I didn’t know it at the time, but the boys that I had made the bet with had framed on me—and it was understood among them that nobody was to help me—just to have a joke on me if the steer got away. So after a few minutes, when nobody came to help me, I let him up with the rope still on him. The fall had taken most of the sap out of him. He made a kind of a weak attempt to get to my horse, so I busted him again. The next time he got up I led him back to the roundup and into the bunch where I wanted him, throwed him down, took the rope off, and he never made a break to get away. We took him to the railroad and shipped him to Chicago. He was a rather funny looking old fellow with one of his long pretty horns gone and blood dried all over his face. I don’t think he made very good eating but I tallied him: “One beef steer shipped to Chicago.” In the year of 1897 the Circle Diamond outfit turned loose 5,000 head of Arizona yearlings on their range on Milk River in Montana and instead of settling down and locating there they kept on going north until the outfit heard of some of them 200 miles up in Canada. So they sent an outfit of about 20 men with horses and bed and chuckwagon to bring them back and try to locate them on their own range. The DHS outfit sent me with them, thinking some of their cattle had drifted with the Arizona’s. The country was all open—north, south, east and west—for miles (I don’t know how far) and no ranches after we crossed the Canadian border. We didn’t know any particular place to go to find those cattle, so we just wandered around for days, first one direction, then another. After we got as far north as Moose Jaw, which is well north in Canada, we began to see some signs of cattle, and would pick up a few each day. And those cattle hadn’t seen anybody for four or five months and were plenty wild and, of course, we had to nightherd those cattle every night. And badger holes were so thick in that country you could almost compare them to a saltcellar—and the grass was thick and tall so a horse or man couldn’t see the holes. Somebody would get a fall every day and night. One morning we were making a circle, looking for cattle, and we saw two animals standing on a butte. We got close to them—could tell they were two head of cattle—and away they went like a couple of antelope. We finally got ahead of them and got them stopped. They ran around in a circle for awhile, just like they might be tied together. One wouldn’t get no distance away from the other. When we got them to the roundup and could get a good look at the brands, we found they both belonged to the DHS outfit, and we knew from the Arizona brand on them and the year the outfit bought them as yearlings that they were 13 years old. They were pals and had ranged in that part of the country for several years alone, as we did not find any sign of cattle anywhere within several miles of them.