After crossing Red River, the sweep across the Indian country was but
a repetition of other years, with its varying monotony. Once we were
waterbound for three days, severe drifts from storms at night were
experienced, delaying our progress, and we did not reach Abilene until
June 15. We were aware, however, of an increased drive of cattle
to the north; evidences were to be seen on every hand; owners were
hanging around the different fords and junctions of trails, inquiring
if herds in such and such brands had been seen or spoken. While we
were crossing the Nations, men were daily met hunting for lost horses
or inquiring for stampeded cattle, while the regular trails were being
cut into established thoroughfares from increasing use. Neither of the
other Mabry herds had reached their destination on our arrival, though
Major Seth put in an appearance within a week and reported the other
two about one hundred miles to the rear. Cattle were arriving by the
thousands, buyers from the north, east, and west were congregating,
and the prospect of good prices was flattering. I was fortunate in
securing my old camp-ground north of the town; a dry season had set
in nearly a month before, maturing the grass, and our cattle took on
flesh rapidly. Buyers looked them over daily, our prices being firm.
Wintered cattle were up in the pictures, a rate war was on between all
railroad lines east of the Mississippi River, cutting to the bone to
secure the Western live-stock traffic.
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