the outlet-第12章

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ust　ten　words　on　it；　saying　that　all　was　well　and　to　meet　him　in　Dodge。　Tom；　you　don't　know　what　a　satisfaction　it　is　to　me　to　spend　a　day　or　so　with　each　of　the　herds。　But　those　rascals　didn't　pay　any　more　attention　to　me　than　if　I　was　an　old　woman。　There　was　some　reason　for　itsore…footed　cattle；　or　else　they　have　skinned　up　their　remudas　and　didn't　want　me　to　see　them。　If　I　drive　a　hundred　herds　hereafter；　Dave　Sponsilier　will　stay　at　home　as　far　as　I'm　concerned。　He　may　think　it's　funny　to　slip　past；　but　this　court　isn't　indulging　in　any　levity　just　at　present。　I　fail　to　see　the　humor　in　having　two　outfits　with　sixty…seven　hundred　cattle　somewhere　between　the　Staked　Plain　and　No…Man's…Land；　and　unable　to　communicate　with　them。　And　while　my　herds　are　all　contracted；　mature　beeves　have　broke　from　three　to　five　dollars　a　head　in　price　since　these　started；　and　it　won't　do　to　shout　before　we're　out　of　the　woods。　Those　fool　boys　don't　know　that；　and　I　can't　get　near　enough　to　tell　them。〃

I　knew　better　than　to　ask　further　questions　or　offer　any　apologies　for　others。　My　employer　was　naturally　irritable；　and　his　abuse　or　praise　of　a　foreman　was　to　be　expected。　Previously　and　under　the　smile　of　prosperity；　I　had　heard　him　laud　Sponsilier；　and　under　an　imaginary　shadow　abuse　Jim　Flood；　the　most　experienced　man　in　his　employ。　Feeling　it　was　useless　to　pour　oil　on　the　present　troubled　waters；　I　excused　myself；　rode　back；　and　ordered　the　wagon　to　make　camp　ahead　about　four　miles　on　Elm　Creek。　We　watered　late　in　the　afternoon；　grazing　thence　until　time　to　bed　the　herd。　When　the　first　and　second　guards　were　relieved　to　go　in　and　catch　night…horses　and　get　their　supper；　my　employer　remained　behind　with　the　cattle。　While　feeding　during　the　evening；　we　allowed　the　herd　to　scatter　over　a　thousand　acres。　Taking　advantage　of　the　loose　order　of　the　beeves；　the　old　man　rode　back　and　forth　through　them　until　approaching　darkness　compelled　us　to　throw　them　together　on　the　bedground。　Even　after　the　first　guard　took　charge；　the　drover　loitered　behind；　reluctant　to　leave　until　the　last　steer　had　lain　down；　and　all　during　the　night；　sharing　my　blankets；　he　awoke　on　every　change　of　guards；　inquiring　of　the　returning　watch　how　the　cattle　were　sleeping。

As　we　should　easily　pass　Abilene　before　noon；　I　asked　him　as　a　favor　that　he　take　the　wagon　in　and　get　us　sufficient　supplies　to　last　until　Red　River　was　reached。　But　he　preferred　to　remain　behind　with　the　herd；　and　I　went　instead。　This　suited　me；　as　his　presence　overawed　my　outfit；　who　were　delirious　to　see　the　town。　There　was　no　telling　how　long　he　would　have　stayed　with　us；　but　my　brother　Bob's　herd　was　expected　at　any　time。　Remaining　with　us　a　second　night；　something；　possibly　the　placidness　of　the　cattle；　mellowed　the　old　man　and　he　grew　amiable　with　the　outfit；　and　myself　in　particular。　At　breakfast　the　next　morning；　when　I　asked　him　if　he　was　in　a　position　to　recommend　any　special　route；　he　replied：

〃No；　Tom；　that　rests　with　you。　One　thing's　certain；　herds　are　going　to　be　dangerously　close　together　on　the　regular　trail　which　crosses　Red　River　at　Doan's。　The　season　is　early　yet；　but　over　fifty　herds　have　already　crossed　the　Texas　Pacific　Railway。　Allowing　one　half　the　herds　to　start　north　of　that　line；　it　gives　you　a　fair　idea　what　to　expect。　When　seven　hundred　thousand　cattle　left　Texas　two　years　ago；　it　was　considered　the　banner　year；　yet　it　won't　be　a　marker　to　this　one。　The　way　prices　are　tumbling　shows　that　the　Northwest　was　bluffing　when　they　offered　to　mature　all　the　cattle　that　Texas　could　breed　for　the　next　fifty　years。　That's　the　kind　of　talk　that　suits　me；　but　last　year　there　were　some　forty　herds　unsold；　which　were　compelled　to　winter　in　the　North。　Not　over　half　the　saddle　horses　that　came　up　the　trail　last　summer　were　absorbed　by　these　Northern　cowmen。　Talk's　cheap；　but　it　takes　money　to　buy　whiskey。　Lots　of　these　men　are　new　ones　at　the　business　and　may　lose　fortunes。　The　banks　are　getting　afraid　of　cattle　paper；　and　conditions　are　tightening。　With　the　increased　drive　this　year；　if　the　summer　passes　without　a　slaughter　in　prices；　the　Texas　drovers　can　thank　their　lucky　stars。　I'm　not　half　as　bright　as　I　might　be；　but　this　is　one　year　that　I'm　smooth　enough　not　to　have　unsold　cattle　on　the　trail。〃

The　herd　had　started　an　hour　before；　and　when　the　wagon　was　ready　to　move；　I　rode　a　short　distance　with　my　employer。　It　was　possible　that　he　had　something　to　say　of　a　confidential　nature；　for　it　was　seldom　that　he　acted　so　discouraged　when　his　every　interest　seemed　protected　by　contracts。　But　at　the　final　parting；　when　we　both　had　dismounted　and　sat　on　the　ground　for　an　hour；　he　had　disclosed　nothing。　On　the　contrary；　he　even　admitted　that　possibly　it　was　for　the　best　that　the　other　Buford　herds　had　held　a　westward　course　and　thus　avoided　the　crush　on　the　main　routes。　The　only　intimation　which　escaped　him　was　when　we　had　remounted　and　each　started　our　way；　he　called　me　back　and　said；　〃Tom；　no　doubt　but　you've　noticed　that　I'm　worried。　Well；　I　am。　I'd　tell　you　in　a　minute；　but　I　may　be　wrong　in　the　matter。　But　I'll　know　before　you　reach　Dodge；　and　then；　if　it's　necessary；　you　shall　know　all。　It's　nothing　about　the　handling　of　the　herds；　for　my　foremen　have　always　considered　my　interests　first。　Keep　this　to　yourself；　for　it　may　prove　a　nightmare。　But　if　it　should　prove　true；　then　we　must　stand　together。　Now；　that's　all；　mum's　the　word　until　we　meet。　Drop　me　a　line　if　you　get　a　chance；　and　don't　let　my　troubles　worry　you。

While　overtaking　the　herd；　I　mused　over　my　employer's　last　words。　But　my　brain　was　too　muddy　even　to　attempt　to　solve　the　riddle。　The　most　plausible　theory　that　I　could　advance　was　that　some　friendly　cowmen　were　playing　a　joke　on　him；　and　that　the　old　man　had　taken　things　too　seriously。　Within　a　week　the　matter　was　entirely　forgotten；　crowded　out　of　mind　by　the　demands　of　the　hour。　The　next　night；　on　the　Clear　Fork　of　the　Brazos；　a　stranger；　attracted　by　our　camp…fire；　rode　up　to　the　wagon。　Returning　from　the　herd　shortly　after　his　arrival；　I　recognized　in　our　guest　John　Blocker；　a　prominent　drover。　He　informed　us　that　he　and　his　associates　had　fifty…two　thousand　cattle　on　the　trail；　and　that　he　was　just　returning　from　overtaking　two　of　their　five　lead　herds。　Knowing　that　he　was　a　well…posted　cowman　on　routes　and　sustenance；　having　grown　up　on　the　trail；　I　gave　him　the　best　our　camp　afforded；　and　in　return　I　received　valuable　information　in　regard　to　the　country　between　our　present　location　and　Doan's　Crossing。　He　reported　the　country　for　a　hundred　miles　south　of　Red　River　as　having　had　a　dry；　backward　spring；　scanty　of　grass；　and　with　long　dry　drives；　and　further；　that　in　many　instances　water　for　the　herds　would　have　to　be　bought　from　those　in　control。

The　outlook　was　not　to　my　liking。　The　next　morning　when　I　inquired　of　our　guest　what　he　would　advise　me　to　do；　his　answer　clearly　covered　the　ground。　〃Well；　I'm　not　advising　any　one；〃　said　he；　〃but　you　can　draw　your　own　conclusions。　The　two　herds　of　mine；　which　I　overtook；　have　orders　to　turn　northeast　and　cross　into　the　Nations　at　Red　River　Station。　My　other　cattle；　still　below；　will　all　be　routed　by　way　of　Fort　Griffin。　Once　across　Red　River；　you　will　have　the　Chisholm　Trail；　running　through　civilized　tribes；　and　free　from　all　annoyance　of　blanket　Indians。　South　of　the　river　the　grass　is　bound　to　be　better　than　on　the　western　route；　and　if　we　have　to　buy　water；　we'll　have　the　advantage　of　competition。〃

With　this　summary　of　the　situation；　a　decision　was　easily　reached。　The　Chisholm　Trail　was　good　enough　for　me。　Following　up　the　north　side　of　the　Clear　Fork；　we　passed　about　twenty　miles　to　the　west　of　Fort　Griffin。　Constantly　bearing　east　by　north；　a　few　days　later　we　crossed　the　main　Brazos　at　a　low　stage　of　water。　But　from　there　to　Red　River　was　a　trial　not　to　be　repeated。　Wire　fences　halted　us　at　every　turn。　Owners　of　pastures　refused　permission　to　pass　through。　Lanes　ran　in　the　wrong　direction；　and　open　country　for　pasturage　was　scarce。　What　we　dreaded　most；　lack　of　drink　for　the　herd；　was　the　least　of　our　troubles；　necessity　requiring　its　purchase　only　three　or　four　times。　And　like　a　climax　to　a　week　of　sore　trial