three to one, and it was easy to be seen that they had bows and arrows concealed under their blankets.  I was determined to give up no more cattle, and in the powwow that followed the chief of the band became very defiant.  I accused him and his band of being armed, and when he denied it one of the boys jumped a horse against the chief, knocking him down.  In the melee, the leader’s blanket was thrown from him, exposing a strung bow and quiver of arrows, and at the same instant every man brought his carbine or six-shooter to bear on the astonished braves.  Not a shot was fired, nor was there any further resistance offered on the part of the Indians; but as they turned to leave the humiliated chief pointed to the sun and made a circle around his head as if to indicate a threat of scalping.

It was in interpreting this latter sign that the dispute arose between two of the outfit.  One of the boys contended that I was to be scalped before the sun set, while the other interpreted the threat that we would all he scalped before the sun rose again.  Neither version troubled me, but the two fellows quarreled over the matter while returning to the herd, until the lie was passed and their six-shooters began talking.  Fortunately they were both mounted on horses that were gun-shy, and with the rearing and plunging the shots went wild.  Every man in the outfit interfered, the two fellows were disarmed, and we started on with the cattle.  No interference was offered by the Indians at the ford, the guards were doubled that night, and the incident was forgotten within a week.  I simply mention this to give some idea of the men of that day, willing to back their opinions, even on trivial matters, with their lives.  “I’m the quickest man on the trigger that ever came over the trail,” said a cowpuncher to me one night in a saloon in Abilene.  “You’re a blankety blank liar,” said a quiet little man, a perfect stranger to both of us, not even casting a glance our way.  I wrested a six-shooter from the hand of my acquaintance and hustled him out of the house, getting roundly cursed for my interference, though no doubt I saved human life.

On reaching Stone’s Store, on the Kansas line, I left the herd to follow, and arrived at Abilene in two days and a half.  Only some twenty-five herds were ahead of ours, though I must have passed a dozen or more in my brief ride, staying over night with them and scarcely ever missing a meal on the road.  My motive in reaching Abilene in advance of our cattle was to get in touch with the market, secure my trading-corrals again, and perfect my arrangements to do a commission business.  But on arriving, instead of having the field to myself, I found the old corrals occupied by a trio of jobbers, while two new ones had been built within ten miles of town, and half a dozen firms were offering their services as salesmen.  There was a lack of actual buyers, at least among my acquaintances, and the railroads had adjusted their rates, while a largely increased