As we expected to reach Abilene, a railroad point, within a week, we took on only a small stock of staple supplies.Having helped ourselves, the only delay was in getting a clerk to look over our appropriation, make out an itemized bill, and receive a draft on my employer.When finally the merchant in person climbed into our wagon and took a list of the articles, Parent started back to overtake the herd.I remained behind several hours, chatting with the other foremen.
None of the other trail bosses had seen anything of Lovell's other herds, though they all knew him personally or by reputation, and inquired if he was driving again in the same road brand.By general agreement, in case of trouble, we would pick up each other's cattle; and from half a cent to a cent a head was considered ample remuneration in buying water in Texas.Owing to the fact that many drovers had shipped to Red River, it was generally believed that there would be no congestion of cattle south of that point.All herds were then keeping well to the westward, some even declaring their intention to go through the Panhandle until the Canadian was reached.
Two days later we came into the main trail at the crossing of the Colorado River.Before we reached it, several ominous dust-clouds hung on our right for hours, while beyond the river were others, indicating the presence of herds.Summer weather had already set in, and during the middle of the day the glare of heat-waves and mirages obstructed our view of other wayfarers like ourselves, but morning and evening we were never out of sight of their signals.The banks of the river at the ford were trampled to the level of the water, while at both approach and exit the ground was cut into dust.On our arrival, the stage of water was favorable, and we crossed without a halt of herd, horses, or commissary.But there was little inducement to follow the old trail.Washed into ruts by the seasons, the grass on either side eaten away for miles, there was a look of desolation like that to be seen in the wake of an army.As we felt under obligations to touch at Abilene within a few days, there was a constant skirmish for grass within a reasonable distance of the trail; and we were early, fully two thirds of the drive being in our rear.One sultry morning south of Buffalo Gap, as we were grazing past the foot of Table Mountain, several of us rode to the summit of that butte.From a single point of observation we counted twelve herds within a space of thirty miles both south and north, all moving in the latter direction.
When about midway between the Gap and the railroad we were met at noon one day by Don Lovell.This was his first glimpse of my herd, and his experienced eye took in everything from a broken harness to the peeling and legibility of the road brand.With me the condition of the cattle was the first requisite, but the minor details as well as the more important claimed my employer's attention.When at last, after riding with the herd for an hour, he spoke a few words of approbation on the condition, weight, and uniformity of the beeves, I felt a load lifted from my shoulders.
That the old man was in a bad humor on meeting us was evident;but as he rode along beside the cattle, lazy and large as oxen, the cockles of his heart warmed and he grew sociable.Near the middle of the afternoon, as we were in the rear, looking over the drag steers, he complimented me on having the fewest tender-footed animals of any herd that had passed Abilene since his arrival.Encouraged, I ventured the double question as to how this one would average with the other Buford herds, and did he know their whereabouts.As I recall his reply, it was that all Nueces Valley cattle were uniform, and if there was any difference it was due to carelessness in receiving.In regard to the locality of the other herds, it was easily to be seen that he was provoked about something.
