I knew the market was virtually
over, and what evil influence ever suggested my stopping at Abilene
is unexplainable. But I did stop, and found things just as I
expected,--everybody sold out and gone home. A few trail foremen were
still hanging around the town under the pretense of attending to
unsettled business, and these welcomed me with a fraternal greeting.
Two of them who had served in the Confederate army came to me and
frankly admitted that they were broke, and begged me to help them
out of town by redeeming their horses and saddles. Feed bills had
accumulated and hotel accounts were unpaid; the appeals of the rascals
would have moved a stone to pity.
The upshot of the whole matter was that I bought a span of mules and
wagon and invited seven of the boys to accompany me overland to Texas.
My friends insisted that we could sell the outfit in the lower country
for more than cost, but before I got out of town my philanthropic
venture had absorbed over half my savings. As long as I had money the
purse seemed a public one, and all the boys borrowed just as freely as
if they expected to repay it. I am sure they felt grateful, and had I
been one of the needy no doubt any of my friends would have shared his
purse with me.
It was a delightful trip across the Indian Territory, and we reached
Sherman, Texas, just before the holidays. Every one had become tired
of the wagon, and I was fortunate enough to sell it without loss.
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