fter
that terrible winter there wasn't a cow left, only a few hundred
sick-looking steers."

I am bluer than indigo about the cattle [Roosevelt wrote his
sister Corinne]. It is even worse than I feared; I wish I
was sure I would lose no more than half the money I invested
out here. I am planning how to get out of it.

With Sylvane and Merrifield, with whom in other days Roosevelt had
talked of golden prospects, he gloomily reviewed the tragic situation.
The impulse was strong in them all to start afresh and retrieve their
losses. Most of the cattlemen were completely discouraged and were
selling at ridiculously low prices the stock which had survived the
winter. But Roosevelt resisted the temptation.

"I can't afford to take a chance by putting in any more capital," said
Roosevelt. "I haven't the right to do it."

And there the discussion ended.

There was a matter beside the wreck of his cattle business which
required Roosevelt's immediate attention. George Myers was under
suspicion (honest George Myers, of all men!) of being a cattle-thief.
Roosevelt would have jumped to George's defense in any case, but the
fact that the man who brought the charges against him was Joe Morrill,
whom the forces of disorder had elected sheriff the previous April,
added an extra zest to the fight.

George had, for some years, "run" a few cattle of his own with the
Maltese Cross herd. Of these, two steers had, through an oversight,
remained unbranded and been sent to Chicago with what was known as a
"hair-brand" picked on the hide. Morrill was stock inspector as well
as sheriff and allowed the animals to pass, but when Myers, shortly
after, went East to visit his family, Morrill swore out a warrant for
his arrest and started in pursuit.

He found Myers at Wooster, Ohio, arrested him, obtained his
extradition and then, to the amazement of the local judge, released
him.

"You can go now, George," he said. "When will you be ready to start
back?"

"Oh, in a day or two, I guess," said George.

"That's a hell of a way to use a prisoner," exclaimed the judge.

"Thanks, judge," Morrill replied coolly, "but he's my prisoner."

[Illustration: George Myers.]

[Illustration: The Little Missouri at Elkhorn.]

They returned West shortly after, living high on the way. The sheriff
had his wife with him, and it dawned on George that Joe Morrill was
having an extraordinarily pleasant vacation at the expense of the
ta