During the few days which followed, Joel Wells was thrown in contact with the many features of a range cattle market.  In all the migrations of mankind, strictly cattle towns like Dodge City and Ogalalla are unknown.  They were the product of all pastoral ages, reaching a climax on American soil, and not of record in any other country or time.  Joel let little escape him.  Here men bought and sold by the thousand head, in his day and generation, and he was a part of that epoch.

The necessary number of cattle to complete a herd for Forrest were purchased without leaving town.  The afternoon was spent in receiving a herd, in which the veteran drover took a hand, assisted by two competent foremen.  Every feature in the cattle, the why and wherefore, was pointed out by the trio, to the eager, earnest boy, so that the lesson sunk into Joel’s every fibre.  The beauty of the first herd received was in the uniform average of each animal, when ages, class, and build governed selection.

Forrest’s outfit arrived that evening, and without even a day’s rest arrangements were made to receive the two contingents the next morning.  When it came to receive the Stoddard herd, the deftness with which the two outfits classified the cattle was only short of marvelous.  The threes were cut out, and each age counted.  The over-plus of the younger cattle were cut back, and the contingents were tendered on delivery.  The papers were ready, executed on the ground, and the herds started, the smaller in the lead.

The drive to the Beaver was without incident.  Forrest spent most of his time with the little herd, which used only eight men, counting Joel, who stood guard at night and made a hand.  The herd numbered a few over fifteen hundred cattle, the remuda fifty-six horses, a team and wagon, the total contract price of which was a trifle under twenty-five thousand dollars.  It looked like a serious obligation for two boys to assume, but practical men had sanctioned it, and it remained for the ability of Wells Brothers to meet it.

On nearing the Beaver, the lead herd under Bob Quirk took the new trail, which crossed at the ranch.  On their leaving the valley, a remark was dropped, unnoticed by Dell, but significant to Jack Sargent.  It resulted in the two riding out on the trail, only to meet the purchased cattle, Joel on one point and Forrest on the other, directing the herds to the tanks below.  The action bespoke its intent, and on meeting Forrest, the latter jerked his thumb over his shoulder, remarking, “Drop back and pilot the wagon and remuda into the ranch.  We’re taking this passel of cattle into the new tanks, and will scatter them up and down the creek.  Lovell’s cattle?  No.  Old man Joel Wells bought these to stock his ranch.  See how chesty it makes him—­he won’t even look this way.  You boys may have to sit up with him a few nights at first, but he’ll get over that.  Pilot in the remuda.  You two are slated to take this outfit to the railroad to-night.  Trail along, my beauties; Wells Brothers are shaking out a right smart bit of sail these days.”