This fence cut at right angles a strange, wide, dusty pathway.

The farmer did not know what he had done.

He had put restraint on that which in its day knew no pause and brooked no hindrance.

He had set metes and bounds across the track where once rolled the wheels of destiny.

He had set the first fence across the Trail! The stranger who asked for the old, wild days of Ellisville the Red was told that no such days had ever been.