No interference was offered by the Indians
at the ford, the guards were doubled that night, and the incident was
forgotten within a week. I simply mention this to give some idea of
the men of that day, willing to back their opinions, even on trivial
matters, with their lives. "I'm the quickest man on the trigger that
ever came over the trail," said a cowpuncher to me one night in a
saloon in Abilene. "You're a blankety blank liar," said a quiet little
man, a perfect stranger to both of us, not even casting a glance our
way. I wrested a six-shooter from the hand of my acquaintance
and hustled him out of the house, getting roundly cursed for my
interference, though no doubt I saved human life.
On reaching Stone's Store, on the Kansas line, I left the herd to
follow, and arrived at Abilene in two days and a half. Only some
twenty-five herds were ahead of ours, though I must have passed a
dozen or more in my brief ride, staying over night with them and
scarcely ever missing a meal on the road. My motive in reaching
Abilene in advance of our cattle was to get in touch with the market,
secure my trading-corrals again, and perfect my arrangements to do a
commission business. But on arriving, instead of having the field to
myself, I found the old corrals occupied by a trio of jobbers, while
two new ones had been built within ten miles of town, and half a dozen
firms were offering their services as salesmen.
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