“Gentlemen,” said I, “I don’t say anything—_I_ haven’t been around, you know, and of course don’t know anything—but all I ask of you is to cast your eye on _that_, for instance, and tell me what you think of it!” and I tossed my treasure before them. There was an eager scramble for it, and a closing of heads together over it under the candle-light. Then old Ballou said: “Think of it? I think it is nothing but a lot of granite rubbish and nasty glittering mica that isn’t worth ten cents an acre!” So vanished my dream. So melted my wealth away. So toppled my airy castle to the earth and left me stricken and forlorn. Moralizing, I observed, then, that “all that glitters is not gold.” Mr. Ballou said that I could go further than that, and lay it up among my treasures of knowledge, that _nothing_ that glitters is gold. So I learned then, once for all, that gold in its native state is but dull, unornamental stuff, and that only lowborn metals excite the admiration of the ignorant with an ostentatious glitter. However, like the rest of the world, I still go on underrating men of gold and glorifying men of mica. Commonplace human nature cannot rise above that. The Ranching Frontier [Illustration: Texas cattle being driven to the cattle rendezvous] The Long Drive Before the Texans won independence from Mexico, stocks of Spanish cattle owned by Mexicans ranged the plains of southern Texas. Then the Mexicans were driven out, and their cattle ran wild. By the time of the Civil War, herds of wild longhorns roamed the Texas ranges. As the population of the United States grew and the railroads pushed into the trans-Mississippi region, the cattle industry became big business. Texas ranchers began rounding up the wild cattle and driving them to market over various trails, the best known of which probably is the Chisholm Trail. Ranching soon spread to other western states clear to the Canadian border. The decades following the Civil War were the golden age of the cowboy. Andy Adams Encounters Rustlers