the matter, found it to be a disputed gambling account,
and refused payment. An attempt was made, only for a moment, to hold
the horses, resulting in my incurring the stableman's displeasure. The
outcome was that on our return the next spring our patronage went
to another _bran_, and the story, born in malice and falsehood, was
started between employer and employee. I had made arrangements to
return to Texas with the last one of Major Mabry's outfits, and the
wagon and remuda had already started, when I located my traducer in a
well-known saloon. I invited him to a seat at a table, determined to
bring matters to an issue. He reluctantly complied, when I branded him
with every vile epithet that my tongue could command, concluding by
arraigning him as a coward. I was hungering for him to show some
resistance, expecting to kill him, and when he refused to notice my
insults, I called the barkeeper and asked for two glasses of whiskey
and a pair of six-shooters. Not a word passed between us until the
bartender brought the drinks and guns on a tray. "Now take your
choice," said I. He replied, "I believe a little whiskey will do me
good."

CHAPTER VIII

THE "LAZY L"

The homeward trip was a picnic. Counting mine, we had one hundred and
fifty saddle horses. All surplus men in the employ of Major Mabry had
been previously sent home until there remained at the close of the
season only the drover, seven men, and myself. We averaged forty miles
a day returning, sweeping down the plains like a north wind until Red
River Station was reached. There our ways parted, and cutting separate
my horses, we bade each other farewell, the main outfit heading for
Fort Worth, while I bore to the westward for Palo Pinto. Major Seth
was anxious to secure my services for another year, but I made
no definite promises. We parted the best of friends. There were
scattering ranches on my route, but driving fifty loose horses made
traveling slow, and it was nearly a week before I reached the Edwards
ranch.

The branding season was nearly over. After a few days' rest, an outfit
of men was secured, and we started for my little ranch on the Clear
Fork. Word was sent to the county seat, appointing a date with the
surveyor, and on arriving at the new ranch I found that the corrals
had been in active use by branding parties. We were soon in the thick
of the fray, easily holding our own, branding every maverick on the
range as well as catching wild