difference that as I
read history, runs away back through all the past. They were far removed
from what I should be--something that I realized more and more all
through my life--the difference between those who live on the farms and
those who live on the farmers.

There was a two-seated covered carriage standing before the house, and
across the road were two mover-wagons, with a nice camp-fire blazing,
and half a dozen men and women and a lot of children about it cooking a
meal of victuals. I pulled over near them and turned my cows out, tied
down head and foot so they could bait and not stray too far. I noticed
that their cows, which were driven after the wagon, had found too fast
for them the pace set by the horse teams, had got very foot-sore, and
were lying down and not feeding--for I drove them up to see what was the
matter with them.

2

Before starting-time in the morning, I had swapped two of my driving
cows for four of their lame ones, and hauled up by the side of the road
until I could break my new animals to the yoke and allow them to
recuperate. I am a cattleman by nature, and was more greedy for stock
than anxious to make time--maybe that's another reason for being called
Cow Vandemark. The neighbors used to say that I laid the foundation of
my present competence by trading one sound cow for two lame ones every
few miles along the Ridge Road, coming into the state, and then feeding
my stock on speculators' grass in the summer and straw that my neighbors
would otherwise have burned up in the winter. What was a week's time to
me? I had a lifetime in Iowa before me.

"Whose rig is that?" I asked, pointing to the carriage.

"Belongs to a man name of Gowdy," the mover told me. "Got a hell-slew of
wuthless land in Monterey County an' is going out to settle on it."

"How do you know it's worthless?" I inquired pretty sharply; for a man
must stand up for his own place whether he's ever seen it or not.

"They say so," said he.

"Why?" I asked.

"Out in the middle of the Monterey Prairie," he said. "You can't live in
this country 'less you settle near the timber."

"Instead of stopping at this farm," I said, "I should think he'd have
gone on to the next settlement. Horses lame?"

"Best horses I've seen on the road," was the answer. "Kentucky horses.
Gowdy comes from Kentucky. Stopped because his wife is bad sick."

"Where's he?" I asked.

"Out shooting geese," said he. "Don't seem to fret his gizz