“In case we need it, can you get us another permit to bring Texas cattle into Kansas?” eagerly inquired Joel.

“Try us,” answered the old man, with a knowing look.  “We may not be able to, but in securing business, railroads look years ahead.”

A jolly party of cowmen left for Trail City that night.  Morning found their train creeping up the valley of the Arkansas.  The old trail market of Dodge, deserted and forlorn-looking among the wild sunflower, was passed like a way station.  The new market was only a mile over the state line, in Colorado, and on nearing their destination the party drew together.

“I’ve only got a remnant of a herd left,” said Mr. Stoddard, “and I want you to understand that there’s no obligation to even look at them.  Mr. Lovell’s at his beef ranch in Dakota, and his men have not been seen since the herds passed north in June.  But I’ll help you buy any cattle you want.”

In behalf of the brothers, Joel accepted the offer.  “These Texas cattle,” he continued, “reach their maturity the summer following their fourth year.  Hereafter, as fast as possible, we want to shape up our holdings so as to double-winter all our beef cattle.  For that reason, we prefer to buy two-year-olds.  We’ll look at your remnant; there would be no occasion to rebrand, which is an advantage.”

The train reached Trail City on time.  The town was of mushroom growth—­a straggling business street with fancy fronts, while the outer portions of the village were largely constructed of canvas.  The Arkansas River passed to the south, numerous creeks put in to the main stream, affording abundant water to the herds on sale, while a bountiful range surrounded the market.  Shipping pens, branding chutes, and every facility for handling cattle were complete.

The outfits were not expected in for another day.  In the mean time, it became rumored about that the two boys who had returned with Mr. Stoddard and his trail foreman were buyers for a herd of cattle.  The presence of the old cowman threw a barrier of protection around the brothers, except to his fellow drovers, who were made acquainted with his proteges and their errand freely discussed.

“These boys are customers of mine,” announced Mr. Stoddard to a group of his friends.  “I sold them a herd at Dodge last year, and another at Ogalalla this summer.  Range on the Beaver, in northwest Kansas.  Just shipped out their last train of beeves this week.  Had them on yesterday’s market.  From what I gather, they can use about three thousand to thirty-five hundred head.  At least their letter of credit is good for those numbers.  Sorry I ain’t got the cattle myself.  They naturally look to me for advice, and I feel an interest in the boys.  Their outfit ought to be in by to-morrow.”

Mr. Stoddard’s voucher placed the brothers on a firm footing, and every attention was shown the young cowmen.  An afternoon and a morning’s drive, and the offerings on the trail market had been carefully looked over, including the remnant of Mr. Stoddard.  Only a few herds possessed their original numbers, none of which were acceptable to the buyers, while the smaller ones frequently contained the desired grade and age.