“O, I’ll pay it after my crop is sold; that is, if I feel like it,” said Ned to himself. “George has money enough already. A boy who owns six thousand dollars’ worth of stock ought to be willing to allow his only cousin the free use of fifty acres of land. I shall have need of every red cent I make.” Ned, who was extravagantly fond of company and pleasure, could hardly endure the lonely life he was compelled to lead. He hoped that as soon as it became known throughout the settlement that he had made up his mind to go to work, he would be in a fair way to gain the favor of the people; and perhaps he would, if he had gone about it in the right way. He laid aside the objectionable broadcloth suit and white shirt, it is true, and put on what he called “working clothes;” but they were more gorgeous than any that had ever been seen in that part of Texas before outside of an illustrated story paper. His boots were expensive Wellingtons, and were made of patent leather, too. He wore gray corduroy trowsers, a fawnskin vest, a finely-dressed buckskin coat, with silver buttons, and a Mexican sombrero ornamented with gold cord and tassels. It was a “nobby” suit, to quote from its delighted owner, and must have astonished the natives, if one might judge by the way they stared at him when they met him on the trail; but it did not bring him any more company than he had always had. Ned led a lonely and discontented life all that winter. There were no boys with whom he could associate except his cousin, and Ned had come to the conclusion that he would much rather be alone than in George’s company. The latter did not suit him at all. He was much too industrious. He was in camp with his herdsman more than half the time, and when he was at home he was always busy. Ned had expected to see unbounded pleasure in living on the prairie and sleeping in the open air, as his cousin did more than six months in the year, and once he had spent two weeks with him in camp; but that was his first and last experience in cattle-herding, and as it was not at all to his liking, we must stop long enough to say something about it. This is a story of camp life, you know.