Priest and I at once started for Officer, whom we found quite a winner, but succeeded in choking him off on our employer’s order, and after the checks had been cashed, took a parting drink, which made us the last in reaching the depot.  When we were all assembled, our employer informed us that he only wished to keep us together until embarking, and invited us to accompany him across the street to Tom Robbins’s saloon.

On entering the saloon, Lovell inquired of the young fellow behind the bar, “Son, what will you take for the privilege of my entertaining this outfit for fifteen minutes?”

“The ranch is yours, sir, and you can name your own figures,” smilingly and somewhat shrewdly replied the young fellow, and promptly vacated his position.

“Now, two or three of you rascals get in behind there,” said old man Don, as a quartet of the boys picked him up and set him on one end of the bar, “and let’s see what this ranch has in the way of refreshment.”

McCann, Quarternight, and myself obeyed the order, but the fastidious tastes of the line in front soon compelled us to call to our assistance both Bobbins and the young man who had just vacated the bar in our favor.

“That’s right, fellows,” roared Lovell from his commanding position, as he jingled a handful of gold coins, “turn to and help wait on these thirsty Texans; and remember that nothing’s too rich for our blood to-day.  This outfit has made one of the longest cattle drives on record, and the best is none too good for them.  So set out your best, for they can’t cut much hole in the profits in the short time we have to stay.  The train leaves in twenty minutes, and see that every rascal is provided with an extra bottle for the journey.  And drop down this way when you get time, as I want a couple of boxes of your best cigars to smoke on the way.  Montana has treated us well, and we want to leave some of our coin with you.”