rom my eyes, as I could understand that when inquiries
were made for the Salt Fork, some wayfarer had given that name to
the Red Fork; and the new Dodge trail turned to the left, from the
Chisholm, at Little Turkey, the first creek crossed after leaving the
river. The message was supplemented a few days later by a letter,
stating that Dodge City would possibly be a better market than the
Bend, and that my interests would be looked after as well as if I were
present. A load was lifted from my shoulders, and when the wintered
cattle passed Randall, the whole post turned out to see the beef herd
on its way up to Lincoln. The government line of forts along the
Missouri River had the whitest lot of officers that it was ever my
good fortune to meet. I was from Texas, my tongue and colloquialisms
of speech proclaimed me Southern-born, and when I admitted having
served in the Confederate army, interest and attention was only
heightened, while every possible kindness was simply showered on me.

The first delivery occurred at Fort Lincoln. It was a very simple
affair. We cut out half a dozen average beeves, killed, dressed, and
weighed them, and an honest average on the herd was thus secured. The
contract called for one and a half million pounds on foot; our tender
overran twelve per cent; but this surplus was accepted and paid for.
The second delivery was at Fort Pierre and the last at Randall, both
of which passed pleasantly, the many acquaintances among army men that
summer being one of my happiest memories. Leaving Randall, we put in
to the nearest railroad point returning, where thirty men were sent
home, after which we swept down the country and arrived at Great Bend
during the last week in September. My active partner had handled
his assignment of the summer's work in a masterly manner, having
wholesaled my herd at Dodge City at as good figures as our other
cattle brought in retail quantities at The Bend. The former point had
received three hundred and fifty thousand Texas cattle that summer,
while every one conceded that Great Bend's business as a trail
terminal would close with that season. The latter had handled nearly a
quarter-million cattle that year, but like Abilene, Wichita, and other
trail towns in eastern Kansas, it was doomed to succumb to the advance
guard of pioneer settlers.

The best sale of the year fell to my active partner. Before the
shipping season opened, he sold, range count, our holdings on the
Me