to their homes, and I was once more
adrift. Forty odd calves had been branded as the increase of my
mavericking of the year before, and, still basking in the smile of
fortune, I found a letter awaiting me from Major Seth Mabry of Austin,
anxious to engage my services as a trail foreman for the coming
summer. I had met Major Seth the spring before at Abilene, and was
instrumental in finding him a buyer for his herd, and otherwise we
became fast friends. There were no outstanding obligations to my
former employers, so when a protest was finally raised against my
going, I had the satisfaction of vouching for George Edwards, to the
manner born, and a better range cowman than I was. The same group of
ranchmen expected to drive another herd the coming spring, and I made
it a point to see each one personally, urging that nothing but choice
cattle should be sent up the trail. My long acquaintance with the
junior Edwards enabled me to speak emphatically and to the point,
and I lectured him thoroughly as to the requirements of the Abilene
market.

I notified Major Mabry that I would be on hand within a month. The
holiday season soon passed, and leaving my horses at the Edwards
ranch, I saddled the most worthless one and started south. The trip
was uneventful, except that I traded horses twice, reaching my
destination within a week, having seen no country en route that could
compare with the valley of the Clear Fork. The capital city was a
straggling village on the banks of the Colorado River, inert through
political usurpation, yet the home of many fine people. Quite a number
of cowmen resided there, owning ranches in outlying and adjoining
counties, among them being my acquaintance of the year before and
present employer. It was too early by nearly a month