'Now, look here, old girl: there's no occasion for you to tear your
clothes with me this way. Besides, I sometimes get on the prod myself,
and when I do, I don't bar no man, Jew nor Gentile, horse, mare or
gelding. You may think different, but I'm not afraid of any man in
your outfit, from the gimlet to the big auger. I've tried to treat
you white, but I see I've failed. Now I want to give it out to you
straight and cold, that I'll pass you to-morrow, or mix two herds
trying. Think it over to-night and nominate your choice--be a
gentleman or a hog. Let your own sweet will determine which.'

"I rode away in a walk, to give them a chance to say anything they
wanted to, but there were no further remarks. My men were all hopping
mad when I told them, but I promised them that to-morrow we would
fix them plenty or use up our supply of cartridges if necessary. We
dropped back a mile off the trail and camped for the night. Early the
next morning I sent one of my boys out on the highest sand dune to
Injun around and see what they were doing. After being gone for
an hour he came back and said they had thrown their cattle off the
bed-ground up the trail, and were pottering around like as they aimed
to move. Breakfast over, I sent him back again to make sure, for I
wanted yet to avoid trouble if they didn't draw it on. It was another
hour before he gave us the signal to come on. We were nicely strung
out where you saw those graves on that last ridge of sand-hills, when
there they were about a mile ahead of us, moseying along. This side of
Chapman's, the Indian trader's store, the old route turns to the right
and follows up this black-jack ridge. We kept up close, and just
as soon as they turned in to the right,--the only trail there was
then,--we threw off the course and came straight ahead, cross-country
style, same route we came over to-day, except there was no trail
there; we had to make a new one.