Three days were lost in reaching Coryell County, where our outfits were in waiting and twenty others were at work gathering cattle.  The herds were made up and started without a hitch, and we passed on to Hood County, meeting every date promptly and again finding the trail outfits awaiting us.  Leaving my active partner and George Edwards to receive the two herds, I rode through to the Clear Fork in a single day.  A double outfit had been at work for the past two weeks gathering outside cattle and had over a thousand under herd on my arrival.  Everything had worked out so nicely in receiving the purchased herds that I finally concluded to send out my steers, and we began gathering on the home range.  By making small round-ups, we disturbed the young calves as little as possible.  I took charge of the extra outfit and my ranch foreman of his own, one beginning on the west end of my range, the other going north and coming down the Brazos.  At the end of a week the two crews came together with nearly eight thousand cattle under herd.  The next day we cut out thirty-five hundred cows and started them on the trail, turning free the remnant of she stuff, and began shaping up the steers, using only the oldest in making up thirty-two hundred head.  There were fully two thousand threes, the remainder being nearly equally divided between twos and fours.  No road branding was necessary; the only delay in moving out was in provisioning a wagon and securing a foreman.  Failing in two or three quarters, I at last decided on a young fellow on my ranch, and he was placed in charge of the last herd.  Great Bend was his destination, I instructed him where to turn off the Chisholm trail,—­north of the Salt Fork in the Cherokee Outlet,—­and he started like an army with banners.

I rejoined my active partner at Fort Worth.  The Hood County cattle had started a week before, so taking George Edwards with us, we took train for Kansas.  Major Hunter returned to his home, while Edwards and I lost no time in reaching the Medicine River.  A fortnight was spent in riding our northern range, when we took horses and struck out for Pond Creek in the Outlet.  The lead herds were due at this point early in May, and on our arrival a number had already passed.  A road house and stage stand had previously been established, the proprietor of which kept a register of passing herds for the convenience of owners.  None of ours were due, yet we looked over the “arrivals” with interest, and continued on down the trail to Red Fork.  The latter was a branch of the Arkansas River, and at low water was inclined to be brackish, and hence was sometimes called the Salt Fork, with nothing to differentiate it from one of the same name sixty miles farther north.  There was an old Indian trading post at Red Fork, and I lay over there while Edwards went on south to meet the cows.  His work for the summer was to oversee the deliveries at the Indian agencies, Major Hunter was to look after the market at The Bend, and I was