year, and George was absent buying oxen for a Fort Griffin freighter.  Good reports of my new ranch awaited me, my cattle were increasing, and the smile of prosperity again shed its benediction over me.  No one had located any lands near my little ranch, and the coveted addition on the west was still vacant and unoccupied.  The silent monitor within my breast was my only accuser, but as I rode away from the Edwards ranch in the shade of evening, even it was silenced, for I held the promise of a splendid girl to become my wife.  A second sleepless night passed like a pleasant dream, and early the next morning, firmly anchored in resolutions that no vagabond friends could ever shake, I overtook my herd.

After crossing Red River, the sweep across the Indian country was but a repetition of other years, with its varying monotony.  Once we were waterbound for three days, severe drifts from storms at night were experienced, delaying our progress, and we did not reach Abilene until June 15.  We were aware, however, of an increased drive of cattle to the north; evidences were to be seen on every hand; owners were hanging around the different fords and junctions of trails, inquiring if herds in such and such brands had been seen or spoken.  While we were crossing the Nations, men were daily met hunting for lost horses or inquiring for stampeded cattle, while the regular trails were being cut into established thoroughfares from increasing use.  Neither of the other Mabry herds had reached their destination on our arrival, though Major Seth put in an appearance within a week and reported the other two about one hundred miles to the rear.  Cattle were arriving by the thousands, buyers from the north, east, and west were congregating, and the prospect of good prices was flattering.  I was fortunate in securing my old camp-ground north of the town; a dry season had set in nearly a month before, maturing the grass, and our cattle took on flesh rapidly.  Buyers looked them over daily, our prices being firm.  Wintered cattle were up in the pictures, a rate war was on between all railroad lines east of the Mississippi River, cutting to the bone to secure the Western live-stock traffic.  Three-year-old steers bought the fall before at twenty dollars and wintered on the Kansas prairies were netting their owners as high as sixty dollars on the Chicago market.  The man with good cattle for sale could afford to be firm.

At this juncture a regrettable incident occurred, which, however, proved a boon to me.  Some busybody went to the trouble of telling Major Mabry about my return to Abilene the fall before and my subsequent escapade in Texas, embellishing the details and even intimating that I had squandered funds not my own.  I was thirty years old and as touchy as gunpowder, and felt the injustice of the charge like a knife-blade in my heart.  There was nothing to do but ask for my release, place the facts in the hands of my employer, and court a thorough investigation.  I had always entertained the highest regard for Major Mabry, and before the season ended I was fully vindicated and we were once more fast friends.