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24.
thing at the fair and don't miss a thing." I told him that I wasn't very flush when it came to the spending end and he said that as he had just gotten a good price for some steers that he guessed that he could loan me a little and sure enough he did. Well, sir, I had a good time at that fair and never missed seeing a single thing worth seeing. I met there Walter Pentergraft and 'Gene Wickers, both good white men. 'Gene was a brother to the champion cow man Joe. I had rode many a mile with Joe in Texas in earlier days and I made it a point to see him when at the wild west show. He said that he wanted me to have a good time as we had shared alike in earlier days out on the prairies. He wouldn't listen to my expostulations at all, but insisted that we spend his money together and sure enough we did having a mighty good time in seeing everything that there was to see. I saw more at that fair than I ever dreamt of seeing, ever expect to see again or thought existed. The shooting and fancy tricks with a gun was alright at the show, but it was mighty tame in comparison with what Tom York use to do in earlier days. When he was with the -X outfit at that time out on the plains. I was five days at the fair. 

I came back to Texas and to the ranch about the first of September. Went back to handling and herding steers. I was the steer man for Burnett. I am still there. I have handled from 1200 to 1400 steers at one time and went from the main ranch to the territory in the Chickasha and Comache nations. I fed this bunch all winter and then saw that they were alright to ship in the early spring. In June 1904 I went to Falls City. I went to San Antonio and other places for Mr. Burnett and old Jerry. I told care of cattle there for him. I came back to the ranch again in October 1904. I was at San Antonio and from there they sent me to points in Kansas, Illinois and Missouri. When I returned from one of these trips I always felt pretty good to get back on the old place again. When I was in camp I was with a fellow by the name of Jim Hammonds. He was a good, white old fellow and one of the best of his kind. Then there was Tom Roberts, another of the old guard, whom I met once in awhile. He was wagon boss part of the time and every man in camp or out with the herd