I hasten on. During the first week in February I drove
in to Fort Worth to await the arrival of my friend, Calvin Hunter,
banker and stockman of Council Grove, Kansas. Several letters were
awaiting me in the town, notifying me of his progress, and in due time
he arrived and was welcomed. The next morning we started, driving a
good span of mules to a buckboard, expecting to cover the distance to
the Brazos in two days. There were several ranches at which we could
touch, en route, but we loitered along, making wide detours in order
to drive through cattle, not a feature of the country escaping the
attention of my quiet little companion. The soil, the native grasses,
the natural waters, the general topography of the country, rich in
its primal beauty, furnished a panorama to the eye both pleasing and
exhilarating. But the main interest centred in the cattle, thousands
of which were always in sight, lingering along the watercourses or
grazing at random.

We reached the Edwards ranch early the second evening. In the two
days' travel, possibly twenty thousand cattle came under our immediate
observation. All the country was an open range, brands intermingling,
all ages and conditions, running from a sullen bull to seven-year-old
beeves, or from a yearling heifer to the grandmother of younger
generations. My anxiety to show the country and its cattle met a
hearty second in Mr. Hunter, and abandoning the buckboard, we took
horses and rode up the Brazos River as far as old Fort Belknap. All
cattle were wintering strong. Turning south, we struck the Clear Fork
above my range and spent a night at the ranch, where my men had built
a second cabin, connecting the two by a hallway. After riding through
my stock for two days, we turned back for the Brazos. My ranch hands
had branded thirty-one hundred calves the fall before, and while
riding over the range I was delighted to see so many young steers in
my different brands. But our jaunt had only whetted the appetite of
my guest to see more of the country, and without any waste of time we
started south with the buckboard, going as far as Comanche County.
Every day's travel brought us in contact with cattle for sale; the
prices were an incentive, but we turned east and came back up the
valley of the Brazos. I offered to continue our sightseeing, but
my guest pleaded for a few days' time until he could hear from his
banking associates. I needed a partner and needed one badly, and
was dete