"Good God!" cried Franklin, "whose fence is that?
Are we at Buford's ?" "No," said Sam, "this must be at old man Hancock's.

He fenced across the old road, and we had to make a jog around his d----d broom-corn field.

It's only a couple o' miles now to Buford's." "Shall I tear down the fence ?" asked Franklin.
"No, it's no use; it'd only let us in his field, an' maybe we couldn't hit the trail on the fur side.

We got to follow the fence a way.

May God everlastingly damn any man that'll fence up the free range!--Whoa, Jack! Whoa, Bill! Git out o' here! Git up!" They tried to parallel the fence, but the horses edged away from the wind continually, so that it was difficult to keep eye upon the infrequent posts of the meagre, straggling fence that this man had put upon the "public lands." "Hold on, Sam!" cried Franklin.