e to me and
frankly admitted that they were broke, and begged me to help them
out of town by redeeming their horses and saddles. Feed bills had
accumulated and hotel accounts were unpaid; the appeals of the rascals
would have moved a stone to pity.

The upshot of the whole matter was that I bought a span of mules and
wagon and invited seven of the boys to accompany me overland to Texas.
My friends insisted that we could sell the outfit in the lower country
for more than cost, but before I got out of town my philanthropic
venture had absorbed over half my savings. As long as I had money the
purse seemed a public one, and all the boys borrowed just as freely as
if they expected to repay it. I am sure they felt grateful, and had I
been one of the needy no doubt any of my friends would have shared his
purse with me.

It was a delightful trip across the Indian Territory, and we reached
Sherman, Texas, just before the holidays. Every one had become tired
of the wagon, and I was fortunate enough to sell it without loss.
Those who had saddle horses excused themselves and hurried home for
the Christmas festivities, leaving a quartette of us behind. But
before the remainder of us proceeded to our destinations two of the
boys discovered a splendid opening for a monte game, in which we could
easily recoup all our expenses for the trip. I was the only dissenter
to the programme, not even knowing the game; but under the pressure
which was brought to bear I finally yielded, and became banker for my
friends. The results are easily told. The second night there was heavy
play, and before ten o'clock the monte bank closed for want of funds,
it having been tapped for its last dollar. The next morning I took
stage for Dallas, where I arrived with less than twenty dollars, and
spent the most miserable Christmas day of my life. I had written
George Edwards from Denver that I expected to go to Missouri, and
asked him to take my horses and go out to the little ranch and brand
my calves. There was no occasion now to contradict my advice of that
letter, neither would I go near the Edwards ranch, yet I hungered for
that land scrip and roundly cursed myself for being a fool. It would
be two months and a half before spring work opened, and what to do in
the mean time was the one absorbing question. My needs were too urgent
to allow me to remain idle long, and, drifting south, working when
work was to be had, at last I reached the home of my soldie