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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 286 pages of information about Reed Anthony, Cowman.

In spite of my hopes to the contrary, I had a well-grounded belief that a revolution in cattle prices was coming.  Daily meeting with men from the Northwest, at Dodge and Ogalalla, during the summer just passed, I had felt every throb of the demand that pulsated those markets.  There was a general inquiry for young steers, she stuff with which to start ranches was eagerly snapped up, and it stood to reason that if this reckless Northern demand continued, its influence would soon be felt on the plains of Texas.  Susceptible to all these influences, I had returned home to find both my ranches littered with a big calf crop, the brand actually increasing in numbers in spite of the drain of trail herds annually cut out.  But the idol of my eye was those half-blood calves.  Out of a possible five hundred, there were four hundred and fifty odd by actual count, all big as yearlings and reflecting the selection of their parents.  I loafed away a week at the canon camp, rode through them daily, and laughed at their innocent antics as they horned the bluffs or fought their mimic fights.  The Double Mountain ranch was my pride, and before leaving, the foreman and I outlined some landed additions to fill and square up my holdings, in case it should ever be necessary to fence the range.

On my return to the Clear Fork, the ranch outfit had just finished gathering from my own and adjoining ranges fifteen hundred bulls for distillery feeding.  The sale had been effected by correspondence with my former customer, and when the herd started the two of us drove on ahead into Fort Worth.  The Illinois man was an extensive dealer in cattle and had followed the business for years in his own State, and in the week we spent together awaiting the arrival of his purchase, I learned much of value.  There was a distinct difference between a range cowman and a stockman from the older Western States; but while the occupations were different, there was much in common between the two.  Through my customer I learned that Western range cattle, when well fatted, were competing with grass beeves from his own State; that they dressed more to their gross weight than natives, and that the quality of their flesh was unsurpassed.  As to the future, the Illinois buyer could see little to hope for in his own country, but was enthusiastic over the outlook for us ranchmen in the Southwest.  All these things were but straws which foretold the course of the wind, yet neither of us looked for the cyclone which was hovering near.

I accompanied the last train of the shipment as far as Parsons, Kansas, where our ways parted, my customer going to Peoria, Illinois, while I continued on to The Grove.  Both my partners and our segundo were awaiting me, the bookkeeper had all accounts in hand, and the profits of the year were enough to turn ordinary men’s heads.  But I sounded a note of warning,—­that there were breakers ahead,—­though none of them took me seriously until I called for the individual

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