Every man in my outfits owned from six
to ten blankets, and the Eagle Chief lads rechristened the others,
including myself, with the most odious of Indian names. In return,
we refused to visit or eat at their wagons, claiming that they lived
slovenly and were lousy. The latter had an educated Scotchman with
them, McDougle by name, the ranch bookkeeper, who always went into
town in advance to order cars. McDougle had a weakness for the cup,
and on one occasion he fell into the hands of my men, who humored
his failing, marching him through the streets, saloons, and hotels
shouting at the top of his voice, "Hunter, Anthony & Company are going
to ship!" The expression became a byword among the citizens of the
town, and every reappearance of McDougle was accepted as a herald that
our outfits from the Eagle Chief were coming in with cattle.
A special meeting of the stockholders was called at Washington that
fall, which all the Western members attended. Reports were submitted
by the secretary-treasurer and myself, the executive committee
made several suggestions, the proposition, to pay a dividend was
overwhelmingly voted down, and a further increase of the capital stock
was urged by the Eastern contingent. I sounded a note of warning,
called attention to the single cloud on the horizon, which was the
enmity that we had engendered in a clique of army followers in
and around Fort Reno.
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