There was a lack of
actual buyers, at least among my acquaintances, and the railroads had
adjusted their rates, while a largely increased drive was predicted.
The spring had been a wet one, the grass was washy and devoid of
nutriment, and there was nothing in the outlook of an encouraging
nature. Yet the majority of the drovers were very optimistic of the
future, freely predicting better prices than ever before, while many
declared their intention of wintering in case their hopes were not
realized. By the time our herd arrived, I had grown timid of the
market in general and was willing to sell out and go home. I make
no pretension to having any extra foresight, probably it was my
outstanding obligations in Texas that fostered my anxiety, but I was
prepared to sell to the first man who talked business.
Our cattle arrived in good condition. The weather continued wet and
stormy, the rank grass harbored myriads of flies and mosquitoes, and
the through cattle failed to take on flesh as in former years. Rival
towns were competing for the trail business, wintered cattle were
lower, and a perfect chaos existed as to future prices, drovers
bolstering and pretended buyers depressing them. Within a week after
their arrival I sold fifteen hundred of our heaviest beeves to an army
contractor from Fort Russell in Dakota. He had brought his own outfit
down to receive the cattle, and as his contract called for a million
and a half pounds on foot, I assisted him in buying sixteen hundred
more.
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