One thing sure, there isn't a man in Dakota who has money
enough to tempt me to part with my pelon. If you locate down on
the Little Missouri, drop me a line where you are at, and if
Lovell wants four good men, I can let him have them about the
first of December. You through lads are liable to be scared over
the coming winter, and a few acclimated ones will put backbone in
his outfit. And tell the old man that if I can ever do him a good
turn just to snap his fingers and I'll quit the government--he's
a few shades whiter than it, anyhow."
The herd had already left the bed-ground, headed south. About
five miles above O'Brien's, we recrossed to the eastern side of
the Yellowstone, and for the next three days moved short
distances, the military always camped well in our rear. The
fourth morning I killed a beef, a forage-wagon came forward and
took half of it back to the cavalry camp with our greetings and
farewell, and we parted company. Don Lovell met us about noon,
elated as a boy over his purchase of the hay ranch. My brother
had gone on to the railroad and thence by train to Miles City to
meet his remuda and outfit. "Boys, I have bought you a new home,"
was the greeting of old man Don, as he dismounted at our noon
camp. "There's a comfortable dugout, stabling for about ten
horses, and seventy-five tons of good hay in the stack.
Pages:
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378