When such old timers as Big Bill, Long Tom, and Pony saw these preparations going forward they became very mellow and reminiscent. Once again they recalled the days of long drives on the Santa Fe trail and of the handling of large herds of cattle on the Panhandle.
"Gosh almighty," said Big Bill, "this here country is getting too darn sophisticated for me. This here one day stand riding is too easy. It is too much like a woman's party with pink tea and drop the handkerchief. It ain't strenuous enough for your Uncle Bill. Why, in the old days there were Apaches on your trail, and rustlers rustling every thing you had, and the herd stampeding, and the devil to pay. Gosh, them was the days."
So, on a crisp autumn morning in the middle of November the herd of beef cattle were marshalled on the polo grounds. Two cow-punchers went at the head of the procession, not immediately in front of the cattle but on the sides. They were to steer the head of this great dragon as it crawled along the trail to Wyanne. One hundred yards further down the cavalcade were two more cow-punchers, and still another hundred further on another pair, with two others bringing up the rear. A large express wagon filled with camp blankets, a camp stove, and provisions followed behind.
For the first two days the trail led over adjacent
