We reached the Edwards ranch early the second evening.  In the two days’ travel, possibly twenty thousand cattle came under our immediate observation.  All the country was an open range, brands intermingling, all ages and conditions, running from a sullen bull to seven-year-old beeves, or from a yearling heifer to the grandmother of younger generations.  My anxiety to show the country and its cattle met a hearty second in Mr. Hunter, and abandoning the buckboard, we took horses and rode up the Brazos River as far as old Fort Belknap.  All cattle were wintering strong.  Turning south, we struck the Clear Fork above my range and spent a night at the ranch, where my men had built a second cabin, connecting the two by a hallway.  After riding through my stock for two days, we turned back for the Brazos.  My ranch hands had branded thirty-one hundred calves the fall before, and while riding over the range I was delighted to see so many young steers in my different brands.  But our jaunt had only whetted the appetite of my guest to see more of the country, and without any waste of time we started south with the buckboard, going as far as Comanche County.  Every day’s travel brought us in contact with cattle for sale; the prices were an incentive, but we turned east and came back up the valley of the Brazos.  I offered to continue our sightseeing, but my guest pleaded for a few days’ time until he could hear from his banking associates.  I needed a partner and needed one badly, and was determined to interest Mr. Hunter if it took a whole month.  And thereby hangs a tale.

The native Texan is not distinguished for energy or ambition.  His success in cattle is largely due to the fact that nearly all the work can be done on horseback.  Yet in that particular field he stands at the head of his class; for whether in Montana or his own sunny Texas, when it comes to handling cattle, from reading brands to cutting a trainload of beeves, he is without a peer.  During the palmy days of the Cherokee Strip, a Texan invited Captain Stone, a Kansas City man, to visit his ranch in Tom Green County and put up a herd of steers to be driven to Stone’s beef ranch in the Cherokee Outlet.  The invitation was accepted, and on the arrival of the Kansas City man at the Texan’s ranch, host and guest indulged in a friendly visit of several days’ duration.  It was the northern cowman’s first visit to the Lone Star State, and he naturally felt impatient to see the cattle which he expected to buy.  But the host made no movement to show the stock until patience ceased to be a virtue, when Captain Stone moved an adjournment of the social session and politely asked to be shown a sample of the country’s cattle.  The two cowmen were fast friends, and no offense was intended or taken; but the host assured his guest there was no hurry, offering to get up horses and show the stock the following day.  Captain Stone yielded, and the next morning they started, but within a few miles met a neighbor, when all three