LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA DAVIS TEN YEARS A COWBOY. * ^w^=^^ ^'%^ BY C. C. POST ADDENDA BY TEX BENDER, THE COWBOY FIDDLER THOS. W. JACKSON PUBLISHING COMPANY CHICAGO : (Successors to Rhodes & McClure Publishing Company) LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA DAVIS Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1898, by the RHODES & MCCLURE PUBLISHING COMPANY, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. All Rights Reserved CONTENTS. 1TIE STORY, ROMANCE AND ADVENTURES OF A 1.IFE ON THE PLAINS WITH THE VARIED EXPERIENCES AS COW-BOY, STOCK-OWNER, RANCHER, &c. &c. PAGES 17 to 358 PAGE THE PLAINS. 359 From the Missouri River to the Rocky Mountains 363 The Trees 365 The Herbage * 367 The Buffalo 369 The Indian ^V amor and his Pony - .371 The Insects , 374 The Mirage 375 Water v .... 377 The Wichita Mountains 378 The Indian 380 CATTLE. 385 The Gains in Cattle Ranching 386 How to start in the Cattle Business 387 The Stock Country . '. , 389 The Cattle Ranches 389 Settlers' Rights 390 The Dashing Cow-Boy 391 Cattle on the Ranges 392 Cattle in Winter 393 Advantages of Cattle over Horse-Raising 394 TheRourid-Up 395 Movricks 395 Cutting-Out 398 The Cow-Ponies 397 Branding Calves 399 Branding Cattle ..403 On the Trail... 406 CONTENTS. PAGE Night Watching ...408 Shipping by Bail 410 The Journey to Chicago 412 Queens of the Ranch 415 California as a Cattle Raising State 417 California Laws 419 Water Rights v 420 Profits on Cattle-Raising in Texas, as the Business was formerly Conducted 422 Profits on Cattle Raising as at present Conducted 424 Advice to the Cowboys - 427 SHEEP. 429 Sheep Driving 429 Spanish Merinos 430 Certificate for Taxes 431 The Outfit.. 431 Taking Horses through the Mountains 433 Hiring Drivers 434 Sheep Shearing 437 On the Road 437 Scab ...,.439 Dipping 439 Sheep Driving from California to Sonora 443 Tolls 446 Crossing the Sierras 448 The Bedding Ground 450 The San Antonio 451 Driving Sheep in Nevada 453 Jb'oodiu Camp 453 The Cook's Duties 454 Clothing 455 Bathing 457 Beds 458 Temperature. 459 Sleeping in Camp ,460 Shepherd Dogs 462 Prairie Dogs 465 Driving Sheep in Idaho 466 The Laramie Plains , . .467 NearSaltLake 468 How to make money in Utah , 469 TEN YEARS A COW BOY. CHAPTER I. A LITTLE OLD TOWN ON THE WABASH. A few years ago when even in the middle Western States land was to be had for the taking, a bit of a town pre-empted a site on the banks of the Wabash river, in the State of Indiana, and proceeded to establish itself and settle down to business, squatter fashion. I say squatter fashion because it took on the air of not being very certain of its claim to permanent ownership, and so not eager to make improvements beyond such as were necessary to its immediate wants. This feeling about permanency of title may have been owing to the fact that the Wabash was a river of unsteady habits, and liable to get on a rampage at (17) 1 8 THE LITTLE OLD TOWN ON THE WABASH. periods more or less frequent and unexpected, de' pending somewhat upon the state of the weather and other causes. This, you understand, was before the government had established a bureau at the national capital with orders to regulate the weather, and so render such conduct on the part of the Wabash and other streams of similar habits entirely without excuse. But, whatever the reason may have been, the town always had the appearance of having no per manency of title to the site it had fixed upon. The streets if you choose to call them streets were wide enough, and they would have been beautiful plots of green if it had not been that they were white instead, white with mayweed, except where the hogs rooted holes in the earth for purposes of their own; for the town did not keep its hogs shut up. So great was the people's sense of personal lib erty in this village of wide spaces, that there were none among the inhabitants who had ever suggested an abridgment to the unlimited freedom of the hogs. On the contrary, they were permitted to wander about at their own sweet will, and they put in their time about equally in hunting for such food as was to be found in the river bottom, and in maintaining their rights as free and independent citizens, by rooting up the streets, and such apologies for gardens as the people KITTLE OLD TOWN ON THE WABASH. 19 /elt incumbent on themselves to attempt making, for the town was not more thorough in its manner of fencing in its gardens and yards than in anything else. A fence of "palms," thin strips of timber split from some straight grained ash or oak tree, and pointed at the end, was occasionally erected about a bit of ground, being nailed on perpendicularly, pointed end upward, and an attempt at the cultivation of what was called a "truck patch" made. But as nails were scarce and high, and the town did not know exactly how long it was going to stay there, these palings were seldom securely fastened, and appeared as if put there for the purpose of affording the hogs amusement for their leisure hours in rooting them off, more than for any real protection to the vegetables planted within the in- closures. There were several dogs, also, and children, con nected with the town. I do not think I ever quite understood what the town considered to be the rights or duties of the children, or whether they were supposed to have any, but those of the dogs were plainly to be perceived by any one at all observant of such things. Their duties were to assist the hogs out of the truck patch whenever they wandered in and were unable, in the excitement of the moment, to find their own way out at the hole by which they entered; this, and to stand in front of the houses and welcome any chance 2O A DIFFERENCE IN DUTIES. stranger who sought an interview with the town tor any purposes. I think they also assisted at th& obsequies of such game as the inhabitants secured from time to time from out the surrounding woods or adjoining prairie. And as for their rights, why they were the same as those of the other citizens, which appeared to consist principally in sitting around discussing the proba bility of another rise in the Wabash, and occasionally going out to a cornfield on the outskirts and spending a half day or so in cutting down weeds and chasing squirrel and chipmunk depredators on the aforesaid cereal. There was one other difference between the apparent duties of the men and the dogs which I ought to mention ; the dogs did not fish and the men did. The men appeared to think it a duty to fish, and would frequently sit a half day at a time upon a log in the sun, holding a pole with a line attached when it was too hot to hoe corn or weed the truck patch ; some thing the dogs never did. On such occasions the dogs usually lay in the shade and caught fleas, which was perhaps their fair share of the labor. I think neither could boast greatly over the other of the success at tending their efforts ; the men and boys certainly caught a great many fish, but then the dogs also secured a great many fleas. I never knew for certain why the town remained THE FERRY. 31 there. May be, after all, it had a clear title to the site on which it stood. It was not a very big town ; a dozen or score of houses, most of them of logs, some of rough boards, some a mixture of the two, one part being of logs, with a crazy little lean-to of boards at the back, some whitewashed, but more with the color which nature and the elements had given them. Looking back at it now I more than half believe that what made the town stay there was the ferry. This might seem to have furnished good reason why it should not stay there, since it could evidently have gotten away by means of the ferry if it wanted to. But I do not think it wanted to. May be it would have done so if it had thought of it, but if so it was evident that the thought had never come to it; the town was not greatly given to thinking, but I do not really believe the reason for its staying was that it never occurred to it that it could go by way of the ferry if it wanted to. Possibly it expected the Wabash to rise high enough some time to take it away and so save it the trouble of going; I can not say positively as to that. I am inclined to think it stayed because it liked to stay. And why not ? In the first place, it was a good location for such a town. There was the river with plenty of fish to be had for 32 AND THE FERRY BOAT* the taking; the woods upon its banks abound* A with game, and was also a capital range for hogs In the prairie, a bit back from the river, the prairie, chickens raised their young and waxed fat. There were sand banks for the children to play upon; there was the periodical rise in the river, not to speak of passing flat> boats and an occasional steamer to furnish topics for discussion. And then there was the ferry the ferry, which gave the dignity and importance to the town and a reputation throughout the country for miles on both sides of the river. Yes, I think it was the ferry which kept the town contented and happy and prevented any disposition on its part to wander away. The ferry boat was not unlike other ferries the boat part of it, I mean. It consisted of what was known in those days as a "flatboat;" a low, flat boat constructed of strong timbers heavily planked over, and slightly turned up at either end, like the front end of the implement known among farmers as a stoneboat, and used by them to draw stone off their fields. It swung from shore to shore by the force of the current. There was a line of canoes, perhaps a dozen in number, (the one farthest away only being fastened to a stake driven securely into the earth at the bottom of the river, midway between banks and some twenty rods above the ferry. To this canoe was attached, by means of long ropes and at equal distances from each MISTER M'KINLRY. as other, other canoes, the last of which was in turn at tached by a rope to the ferry or flatboat, which in size was perhaps ten or fifteen feet wide by twenty long. Now when the ferry boat was pushed out from either bank, the force of the current would tend to carry it down stream in a straight line, but being held from above by the long line of canoes and their attachments, it could only swing in a circle. The water, pressing both against the side of the larger boat and of the canoes attached to it, propelled it to the middle of the stream with considerable velocity, sufficient, when the water was high, to compel it to make the other quarter of the circle and bring up at a point on the other shore exactly opposite from where it started, when it would be made secure by a chain thrown over a strong post set in the ground. Then a plank would be pushed out, upon which passengers and teams could walk dry shod to the land. If the river was low, and the current failed to bring the boat quite to shore, as it sometimes did fail of doing, the person in charge was ready, standing in the stern of the boat, to push it ashore with a long pole. Now this ferry belonged to a person by the name of McKinley. Mister McKinley he was called; and he was the only citizen of the town who was ever honored by having this prefix attached to his name; 24 MISTER M'KINLEY. which fact argues that Mr. McKinley was a man of im portance and influence in the community, as indeed t\9 was. For, was he not the owner of the ferry from which the town received its dignity, and upon which it de pended for its fame ? Had he not held communication with the dignitaries of the State itself and been granted authority legal authority to run the ferry, as afore said ? And did he not have proof of the fact in the shape of a paper, printed in three or four sizes of type, signed by the secretary of State, tied with a red ribbon and sealed with the great seals of the States both of Illinois and of Indiana, declaring that ' 'having confidence in the patriotism and integrity of Mr. William H. H. McKinley, he is hereby granted authority, etc., to run a ferry across the Wabash river, etc., etc.; the same being a river navigable by boats, etc., etc., and also con stituting the boundary line between the two States, as aforesaid ?" This charter Mr. McKinley had had framed and hung up in the rough porch in front of the log cabin in which he lived with his family of six, not counting the dogs, which would have raised it to a round dozen at least. This cabin of McKinley's stood near the banks of the river, on the Indiana side; the banks on this MISTER M'KINLEY. 25 side being several feet higher than on the other side. The house was only a few rods from the ferry land ing, and any one entering the cabin could hardly fail to observe the charter where it hung in its frame by the door. The children used, when it was first hung there, to come about the porch and gaze up at it in open- mouthed wonder and silent awe, and go away with minds full of imaginings of the many great things Mr. McKinley must have done to cause the authorities of two States to certify to their confidence in and ad miration of him, to be to the trouble, too, of having it printed in big letters and little ones, and putting the great seals of the States upon it, so that no one might so much as dare to doubt that its possessor was indeed a great man, having the confidence of all of the great men of the country one to whom it was proper and right should be given exclusive authority to run a ferry boat and charge people for riding on it. Of course such a man must never be addressed too familiarly, hence the children always, and the men generally, addressed him as Mister McKinley. Occasionally, some man in whose cranial develop ment there was a hollow where his bump of reverence should have been, would speak to him as "McKinley," 26 MISTER M'KINLEY. simply, or even as "Mack," but he seldom appeared to hear when thus spoken to, and children hearing him thus addressed would drop whatever employment they were engaged in and look and listen, and seem to wonder whether Mister McKinley would feel suf ficiently offended to ask the authorities to mete out proper punishment to the man who thus failed to render the respect due to him in whom the State re posed such unbounded confidence and desired to see honored. Children are quick to catch the spirit of the teach ings of their elders, and in proportion as their imagin ations are more active and their knowledge of the world more limited than those of older persons, so are they more intensely affected by the things which they see and hear. To the children of this little town upon the banks of the Wabash the State represented all earthly authority and power and dignity; and knowing nothing of its duties or limitations, and nothing of legal forms or customs, they regarded any one who had held com munication with it, or been given any commission under it, as partaking in a very great degree of the grandeur which in their minds attached to it, and they looked upon such a one as entitled to demand about what he chose from other people, in the way of homage at least. If any shall say that reverence for their fellow- MISTER M'KINLBY. 2/ men or being greater or more worthy of honor than themselves, is not a feeling natural in man, or that by nature every man is inclined to regard himself as possessing equal rights with every other man, I answer, that possibly it may be as you say some time when generations have come and gone in which, from the cradle to the grave, men shall have been taught by society, both by precept and practice, that all are at birth "equal before the law but at present the belief of past generations in the divine right of some to better birth than others shows itself in our children, and causes them not only to yield to oppression too easily, but to regard with awe and reverence any who put forth a claim to superiority of birth, or to having been given authority by those en titled to exercise it. And so these barefooted, straw-hatted (when they had any hats at all), and linsey-clad children ac knowledged the claim to honor and dignity put for ward by the man to whom the State had granted a commission to charge for ferrying people across the Wabash, as being natural and proper. They may, and, I think, did assist in increasing the estimate which Mr. McKinley at first felt disposed to put upon the honor done him, by the readiness with which they acknowledged his claim to be valid and proper. 28 THE BOATMAN OF THE FERRY. Be this as it may, Mr. McKinley enjoyed the dignity of his position and the honor accredited him of being the only man in the community with a prefix to his name, and being contented with the honor he left the work of running the ferry to any other member of the family who chose to attend to it. At first most frequently it was his wife who shoulder ed this duty in addition to the care of her household. Then the oldest of the children began to perform this service, and finally and by degrees the sole charge of the business was given over to her, or rather appeared to settle about and devolve upon her naturally ; probably from the fact that no matter what the weather, or the state of the water in the river, she was always ready to answer the call of any one who desired to be set across, and equally skillful and courageous in the management of the boat. I say "she," for the boatman of the ferry was a girl. At the time of my introducing her to the reader she was nearly thirteen years old, tall, slim, graceful in her motions as one of the willows which leans over the river and dips its twigs in the clear water just below the landing there, and equally as unconscious of the fact. See her now as, standing upon the stern of the THE BOATMAN OF THE FERRY. 29 ferry, she exerts her strength to push it well up to the landing with the flatboat pole. Her feet are bare, and feet and ankles are tanned as brown as that dead leaf floating with the current there. Her sun bonnet has been thrown aside ; her arms are bare and brown half way to the shoulder, and a mass of soft brown hair that would curl beautifully, if only it had proper- attention, hangs about her neck and shoulders. See now, as she bends her supple body to the work of forcing the boat ashore, how like to the willow she is. Yes, that is she. That is Nettie McKinley, or "Net," as she is familiarly called, for the reverence which attaches to her father as being commissioned by two States to run a ferry boat does not descend to her who runs it. Familiarity, you know, is the road by which dignity vacates the premises. If Mr. McKinley was to run the ferry and speak cheerfully and laugh and chat with everybody who crossed with him as his daughter does great man though he is . he would prove the truth of my saying and cease to be addressed with more respect than that bestowed upon his fellow villagers, and the evidence of his being a great man, and wise withal, lies in the fact that he does not run the ferry, and does not permit people to address him too familiarly. And now let me introduce another friend of mine ; one whom you must know if you are to go with me to 30 PHILIP, PHINEAS, PHILANDER. the end of this story, from the Wabash to the Rio Grande, and maybe back again. Dear reader, I present to you the three P's, Phineas Philip Philander Johnson, eldest born of Mathilda S. and Abraham T. Johnson, aged fourteen. I say eldest born, but there is some question about that, as also whether he is most Phineas or Philander or Philip. It all comes about in this way : He was one of triplets born to the Johnsons two years after the town was located and the same spring that the ferry was established. When it became "norrated 'round," to use an expression common to the residents along the Wabash and in some other localities as well ; when it became "norrated 'round" that Mrs. Johnson had three babies, all born on the same day and all boys, every married woman withia ten miles of the ferry struck straight out for the Johnsons' the moment they heard of it ; and every one of them when they saw the new arrivals declared that they ''looked as near alike as three peas in a pod ;" and old man Johnson, who had a touch of the humorous in his composition, finally declared that that was what they should be, and straghtway named them Philip, Phineas and Philander, but when some one asked him which was Philip and which the others, he re plied that "he had not decided yet, and it didn't OR THE THREE P'S. 31 make no difference no way, since nobody could tell tother from which, but as soon as they got growed up a bit he 'lowed to separate 'em out and mark 'em, and have the mark recorded same's they do calves and pigs." But alas and alack ! two of the innocents crossed over to the land of eternal sunshine before a short month had gone by ; and as no one knew which of the P's it was that passed over and which remained, and as people said that anyway the one that stayed was properly the heir of those who went, it was finally decided that this one should have all the names hence Philip Phineas Philander Johnson, or more commonly Phil, or the three P's. Now if any of my readers are inclined to metaphysics and the study of the occult, I suggest to them that here is a field for thought. What, probably or possibly, is the effect upon the two P's who passed over before being distinguished in the minds of their parents from the one who re mained, and what will be the effect upon him of thus receiving the appellation by which his brothers are entitled to be known ? Will the confusion of things and names and persons here affect the karma I believe that the term which our young friend to whom I have just introduced you will be able or compelled to create 32 THE WORLD'S HEROES. for himself ? And will the aura of those who passed over be in any way affected by the acts of him who remains, and who not only bears the names to which they are entitled, but is indistinguishably and permanently mixed up with them in the minds of the parents and the community in which the latter is still living ? You will note that Phil is not greatly different from other boys of his age and surroundings. I may as well tell you here, so that you may not suf fer any disappointment later on, that now that he is a man he is not greatly different from other men. This is just a plain narrative of the lives of plain everyday people possessed of plain everday virtues and weaknesses ; and that there has been anything worth recording in their lives is due rather to the circumstances by which at times they have been sur- rountfed than to any extraordinarily heroic qualities possessed by them. There are thousands equally heroic by nature of whom the world never heard, for the reason that heroism is so common a virtue among the people. That which is not of the common only is made matter of history. The everyday life of the common people of this and most other countries is filled with acts of heroism ; THE WORLD'S HEROES. 33 heroic forbearance under multiplied wrongs ; heroic self-denial, growing out of love for country and family and friends. I do not write this narrative be cause there was or is anything worthy of chronicling in the people of " whom I write, but rather because of the events by which they were surrounded and in which they played their part by reason of being there. Phil Johnson, now, is, as you see, a common enough looking boy, in blue jean overalls and hickory shirt. His straw hat has lost half its brim, but so have the hats of half the boys of his age throughout the town, and the other half will be gone in another week. What would you expect of hats that serve the purpose of footballs nearly as 'much as of head gear among a crowd of growing young savages, such as most boys are ? If you do not believe Phil is growing, look at his pants half-way up to his knees, now, exposing the calf of a well-turned leg, and preparing to show still more of it before the first frost. Yes, his face is freckled and tanned with the sun, and his hair has been given a lick and a promise to day probably for several days ; possibly the promise without the lick ; but if the lick, then it was given with a coarse comb that was lacking half its teeth, 34 A GENTLE REMINDER. and the promise was of a more thorough combing some other time, and will probably be kept next Sunday, when his mother compels him to put on a clean shirt and overalls and slick himself up generally, preparatory to going to "meetin';" for I would not have you think the town wholly without gospel privileges. On the contrary, services are held with considerable regularity every third Sunday in the open air if the weather permits, and if not, in the house the only one, by the way, builded wholly of boards of which the town can boast in which, during the winter months, the district school is kept. One thing I wish to remind my reader of, lest he or she may have forgotten. We forget so many things as we get along up in years. I would not be a bit surprised, now, if you, dear reader, would deny that you were ever in love with a freckled, sun-browned girl with bare feet and a calico frock, but everybody knows you have been. Why, I'll wager a box of the best Havanas that I can go with you back to the old neighborhood where you were raised and get proof enough to convict you in a justice's court of having been in love with a dozen such in your boyhood days. A GENTLE REMINDER. 35 And you, dear madame, to my positive knowledge you were in love a half dozen times at least, or thought you were, before you got out of short dresses. Some of your sweethearts were fair skinned, tow- headed little men in nankeen waists that buttoned onto their panto, and some of them wore roundabouts and some wore coats and tucked their pants into their boot legs so as to show their red tops ; lords and knights, worthy to rank with the greatest and noblest of earth. Oh, you can not deceive me. I have the wis dom which comes of years and experience, and I know all about it. Now, if you want to recall old memories and see yourself as you were before the cares and burdens of life existed for you, just you watch what's left of the P's for a little while. There, didn't I tell you ? He has left the crowd of youngsters with whom he was playing and is off in the direction of the ferry. He has heard a halloo which he knows comes from some one on the other side of the river wanting to be ferried across, and is off like a shot to help Nettie with the boat. No, no, don't stop him. Let him go ; there is nothing in nature more innocent than the loves of 36 DON'T. children, of boys for girls and girls for boys. For pity's sake do not do anything to make them ashamed of their love. A knowledge of what sin is and its possibilities comes soon enough ; let them be innoceni while they may. o "WHERE IS YOTTB BROTHER?" CHAPTER II. STARTING OUT TO MAKE A MILLION. As Phil came over the bank Nettie was just in the act of pushing the boat off shore, having already loosened the chain with which it was fastened, and thrown it upon the boat. She had purposely delayed a little in doing this, making pretenses that the chain would not un fasten, but the moment she heard the sound of running feet on the bank above, the difficulty vanished and she began to push off. Phil gave a shove at the prow and sprang on board, going at once to the tiller for the purpose of so turning the rude craft as to get the best use of the current in forcing it across. Evidently he was well acquainted with the handling of it. The truth is, he seldom spent much time any where else than on or about the ferry unless on compulsion from his parents. Ever since Nettie began to manage the boat Phil had been her assistant as often as hs could escape from the tasks assigned him at home. (37) 38 PHIL AND NETTIE. "'Spect he's down to the ferry," was always the reply of any member of the Johnson family when any other member inquired where Phil was. As for the children of his own age belonging to other families, they never inquired of his own people of his whereabouts ; if he was not in sight on the premises, neither cutting wood in front of the door, weeding the truck patch or picking up chips, they knew at once that he had been sent off on an errand, in which case it was no use to ask for him, or he was at the ferry ; and it was there that they went to make their inquiries. ' 'Phil's got to chop wood this afternoon ;" ''Phil's got to hoe the onions;" ''Phil's father made him go hunt the hogs down in the bottom ; they're goin' to get 'em home and finish fattin' 'em." All these among other reasons Nettie herself had been heard to give in answer to questions as to where Phil was ; which simply goes to show the existence of a pretty good understanding between them, and that Phil was in the habit of reporting to her any pressing engagements made for him by his parents in advance of his meeting them. In fact the intimacy between Phil and Nettie had been of so long standing that no one had observed ixs beginning, or appeared to notice its existence any more than if they had been brother and sister. To the PHIL AND NETTIE. 39 children themselves it appeared as it certainly was the most natural thing in the world. Nettie's first memory of the ferry, which was her first memory of any thing, was of playing with other children about it, and Phil's memory went no further back. When Nettie first began to manage the ferry boat Phil was by to encourage her in her ambition, and when the boat made its first trip with her in charge Phil went along to assist. That was years ago now, and Phil had always been her chief assistant since. Not that he was the only one she had, for every child in the village was more or less at the ferry, and not one of them had reached the mature age of twelve years without having, one time or another, stood at the tiller and tried to guide the boat. But none of them seemed so greatly to enjoy the fun or labor which ever you desire to consider it, or to so persistently hang around the boat as Phil. And so it was that gradually he came to be looked upon as in some way one of the managers of the ferry, having rights if not duties there. All this, I say, had seemed natural' enough to everybody, and to none more so than to Phil and Nettie. That there could be any reason why they should blush to acknowledge the intimacy which existed be tween them had never occurred to either, or at 4O NETTIE GROWS SHY. least not until a few days previous to the time of which I write, nor did either understand why it was so now. Only recently a strange feeling had sprung up in their hearts ; one which made them shy of each other in the presence of older persons. Just why it was so, neither could well have told ; and indeed they would probably have denied its existence. It began when a short time before a couple of gentlemen, one, of whom lived in a railroad town ten miles away, bit who oc casionally had business which required him to travel the road to the ferry and so was known to Nettie by sight, and another, a young man she had never seen, had crossed together. Phil was away at the time, and having as it chanced always seen them together when he had crossed hereto fore, the gentleman noticed his absence and inquired of the girl if her brother was sick that she was tending the ferry alone. "Who, Phil?" she asked in reply; adding: "He ain't my brother. He's Mr. Johnson's boy, and he couldn't help run the boat to-day 'cause he has to hoe in the truck patch." "But isn't he hired to help you tend the ferry ?" asked the gentleman. ' 'I supposed you were both Mr. McKinley's children." "Oh, no," answered Nettie, "Phil isn't hired; he AND LEARNS TO BLUSH. 41 just helps me because he likes to run the boat, and be cause because " She blushed and stopped. She was going to say "because we like each other," but something, perhaps it was the amused smile playing around the mouth of her questioner, caused an embarrassed feeling before un known to her. The gentleman finished the sentence for her by adding : "Because he is your sweetheart, eh!" And for the first time in her life she blushed. Just why she blushed she could not have told. Indeed, I suppose she did not know she was blushing, but she knew that her face felt suddenly uncomfortably warm, and she turned away and pretended to be busy with the tiller, and never once again looked at either gentleman, neither replied to their smilingly pronounced "good byes" as they left the boat. And when, after completing his stint for the afternoon, Phil joined her at the ferry as usual, she greeted him less boisterously than was her custom, and when any one was by appeared shy of him, and as if she wished to avoid being seen sitting or standing by his side. Phil felt this shyness rather than saw it with his natural eyes, and instinctively tried to keep closer to her than ever, which only seemed to make her the more anxious to keep away from him. When he went home and to bed that night he had for the first time in 4 PHIL HAS A NEW SENSATION. his life a feeling that there was something wrong with the universe some way, as if the world was out of kelter and needed fixing, though just how or why he could not say. But the next day when he went again to the ferry the feeling had all passed away and the world had re sumed its natural brightness. Nettie, too, appeared to have forgotten, if she had ever had anything to remember, for she hailed him with accustomed famil iarity, and they spent a pleasant half day together, though once or twice when grown people were around there was something about Nettie quite indefinable to Phil, yet which caused a slight return of the feeling of the night before. But the feeling, whatever it was, passed in a mo ment. When he went to his dinner and his afternoon stint of weeding in the truck patch he was light hearted as a boy could be and did an unusually good job of weeding ; and the next day when he had chop ped and split enough wood for his mother to bake with and was again at liberty, and hearing the halloo of some one wanting to cross the river, he darted away as we have seen, with heart as light as his heels. As we have seen, too, Nettie was waiting and hoping for his coming ; even pretending to those who wished to be brought across that she was having trouble in PHIL HAS A NEW SENSATION. 43 unfastening the boat, in order to give Phil tima to get there before she cast off. Had she been straining her eyes in an effort to recognize the parties waiting to come over as intently as she was straining her ears to catch the sound of Phil's approaching steps, she would have seen that the travelers were the same gentlemen who had crossed over two days before, to one of whom she owed the knowledge of her ability to blush ; in which case she would probably have hurried to push off before Phil's arrival, instead of making an excuse to await his coming. When Phil had taken the tiller after jumping aboard, Nettie went and stood by him, and, all un conscious of the strangers watching them, laughed and chatted merrily, their eyes meanwhile observing the motion of the boat, and Phil moving the tiller this way and that almost mechanically, as long practice in a thing enables any one to do. As they neared the opposite shore Nettie picked up the chain, and the moment the boat touched sprang ashore, ready to throw it over the post placed there for that purpose, when, glancing up, she rec ognized the travelers, and was instantly covered with confusion. All the old feeling of embarrass ment came back to her, and she stood for a brief space of time with her hands extended as if in the 44 A LITTLE TIFF. act of letting the ring drop over the stake, but for getting to let go of it, while the blood suffused her face and neck. "So the captain's mate has returned, has he ?" in terrogated the elder gentleman, glancing from Nettie to Phil and back again ; ami then added, laughingly, < 'The brave knight performs the service required of him by the powers which be, and instantly flies to the presence of his sweetheart ;" at which his companion laughed also. Neither Phil nor Nettie knew just what he meant by his remark, but they did know that in some mild way they were being made sport of for being so much together, and instantly they became silent. Only once during the few moments they were swinging back to their starting point did either speak, and then Phil asked some simple question in a low tone, which Nettie answered in a still lower one, and without looking at him ; and when the gentlemen had left the boat and ridden up the bank and out of sight, she also went up the bank and into her father's cabin, and did not return for more than an hour, and not until Phil had gone home. The next morning, when Mr. Johnson, standing at the foot of the ladder which led up into the loft of his story-and-a-half log cabin, and looking up at the open landing above his head, cabled first, "Phil," and then MR. JOHNSON MAKES A DISCOVERY. 45 "Oh, Phil," two or three times, and getting no answer had climbed to his sleeping place with the intention of waking him by some niore vigorous measures, he found the loft empty. Phil was not there, "Blamed if the youngster ain't up and out a'ready," he said aloud, as he descended to the lower floor again ; ' 'wonder what's on hand to make him turn out without being called ?" ' 'Phil's up a'ready," he said to the boy's mother, as he passed from the log part into the frame kitchen in which she was preparing breakfast. ' 'Where d'ye s'pose he is ; ain't gone down to the ferry before breakfast, I reckon ?" Whether Mrs. Johnson felt a sudden premonition of evil, or whether she thought her husband had been mis taken in supposing that Phil had arisen, I can not tell, but she laid down the knife with which she was turning her corn cakes and went into the other room and up the ladder, as her husband had done. She was gone some minutes, and returned with a scared look upon her face. She held in her hand a piece of paper, evidently the blank leaf torn from some school book, on which was scrawled in a big hand : "Tell Nettie I've gone away ; when I've made a million of dollars I'll cum back and marry her.' "PHIL." Two weeks later, a letter addressed in the same 40 TELL NETTIE. schoolboy hand arrived, and was given to Mrs. Johnson. It ran as follows : "DEAR MOTHER: I'm going to go to Kansas to herd cattle for a man. We are goin' through with teams. When I get a good farm and lots of cattle of my own I'll come back after you all. Your affectionate son, PHIL. Post skrip. Tell Nettie." IN FRONT OP THE STAMPED*. CHAPTER III. IN FRONT OF THE STAMPEDE RIDING THE TRAIL. Ride ! ride like the devil; ride for your life, man ! Stick spur in your pony's flank, and press hard and press long; lean low over your saddle bow speak quick, sharp words of encouragement and command to your beast, and ride for your life ! for behind you, like the waves of a mad sea, are ten thousand frightened steers, and you are scarce the length of your horse ahead of them 1 If your pony stumble if in the dark- yiess of night made black by overhanging clouds his foot shall strike a prairie dog hole, or if he fail to clear at a bound the ruins of some deserted corral, the location of which neither horse nor rider knows anything of if anything happen by which his speed is checked btjt for one short moment the hoofs that are thunder ing at your heels shall tramp every semblance of hu manity out of your body before you can utter a prayer or curse ! It was in the spring of 188- that Maxwell's big herd . (47) 4& THE MAXWELL DRIVE. started up the trail from the Rio Grande country on the*/ long journey through Texas and the Indian Territory to Kansas. For months the Maxwells, aided by their men, had been rounding up and branding and preparing for the trip, and finally all was ready, and the herd was started North. Herds starting from as low down as Laredo, or anywhere in Southern Texas, must start early in the season, as it is an all summer drive if cattle are to be brought through in good condition. Maxwell had in this drive a good round five thou sand longhorns, or Texas steers, mostly three-year-olds. The plan was to take them North by easy stages to well up in the Indian Territory, winter there, and push them into market as early as they could be got into fit condition. The outfit consisted of ten men, besides a cook. Each of the ten men was supplied with several Spanish ponies for riding ; for on such drives frequent changes of horses are absolutely necessary. The cook was furnished with a pair of stout mules, a wagon for "chuck" or provisions, consisting principally of beans and black coffee, though a steer is always killed when needed on such expeditions, particularly when passing through strips of country where there are cattle at range. Cattle men, as a rule to which there are exceptions much prefer having men in their employ, when they A STORM SBTS IN. 49 want fresh meat, kill a steer or heifer bearing tome brand other than their own, and applaud it as a good joke a sort of sharp trick. Human nature is not much different on the plains than elsewhere ; neither are cattle men or cowboys worse than others ; but those who engage in the business as employers or employed do so either from a desire to acquire wealth rapidly or a love of freedom from the restraints of law, and it is natural among such that a disregard for legal rights, even a pleasure in disregarding them, should manifest itself ; but let the sympathies of this class be appealed to let a companion, or even a stranger, be in need, and none so ready to extend a helping hand ; and the most ready of all is often he who is most prompt on occasion to wrong another in the killing of a steer or branding a maverick. The drive had been on the road but two or three days, and was hardly broken in long-horned steers that have never been handled except as they were caught with a lasso, thrown to the ground and branded with a hot iron, never get very well broken in, even to driving in a bunch when, just as night approached, a -rain storm came up accompanied with wind, and at once the herd began to drift , that is, to work slowly ahead with the storm. The only thing to do when a herd begins drifting, and especially if it be a large one, is for the herders to 5O AND THE HERD BEGINS TO DRIFT. keep with it, riding in front and at the sides ; keeping it from breaking up into bunches, and so becoming separ ated. Cattle do not travel very rapidly in such cases, but they keep moving steadily, with heads down, noses close to the ground, and any effort to stop them is likely to result in the thing most to be dreaded a stampede, and a division of the drove into bunches, whereby it is likely to become mixed with other herds. When the storm came up, the men, a few at a time, went back to the cook's wagon and secured such proven der as they could for themselves, caught and mounted fresh ponies and resumed their places in the line which they had formed about the drifting herd, endeavoring by the singing of songs and by keeping even pace with the cattle as they drifted to keep them from becoming uneasy, and so hold them together. And now, reader, if you have ever hankered after the free and easy life of a cowboy, this is a good time to think the matter over and arrive at a decision. Fancy yourself one of Maxwell's hands on this drive and the night in question. You have been in the saddle all day and have changed horses twice ; the night is black, but you have been out on dark nights, and on rainy nights and on horseback before. Very well. Now recall, if you can, the darkest night in which you were ever out. Imagine the rain falling steadily and every now and then rustled and rattled about by a gust of ALONE IN THE DARKNESS. 5 1 wind, yourself astride of a Spanish pony, who would feel insulted if he thought you considered him thoroughly broke, even to the saddle, and by you. We are on a prairie miles, yes hundreds of miles, in extent over which neither of us has ever ridden, and we are two of but a handful of men in charge of some thousands of half wild steers drifting with the storm. We separate here ; you turn your pony's head with the storm and ride slowly in advance of the drifting herd. I continue on out of your sight and hearing, and then do as you have done, turn my pony's head with the wind, and drift. You are alone now ; you see nothing, unless per chance a flash of lightning discloses for an instant a sea of horns, of long slim horns above a mass of black moving beasts liable at any moment to become frantic with fear and rush at you and over you, trampling you down and mangling you beyond possibility of recognition. Hour after hour the storm beats down and the cattle drift. You were soaked through and through hours ago. For hours you have not so much as seen the pony's head upon which you ride ; you do not know which way or where you are going, or how going, only that you are drifting with the storm and the herd. You hear the tramp of feet, the rattle of horns knocking against each other, and occasionally the voice of another herder singing, or rather yelling, for the double purpose of $* THE STEERS STAMPEDE. keeping the steers as quiet as may be and of letting hit companions know about where he is. You attempt to lift up an answering voice, but the wind comes with a gust, snatches your sombrero from your head and whirls it away in the darkness. If there was only the least bit of light it would look like a great dusky bat sailing through the air, but it is too dark to see anything ; and besides, the same gust of wind that robbed you of your sombrero drove the words you were trying to speak back into your mouth and down your throat, choking you and forcing you to turn aside your head to catch breath again as you ride to-night with Maxwell's drive of Texas steers. And just as you turn your head, and before you can catch your breath, the steers stampede. Your hat carried by the wind and skimming over their backs has done it. You feel the first mighty impulse, the first frightened thrill of that compacted mass ; the ground trembles, and for an instant, with the wind in your throat, you are confused and imagine yourself in a storm at sea. Only the agility of your pony saves you from instant death, for you are in the lead and the herd that is coming down upon you is as blind with fear as are you with the darkness. Only ten minutes since the stampede began and it seems an hour ; you are a mile, miles from where you started and still alive but not put of danger. A Texas IN FRONT OF THE STAMPEDE. 53 ateer is almost as fleet of foot and long of wind as a cow pony, and you had but a few yards the start, having kept close up to them that your presence might quiet them. You are gaining on them, however, and they may slacken their, pace any moment now. But no, they have taken fresh fright and are rushing on faster than ever. And what's that ? Great God ! they are closing in on the sides. In the darkness the edges of the drive have moved faster than the center and you are flanked upon both sides, and in their fright now they are closing in instead of scattering. Something touches your stirrup as you ride ; you feel the presence of something beside you, keeping even pace with you ; you think it a steer and that the herd has quite closed in on you ; but no, it is another rider and another pony. In the race we who separated in front of the drive hours ago are driven together by the pressure of the herd upon our right and our left. We are still behind the leaders upon both flanks. We do not see this, we feel that it is so ; there is something in the air, in the trembling of the ground, in the efforts of the animals we ride to put forth increased speed that tells it to us. But how dark it is. We lean forward upon our saddle bows; we strain our eyes; we drive our rowels afresh into the flanks of our steeds, we fly through the darkness. 54 IN FRONT OF THE STAMPEDE. There comes a flash of lightning, not vivid, but enough to show us the ground in front and the herd closing in upon us. There is but a little space on either side not rilled by the black mass of moving bodies and horns. The light has vanished now and we can feel the darkness around and about us ; and now we feel the touch of warm bodies against our legs ; the herd has closed in upon us ; we are a part of the mass of surging brutes, surrounded, doomed. Only for an instant. Another flash of lightning and an opening appears ; we lack but a length of being in the lead, our ponies see it, understand it, put forth new strength and clear the press. We are saved. No, one falls, his pony's foot caught in a prairie dog hole, and the mass surges over him. To-morrow search will be made and a mass of blood and mangled flesh will be found and given such burial as is possible, but for that he who rides has no time to think. He is out of the mass and again in the lead and a good ten miles from the point where the stampede began, and the surging mass of bodies and horns behind is beginning to recover from its fright, to check its speed. He is saved. But how do you like to ride the drive ? Has the wild free life of the cowboy the same charm for you it had before you rode this night with Maxwell's herd ? RIDING THE DRIVE. 55 When the morning came after the stampede and the ride from which one never returned, the drive was found to have been kept well together, considering the distance and the character of the night. It had divided into two parts, but luckily both had taken the same general direction and had come to a halt when the storm ceased near daybreak, not more than two or three miles apart, so that the difficulty of gathering them together was not great. But it was noon before all the herders had opportunity to get anything to eat or to change their tired ponies for fresh ones. Among the last to show up at camp was one of the men who was in front of the drive when the stampede began. What remained of the other had been buried two hours before and a rude mark placed over the hastily dug grave. "That was a close call you had last night, Phil," remarked one of the men. "I thought you and Bob had both gone on the long drive. I knew you and he were in front, and was afraid the brutes had pushed ahead at the sides so as to flank you. I was half way back on the side to which the wind was blowing and could hear you while you couldn't hear me, but I kept calling to the boys in front of me to keep singing or calling so we could each know where we all were and keep the steers as much together as possible. When the cattle started I thought of you and Bob, for I wasn't 56 TOO ROCKY FOR COMFORT. in any special danger myself, not more than common at such times ; and when that flash of lightning came I saw you both, just for a second; must have been on ~ bit of a rise just then, so I could see the whole mass of brutes and you and Bob bein' closed in on, but only a few lengths behind the foremost of the drive. I hoped then you'd both come through, but I reckon Bob's pony must have stumbled. Well, everybody's got to ride that trail sometime, but I'd rather die some other way than be trampled to death by a lot of longhorn steers." "I, too," returned the other. "I don't believe I'm a coward, but there are things about this business that are a little bit too rocky for comfort. I've more than half a mind to say that this will be my last drive. Soon's we round up in Kansas guess I'll settle up with the company and take what's coming to me and start in for myself somewhere." "Coin' back to the States?" "No ; at least not yet. I must make a stake first ; a little one, anyway. I was only a boy when I left home ran away, you know and I promised not to go back until I was worth a million. Then I dropped down a peg or two, and fixed the line at a big ranch and lots ot cattle ; and I must at least have a little ranch and a few cattle, or I'd be ashamed to show myself in the old neighborhood." THE THREE P'S AGAIN. 57 "Well, you came mighty nigh being saved that trouble. I calculate you were only one jump ahead of death last night, and not much time to spare to make it in. But what's the use of whinin' ? Better eat our chuck while we can get it." And the two turned to the lay-out provided by the cook, and proceeded to satisfy their appetites. And this is Phil Johnson, the man who so narrowly escaped death last night, and is now sitting on a bit ol limestone rock, drinking black coffee from a tin cup and eating grub from a chuck wagon ; the boy you used to know when he lived in that little town on the Wabash, and 'tended ferry with Nettie McKinley when not engaged in weeding the truck patch, bringing in wood for his mother, or hunting hogs or cattle in the river bottoms. He has not got the million dollars yet, you see, not even the ranch and big lot of cattle, but he has been to Kansas, as he said in his letter to his mother that he was going to do, and from Kansas has drifted to the Lone Star State, where we now find him drifting back again, a rider for Maxwell, one of the largest cattle men of the West. Yes, he has grown. He is a man now. Let me see it was five, six, eight years ago that he ran away from home because his little sweetheart left him one day without saying good-bye, and hid away in her father's cabin. How time flies. Eight and fourteen that makes $8 ABOUT THAT MILLION DOLLARS. twenty-two. Phil is a year past his majority now, and Nettie herself is past twenty. The accidental reference of Phil's companion to the States called up memories which haunted Phil all that day "and the next and the next. He could not forget the old home ; oh no, ho had never for gotten it, nor the ferry, nor Nettie , neither his pur pose of going back some day and surprising them all by the amount of wealth he would display ; but the desire to return had never been so strong upon him as now. Perhaps it was because of his narrow escape from death in the stampede, though, as for that, he had been near death often before in those eight years. Ever since he left home or, at least, ever since arriving in Kansas with the emigrant he fell in with a few days after leaving he had lived upon the frontier ; most of the time as a herder of cattle. Twice he had formed one of a little company that had followed a party of cattle thieves across the Rio Grande into old Mexico, and retaken the stolen beeves after a smart skirmish, in which men had bitten the dust upon both sides ; and once, when with a herd in New Mexico, he had had a brush with the Comanches, and came near getting his scalp lifted. And all this time he had kept in mind his ACROSS THE BORDER. 59 promise of some time going back to the old neighbor hood and Nettie. He had not, however, made much headway toward the million or even the ranch and cattle. He had lived in the main the life of other cowboys, which means getting anywhere from fifteen to fifty dollars a month and spending it whenever opportunity offers. What could one expect of such a boy and such com panions ? Yet Phil had not been drunken or wild, as many are ; he had simply spent freely when he had anything to spend and a chance to spend it. Nothing is so hard to resist as the temptation to spend when among those who are in the habit of spending freely ; and nowhere in the world, or among any class of met', is one more meanly thought of for niggardliness than among cow boys. Phil's outfit was always of the best. His saddle cost fifty dollars. His spurs were of silver ; his pistols finely mounted ; his blankets were made in old Mexico, and were thick and heavy and fine, and he dressed in the best of cowboy style. He generally owned a pony or two besides, but ponies are cheap from fifteen to fifty dollars a month's wages. And this was the extent of Phil's savings to date ; this the start he had made upon his million. But now, as he rode day after day, or stood his 60 THE COST OF AN OUTFIT. lonely guard at night, his thoughts turned more seriously to the past and also to the future. For the first time he realized fully that the years were passing, and that if ever he was to make good in any considerable degree his boyish boast of securing a competence and returning to the village of his birth, it was time he set about it. He had not really intended for earnest what he had said to his companion the morning after the stampede about this drive with Maxwell being his last. That was said without consideration, or at least without any very great consideration, but it proved in the end to be a prophecy. The more he thought of the words he had spoken, the more he determined to make them good, and he resolved to leave his employer the mo ment he could do so with a few hundred dollars ahead, and to begin in earnest the work of making a home for himself and and, yes, Nettie ; that is, if she had not forgotten him if she had not married some one else. He wondered if she had forgotten, if she had mar ried. Sometimes he fancied she had and tried to pic ture her living in the little old town on the banks of the Wabash as the wife of one of his former play mates. At first this idea rather amused him ; he had been gone long enough and had seen enough of the world to have a realizing sense of what a quiet, out of the way place it was. Not even a flatboat floating PHIL CALLS UP OLD MEMORIES, 6 1 down with the current any more, to break the monot ony of life in the little town. True, there had not been many such when he was a boy, but he could re member a few ; could even remember seeing an oc casional little steam vessel working its way to the small city forty miles up the stream. But all that was over now ; no steamers, no flatboats even ; the railroads had caused all that to cease being profitable, and at the same time by building up larger towns at short distances away, had left this little town with out a thing to furnish excitement or even to stimulate conversation. Thinking of it he could not help wonder ing if the inhabitants were still talking of the last flatboat which floated down the river four years before he left and got snagged and sunk a half mile below the ferry. Ah, yes, the ferry. He had gone with Nettie and a lot of other children to see the boat where she lay. Joe Bronson was among them he remembered. He wondered if Joe lived there still, and if he hadn't been making up to Nettie during these years of his own absence. Then he began to be jealous of his probable rival. The thought which had but a moment ago provoked but a mild species of curiosity, a wanting to know, had, now, that it took different shape and a person ality, excited an uneasy feeling which reminded 62 AND GROWS JEALOUS OF AN IMAGINARY RIVAL. of the time he noticed Nettie's shyness, and he felt half tempted to quit the drive at once and break for home then and there. But he remembered his boast of coming back rich and he felt ashamed to return empty handed. Then came thoughts of his mother and all her kindness and self sacrifice. He remembered how she had worked and economized in order that the family might be kept together and comfortable. He did not realize it at the time, but he understood it all now, and he compared her labors with his own and her spending with his, since he started out for himself, and he felt ashamed and humili ated. Hard as he saw his own life as a cowboy to have been, he felt that her life had been incomparably harder ; for it was a life of ceaseless toil, of duties never ended and without a thing to break the monotony from year end to year end. "No wonder the folks used to talk of that flatboat getting snagged four years after it occurred," he mut tered. ' 'Why, hang it all, that's the only thing that ever did occur so far as I can remember ; there wasn't any thing else they could talk about." "And how mother used to scrimp and save every penny and go without things herself for us chil dren ;" so his mind ran on. "I believe the twenty- five cent pieces we used to get to spend at Christ inas and the fourth of July cost her more self-denial THE OTHER TWO P'S. 63 than it would me to have sent home a thousand dol lars." "And father, too, he must be getting old now ; how jolly he used to be with us youngsters. Think of his naming us triplets Philip, Philander and Phineas. He must have thought it a huge joke, and so it was. Wonder now what became of the other two the two that died ? Reckon they ain't cowboys ? Reckon they wouldn't have run away as I did just as I was getting big enough to pay for my keep, and never let 'em know where they were all this time ? Hang me if I ain't a worse brute than one of them longhorn steers." You see he was getting tender hearted if not sen timental, thinking of the past and all it had been and might have been. Such thoughts come to us all at times, I think ; thoughts of the goodness and sweetness of our mothers of the sacrifices which they have made for us of their love for us and sorrow endured because of us ; and it is well that such thoughts do come. They seem to break up the crust of selfishness which forms about one's heart in contact with the world, and make room for kindly feelings toward all mankind. The result of Phil's thoughts was to change to a fixed purpose the impulse which came to him that morning to save his earnings, and as soon as he could, 64 PHIL with credit to himself, return to his old home and do what was possible to compensate his parents for his long absence. And he clenched his good resolution on the spot by sending from the first town he reached a long letter to his father, telling them of his wandering, of his present whereabouts and firm purpose to begin ' laying up a stake, " and ended by sending with it every dollar of money he had at the time. MB. BROWN, OF Nsw YORK. CHAPTER IV. IN WHICH MR. BROWN, OF NEW YORK, IS INTRODUCED TO THE WILD WEST. AFTERWARD HE BUYS SOME STEERS. The long, warm months of summer passed slowly away, with the herd moving steadily nothward, and September saw them still on the road. But early in October the drive reached the vicinity of Caldwell, Kan sas, and were bedded for the last time by the men who had brought them through from the Rio Grande, for here they were taken in hand by partners of Maxwell, who shipped them East by rail. Phil had expected a letter from home to reach him here, but none awaited him. He had settled with his employer, receiving his season's pay in a lump, having religiously refrained from drawing any on the long drive ; being determined to have at least a nest egg with which to start out on his own hook when the drive should end. (6$) 66 MR. BROWN, A "TENDERFOOT.* He drew wages for seven months, amounting to over three hundred dollars, more money than he had ever possessed at any one time, and had he re ceived a letter from home, as he fondly expected, I am not sure he would not have weakened in his purpose of not going home until he had made his fortune. Even as it was he felt strangely inclined to go. Then his pride arose, and he began to feel himself deeply wronged. They had forgotten him, he said, or had never for given him for running away. As if a mother could ever forget her child. He had not said anything in his letter about Nettie. At first he had thought he would, then concluded not to, thinking his mother would probably mention her in the letter she would write to him, and so he would learn whether she was married or not, without having asked. Not getting any letter discouraged him, and after giving up the idea of going home he felt tempted to go on a lark, and blow in every dollar of his earnings, and return to his old life again. But better thoughts intervened, and, after lying around for a few days, he entered into partnership with a ' 'tender foot, " as a man unacquainted with frontier life is called. This stranger, whose name was Samuel Brown, put in four thousand dollars against Phil's outfit. PHIL BECOMES A CAPITALIST. 6? valued at three hundred, and his ready cash, three hundred more, each to receive equally of all profit ; Phil's superior knowledge and experience being con sidered an equivalent to Mr. Brown's extra quantity of capital. Thus elevated to the character of a capitalist, Phil's ambition took a fresh lease of life, and his self respect went up several degrees ; nothing now could have tempted him to blow his money in at a gambling hell. Brown, his partner, although an Eastern man, and unacquainted with the business, was evidently a man of pluck and endurance. He had been bred in the city, but having a natural love for a life of freedom, and hearing of the fortunes being made in the cattle business, had turned his little capital into money and gone West for the purpose of investing it. Happening to meet Phil he took a fancy to him ; and learning from the Maxwells that he was trusty and experienced, struck up a partnership with him, and, ten days after arriving in Caldwell, Phil and Brown started back along the trail the former had just passed over, on their way to buy a drove of cattle for themselves. Nothing of special interest occurred on their way down ; that is, nothing of interest to the reader. Every thing was interesting to Phil's partner, Mr. Brown, 68 MR. BROWN AND THE BUCKING PONY. from the start. Even the pony he purchased to carry him on the trip proved a subject of absorbing interest for a time. The pony also appeared deeply interested in Mr. Brown. Evidently he recognized him as a "tenderfoot" at sight, and the moment Mr. Brown swung himself into the saddle the pony proceeded to introduce him to the ways of the country which he was invading. First he reached around and took Mr. Brown by the leg, as if feeling for his muscle, in an endeavor to ascertain the probabilities of his being able to walk to Texas in case a necessity for doing so should arise. Apparently satisfied on this point, and being in vited by Mr. Brown to proceed, he proceeded ; that is, he proceeded to place all four of his feet close to gether, put his nose with his feet, and jump into the air. Brown went up with him but forgot to come down when he did. Instead of coming down with the pony he kept on going up, and when he did come down he landed on his head not the pony's head, but i his own. He lay doubled up in a heap for a second or two, and then got upon his feet and put out his hand and spread his fingers wide apart and beat the air THE BUCKING PONY AND MR. BROWN. 69 faintly, as if feeling around for something, he did not seem to know just what. Then he came to, and straightened himself up and looked at the pony with blood in his eye ; there was blood on his nose also, but that is not worth mentioning. Then the pony turned his head to one side and looked at him, brought his feet back to their first position and shook himself as if he had said: "Well, my young tender foot, what do you think of the Wild West by this time ?" Then Brown made for him, and got him by the bridle, and crowded him up against the corral, and spoke to him in language which encouraged a bystander to remark that "Brown would make a success as a cow boy yet." Then Brown argued with the pony some more, and finally succeeded, with the help of two other men, in getting mounted again ; upon which the pony proceeded as before to bring his feet together under the center of his body, put his nose to the ground and spring about eight feet into the air. This time Brown was expecting something of the kind and was prepared for it. He rose with the pony and also came down with him, doing both in 'good style; but as the pony struck the ground stiff-legged and as this was what Mr. Brown was not expecting, he immediately rose again, and when he came down this 7O OFF IN GOOD STYLE. time it was on the ground on the spot where the pony had stood a second before. Recognizing the fact that Mr. Brown had gone up into the air again, and his experience with tenderfeet not enabling him to determine whether or not he intended coming down, and, if so, whether he had any particular spot selected on which to alight, he considerately moved forward a few yards and went to nibbling grass until wanted. Again Brown arose from the ground and made for the pony, but so far from being able to m , unt him was he that Phil had first to catch him wittf hi; lasso, after which, with some help, Brown again jTuitec* n > "pre pared to stay with him," he said; but the pony, who had done nothing for a month, evidently felt that simply pitching Brown off was not sufficient exercise, and so instead of bucking he started off at a run, whereat Brown straightened up in the saddle and having the bridle to hold on to succeeded in keeping his seat. Phil followed after at the same rattling pace and the two passed out of the town in what Brown felt to be pretty good style. In fact I think he considered this part of the performance quite creditable, as that night, sitting about their first camp, he remarked to Phil that he wished he could have had taken a photograph of them selves as they came out of town, to send back to his folks. This, however, did not prevent a feeling of un- THE PRICE OF YEARLING STEERS. ?I certainty regarding his ability to stay with the pony in case he began bucking again, and when they saddled up the next morning, Phil, observing with what suspicion Brown eyed the pony, and knowing from experience just how lame and pre his partner must be with this first day's riding, had compassion on him and offered to exchange mounts until his pony was thoroughly broke in, a proposition which Brown acceded to with some apparent reluctance but much inward satisfac tion. In time Brown became a fearless and fairly good rider ; but I doubt if the remembrance of his introduction to the ways of the "Wild West," or at least that portion of it represented by bucking ponies, affords him any especial pleasure even yet. Arriving in Texas the two men bought four hundred head of yearling steers, paying eight dollars apiece for them, and proposed to push out into New Mexico, where Phil felt certain of being able to find a range suitable to their wants. They accordingly bought a wagon for the trans portation of provisions, ammunition, and the few tools they should need to build a permanent camp with. They bought a pair of mules and harness, and hired a cheap hand to act as cook and to drive the team on the journey. They also bought a number of ponies, about half of them being three-year-old mares, so that they 7* TWO WAYS OF AVOIDING WAR. might be making a start toward raising their own cow ponies while their herd of steers was growing. Of course they had to go well armed. While there is really far less lawlessness and dis regard for human life among the cattle men and cowboys along our frontiers than the blood and thunder stories told of them would lead people to suppose, there are yet a sufficient number of reckless characters among them to make it wise to go armed. There are two ways of avoiding the probabilities of war ; the first one is for no one to carry any of the weapons of war ; the other is for everybody to carry them. The former is undoubtedly the best way provided all agree to it, but as everybody can not be induced to do so, a proper regard for one's own interest in life and long-horned steers and Spanish ponies is best ex hibited in the purchase and wearing of a brace of revolvers, to which if two or three are intending to strike off by themselves with a small herd it is well to add a good repeating rifle. I have noticed that the Indians especially have a profound respect for a repeating rifle. Such as do not understand its workings regard it as a device of the Evil Spirit to assist in driving the red man from his native plains, while such as do understand it have a realizing sense of the danger involved in stealing cattle THROUGH WESTERN TEXAS. 7fc or ponies from those in possession of so formidable a weapon. Having completed the purchase of their herd and laid in a good supply of provisions, the two men set out for their destination^ which point was, however, a little indefinite, even in Phil's mind. He felt confident that he should find plenty of feed on the route he had marked out for them to take, and therefore was not uneasy about the matter, as they could move leisurely and settle down whenever a good bit of unoccupied range with plenty of water presented itself ; and for this purpose they had reserved a few hundred dollars to be used, if need be, in buying out some one who had enough of this kind of life and was anxious to go back to civilization. Accordingly they struck across country until they reached the Pecos river, which stream they followed up for a time and finally crossed, in order to secure the better pasturage skirting the foothills of the Guadaloupe range of mountains, thus avoiding the staked plains with their scarcity of water for which they are only too well known, as many a hapless ranger and cattle man can testify crossed the Big Bonita river, and finally pitched camp on a little stream which enters the Pecos river fifty or seventy-five miles above the Bonita, and not far from opposite old Fort Stanton, which is on the other side of the Guadaloupe range. 74 INTO NEW MEXICO. They were more fortunate in this than they had hoped, as they found the range unoccupied and un appropriated, and they at once took steps to enter it, at the government price of a dollar and a quarter an acre. That is, they entered three hundred and twenty acres lying along the head waters of the creek, thus securing control of the water privilege, which meant virtual control of the whole range adjoining for as many miles as would suffice to pasture what cattle could be watered at the stream. True, this is hardly what the spirit of our institu tions is supposed to intend or sustain, but such is the letter of the law, and such its application throughout the West generally. Nor is this all, nor the wont of it ; in many places the continued sole occupancy of great tracts by large cattle owners and syndicates of owners has led them to presume to a permanent and absolute ownership of the whole tract, and in many cases they have erected barbed wire fences hundreds of miles in length, inclosing hundreds of thousands even millions of acres, and are prepared to defend their claims in the courts. That they should deem it possible to do so suc cessfully will doubtless appear ridiculous to the reader until he stops to consider the fact that the control of so much land and of the capital necessary to stock it, thereby making it profitable to rnclose it, is quite PREPARING TO BECOME CATTLE KINGS. JT$ sufficient to make and unmake courts in most countries, and may well prove to be so here. This was something, however, upon which neither Phil Johnson nor Sam Brown felt compelled, or even greatly inclined, to moralize. They had come for the purpose of finding a range for their steers, and they sought for and secured it in accordance with the letter of the law and the custom of the country. They intended laying the foundation of a business that should grow into something big by and by. They meant to herd their yearlings here two years and then put them on the market, and use the proceeds of the sale to buy another and larger lot, and so continue until they had a big herd and could afford to hire men to care for them, while they took things easy "a la cattle king." This was the expression Brown used one night as they sat chatting about the camp fire, while the steers lay quietly resting in front of them. Phil did not understand exactly what "a la cattle king" meant, but he was too sharp to "give himself away" in the current slang of the time and quietly listened for some other expression which should throw light on it. Having fixed on a location for their permanent camp, the next thing to do was to erect a log house, which was 76 TAKING SOLID COMFORT. no very difficult job, as scattering timber lined the creek bank. A rough stockade, sufficient to hold the steers at night and thus save the trouble and exposure of night watching, was a work of more difficulty, but was finally accomplished being built partly of timber and partly of rock gathered along the creek bank, and where the underlying ledge cropped out upon little ridges here and there over the prairie. And then the ' 'pards" settled down to what they were inclined to regard as solid comfort. As there were no other herds, or at least no large ones, very near them, they had little fear of the cattle getting mixed up with others and so taken off their own range ; and with a stockade to which they could be driven at night, whenever it appeared desirable, the labor of herding them was very little and left plenty of time for hunting. They therefore discharged the hand who had acted as cook and teamster, turned the mules out to graze with the ponies and did the cooking by turns between them. Their principal fear now was of Indians. The chief range of the Apaches was to the south and on the other side of the mountains ; but they were known to be in the habit of making excursions far north of the spot where Phil and Brown had located, and the sight THE APACHE INDIANS. 77 of a bunch of young cattle is a temptation not always, if ever, resisted, provided the danger of appropriating them is not too great. However, the partners decided not to let this fact worry them or cause them to enjoy in any less degree the situation, which to Phil, after his years of harder services, seemed to be an exceedingly soft thing ; while Brown, for the very opposite reason, he having no previous experience, was charmed with the variety of his surroundings and the freedom of the life he was leading. Deer and antelope abounded ; herds of buffalo were by no means unfrequent, and jack rabbits were every where, so that there was lack neither of sport nor of meat in variety for the daily fare ; and with the ad dition of corn meal, with which to make bread, coffee and bacon for a change and seasoning, the partners lived like kings and enjoyed life to the utmost. Among other incidents of their daily life was one in which Sam again figured, in connection with that bucking pony. Riding slowly along near the quietly feeding herd one fine morning, a mule-eared rabbit suddenly sprung up from behind a sage bush almost at the pony's feet, and started off with that peculiar lope for which he is noted, when Sam took it into his head to have a little sport racing him ; accordingly he gave the pony a dig /8 BROWN AND THE MULE-EARED RABBIT. with his spurs and away they went. The race had continued for a mile or so when the rabbit darted be hind, or rather into, a clump of sage brush growing on the edge of a bit of a ravine which headed but a few yards or rods away, but which at the place where the sage brush grew was possibly six feet across and three or four feet deep, the water having washed out the earth from what was evidently a seam in the limestone rock, leaving nearly perpendicular and very solid walls. Now, Sam had never chanced to cross the ravine at this particular spot, or if he had done so he had forgotten the locality, and when the rabbit darted into the clump of sage brush and squatted, Sam thought him still mak ing time on the other side and so came ahead full tilt ; but just as he reached the bushes where the rabbit sat, and was expecting his pony to clear them at a bound the pony concluded that there was no use of his going any further until the rabbit started on again, and stop ped ; but his rider, who was standing up in his stirrups endeavoring to get sight of the game, continued going right along and landed on his stomach on the other side of the ravine. Now, the rabbit, which had squatted in the brush, decided to start on again just at this time also. Possibly it was a glimpse of Sam as he came sailing over that induced him to start just as he did. Be that as it may, he did start and just in taoe to land FORGIVENESS. 79 upon the opposite side at exactly the same instant that Sam landed, but unfortunately for the rabbit, as fortun ately for Sam, the rabbit was under, and while serving to break the other's fall had the life crushed out of him by the performance. It is probably the only instance of a man being thrown from a bucking pony upon the game he was chasing, and the result of the accident helped Sam to forgive the source of it, CHAPTER V. A COTILLION AT THE CAMP, DURING WHICH THE MUSIC SUDDENLY CHANGES. What with the care of their herd, the pleasures of the chase and an occasional visit to or from the owners of other herds, the time passed swiftly enough, and the yearlings which they had bought in Texas at eight dol lars a head were become two-year-olds, and having had good range and good water were worth nearly twice what they cost, and the partners were beginning to count the months before they should commence their long drive to some point East where they could sell to ad vantage or ship to Chicago by rail. They could sell their cattle on the spot that they knew very well and quite probably, too, for as good a figure as they could get in Kansas or Chicago, making allowance for cost and possible or probable loss on the drive, for two or three thousand head (80) DBFBNDING THS RANCH. SELLING AND SHIPPING STEERS. 8 1 can be driven a long distance almost as cheaply as four hundred where pasturage costs nothing ; and there were plenty of buyers for a fine bunch, such as they had. It would be difficult indeed for a man with a likely bunch of steers to get into so remote and inaccessible a nook of country that no one wish ing to buy them should find him out, and these friends of ours had not sought to do such a thing As the three men stood over the wounded Indian discussing place for his disposal he watched them with immovable features and without uttering so much as a groan. They thought him too badly wounded to be capable of any effort, either offensive or defensive ; and he evidently thought them discussing the manner in which they would put an end to him. Either that, or his hatred of them was superior to his fear of death, for A HUMANE ACT. 91 as they stooped to pick him up he suddenly made a vicious lunge at one of them with his knife. His arm was weak, however, and the knife was knocked from his hand by Peters without any one being injured, and without so much as a word of comment he was carried though I fear not too gently into the cabin and laid on one of the bunks. He was shot through the body just above the hips, and his chances did not appear worth any great amount of money for live stock, so the men decided ; but such as they were he was to be permitted to keep them all. A bandage was therefore put about his body over the wound, and food placed within reach, as also all the vessels in the house which would hold water, so that the savage might not only have drink but to dampen the cloths over his wounds, and then the three men mounted their ponies and rode away ; Phil on the animal which had brought Peters to the ranch, Brown riding his own pony, the two strik ing out on the trail of the stampeded herd, while Peters took Phil's wounded pony and made back as rapidly as possible under the circumstances to his own camp, where he could get a fresh mount and from where mes sengers would be sent in hot haste to all the surround ing camps, putting them on their guard and raising a crowd from among them to follow on and aid, if pos sible, in re-taking the stolen cattle, and in punishing" the thieves. 92 THE REGULAR ARMY AND THE ARMY OF COWBOYS. Once, when relating to a number of gentlemen the incident of the wounded savage, one of the number expressed to the writer his surprise at the feelings of common humanity displayed by Brown and Peters and Johnson in the matter. I wish, therefore, to say here, that while on general principles a cowboy hates an Indian, and accepts, and may often be heard repeating, the old saw ' 'Live India'n bad Indian, Dead Indian good Indian," it does not follow therefore, that the cowboy is a brute devoid of all feelings of pity or humanity, or that he takes pleasure in or can even be induced by anger or by the blood and thunder stories of writers who have never been within a thousand miles of danger from a redskin, to do so contemptible or cowardly a thing as in cold blood to kill a wounded enemy, even though he be an Apache Indian and engaged in stampeding stock. There may be some such men in the regular army. I have heard it so said ; I do not know if it is true or not, but there are none such among the cowboys of Texas and the Territories, at least I hope not and I believe not. The regular army and the army of cowboys are differently made up. Men may enter the former who are too lazy or too cowardly to earn a living at any other calling, and once in they have to stay ; but A GOOD INDIAN. 93 cowards and lazy people never engage in the business of punching steers on the great plains, or if by chance such a one starts in, it is safe to say he throws up the job within forty-eight hours. The man who sticks is neither lazy nor cowardly, and though the life they lead makes them coarse and sometimes, nay, generally, cruelly indifferent to the suffering of animals, they yet are not so hardened that any need express surprise at an act of common humanity done by them to a wounded savage. Neither have I introduced this incident or this particular Apache to the readers of this narrative for the purpose of having a grateful Indian upon whom I may depend for help in getting my hero out of the hands of the tribe just as their braves hold a council and decide to burn him at the stake, after the fashion set by the blood and thunder novelists. I have no hero and no heroine ; I do but tell of things that have been, and he who writes of incidents as they actually transpire and of men as they are has no need of such aids in the making of an interesting book ; and I may as well state now as later, that when Phil and Sam returned to the cabin, after their absence in trailing the stampeded cattle, the wounded Indian was dead ; upon the disv every ' of which fact they set fire to the cabin and cremated the body in the best style possible under the circumstances. Doing it, not because they had any prejudices aga'mt 94 A GOOD INDIAN. the ordinary method of burial, but because they pre ferred building a new cabin, when they should need it, to the work of removing the remains of the deail i savage. 'I'D BH CONTENTED TO LIB AMONG THB ROCKS A WHOLE WEEK SHOCXIWO. t 19 TH3 TAKQKTS WKK& APACHSS." CHAPTER VI. SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM SAM TELLS HOW HE AND PETERS CHANCED TO BE AT THE SHANTY. As Phil and his partner galloped along on the trail of the stampeded herd, keeping a sharp lookout, not only for Indians but for any cattle that might have broken away from their captors, they had little opportunity and not much disposition to talk. In such situations men think little and talk less of the business immediately in hand, and when there is no need of their talking of that they talk not at all. When one knows that behind each rock or bush that he sees may lurk a foe in wait to put a bullet through his heart, one uses his eyes rather than his tongue. Sam and Phil had no fear of an open attack or of an attack by great numbers. The main body of Indians were undoubtedly with the stampeded herd, rushing them along toward the <93> 96 ON THB TRAIL OF THE STOLEN STEERS. mountains, but they could well spare a few of their number to scout along in the rear and endeavor to check pursuit, or if the pursuers were too numerous for that, to notify their companions and enable them to take ad vantage of the knowledge in making their escape, and the possibility that at any moment they might be fired on from cover necessitated the utmost caution consistent with the making of reasonable progress. They therefore rode in almost absolute silence ; now, with eyes sweeping the prairie on every side for straggling steers ; now, scanning closely every bush or stone or bunch of tall grass capable of giving ambush to a lurk ing foe. Neither did they follow the trail too closely, but turned to the right or left around each little elevation behind which their enemies might be awaiting them, for, as Sam laconically expressed it, their cattle were not worth exchanging their scalps for, and if he could not have both he proposed to let them keep the steers while he kept his scalp ; a sentiment not difficult to understand or appreciate. They, however, saw no Indians and no straggling steers until the afternoon had worn well away, and they were entering the foot hills which led up to the mountains, when, coming up over a ridge, the first of a series of ridges or long, low hills, they saw, away in the distance, the herd of stolen cattle, followed and half surrounded A BOLD MOVE. 97 by the Indians, who were urging them forward as rapidly as their now tired condition would permit. And now the partners determined upon a bold move. They knew or, at least, they thought they knew that as the Indians approached the mountains they would split the herd into three or four branches, and, dividing their own forces, take different routes to their fastnesses, thus confusing their pursuers, or, at least, compelling them to divide their forces also, and so make almost certain their ability to escape with at least a portion of their plunder. Thus, if the pursuit grew hot on one trail, the savages could abandon that portion of the herd, and having divided the pursuing force, cross, by trails known to them, to some other point and join their com panions, and either aid them in overpowering the party in pursuit of them, or hold it at bay while the others escaped with their portion of the drove. Anticipating this attempt to split the herd, Sam and Phil resolved to make a bold dash at the right moment and endeavor to cut off a portion of the cattle, and so save it if possible. To do this it was essential that they approach very near without being seen by the Indians, and be ready to take advantage of the opportune moment when the Indians would be most intently occupied, and in some confusion from their own efforts to divide the herd. Accordingly they made a detour of several miles to 98 SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM. the right, following such a course as best served to con ceal them from the Indians, and in the dusk of early evening came upon them from the side instead of in the rear, and just as, by riding in among the herd and shouting and yelling, the savages had succeeded in breaking it up in bunches and sent the steers flying in a dozen different directions. Fortune favored the partners still further, for the largest bunch about one fourth of the herd broke in their direction, followed by a half dozen of the savages only, the others being engaged in efforts to unite the smaller bunches and start them in the different directions they were desired to take. Weapons in hand, the two men sat upon their ponies in the shadow of a bunch of chaparral, and watched the steers rush by ; held their breath and let pass the un suspecting savages ; fingered the locks of their Winches ters, and waited until all were well over the ridge, and for the time out of sight of their companions, and then put spurs to their ponies and followed after. If the Indians saw, they mistook them, in the gathering darkness, for members of their own band, and not until the sharp crack of rifles sounded the knell of two of their number did they realize that an attack upon them was being made ; and then, not understanding the source of the attack, and not knowing how small was the attacking party, they fled precipitately and rejoined their now excited and demoralized companions, leaving RECAPTURED STEERS. 99 Sam and Phil to push on after the flying cattle and gradually turn them in the direction of home, without so much as a return shot. Until midnight the twa jlen kept the now almost exhausted steers moving, and then allowed them to lie down and rest, while they kept watch. Rifles in hand and holding the ponies by the bridles, they stood guard until the morning, but nothing of a suspicious character occurred. When daylight came they made a short scout, to satisfy themselves that no Indians were in the immediate vicinity. Convinced upon this point, they permitted their ponies to feed upon the grass, while they themselves ate a breakfast of jerked beef, and then started their little herd of jaded steers once more toward the old range. It was not their intention, however, to follow them tar. Knowing that if left alone they would not wander so far but that they could be readily found, and that in all probability they would strike straight back for their old range, and believing the Indians were too badly beaten and too much afraid of meeting with further punishment to return, they proposed leaving this bunch of recaptured steers, and making back to join the crowd that, gathered 100 REINFORCEMENTS, from neighboring camps, they knew well was hot on the trail of the retreating savages ere this. Accordingly they turned back along the way they had just come, and about noon struck the trail of the day before in the vicinity of the scrimmage of the previous evening, and were gratified and encouraged by evidences clear to the eye of a plainsman that a party of at least a score of cowboys, following the route of the retreating Indians, had passed the spot at an early hour of the. morning. At the point where the herd had been divided and at which they had made their successful effort to re capture a portion of it, they made a careful examination and decided that the Indians had divided into three bands and each taking a portion of the cattle had struck into the mountains by different routes and that their friends, the cowboys, had also divided and were in pursuit. Judging from such indications as met their eyes they decided the number of their friends to be twenty, and that about an equal number, that is six or seven, had followed each of the trails made by the savages ; and as they could not determine which would be most likely to be nearest, or most stand in need of their assistance, they concluded to follow the middle trail, thinking it probable that the other two trails would lead into this one after a time, and if not that they stood as good a BROWN GROWS BLOODTHIRSTY IOI chance of making themselves useful on this as on either of the others. "I wish we may get the whole band corraled some where," remarked Sam as they rode along at a swinging gallop. There was little danger to be feared in the rear of the party which had gone on in advance, and the two rode at as rapid a pace as they felt their ponies could stand, and without taking extra precaution, such as avoiding what appeared to be good places for ambush, or going out of the way to reconnoiter the trail from each eminence which they came to, as they would have done if in advance of the other party of whites. Riding so they felt confident of overtaking their friends by nightfall, if not before, and hoped to get up in time to take a hand in any fighting which might take place. ' 'Wish we may corral the whole mendacious lot of 'em," repeated Sam a little later on. "I'd be content to lie around among the rocks on some of these mountain sides and practice target shooting for a whole week if only the targets were Apache Indians." ' 'It appears to me, " laughed Phil in return, "that for a fellow who less than two years ago was a tenderfoot taking his first lesson in riding a bucking pony you are grown mighty bloodthirsty." Sam looked at Jiis partner in a way which Phil did not fail to understand, and then answered: IO2 AND THEN BECOMES SENTIMENTAL. ' 'You and the rest of the fellows have had lots of fun over that little accident, and I know it was funny, though I couldn't well be expected to see the humorous side of it myself. Well, you are welcome to joke about it as much as you like ; I can afford to let you do it." ' ' You're mighty right you can, old fellow," and Phil, who was in the lead a few paces, held his pony up and reaching back grasped Sam's hand and wrung it hard and long. ' The boys never did take you for a softy exactly ; you know that, but they have to have their joke, and you were the last to pitch camp among us. Some time the time may come when I can show you how much I am obliged to you and Peters for happening to be at the shanty just the moment you were, and if it does come I'll try and make my feelings plain to be understood." "Oh that's all right, pard, that's all right," an swered Sam, wringing his hand in return. "I didn't mind it much, but I'm glad that I didn't flinch when the time came to prove what stuff I was made of ; it will make the loss of the steers come easier you see. But I shouldn't have been there only going over to borrow some coffee of Peters I met Peters coming over to borrow some coffee of us, and being as neither of us had any we decided to ride back to our camp for dinner and then go over to Simmons' ranch on the other fork and get some there ; and just as we came over the little divide on the LUCKY PETERS' CAMP BEING OUT OF COFFBB. 103 other side of the creek we saw the reds coming down towards the cabin yelling and shooting like mad. We couldn't see you because of the corral, but we knew mighty well what it all meant, and you bet we made our ponies stretch themselves. ' 'We kept in line with that clump of cotton woods until we reached the corral and then we were hid by the shanty itself, and I reckon the reds were a little surprised at our being there." "Sam," said Phil, "you're a trump." The two rode on in silence for a few moments, a silence that was broken by Phil. "I'm mighty glad Peters' camp was out of coffee," he said. CHAPTER VII. FOLLOWING THE TRAIL WATCHING FOR AN OPPORTU NITY TO ATTACK THE INDIAN CAMP. The farther the trail was followed the rougher and more precipitous it became, and the slower the progress made, though they still rode principally at a gallop. There was no difficulty in following the trail, as now that they were well into the mountains there was but one way that a bunch of steers could be driven with any speed, and that was up some ravine, or along some bit of table land hedged in by cliffs too steep and rugged to make clambering over them a feasible thing ; or if they came to a little valley across which the trail led, the lay of the country made clear to practiced eyes, such as Phil's were, the point at which the trail must leave it again, and thus enabled them to ride forward without paying much attention to the signs left by those whom they followed. They knew that the Indians would have traveled all (104) FOLLOWING THE TRAIL. EVIDENCES OF A SKIRMISH. 10$ night that in fact they would stop only when it be came impossible to keep the steers from lying down from exhaustion and they did not expect to overtake either them or the other pursuing party much, if any, before night. About noon they halted for the purpose of giving their ponies a rest and a bite of grass, and each in turn threw himself upon the ground and slept a few moments. Neither had slept a wink the night before, and the hard riding and loss of sleep was now beginning to tell on them, and would have done so sooner but for their excitement and their anxiety to get on as fast as possible. Pushing on again after an hour's rest they came, at about three o'clock, to a spot which exhibited indica tions of a halt on the part of the party which preceded them, and closer examination convinced them both that here a little brush between their friends and the Indians, or probably a few of the Indian scouts, had taken place. They found where, in a ravine, the pursuing party had evidently left their ponies in charge of one of their number while the rest either reconnoitered on foot or made an attempt to crawl unperceived upon a hidden foe ; and in another place saw some dried blood, but whether the blood came from a man or a steer they would not determine. Convinced, however, that nothing decisive had taken IO6 THE TRAIL BECOMES HOT. place, they moved forward with greater caution, the way growing rougher and rougher, as they anticipated it would be. The general direction of the trail was south. The savages were evidently 'making either for some fastness which they regarded as inaccessible to their pursuers, or tvere intending to keep on and, crossing the mountains, pome out fifty or a hundred miles below Fort Stanton, and make for old Mexico, where they would be compara tively safe from pursuit. Without stopping to make lengthy investigations the two men were able to tell where, here and there, a steer had made an attempt to leave the herd and been driven back by the watchful savages, and once they found the spot where a steer had been killed and dressed, evidently for the purpose of providing the captors with food and, in consequence, strength for other raids. As the afternoon passed, too, they began to see evidences that they were gaining on those in advance, and near sundown they caught sight of a half dozen men riding around a mountain a mile or more in advance, and knew them to be their friends. Halting their own ponies, they watched the little party in advance of them until convinced from the exceeding caution with which they were evidently moving that they believed themselves in the immediate vicinity of the Indians, and then hurried forward with all the speed TRYING TO CONNECT WITH THEIR FRIENDS. 1 07 consistent with their desire to keep out of the sight of any spies which the Indians might have out. If possible they wished to join their friends before night set in, and so ascertain what plans, if any, had been decided on f of the attack, and also to be there to take a hand in it if an attack was made. They realized, too, that if they failed to overtake and make themselves known to their friends while it was still light, there was danger of each party mistaking the other for Indians, and accordingly they pushed forward with all the speed consistent with caution. But darkness comes on quickly in the mountains after the sun goes down, and their efforts to connect with their friends before night came upon them were unavailing. When they could no longer see to ride with safety they dismounted at the edge of a thick patch of chaparral, and leading their tired ponies into it tied them securely in such a way that they could lie down if they chose, and prepared to proceed on foot and endeavor to join their friends. Before starting they again ate heartily of dried beef, as even in times of danger and excitement your frontiers man never neglects his stomach if he can help it, and especially is he careful not to leave his base of supplies, even if that base is only a small package tied to his saddle, without having eaten, if hungry ; for when he IO8 NEARING THE INDIAN CAMP. does so he knows not whether he will be able to return to it, or, if so, how long it may be first ; and it is a poor generalship to start on an expedition with an empty stomach. When necessity compels, a cowboy may go without his food, but it is never a thing of his own choice. After eating, the two men crept cautiously from the bunch of chaparral and began making their way for ward. The night was not dark, the moon being in its second quarter and the stars shining brightly. They would have preferred that the night had been less bright, as with the moon shining they were much more likely to be discovered by the guards they knew the Indians would keep out, and they wished to avoid being seen at least until they could ascertain just how things were and get into communication with their friends. That the Indians were in camp within a mile of them, and that their friends were in hiding somewhere in the vicinity, they felt confident, and they had little doubt that an opportunity for giving the Indians battle would be found or made before the sun rose again. Keeping close together, they worked their way from point to point now crawling on hands and knees to some point of elevation from which they hoped to be able to discover some indication of either friend or foe ; WHERE ARE "THE BOYS"? now crouching within the shadow of a rock or bush, and peering around for sight or sign ; again walking rapidly but with guarded footsteps in the deepest shade cast by an overhanging crag ; always with hands on their weap ons and ready for whatever might come ; they at last reached a point which overlooked a little valley perhaps a quarter of a mile wide, hemmed in by the mountains on three sides. Looking down into this bit of an oasis they could see animals, some feeding and some lying down, or what appeared to be such ; in the imperfect light and at the distance from which they were it was not very easy to distinguish between a bunch of weeds and a steer or pony, unless by seeing it move. For some moments they lay flat on the ground, watching the valley below, and then Phil whispered : "That's them." "Where do you s'pose the boys are?" asked Sam after a moment of further looking. "Don't know ; not far off, though." Again they remained silent, watching for anything which might occur to indicate what course they had best pursue. "You fellows think yourselves mighty sharp, don't you, now ? Reckon you were just planning to go down and take that there camp of reds without any ceremony!' came a voice, in a guarded tone though loud enough t< 110 PETERS HAS HIS LITTLE JOKE be heard distinctly by them ; and, glancing up, both men saw a head protruding from around a sage bush not more than ten feet away. For a space of time sufficiently long to be noticeable neither said a word or moved more than a muscle. Then Phil replied, in the same cautious tone : ' 'I reckon you have the joke on us, Peters, and I suppose the only way to keep you from telling it to the boys and so get them to deviling us about it, is to put a bullet through you, and pretend we took you for a red. What d'ye say ?" i Peters snickered. ' 'Wouldn't do it, if I was you ; you need me to help you get those steers of yours back. " " Where's the rest of the boys ?" This from Brown. "'Round to the right there, 'bout eighty rods. See that big rock that sticks out on the other side of the canyon ? They are on this side of the canyon just, opposite that." Neither of the three men had yet moved from their positions since Peters had surprised them by his un expected speech, but now he began to let himself cau tiously down, and in a moment was at their side. "He, he!" he snickered. "You fellows are fine Indian trailers let a man come onto you in this AND ENJOYS IT HUGELY. Ill They could feel that he was shaking with laughter, but neither of them made any reply. 4 'Well, we had better be getting back to the boys," Peters said again. ''All right ; strike out and we'll follow." Neither of the partners was deceived by Peters' manner or words into supposing that there was no need of caution, nor did they feel annoyed by the joke he appeared to think he had played upon them. Brown, being an Eastern man up to two years be fore, had never met Peters until he and Johnson had pitched camp and located their present range, but Phil and Peters had trailed Indians together three years before, and had herded together for more than a year, and were well acquainted and quite fond of each other. Peters was a much older man than either Brown or Johnson, and had led a rough life as hunter and cow boy, but had, so he declared, been able to keep jolly a.11 the same. He knew less of Brown than of Johnson, )ut the coolness and nerve displayed by him in the fight at the ranch had given him a high opinion of his courage and coolness, the very qualities which he knew Phil to possess in the highest degree ; and it was be cause of this belief or knowledge that he had dared to venture on his little joke. He had been delegated by the little band of six mn r 112 SAM AND PHIL JOIN THEIR COMPANIONS. of whom he was the most experienced in Indian fighting, to scout about a little and learn just what the outlook for a successful attack on the camp was ; and it was while doing so that he had chanced to catch a glimpse of Sam and Phil as they crawled carefully around a hummock where for an instant they were not in the shadow. Recognizing them at once, he had remained concealed behind^ the bush toward which they were making and within a few feet of which they took up their new post of observation. It was when he saw them do this that the spirit of fun took possession of and prompted him to make his presence known in the manner stated. Crawling on their bellies until out of danger of being seen from the Indian camp, the three men slowly raised to their feet and cautiously made their way from shadow to shadow and from point to point, until they reached the place where the others were waiting. As was natural, this little company were greatly rejoiced at the addition to their numbers of Brown and Johnson. Peters explained to them what he had discovered on the scout which he had made. The Indians, he told them, were camped in the valley below, and were resting both the cattle and their ponies, and that besides guards on watch about the cattle, their scouts were posted at points which he indicated outside THE INDIANS IN CAMP. II J the valley, where they would be best able to detect the approach of -an attacking party. The question of what course to pursue under the circumstances was now discussed. To return without making an attempt to recover the cattle and punish the thieves was not to be thought of, but at the same time the risk of making a night attack was very great, owing to the position of the Indian camp, and to the fact that the Indians were well aware of the presence of their pursuers in the neighborhood, their scouts having discovered and ex changed shots with them early in the day at the point where Phil and Sam had noticed the blood drops as already noted. The blood in question was supposed to have come from a pony wounded by a shot from one of the party of whites, and not from a person, as none were be lieved to be hit. It was finally decided not to risk a night attack, but instead to follow on after the Indians and watch for a chance to get back the cattle without running too great a risk of losing their lives in the operation, and to wait until that chance appeared, no matter whether they followed them one day or six. That the chance would corne all believed, and all were agreed to wait for it. The little company of men now divided themselves 114 A COMMOTION IN CAMP. into two watches of four each, one half to watch while the other slept. As Phil and Brown had no rest the night before, they were given the opportunity with two other men to go to sleep at once, and proceeded to stretch them selves out upon the ground without comment or delay, when a commotion of some kind in the Indian camp below was heard, and at once all thought of sleep van ished and every man listened and peered with all his might in an effort to ascertain the meaning of it. Phil and Peters left the others and crawled away in the darkness. Those who remained lay perfectly still, but with every faculty alert and ready for attack or defense. The commotion in the camp below continued for half an hour and then everything became quiet again, and in another hour Phil and Peters returned and re ported that the band which they had been following all day had been joined by another band with other cattle ; but whether the last comers were a portion of those who had raided the Brown-Johnson ranch or not, they could not tell. They thought not, however, and were of the opinion that the raid had been more general than was at first supposed, and that these last comers were a band who had been on a raid further up, and that this was in all probability the meeting point for all engaged ALL QUIBT AGAIN. in the raid, and that they might expect other bands to come in at any time. Again Phil and three of the others threw themselves upon the ground and in a few moments were fast asleep. The rest kept watch and guard. Two only of the four sleepers were awakened after a couple of hours and took the place of two who had stood guard until that time. Knowing how greatly exhausted Phil and his partner must be, they were allowed to sleep undisturbed until events in the early morning light began to occur in the camp below, which required the consideration of every member of the little band of cowboys hidden in the chaparral on the mountain side. CHAPTER VIII. THE CLOUD BURST, AND THE FIGHT IN THE INDIAN CAMP. The matters transpiring in the Indian camp and which were of such interest to the little party concealed in the chaparral above were neither more nor less than the arrival of first one and then another band of Indians with live stock. First came about one hundred head of the Brown- Johnson herd driven by a dozen or fifteen Indians, and before the yells with which their coming was greeted had ceased there appeared at the lower end of the little valley still another and larger band with a larger bunch of cattle. These last were evidently stolen from a ranch in the mountains close by, and had not been driven so far or so hard as the others, as they were still apparently a good deal of trouble to manage and made frequent dashes for liberty. Anton Scenrr. BROWN'S WISH LIKELY TO BE GRATIFIED. 117 There must have been at least three hundred steers in this bunch, and not less than fifty Indians in the band which brought them in. The whole number of Indians already assembled were considerably more than a hundred, and it was probable that more might be expected at any moment. So far this was entirely satisfactory to the watchers from the chaparral. Nothing would have pleased them so well as to get the whole Apache tribe corraled in that little valley and wipe them all out at once. It Was beginning to look as if Brown's wish that he might be furnished Apaches for target practice for the next week was to be gratified. Of course the little party knew that behind every bunch of stolen stock would follow, sooner or later, a rescue party, and if the Indians were only foolish enough to remain where they were it would not be twenty-four hours before they would be surrounded by a sufficient force of cowboys to make the recapture of the cattle if not the destruction of the entire band of savages a certain thing. The little party of whites therefore watched with interest quite as intense as that of the savages, and were nearly as ready to greet with cheers the arrival of any number of additional bands. No others came, however, and very soon it was apparent that those already there were getting ready to 1 1 8 WHAT IS TO BE DONE ? move on, as they could be seen catching their ponies and galloping about gathering ^.11 the cattle into one bunch preparatory to taking them out of the valley. Phil and Sam especially regretted this. They would like to have seen all their steers that were in the hands of the Indians in one bunch so that they could the better judge of the chances for getting them back. However, they could do nothing in the mat ter, could not even make an immediate attempt at re taking those in sight and almost under their noses ; for it would be folly for eight men to attack one hundred and fifty savages almost as well armed as themselves. The result that would follow such a course would be that a part of the savages would engage them while the rest made off with the stock ; and that when they were safely off with the cattle the others would slip away one at a time and rejoin them, without perhaps the loss of a man or a steer, leaving the whites in ignorance of whether an Indian was hidden behind each bush and rock in front of them or not. Evidently the thing to do under the circumstances was to scout around and try and make connections with any other companies of whites which might be following on the trail of the marauders, and when the force so gathered together became sufficiently large attack openly or make a dash and endeavor to recapture the cattle and escape with them. A SKIRMISH WITH APACHE SCOUTS. 1/9 Accordingly the little party remained in their con cealment until the Indians had begun to move out of the valley with their stolen stock and then prepared to follow. Emerging from the sheltering chaparral, they were about to remount their ponies when they were greeted with a shower of bullets fired at long range and perceived at once that their presence was known to the Indians and that they were in for a running fight ; that is, that a part of the Indians would ambush them at every opportunity and endeavor to delay and hold them in check while the others continued their flight with the cattle. This was by no means a pleasant predicament, but there was no way of getting out of it and they must do the best they could. Returning the ponies to the chaparral and leaving two of their number to guard them, the others crawled out of the bush upon their hands and knees and by different ways and began feeling for the savages. By one device and another such as raising a hat on a ramrod and thrusting some portion of their clothing into view from around a rock, they succeeded in drawing the fire first of one and then another of the enemies, thus learning their exact hiding places, and occasionally get ting in a return shot, though without being able to note the effect. I2O THE MUSIC A WINCHESTER MAKES. But this kind of fighting was by no means pleasing to the little party of cowboys, who were really quite as much interested in recapturing the stock as in punishing the thieves, and it chafed them greatly to be thus held at bay by a few reds while the stock was being driven beyond their reach, and they were meditating a dash for the purpose of dislodging the Indians, when the sound of other shots was heard, to which came an swering shots from what appeared to be a half mile away, and to the left of where they were lying. ' 'That's the Wilson crowd, I reckon." It was Peters who spoke, and by "the Wilson crowd'' he meant another of the little parties which had followed a portion of Phil's and Sam's herd when the party had divided at the foot of the range and followed different divisions of the band that had stolen the sleek, tooth- tempting steers. "I supposed they were somewhere in the vicinity," returned Phil. "Have been listening to hear the music of their Winchesters for an hour. I reckon we can crawl forward a little. These fellows in front have got onto the fact of their coming and have begun to light out." While speaking, Phil had left the shelter of the rock behind which he was hiding and was making for another one some rods in advance when, with startling sudden ness, ' 'crack" came the report of a rifle and "zip" went a PETERS ATTEMPTS A PUN. 121 bullet close to his ear, causing him to drop instantly, and proceed to crawl instead of running to shelter. ''That Apache'll put your light out ef you ain't more keerful," snickered Peters ; though whether he laughed at his own attempted pun or at the rapidity with which Phil changed his tactics one could not have told. Prob ably it was both, though he may not have known that he had been guilty of punning, in which case the reader will doubtless forgive him his offense. Although Phil had come near paying with his life for his hardiness in taking too much for granted, yet the little company one by one followed his example, fully convinced that the Indians in front of them had retreated, or would do so speedily, to avoid being caught between two fires ; and this surmise was soon proven correct. No more shots came; and it was soon evident that the one who had fired at Phil was the last savage to retreat, and probably got in this shot just as he was on the point of doing so. Neither were any other shots heard from the left, but a cautiously conducted scout in that direction dis covered Wilson's crowd of six cowboys concealed be hind as many different boulders, watching intently for the sight of an Indian along the line of retreat taken by the band. None appeared, however ; even those left behind had slipped away and were following on after their com- 122 KEEPING THE TRAIL. panions, and watching to prevent any company of possible pursuers from getting in between themselves and those in charge of the stolen cattle. Communication was soon established between the two bodies of whites, and as soon as it was ascertained that the Indians had fled they came together, and after a few minutes' consultation returned for their ponies, which had been left behind when the skirmish with the Indians began, and together rode on after the retreating band. All day they pursued, and every few hours they were greeted with the sound of rifle shots and whistling of bullets, though it was but seldom that one came very close to any of the party. These Indian scouts were too much afraid of a close fight to even attempt an actual ambuscade, and contented themselves with firing occasional shots from long range more, apparently, for the purpose 01 hindering the pursuing party by compelling them to proceed with caution than from any expectation of doing them injury. On this point the pursuers were the better content to submit to the harrowing delay from the expectations which they entertained of being joined by others from the vicinity of the ranches that had been raided in the valley above, as also by those of their own party which had branched off in pursuit of one of the parties into which the band had split up on entering the mountains. A CHANGE IN TACTICS. 12$ As night approached there arose the necessity of guarding against an attack in the darkness. The In dians having kept close watch of their movements during the day, might be inclined to make a night attack on them, thus turning the tables completely, and if success ful, relieve themselves of further pursuit. Taking this view of the situation, it was decided best not to follow too closely the retreating savages, and about the middle of the afternoon the party went into camp upon a bit of a plateau, which offered fair crop ping for the ponies and at the same time afforded no very good opportunity for an enemy to approach them unperceived. Here they waited until the afternoon was well spent, but were not joined by any other party of pursuers, and were forced to the conclusion that either none were to follow, or, if following, that they were long in getting started, and might not arrive in time to join in an im mediate attack on the Indians. After much consultation it was decided, on the advice of Phil and Peters, to change the tactics. Accordingly, a half hour before sundown, the whole party remounted and started back over the trail they had just come, as if having given up the pursuit. As soon as it became dark, however, twelve of the fourteen men dismounted, and taking with them only their arms and a blanket apiece, leit th other two to make their way 124 A NIGHT'S TRAMP ACROSS COUNTRY. back to the settlement with the ponies, while the twelve struck off into the mountains and traveled all night on foot, in an effort to get in front of the entire band of Indians and be prepared to take advantage of such circumstances and conditions as might arise. None of the party knew anything of the country they were traveling over further than its general trend, and something of the location of the different passes over the highest mountains, and the settlements on either side of the range, but this was sufficient to indicate to them the route which the Indians would be compelled to follow, and they felt confident of their ability to out- travel them and get to the front before they should have Advanced far on the following day. The lay of the country, not less than the desire to avoid being observed by any of the scouts which the Indians would certainly have out on all sides, compelled a wide detour, and a long, hard scramble over ravines and mountains, but all were used to hardship, and all stood the night's tramp without breaking down, though no one among them all but was badly stove up and greatly wearied when morning came. With daylight the men halted, and after putting two of their number on guard, the rest lay down and slept. They were confident of being in advance of the Indians, and believed that all they could now do was to watch that they did not pass them unobserved. Therefore, THE INDIANS STILL HOLD TO THE CATTLE. 12$ while two watched the rest slept, and about ten o'clock the vigil of the watchers was rewarded by sight of an Indian scout, evidently in advance of the main body and about a half mile away. A little later ^a small body of Indians, mounted on ponies, passed the same point, and behind them a quarter of a mile or so came the stolen cattle, ac companied by the main body of the savages. They were moving with caution, but with some leisure as compared to the day before, which caused the cowboys, who were watching them, to hope their scouts had reported that the pursuit had been abandoned. After resting, the little company of cowboys again took up the trail. Keeping outside of the limits which the Indian scouts would be likely to prescribe for themselves, in watching for possible or probable pursuers, they kept on at a pace which they believed would bring them up even with or a little ahead of the Indians by nightfall. Their plan now was to keep as near the main body of Indians as possible and at the first opportunity make a night attack and endeavor to get off with a portion of, or if possible all, the ponies and cattle now in possession of the savages. When night had fairly shut down Peters and Johnson went again upon a scout and found the Indians in camp in a deep gorge, inaccessible except from one point, and 126 ON THE SCOUT. that strongly guarded. They therefore returned to their companions and reported that it would be unwise to at tempt anything that night, and that they had better move on in advance of he Indians again und wait the coming of another night. It was already past midnight and the party at once moved forward, traveling until noon the next day, hav ing stopped only once and then only for an hour, to cook and eat a meal from the carcass of a deer whbh one of the party had shot This was the first fire that had been built by ^ny f the party since the pursuit began, and only the necessity ol choosing between doing so and eating raw meat inauced h m to build it now, though there was no &r a*; danger t Le feared therefrom, as they were careful nol to permit a column of smoke to rise from it. Having roasted meat enough to last th:m the day Out, they pushed ahead, and when the gain stopped it was at a point wher* thev feL hat an atte: ipt to recover the stolen cattle must b made if it wa to be made at all, and they had no intention of abandoning the pursuit without making one. The spot in question was a point where three gulches or canyons converged, leaving a small strip of compara tively level ground in the center and between them, and through which flowed a stream of water that during heavy rain storms and for a few days or hours only, DECIDING TO ATTACK. I2/ must have been very large, as it caught the flow from the sides of three eminences, either of which would send down a considerable body of water at such times. This stream was now dried to a tiny rivulet, fed by a spring somewhere farther up in the mountains, but it was sufficient to supply water for the herd which the Indians were driving, while upon the ground, back a little on either side, was as good a growth of grass as was likely to be found at this elevation, and the neces sity of allowing both the ponies and the stolen cattle an opportunity of getting a bite of feed would almost com pel the camping of the whole herd at this point for at least a portion of the night. After examining this bit of ground and the canyons converging to it as carefully as possible, without leaving too many signs of having been there, the little party of white men retired a distance up the mountain and con cealed themselves to await the coming of the night and the Indians. The two came together. It was the last of the sun's golden arrows, shot down the gorge from behind the mountain top, which showed to the men in hiding the head of the drove coming out into the open space from the lower side ; and before the last steer followed by a straggling line of ponies, each bearing his Indian master had quenched his thirst at the little stream and begun to feed upon the grass on its banks, it was too dark to 128 DECIDING TO ATTACK. make it at all probable that the signs left by the white men would be observed by the enemy. The Indians appeared to be less fearful of attack than on the night previous, and had probably come to the conclusion that their pursuers had dropped off and abandoned the chase. More than one attempt of cattle men and settlers to follow the Apaches to their fortresses and recover their property had been abandoned, and this favor doubtless gave the rascals faith to believe that the present case would not prove an exception to their past experience, and had helped to make them a trifle less watchful than they would have been. They were not without caution, however, for they built no fires, but contented themselves with eating raw steak from a steer which they had killed just before going into camp. The only preparation give it, to make it more fitting food, was to press the blood out of it be tween two flat stones. They also put out guards, both within the level ground and upon the heights above, and at the mouths of each of the three canyons, so that the chances of surprising them or getting off with the herd, or any portion of it, were made extremely difficult, if not im possible. All this the white men learned partly from observing the movements of the Indians, and in part, perhaps, by PLANNING THE ATTACK. f > Q intuition or something approaching it. At any rate, they felt that every precaution against surprise had been taken by their enemies, and yet they were determined to make an attempt that night to surprise them and get back the cattle, Brown declaring that it was just a little more than a man could stand to see his cattle rounded up every night by a pack of thieves, and he was for making the attempt to get them back and take his chances on what might come of it. Phil felt about the same way. This raid, if it resulted in the loss of so many of their cattle, knocked the life out of the plans he was building again with regard to that million of dollars, and he was ready to run any risk rather than let the cattle go. Accordingly when the night was about half gone, the men left their hiding place, moving with more caution than they had done at any time since the chase began. Making their way down the canyon, to within a short distance of its mouth, the little company divided into two parts, one of which, under the command of Brown, was to remain where it was for the present, while the other part, under the guide of Phil and Peters, was to get by the guard in some way, steal in among the ponies feeding below, cut their hopples and stampede as many of them as possible. This as a first 130 CAREFUL NOW. step ; further action to depend upon the success or failure of this attempt. Brown and his companions were to act at such time and in such manner as would best aid the stampeding party when the trouble should begin. Phil and Peters led their party carefully down the canyon and then left them, and together crawled away in the thick darkness. I say ''thick darkness" for it is always thick darkness in a canyon in the night, unless the moon is shining squarely into it, and these men had been careful to select for their hiding that one of the three canyons leading into the open space into which the moon would penetrate the least at midnight ; hence it would have been but little darker if there had been no moon at all. The two men were gone a full half hour, and their companions, to whom it seemed much longer, were becoming uneasy, when suddenly there came a clap of thunder whose echoes, chasing each other from peak to peak, gave the impression of a field battery having been discharged. This was followed by other peals less sharp, but no less distinct, all giving indication of an approaching storm. Immediately evidence of a commotion in the camp at the mouth of the canyon was distinguishable. It was apparent that the Indians were up and moving to get out of the way of the torrent, which would soon A COMMOTION IN THE INDIAN CAMP. 13 1 begin to pour through the open space from the three separate gulches. An instant later Peters returned to the little group of waiting men and whispered to them to fol low him. At the mouth of the canyon Phil joined them. Had the lightning illumined their surroundings again at that moment it might have disclosed to their eyes the dead form of an Indian guard lying almost at their feet ; but it did not and they passed hurriedly on in the wake of their leaders. Already the rain was beginning to fall. Guided by the commotion now plainly to be heard in front of them they hurried forward. The Indians well understood the necessity of getting out of there and upon higher ground before the water came rushing down upon them, and they were whooping and yelling at the cattle, which were them selves becoming frightened and endeavoring to stam pede. The savages had secured a portion of the ponies, and in the intense darkness it was difficult for either the whites or the Indians themselves to find the others. In their search for them the little party of white men were repeatedly aware of the presence of Indians within a few feet of them, and once Peters brushed against one 132 THE COMMOTION INCREASES, of their number, who in the darkness must have mis taken him for one of the band, for he gave utterance to something in his native tongue, of which Peters under stood only enough to know that it was not a warwhoop, and that therefore the presence of whites in the camp had not been discovered. But he had short space of time in which to con gratulate himself on this fact. First came a flash of lightning that lit up the mountains and made every bush and rock upon their rugged sides stand out as clear and sharp as if reflected in a glass ; which showed every nook and cranny of the mighty canyon leading up and up toward the clouds and the mountain tops ; which disclosed alike to whites and Indians the presence and position of their foes, and caused each to stand for a second dazed in the glare of light and the surprise of finding himself face to face with a mortal enemy. Then darkness black, intense. Then the whole heavens rolled together with one mighty thunder peal, and breaking through this the war cry of two hundred savage throats, the beating of hoofs, the bellow of stampeding cattle, the snorting of frightened horses ; and mingling with it and making itself felt rather than heard, the rush and roar of angry waters as the floods, released by the cloud burst upon the mountain tops, came seething and boiling down the canyons on either A CLOUD BURST -FIGHTING IN THE DARKNESS. I3J hand ; and through ajl the sharp crack of rifle shots fired thick and fast and at random by whites and Indians alike in the midst of darkness so dense one might almost feel it, and rain falling in sheets. CHAPTER IX. A CHANGE IN THE PROGRAM FOLLOWING AN ANCIENT AND HONORABLE CUSTOM, SAM BROWN WEDS. A blind break in the darkness for safety, a wild scramble up steep and almost perpendicular mountain sides, mad bellowings of frightened steers, the snortings of stampeding horses, Indians trampled upon by hundreds of crazed brutes that a moment later are themselves swept away by the torrent of water silence. When a sense of that awful fate that awaited them if they were not speedily out of that burst upon their consciousness, the half dozen white men in the Indian camp made for the nearest mountain side with all possi ble speed. It was Phil who gave the word to go, but there was little need of giving it, as a sense of their peril flashed upon all at the same instant. "34) IS THAT YOU, PETERS? 135 Luckily the men were near a point where the ledges were less steep than at some other places, and all suc ceeded in reaching a position of safety, though not all in getting so far up as to be able to move farther. Phil and Peters found themselves lying on a ledge of rock above which the mountain appeared to rise in a perpendicular wall, and from which the boiling, foam ing, seething torrent, now rushing along with a deafen ing roar beneath them, made it impossible to escape. They could not see each other and for a time neither knew who the other was, or whether it was not an Indian instead of a white man ; but as their eyes became some what accustomed to the darkness, or more probably, as the clouds partially dispersed, their vision began to re turn to them a little, and Phil finally spoke but in a low tone and with his hand upon his revolver. 1 'Is that you, Peters ?" "I reckon so, Phil, though I'm not quite certain ; I may be an Indian, for I mistook you for one." Nothing further was said for some time, as the roar of the waters made hearing difficult, and, besides that, an Indian might be within ten feet of them for all they could tell, and if so they knew the frightfulness of their situation would not prevent him from taking their lives, if it was in his power to do so. They lay thus, flat on their bellies, for what seemed to them to be hours, listening to the roar of the floods, 136 SEARCHING FOR THEIR COMPANIONS. which gradually grew leas and less and finally became so faint that they held a whispered conversation and decided to try and find a more comfortable position. Rain had ceased some time before in fact, none had fallen for more than thirty minutes. They had been in the edge of the cloud which had burst a couple of miles farther up the mountain and thus exhausted, at one downpour, the ability of the heavens to supply moisture in drops. They had not really been confined to the ledge of rock for more than an hour, for the volume of water, great as it was, could not have been that long in pouring through. After descending a few feet, which they did by holding on to some brush and cautiously feeling their way, they worked along a little to the left, and finding the ledge less steep clambered up again, until they were two or three hundred feet above the bed of the canyon, and then crouched down and waited for day light. When daylight came they continued to ascend, but with caution, and after a time they began to search for their companions still with great watchfulness for fear of skulking Indians. After a few minutes' search they found one and another and finally all the four men who were with them in the Indian camp, when the cloud burst, and SEARCHING FOR THEIR COMPANIONS. together they began working around toward the canyon, where they had left their companions the night be fore. To reach this point they were compelled to cross the other two canyons, which they did with difficulty, and after going up the first one some distance to where the flow of water was less, for the flood had not yet all poured down, but only the larger portion of it, the ground having received and temporarily sucked in a large part, which it was now yielding up again to be carried down the canyon, through the bed of the little creek, and finally into the Pecos river by way of some of its tributa ries, and so on to the gulf. After crossing the two canyons they entered the third and followed it down to the point where they had parted from their friends the night before, but found no traces of them. They therefore continued on and out through the mouth and into the open space on which the Indian camp had stood, and were rejoiced at seeing their friends cautiously skirting along on the opposite side, at a point not far from where they had themselves scaled the ledge in the storm and darkness but a few hours before. Not considering it safe to halloo, they remained under cover of the rocks and watched until one of the others chanced to look in their direction, and ALL UNITED AGAIN. then signaled him by a wave of the hand ; and soon the little party was united again and congratulating each other on their miraculous escape from an awful death. It appeared that the cloud burst had occurred at a distance of perhaps a couple of miles up the mountains, at which point the canyons diverged a considerable distance from each other. The cloud had burst over the canyon to the left of the one in which Brown and his party lay concealed, and awaiting the signal by which they should know whether or not the others had succeeded in stampeding the ponies belonging to the Indians, He and those who were with him had followed on down, near to the mouth of the canyon, as agreed that they should do, and when the firing began mads an attempt to rush forward to the assistance of their companions, but were met by a wall of water coming through the other gorge and retreated in haste to the mountain side in time to see a portion of the ponies, part of them with riders and others without, and followed by a bunch of a hundred steers or so, rush by and up the steeps. Some of the cattle fell back, but others made the ascent and were doubtless wandering about in the mountains. An examination of the country on both sides of tho THE CASUALTIES. 139 main canyon was now made but not a live Indian could be found. A mile or more down the canyon the dead bodies of a score or more steers, drowned in the flood, were piled up against a ledge of rocks where the waters had left them, and mingled with these were the bodies of several ponies and three of the savages. At several points evidences that numbers of cattle and ponies had clambered up the steep banks and escaped were discovered, and after consultation it was decided to put in a day in scouting about in search of any cattle or ponies that had remained in the vi cinity. No further fear of Indians was felt by any of the party ; or but very little. Such as had escaped had undoubtedly fled to their Urongholds and villages and would not return unless in Search of missing comrades. Indians are naturally superstitious, and although acquainted with the nature and devastating power of cloud bursts, they were yet likely to find in the awful- ness of the storm, coupled as it was with an attack from enemies which they did not expect, some reason for believing the spot to be the abode of the spirit of evil, and to give it as wide a berth as possible in the future. 140 ROUNDING UP THE HERD AGAIN. Two days were spent by the cowboys in searching for cattle and ponies in the vicinity. Of the former they secured nearly 200 head and of the latter a good mount apiece and two or three extra. Of the cattle only between sixty and seventy bore the brand of Brown and Johnson, but even this number was better than none, and the party made its way back by the trail it had come ; and two weeks from the day of the raid on the ranch, Phil and his partner rounded up their herd and counted 187 head, instead of a few less than 400, which had walked out of the corral on the morning on which the raid had been made. They had learned meantime that the men who had followed the third part of the band when it divided in the foot-hills, and each division took different routes, had been unsuccessful in their efforts to recapture any portion of the steers. The Indians whom they followed had taken a trail that led into an almost inaccessible part of the mountains, and being joined by another and larger body of Indians, had been able to hold their pursuers in check and eventu ally to escape with their booty. It was believed that they drove the steers as far as they could and then slaughtered the whole lot, and taking such portion as they could pack upon their ponies, left the rest to the wolves and made for their permanent PROFIT AND LOSS. 1 41 camps, to which place few white men have ever been able to follow. Naturally enough, both Brown and Johnson felt their loss quite severely. It was the knocking down in a very rude manner oi all the fine castles which they had built in the air, and in which they had seen themselves living as cattle kings. In fact, it was the putting them back at the place from which they had started two years before, causing all their time and labor to count for nothing. However, there was no use crying over spilled milk. What was done could not be helped, and must therefore be put up with, and might as well be done cheerfully as complainingly. Their herd was now too small to make it profitable to drive through of itself, and they therefore sold it what was left of it to a buyer on the spot ; 18/ head at $25 per head, $4,675; just $75 more than the capital they started with. They had in addition, however, their little band of ponies and their claim to the ranch, which were worth another thousand at least. Before the raid took place the ranch alone would have sold for several times this sum, as good chances for grass and water were becoming extremely scarce and difficult to obtain ; but since the raid nobody wanted badly to buy or herd where the risks of having the 142 BROWN GOES EAST ON A VISIT stock stolen were so great ; hence, the ranch declined in value as greatly as their herd had declined in number. After selling they must of course buy again, but be fore doing so Brown declared that he would pay a visit to his folks in the East ; so, after making arrangements with Peters to care for the little band of ponies and hold the ranch until they returned, the partners set out for Kansas. They arrived at Caldwell after a journey without in cidents worth relating. Here Phil was to remain until Brown returned from the East, which he promised should be within thirty days. Instead, however, of his old partner back at the end of thirty days Phil received the following letter : "NEW YORK, N. Y., Feb. 16, 188 . DEAR PHIL : I know you will feel like taking my scalp when you read this, but I can't help it. I only hope you will not think I meditated treating you in this way when we parted, for I honestly and truly had no such intentions. The truth is, old Pard, I am married and am not going back West. Can't do it, you know. You will remember that I owned up to you once, one awfully lonely afternoon out there on the plains, that it was not so much a love for freedom that made me go West, as it was the inability to get just the party I wanted to own me and boss me around. In other words, I had AND WRITES BACK THAT HE IS MARRIED. 143 quarreled with my girl and didn't care to stay around and see her married to a dude, such as the fellow was that I thought she was going to marry. Well, all this time, that is, the time I put in with you whacking steers, riding bucking ponies, running down jack rabbits and fighting Indians, I couldn't quite get rid of a desire to know whether she really did marry that dude or not. Well, when I got back here and met her on the street, the very first person that I did meet, and I knew she was glad to see me in spite of my being tanned al most as black as an Apache, I couldn't help being glad I had not lost my scalp on that raid. Honestly, Phil, I couldn't help doing as I did. I am awfully sorry for you, old boy, for I know you will be disappointed and lonesome, and that it may inter fere with your plans very much for me not to return. But you see I can't leave my wife, and I can't take her out there to be scalped or eaten, so what can I do ? You are welcome to my share in the ranch and also to the ponies, and I hope you won't have a-ny trouble in finding another partner with money enough to buy a big bunch of yearlings. Write and let me know what you will do and how you are feeling. I know you will be disappointed, but I hope you won't feel hard at me, for really, Phil, I couldn't help it. Your old friend and partner, SAM BROWN." 144 WHICH CAUSES PHIL TO CONSIDER. Of course Phil felt disappointed. Not to mention the pecuniary advantage which a partner with more capital than he himself had was to him, he had become attached to Brown during the two years which they had spent together, and regretted more than anything else the loss of his companionship. He did not doubt that he could find another man to take his place, and quite probably one with more capital than Brown possessed, but some way he could not feel like doing so. The ranch without Brown appeared to his mental vision immeasurably lonely and far from human companionship. He began to feel that he did not wish to return to it. He thought of Brown and the happy life he would lead in the future surrounded by friends, husband of the woman he loved, a quiet, happy home away from all danger and hardships. Such was the picture he kept imagining to himself whenever thoughts of his late part ner came into his mind until presently the desire to have such a home began to grow in his own heart and to take form and shape, and he determined not to return to the ranch but to build him a home nearer civilization and in the midst of people of his own kind. Caldwell was in those days the headquarters of the Oklahoma Boomers, as they were called, of whom Capt. Paine was the acknowledged head and leader up to the time of his death, some years ago, and it is probable PHIL MEETS WITH A BOOMER. 145 that it was meeting with a member of the colony and hearing him discuss the plans of the "boomers" for building up a community and a state out of this beauti ful strip of country that induced Phil to decide not to return to New Mexico, but instead to go to Oklahoma with the colonists and build him a home there, and cease forever his wanderings and his rough life. He had enough to make a start with ; would have a full thousand dollars after selling the partnership ranch and band of ponies, even after sending Brown his Share, which he would do, not wishing to be under obligations in pecuniary matters even to him. With this sum to start with and a homestead claim on one of the little streams in the beautiful Oklahoma country he could surely make a home to his mind, after which, perhaps Just what he would do after the home was made he did not say even to himself, but thoughts of the quiet, happy life Brown was leading kept coming and going in his mind, and mingled with them were visions of the old ferry on the Wabash, and of the old folks, and of Nettie. He even got so far along as to wonder, if he were to go back as Brown had done, whether or not the same thing that had happened to Brown would happen to him. He could not quite decide, but probably not, he told himself. Luck didn't seem to run to him, anyway. Probably Nettie had married long before this, and every- 146 AND DECIDES TO GO TO OKLAHOMA. body had forgotten him. But if he ever did decide to make another attempt to find how things were back there it would be by going in person and not by writing; he was fixed in his mind on that point at least. Meantime he would go to Oklahoma and get him 16o acres of land and make him a home. After that well, after that he would see. IN THE EMIGRANT TRAIN. CHAPTER X. OKLAHOMA. As described in the several bills for its organiza* tion into a Territory now (June, 1886,) before Con gress, Oklahoma comprises all that country "bounded on the west by the State of Texas and the Territory of New Mexico, on the north by the State of Colorado and the State of Kansas, on the east by the State of Missouri and the State of Kansas, and on the south by the State of Texas." Oklahoma proper, however, or what has come to be popularly known as such, is comprised in a strip of land containing 1,887, i oo acres, lying directly south of the eastern portion of what is called the Cherokee land strip, itself a body of 6,000,000 acres, just south of and adjoining the western half of the State of Kansas. Oklahoma is thus very nearly in the exact center of the Indian Territory. 148 A BOOMER'S OUTFIT. Oklahoma formerly belonged to the Seminole In dians but was ceded to the United States government by that tribe under treaty of March 1$, 1866, and was surveyed and section lin'es established by authority of the United States in 1873. Its proximity to the Indian reservations about it, which were, as they still are to a considerable extent, the harboring places of outlaws from all portions of the country and all colors and nationalities, including Negroes and Mexicans, made it a location not desirable as a place in which to build a home and raise a family, unless it should be in company with a considerable number of other home builders ; and it was in order to meet this necessity for neighbors and companions that it was proposed and finally decided to organize a colony for settlement in that beautiful country. Having decided to join such a colony, Phil had first to provide himself an outfit. A span of mules, a wagon, a plow and a few other agricultural implements, an ax and a hammer, a few earthen dishes and a tin bucket and cup these comprise an outfit which is considered all-sumcient for the homesteader who is content to be the pioneer in a new country ; and these Phil provided himself with. He also retained the pony which he had ridden through from New Mexico, and of course laid in a good PETERS RAISES A STAKE. 149 supply of ammunition, for until a crop could be raised the colonists would be compelled to rely for food very largely upon wild game, with which the country they were going to was reported to abound. Immediately upon deciding not to return to New Mexico, Phil wrote to Peters asking him to sell the ranch and ponies which he and Brown had placed in his charge, or if he wished to do so to keep them himself, and pay for them at such time as he could, provided it was not too far in the future. To this letter Peters replied, inclosing pay for the whole outfit at the very low cash price which Phil had fixed upon it, and saying that he had gone partners with another man, a stranger to Phil, and they were going to occupy the ranch and take their chances with the Indians. This greatly pleased Phil, for he was anxious to have the matter finally settled, and he was also glad that Peters had raised a stake and got a start in life, even if it was one in which the risks were pretty large, for now that he was out of it himself, he felt that the herding of cattle for wages, and with no inter est in the business beyond that of a hired hand, was not a calling calculated to bring out the best there is in one, and in proportion as he had a firm friendship for Peters, did he rejoice over his brightened prospects ; and he wrote a warm letter of congratulation in reply, I5O IN THE EMIGRANT TRAIN. also telling his old friend about his own plans and prospects. Then when all was ready, the little band of colonists took up their line of march toward the promised land. There were about forty men in the company, some without families, but more with ; all able-bodied and eager to reach the location selected in advance, and begin the work of home building, than which no man ever found sweeter employment for hand or brain. A long string of covered wagons, each drawn by a pair of horses or mules, and in which were stored what ever of household goods the owner and his family pos sessed ; a few cows driven in advance or following in the rear ; from one to a half dozen faces of men and women and children peering out from under each white wagon cover ; a dozen men and boys astride ponies ; as many dogs trotting along contentedly by the side of as many wagons, or breaking away together in a mad chase after a jack rabbit, and all barking in chorus as they go this is a scene familiar to all who have been upon the frontier, and such a one was presented by the colonists of whom Phil Johnson was one, on the morning of their departure for Oklahoma. Only they who toil with their hands and who feel the fetters which the law, or that which is declared IN THE EMIGRANT TRAIN. to be the law, places upon them in the acquisition of wealth and consequently upon their liberty of thought and action, can understand the glorious sense of free dom, of ability to conceive and execute which comes to those who, haying once felt the fetters, stand freed upon the borders of a new, and to them undiscovered country. To such, and at such times, there comes a sense of their own worth, of their own power and of a new courage which is sweeter than anything society or the world can give. It is a feeling which comes to men's hearts straight from the heart of God and lifts them up into a measure of the manhood which in its perfectness is worthy of being said to be in His image who is the Creator and Father of all. Oh, the grandeur of liberty ! Oh, the sweetness of being at peace ! AT PEACE ! Peace with nature and with men ; the peace which comes of the forgetting of jealousies, both great and small ; of ambitions which the soul cries out upon as unworthy of the man ; of hatreds born of greed and envy. The peace which comes of faith in one's fellott Han, itself born of renewed faith in one's own self, of one's own hatred of the bad, and love for and allegianfc* to that which is pure and good. And oh ! for a knowledge of the power which enab-^s 1 52 PHIL WOULD BUILD A HOME. us to dare and to do, to be brave and strong and good ; which comes with a sense of freedom from the fetters which men in their selfishness and unwisdom throw about and over each other and themselves, when ever they do touch each other's elbows,. Phil was too much accustomed to this sense of free dom to feel any new inspiration when the little cavalcade left the town behind and swung out into the unbroken world beyond. Not having felt the fetters, he could not feel their falling away from him ; but he sensed the beauty of the morning, the brightness of the sun, the softness of the air, the quietness and goodness of nature which lay around and about him. He had, too, what he had never had before, a feel ing that his wanderings were over, and that in front of him lay the materials from which, by his own labor, he was to build a home. And a home meant Well, dear reader, what would not home mean to one whose heart held the memory of a fair young girl's face, a face not seen for years, but none the less fair for this reason, since not seeing it with the physical sense the mental eye had been left free to outline it as it chose. So Phil would build a home. As for the others, they were such men as are ever attracted to the frontier ; such as have laid the founda- BV FATE OR CIRCUMSTANCES. 53 tions for whatever of liberty the people boast, whatever of wealth they have won, while civilization and the race have been crossing the continent. They were men blown, by fate or circumstances, from far and near ; men in whose hearts the love of home and liberty had been about equally implanted and nourished ; men, perchance, who imagined that the bands which society and law placed upon their efforts to set metes and bounds to the approach of poverty had something of the feel of the slave chain ; men who had been in debt, and to whom debt meant the curtailment of liberty in thought and action, and consequently degradation ; men but why ask me of these men ? Shall not their own acts speak for them, and am not 1 their chronicler ? Self-appointed, it is true, but none the less truthful to their thought as ex pressed in deeds. Whatever they had felt themselves to be in the past, now they were free. Free to grow and expand to the full stature of the men they meant to be ; free to build homes where no labor of theirs but should bear fruit for their own eating theirs and those they loved. Was ever brighter future in the distance seen by men ? And the children ? 154 HAPPY, BAREFOOTED CHILDREN Bless me, how excited and happy the children in those covered wagons were ; for were they not to see new scenes, to visit undiscovered countries, to ride for days and days through an ever-varying landscape, to sleep in tents and eat in the open air, to be free to fish in the streams, to catch rabbits and trap squirrels and prairie chickens and may be larger game, if they could ? And whenever did a child doubt its ability to do anything it wished to do and never had tried to do ? Were they not to be free and happy and busily idle all the day long ? If you wish to know how happy were the children of those colonists on that morning when this journey began, just propose to your own children such a journey in your own and their mother's company ; being first careful to talk for weeks and months of the beauty of the country to which you are going, and of the pleasures of such a trip, and from their faces and childish words and acts you can judge of the happiness of those other children, whose faces peer from the wagons just starting upon their journey on that sunny morning of which I write. And the women ? Why, the women had their husbands and children ; what more has anybody thought necessary to woman's AND SUN-BONNETED WOMEN. 1 55 perfect happiness than that she have her husband and children ? You do but disclose your ignorance, my dear sir, of what the world, the old moss-covered, time-defying world, has decided Is woman's sphere. My dear madam, you do but disclose your treason to old and time-honored theories, who question so of woman^ Is it not enough, I say, that she had her husband and children ? Knowing so much, what right have you to ask more or to say : "Is she happy?" "Is she filled with sweet content?" "Is she lifted up with great thoughts of great deeds deeds the thought of which causes her soul to expand and reach upward ?" They had their husbands and children ; what more would you have them have, or what have they ever had or left behind that you should ask of these women, who, going upon a hard, long journey, into a new country, to live lives of toil, have their husbands and children still with them ? Is the world then wrong, and has woman longings, sometimes, for wider fields and greater things than she has yet been permitted to know ? Sun-bonneted women, who were the wives of these men, and the mothers of these children of whom I write, had all that any of their sisters anywhere have to make them happy, and they were happy as any ; happier than most ; for added to love of husband and 156 THE HALT AT NOON. child was the knowledge of the necessity of their own existence and labors to the comfort and happiness of those they loved. It was a happy, joyous company, and the sun shone bright and the air was soft and the grass green as they drove away, and merry voices shouted one to another from out the wagons voices of women and voices of children, while men grown suddenly self- reliant, strode by their side, or sitting in the front- end of the wagon, spoke cheerily to their teams as they urged them forward along the trail over the broad prairies. At noon they halted for a short hour while their horses fed upon the crisp buffalo grass, and they them selves ate cold lunches of bread and meat out of their provision boxes ; then on again until the sun is low in the west, when they went into camp on the banks of a clear little stream which meandered through the prairie, and upon whose banks were growing scattered pecan and cottonwood trees, over which in places wild grape vines ran riot, and in whose branches birds sang and flitted back and forth, and told their tales of love to one another. The stream was too small to contain fish of much size, but large minnows with sparkling silvery sides darted to and fro in the clear water ; a sight which brought shouts from the throats of a score of children SUPPER 157 who came clambering down from the wagons, and skip ping over the grass and swarmed upon the creek banks, making as many antics and "shines" as a troop of young monkeys. Instantly a chorus of callb rang out, much after this fashion : "O ma ! I want my fishing hook." "O pa ! Get me my fish pole right away, quick, 'cause here's fish lots of 'em 'n I want to catch some for supper." What glorious music this was to the patriarchs of this modern Exodus ! Then one boy fell in the creek, which was perhaps two feet deep, and all the others set up a howl, the girls for fear he was drowned, and the boys because they feared he had frightened all the fish away. And when he climbed out and declared that "The water was just right to go swimmin' in," half of them forgot their desire to fish and went scampering away down stream in search of a good place in which to un dress and bathe, and only such as were called back and sent for wood to cook the supper were less than gloriously happy. Even these were so full of spirits a little hard work could not dampen their ardor except for a few minutes. Indeed the rarity of getting wood for an outdoor fire was enough to make them happy of itself. And so the women and the elder children gathered fuel and cooked supper, while the men unharnessed 158 AND PIPES. the horses, and having washed their sweaty shoulders in the creek staked them out to grass, and then all fell to for a meal which an epicure might well envy, provided the epicure had ridden all day in an emi grant wagon or walked by the side of one carrying his gun on the shoulder for the pleasure of a chance shot now and then at a prairie chicken or a mule-eared rabbit. And then the stories told about the camp fire when pipes are lit, and a feeling of perfect peace and rest- fulness has taken possession of body and soul ; stories of other days and other men (perchance their fathers) and their frontier lives ; lives that closed but yesterday, yet were spent upon frontiers a thousand miles to the east, where now stand cities, and where the hum and bustle of commerce and trade, the whistle of the steam engine and the rattle of the loom, have driven the deer and the bear from the forests and transformed the forests themselves into fields of corn and barley and clover. ' It may be that memories of their own old homes, the homes they have left and the friends they have loved, call up thoughts that are half sad and mournful, pro ducing momentary regret that they have ventured upon this journey in search of new homes. There is that in the flickering blaze of a camp fire by night, and in the blue columns of smoke rising up THE CAMP FIRE. from burning brands as they fall away from the main body of the fire, the smoke that curls upward and is twisted and blown about by the faintest breath of air, that tends to excite almost any feeling which he who sits and watches it wills. A veritable fairy is the fire, and a veritable wand in its hand is the blue smoke curling upward, and to see pictures either gay or somber, he who sits within the magic circle has but to wish, and lo, he shall seem to see that which he wishes for. But mostly these men, these colonists bound for the promised land, talk of the country to which they are going. Their leader, a man well worthy to lead such seekers for such homes, was called upon to tell again how broad were its prairies, how deep and clear its streams, how here the land lay like the waves of the sea when the wind, just touching it with its breath, compels it to lift and fall gently like the sweet breasts of women; and how in other places it was broken and rough, plowed deep in gulleys, and ledges of rock were thrust up through the soil and huge boulders lay scattered about as if the giants of other days had once held high carnival there, and vied with each other in giving tests of their strength before admiring audiences of the gods. He told them, too, of the abundance of the game ; I6O THE PROMISED LAND. how deer and antelope fed upon the prairies and mated in the woodland ; how wild turkeys stalked about beneath the shadows cast by the tall trees upon the river banks, and nested in the high grass at their roots ; how, turn your footsteps which way you would, flocks of prairie chickens rose and went sailing away across the open country ; how the grapevine clambered over the trees along the margins of the creeks, and the pecan and the walnut trees dropped their rich nuts in profusion upon the ground beneath, and the red and black haw and the persimmon trees stood in clusters. And then these men, these home seekers, these men in rude costumes and faces all unshaven ; these men of strong limbs and vivid imaginations, rose from off the ground where they had set listening, and stretched out their arms as if to clasp the future which they felt to be so great, and talked earnestly of the mighty state which they should found, and the homes they should build in this land of liberty, this promised land of corn and wine. Wearied, at last, with the long day's drive, first one and then another began to slip away to his wagon and his blankets, noticing which the watch was called by the leader, and two men arose and went, rifle in hand, through and around the camp, and so con tinued watching, that nothing went wrong among the PLANNING TO BUILD STATES. l6S tethered animals, or about the smoldering camp fire, until two hours had passed, when they awoke two of their companions to take their places, and they lay down to rest. Phil had no part in the watch that night, but he was long in rinding sleep. This hearing men talk of homes and states to be builded had given him new thoughts, and awakened nobler ambitions than he had known before ; had opened to him a new life a life wherein he saw men as something better and higher than he had ever thought of them before ; saw them aspiring to the great and mighty things ; to be the forerunners of a great and wondrous civilization that should follow fast upon their heels, and add new honor and power to the nation, new dignity to the race of men. To him these men seemed nobler and more grandly made than any men he had ever known before. He did not understand how men's grander impulses always bring to the surface their better selves ; that the build ing, by honest toil, of homes dedicated to the domestic virtues, within a state dedicated to true liberty, is so high a mission that its light illuminates men's souls and makes them great, just to talk and plan of such. Yet, so it is, and Phil was himself all unconsciously a living proof of it that moment ; for he felt lifted up 1 62 PLANNING TO BUILD NEW STATES. and made larger every way by the thoughts which came to him in consequence, as he lay awake and thinking that first night out with the little colony of which he was a member. THE WITNESS. CHAPTER XL IN WHICH THE SUN ENDEAVORS TO GET THERE IN ADVANCE OF THE BOOMERS. Have you ever noticed, dear reader, that the sun gets up awful early in prairie countries ? Well, he does, and he goes to bed late, too, which makes his early rising all the more inexcusable. I suppose that a scientist a scientist is one who knows everything that is not worth knowing and nothing that anybody else cares about a scientist would tell you that the sun sets just as early in a prairie country, and gets up just as late as in a mountainous one ; but then, too, a scientist will tell you some of 'em will that the sun does not set at all ; which proves how little dependence there is to be put in a scientist. Everybody who has ever worked in the harvest field on a big prairie can tell you that the sun gets up at least an hour earlier, and goes out of sight, and I suppose to I 64 BREAKFAST. bed, at least an hour later than he does when one works in a harvest field up in the valleys ; and all the scientists in this, or any other country, can't make us believe any thing else. The sun got up early next morning, as he always does in a prairie country, but not early enough to catch all the emigrants, encamped on the creek bank, be tween blankets. ''There comes the sun," called one of them to an* other, whose head just then appeared at the front of his covered wagon. "Well, let him come; I'm up," was the response, as the speaker crawled out over the end-board on to the wagon-tongue and then to the ground. Then came others, from out wagons and from be neath them, and from under blankets stretched beneath the trees men came forth and shook themselves, and went to the creek's edge and washed the dust of sleep from their eyelids, and went and found their animals and staked them to fresh spots of grass. And women, through the partially open canvas wagon covers, could be seen slipping their own or the children's frocks on, and at minute later descend ing to the ground to begin preparations for break fast. And presently the smell of coffee began to pene trate the camp and to float out upon the still air, until BREAKFAST. 1 6$ it reached the men as they worked with their horses or gathered in little groups, talking of the distance to the next water, or the time it would take them to reach their destination, and it brought them back to their several camp fires and families. And then the odor of frying ham or bacon mingled with the smell of coffee boiling ; and these men and women and, children gathered about a rough box set upon the ground and ate of the hearty food and drank of the fragrant coffee, to which such as would added new milk freshly drawn from the cows belonging to this or that one of the colonists, and which was passed about with free hands to those who wished for it. Then came the packing by the women of the few utensils used in cooking, while the men hitched the animals to the wagons. A quick glance around to see that nothing of value was being left, and then a succession of sounds and sentences, snap of whip, "Get up," "Pull out, boys," "Keep to the left around the bend of the creek there," "Be careful with your guns, you youngsters," the creak ing of wagons and the emigrants are again upon their way, and the first night and morning of their journey have come and gone. The first day and the second are the same, and those which follow are like unto them save as the succession of rolling and broken prairie, and wood and 166 ON THE MOVE. streams give variety to the scenery, and as with better acquaintance little friendships spring up between the women, resulting in visits from one to the other as the wagons move on and on along the trail made by herds of cattle, or by the men who carry the government mail. Catching fish in the stream by which they camped, occasional dashes on horseback in pursuit of deer, sometimes, though not often, successful, frequent shoot ing into flocks of prairie chickens, killing so many that the whole camp ate of them, slipping away and fol lowing the banks of some wooded stream in a still hunt for turkeys or deer, until a hard ride to catch up, or if no horse is used, a long walk after the sun is down, ar>4 darkness covers the prairie with its mantle these helped to form diversions and break the monotony of what might at other times have been a wearisome journey, and served to keep up the keen enjoyment with which all entered upon it. And when finally, after two weeks of such travel and such life, the spot selected for the settlement was reached, though all were glad to be able to begin the building of homes, yet few there were who did not look back over the short journey with a half sigh at its hours and days of freedom from oppressive cares, and at thought of the labor to be performed ere homes could arise in which LOCATING THE SETTLEMENT. they might sit them down to rest and comfort without fear of want. The location selected for the colony was a beauti ful country lying along one of the forks of the Canadian river ; the rich land, abundance of timber suited for building purposes and fuel, together with the climate, which is nowhere excelled for healthfulness or comfort, making it appear a paradise to these people, as indeed it well might be, or might be made to be. Having decided upon a location, the next thing to be done was to ascertain the sectional lines, in order that each homesteader might select a quarter section for his own, as each head of a family is entitled under the law to do, from any unoccupied lands belonging to the government. Accordingly a surveyor's chain and tripod belonging to one of the party, who had done a little surveying as assistant to a more experienced hand, were brought forth, and Phil and two or three others shouldered their guns and started out with them to find a corner post or mark of some kind which would locate a corner and give them a start. After much wandering about and examination of trees and rocks, and tramping through the high grass, the party returned to dinner with a huge load of prairie chickens shot on the wing, but no more knowledge of 108 T. 12, R. 3 W., S. 28. the location of section lines than they had when they started. After dinner they set out again, but at the sug gestion of some of the older heads left their guns at the camp. Again a weary tramp, and the scanning of every thing which they fancied could by any possibility be a * 'witness," but still without success, until just as they were upon the point of retracing their footsteps again and abandoning the search for the day Phil stumbled against the stump of an old cottonwood tree, the body of which had fallen, and together with the stump was almost hidden in the tall grass. A moment later his companions heard his cheerful ' 'halloo." "Here she is, boys ; I've found her." They came hurrying toward him. ' 'This tree was standing when the survey was made, and here is where they blazed her; and here, see, there's the numbers, T. I2,R. 3 W. , S. 28, plain as can be, though I'll be hanged if I know what it means exactly." "That means town 12, range 3 west, section 28." It was the surveyor who contributed this explanation. "We are all right now" he continued; "we will come back here in the morning, and with this for a base, run out the quarters in this section and as many more as the boys want ; no trouble to find the other corners, THE WITNESS. 169 |t>u know. Even if we should miss them a few feet we t-an't miss them so far but that we can find them easy fiough." ' 'Kind of darned queer that this here stump should have happened td~ stand exactly on the corner of a section, dint it now ?" queried another. The surveyor smiled and scratched his head. 4 'The fact is," he said, "that this is not the exact corner ; they simply made this the witness. That is, they marked it to show that there is a corner not far from here, and that the tree was nearer to it than any other prominent object ; though for that matter they would have marked three trees if they had stood any where near and on different sides of the corner ; in which ^ase the corner would be found somewhere in the circle I m&de .together on the ferry boat the afternoon before /** &ifcU in which he ran away from THE ICB BROKEti. SI 3 home, to begin & life of perilous wandering, hd he could not feel at ease because of it, Yet Phil Johnson was naturally self-confident and manly ; and now he gathered his mental forces and an swered, with some stiffness of manner, that he could not think of going on without first learning all they could tell him of every one he had ever known back there. The ice thus broken, they fell into a conversation which soon put them on as familiar a footing as could be under the circumstances. Mrs. McKinley soon joined them, and with her came the younger members of the family boys and girls, most of whom were but toddlers when Phil and Nettie were quite well-grown children. But now these were big boys and girls almost men and women. After all the rest came Mr. McKinley, who shook hands with Phil, now that shaking hands was not such a difficult matter as when one was in the saddle and the other was sitting on the spring seat of an emigrant wagon. There was a good bit of cordiality in his manner, not withstanding the sense of dignity which he felt belonged to the man who was commissioned by two States to run a ferry had not all left him with his leaving the inter state business. When all preparations for such a meal as they could get under the circumstances were about completed, Mis. 214 TALK OF OKLAHOMA. McKinley suggested to her husband, who had beerft too busily engaged talking to think of it, that he find Phil's companions and invite them to supper a suggestion to which he responded with alacrity, although Phil assured them that it was not necessary, as they had provided themselves with food before leaving town, and had it safely store away at the backs of their saddles. Nevertheless, Mr. McKinley hunted them up, but he found them already eating with some of the other emi grants, and so he returned to his own camp fire without them. After supper Phil's companions sought him out, and they were introduced by name to Mr. McKinley and his family. Then others of the emigrants gathered around, and they asked questions about Oklahoma, about the trouble which the colonists had with the military authorities and about other portions of the country with which their new acquaintances were familiar through all of which Phil waited and watched for an opportunity to speak with Nettie out of hearing of the others, though knowing all the time that if such a chance were tc occur he would be no more capable of saying acy but the most common place things than he was of flying. He was not even quite sure that he would be able to say any thing, but none the less he wished that they might be alon^/ if only for a minute. PHIL GROWS MISERABLY HAPPY. 215 To be alone with Nettie would, he felt, bring her, in some way, close to him; give him a kind of possessor- ship, as it were; a possessorship such as he had when as boy and girl they ran the ferry boat together and were recognized by everybody in the little village as being partners in everything and as having a perfect right to be together. But no opportunity of speaking with Nettie apart from others occurred, nor indeed of addressing her at all except as he included her with others of the family in some questions relating to those he had known or events which had occurred in the vicinity of his old home. Occasionally Nettie answered, being best able to do so from her better knowledge of those earlier compan ions of whom he wished to know, and that was all. And when the little crowd began to disperse, and when Phil finally felt compelled to say good-night, he knew that he had received no sign to tell him whether Nettie remem bered him as he wished to be remembered. But he was miserably happy never had been so much so in his life. He rolled himself up in his blank ets by the side of his comrades, but if he slept or not is only known to the sentinel stars that "kept their watch in the sky." Only this much is known: After tossing restlessly for an indefinite period, Phil thought of his pony, which had refused to be rubbed down when unsaddled, and he 216 PONDERING. got up and went to him and curried him, when he stood with his legs spread out and his nose almost touching the ground asleep. The sleeping pony awoke with a little snort when his master spoke his name, and then quietly submitted to having his sweat-dried coat rubbed clean with a handful of grass and a smooth stick, which Phil managed to find by feeling around on the ground in the darkness. After rubbing down his pony Phil returned to his sleeping comrades. But instead of lying down on his blankets, as they lay, he gathered them up and went and spread them at the roots of a tree a little way off, where he lay down again and there remained until morning. So soon as he saw that the family was astir the next morning Phil took his stock of provisions over to the McKinley wagon. He had not forgotten that in the other days he had always a friend in Mrs. McKinley, and he was shrewd enough to guess that she was still his friend. Phil had now had a little time to think matters over, and he felt that, having been received kindly, he would have only himself to blame if he did not drop at once, into the old-time relationship with the family. In this reckoning of the family he did not include Nettie, however. If he won Nettie for his wife he must first prove himself worthy of her. He felt sure of that. Even if she remembered him as he hoped she did, he SPARRING FOR AN OPENING. knew now that she would not acknowledge her love until he had proven to her that he was capable of some higher calling than that of trailing Indians or herding long-horn steers. What Philip sighed for now was an opportunity to prove to her that, though unlearned in books, he was yet the equal of most other men in ability and in moral and physical courage. He meant to make himself the equal of the best. He could do so with her to help him so he told himself ; and he meant to learn what she would prefer him to be what her standard of manhood was, and to make that his standard. Not that he had not strong convictions of what was just and right, as between man and man, for he had. It had been said of him more than once, and by men who knew him intimately, that there was no squarer man on the range than Phil Johnson. But of many things he was ignorant just how very ignorant he did not know, but he meant to find out. He meant to learn by watching Nettie, if possible for him to be near her, and to be in all things what she would have him be. And, now that he had come to himself, he knew that the way to begin was to accept to the fullest the friendly interest shown him by the family and do as nearly as pos sible as he would have done when a boy helping Nettie 218 AGAIN EN RAPPORT. row the ferry, and that was to go to a meal with them as if one of their own family, if so it happened that he was necessarily present at meal time. It was, therefore, the result of well-digested thought that brought him to the McKinley wagon with his pack of provisions and tin cup for coffee that morning. "Mrs. McKinley," he said, " I supposed you would expect me to breakfast, so here I am. I Ve brought along my own stock of provisions, so if you happen to be short I '11 not rob the family. I expect you remem ber something about my appetite, and probably noticed last night that it has grown no less since I ate at your table when I was a boy. " That Mrs. McKinley was pleased with his frankness and desire to resume his old relations with the family even modest Phil thought he could see. At any rate, she treated him exactly as she used to do with a kind of motherly solicitude which made it very easy for him to feel at ease, and so appear to the best advantage. And Phil was as good-looking and as manly-looking a fellow as one meets in a day's travel. Standing 5 feet IO in his boots, well formed and muscular, with a good head set firmly upon his shoulders, mustache of brown inclining to red, with brown hair and blue eyes, Phil ap proached the ideal man. It is doubtful if Nettie had ever seen a more manly form than the sun-burnt and sombrero-topped young fellow who came and took the MORE ABOUT OKLAHOMA. bucket of water out of her hand as she was coming up the creek bank; and there must have been something in her face which showed that she was conscious of this fact, for Phil suddenly felt himself to be more of a man than ever before and more worthy to be her husband. Together they walked back to the wagon, chatting easily and freely, both of the past and the present. At breakfast Phil managed to secure a seat upon the same log with Nettie, and close by her side. And Phil was not conscious of what they had for breakfast, and can not tell to this day. The talk while eating was principally of Oklahoma and the advisability of the McKinley family joining the colonists. Phil told them, as nearly as he could, the facts about the country and the prospects for its early settlement. He knew enough of the ways of the owners of large herds of cattle, and of the necessity of their keeping control of great tracts of land for herding purposes, to understand something of the danger which the colonists were in from that quarter, but he could not conceive it possible that, when the facts were known to the authori ties at Washington, ary one would be allowed to inter fere with those citizens who were seeking to make homes npon the public lands, and he therefore felt safe so far as fear of further trouble with the military forces of the government was concerned, 230 PLANNING TO KEEP NEASt Naturally, he was intensely anxious to have McKin- ley's family join the colonists, for only in this way could he hope to keep Nettie by him. True, he would have given up his claim and selected another in the vicinity of any spot where the McKinleys might have chosen to pre-empt, in Kansas or one of the territories, but to do so would be to indirectly declare his hope with regard to Nettie, and to do it in a way which he felt would hardly be manly under the circumstances. Such a move would be too clear a declaration of his desire to be in her society not to be accompanied with a direct offer of marriage, and he felt that the time to do that had not come. Therefore, he must either persuade them to go to Oklahoma or submit to being separated from Nettie almost as soon as he had found her, and de pend for success in winning her upon correspondence by letter. He was sure she would not refuse him permission to write to her, but he was not accustomed to writing, and he doubted his ability to show to advantage in a corre spondence such as that would be. Yet, above all other things, he disliked to be separated from her, now that they had met again. Nettie took but little part in the discussion of the proposition to go to Oklahoma. Beyond asking Phil if he thought the country would settle up rapidly, so that good schools would follow, she said nothing. MR. M'KINLEY'S VISION. Her father once asked her squarely whether she was in favor of the family going or not, but her mother very dextrously parried the question for her, and she was not obliged to answer it. In the end it was decided to go. Mr. McKinley was in favor of it, because he believed that as soon as a ter ritorial government was formed he could procure a char ter for running a ferry boat across the river ; the boys favored it, because there was plenty of game and the trip promised excitement ; and Mrs. McKinley favored it because well, if the truth must be known, because she thought her eldest daughter's happiness would be made secure by it, without injuring in any way the prospects of the younger children. Mothers, be it known, are acquainted with the ways and the hearts of girls, and quick to understand and sympathize with them in their heart troubles and joys. If Nettie loved Phil, had loved him and clung to his memory all these years, it is reasonably certain that her mother knew it. Mrs. McKinley was wise in her unlearned way, and was a good judge of character. She knew Phil when a boy, and she knew his parents and from whom they were descended. She had confidence in Phil in his integrity of character and in his ability to make his way in life- Therefore, she was not inclined to do that which would needlessly separate the young people, now that they had 222 MOTHERS' WISDOM. been brought together again, until they had full oppor tunity to know whether the feeling of their childhood remained to them in their manhood and womanhood. For thoroughly sound good sense and womanly wisdom, give me the mother whose life has not been all it might have been of ease and comfort ; give me the mothers of the Wabash and other agricultural districts. To say that Phil was rejoiced at the decision arrived at by the McKinleys would be a waste of both time and words. He wanted to look at Nettie and see how she received the decision of her parents when it was finally made known, but he could not muster sufficient courage for a moment, and when he did look at her she had turned away, and appeared to be mighty busy at that particular moment. He felt pretty certain, however, that she was not sorry, and so he was content. Before they broke camp that morning, Phil wrote a long and loving letter home, in which he told of his joy ful meeting with the McKinleys, of his failure to get the letters addressed to him, and promised faithfully that as soon as he got his claim fairly in shape he would pay a visit to the old place "down home." He promised, fur ther, to spend several weeks at least with those so dear to him. Mrs. McKinley also wrote to Phil's mother. Just TWO FAMILIES ADDED. 38| what she wrote in that letter only two persons were sup posed ever to know. But it is safe to say nothing was written that would make Mrs. Johnson feel ashamed of her son. Only two families from the half dozen who composed company of emigrants with whom Phil and his friends camped that night decided to go to Oklahoma, and of them one was Mr. McKinley's. The others con tinued their journey westward, and settled near Garfield, in Pawi:ee county, Kansas. Beyond this mention their fate bears no relation to this narrative. After giving directions as to the route to follow in order to reach the camp of the colonists, Phil and his companions hit them and galloped on ahead. Gladly woia\ Phi! have remained behind and piloted TH COMMISSIONERS RETURN. them through, except that there was really no need of it and he felt that it would be wisest not to run any risk of seeming to force his company upon the family. The three horsemen arrived at the camp of the colo nists a little afternoon of the same day, and the wagons bringing the new accessions to their numbers reached there just at sundown. So Phil had the pleasure of seeing Nettie again be- fove ht, stapt that night CHAPTER XV. BACK TO THE CANADIAN HAVING BUILT A NEW HOUSE, PHIL CONCLUDES TO DEDICATE IT. The journey back to the settlement on the Canadian was made without incident, so far as the company at large was concerned. To Phil and Nettie every day, and almost every hour, was rilled with incidents the incidents of their hourly meetings and partings, of his riding by the side of her father's wagon as they journeyed along, of a spoken word, a glance, a simple flower which he stooped from his saddle to pluck and hand to her. And then the evenings spent about the camp fires, in which memories of the trifling incidents that made up the days and years of their childhood were recalled and lived over again in all their sweetness. All these were mere passing incidents of a flitting evening, unnoticed 226 FRONTIER CRAFT. and uncared for by others, but to these two young peo ple they were things to be thought over and dwelt upon after they had retired for the night and before the morn ing risings. Phil professed still to board with Mr. and Mrs. Jones. But his real status as a boarder with the Joneses was about like this : Having reinstated himself with the McKinley family on something like the old down-home basis, he did as he had been wont to do when a boy. He ate with them about as often as a-nywhere else. The two McKinley boys were now approaching man hood, and one of them was beginning to watch with im patience for the appearance of down upon his upper lip. Both these boys at once ' 'took to" Phil, as the saying is, being caught by his evident knowledge of frontier life and by his splendid accomplishments as a horseman and rifle shot. As much as possible they put themselves in his com pany, and to them he gave lessons in frontier craft the "signs" of the different kinds of game with which the country abounded and the best method of securing it. His rifle was always at their service, and also his pony, and many were the attempts made by one or the other of them to bag a deer or antelope, droves of which were often seen, as the line of wagons, one following the other, moved away across the prairie. And, unskilled as they were, they were not always without reward for HOME AGAIN. 227 their efforts. At least, their success was sufficient to sustain their interest and excitement in the sport. Of course, when the boys failed to keep good the supply of game, Phil and others succeeded, so that fresh meat in variety was always abundant in the train. Phil was now happily miserable happy in the belief that he was regarded with favor by his sweetheart, and miserable because he could not be in her presence more than about half of their waking moments. But he man aged some way to continue to exist, and even to avoid being called crazy by anybody in the company, though just how he did it he could not have told. Certainly he said and did some things which only a crazy man or one madly in love would have perpetrated. * * * A cheer broke from the lips of the colonists when first they neared, once more, the spot from which they had been so ruthlessly driven the spot whereon they had begun to make themselves homes. It was at the close of a day long and warm, and they WEN AND HOW. were grown weary of the journey and eager to get back and be at rest and at work lipon their claims. This forced journey had not been to them like the one by which they had first come to this spot. Then they were filled with joyous anticipations of the future, with which were mingled feelings of love for, and pride in, their country as the possessor of such unbound ed resources and so glorious a Constitution a Constitu tion which guaranteed to every citizen, no matter how humble, a right to life and liberty and a home upon the soil, provided only that he was willing to fashion that home with his own hands. There was a sense of secur ity, a mantle of peace, resting upon them then a feel ing that peace instead of war and love in place of hatred constituted the normal condition of men, and that with in that condition of peace and good will they could em brace all races of men. Such is ever the feeling produced by conditions in which hope of a good time to come is founded upon the belief that justice is enthroned and rules over all, and that labor will receive its perfect reward. But now ? Now they were returning to homes from which they had been driven by the very power which they revered more than all other earthly powers by the government of which they had been so proud ; in spite of the Con* stitution in which they had placed such implicit trust. ANXIOUS HOURS. 399 True, they did not believe the wrong to have been an intentional one on the part of the government. It was a blunder, doubtless ; it had arisen out of a misun derstanding of what and who they were, and of the exact locality in which they had located their claims. But, nevertheless, the annoying and costly wrong had been done them, and the instrument by which it had been accomplished was a company of government troops which had been stationed on the frontier professedly for the protection of just such as they the protection of citizens seeking to make homes for themselves and build up great States on the unoccupied lands of the smiling West. This fact hurt, in spite of themselves. The knowledge of the source of their wrongs took from them the feeling of absolute security, and left in its place the smart of injustice, which, however much they compelled themselves to make excuses for it, still rankled in their hearts and made the sun seem a little less bright, their hopes for the future a little less gay, their confi dence in themselves a little less perfect. The colonists were anxious, too, to know how much damage, if any, had been done to their crops, planted and up before they were dragged away; to know whether their rude cabins had been destroyed or not. These lovers of peace and domesticity longed to be in possession, full and complete, of their homes and "HOME, SWEET HOME," their claims, and to continue the work which they had begun with such enthusiasm only a few short months be fore; and they greeted with a cheer the first sight of the belt of timber fringing the river, beyond which their cabins lay, and, touching up their now somewhat jaded animals, they pushed forward with a more lively step. And then some one some woman began singing "Home, Sweet Home." Clear and low the music and the words floated out upon the evening air, and mingled with the scent of the* flowers and the grass, upon which the dew was begin ning to fall and the harvest moon to shed its soft rays as, like a ball of silver, it arose above the horizon. Oh, how thrilling and ennobling is the music of a woman's voice, whose notes express the yearnings of a pure heart ! Thus ran the old song the great American home song: "'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam. Be it ever so humble, there 's no place like home. A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there, Which, seek thro' the world, is not met with elsewhere." A child's voice, piping and clear, like the notes of a robin, joined that of the woman in the middle of the stanza, and when the chorus was reached other voices of both men and women joined in, and added to the volume of the music and sent it flying across the prairie to be BLACK AND BARE. 231 broken into echoes against the line of timber upon the river bank. " Home, home sweet, sweet home ! There 's no place like home 1 There -^no place like home I" Uncultivated voices these, did you say ? Granted. But they were voices strong, clear and sweet ; voices rilled with a pathos born of deep feeling and strong emo tions ; the voices of men and women who longed for the sweets of home as the roe panteth for the clear waters. They forded the river with the full light of the moon shining down upon them, passed through the strip of timber upon its farther bank, where the shadows were black, and only here and there a ray of silver found its way through thick foliage to the damp ground ; made the little rise upon the other side, where the timber gave way to the prairie, and emerged upon the site of the town which they had laid out with such high hopes when they first came, and near to where the cabins of two of their number had stood. But the cabins were not there ! The spot where they had stood was a bit of bare, black earth, and that was all. Even the ashes to which they had been reduced had been blown away by the winds. The whole party camped there that night. As one f 39 NOT SO. end another of the canvas-covered wagons emerged from the shadows and moved on and up ir.to the prairie and the moonlight they halted, and their drivers got down from their seats and unhitched their teams and picketed them, with scarcely a word spoken to wife or child or comrade. None felt it worth while to drive their wearied teams farther in any faint hope that their own cabins might have been spared, for they knew perfectly well the mo tive which had prompted the destruction of the two cabins which had stood on the spot near where they now were, and that it existed equally for the destruction of each and all the rest, and that in all probability all were destroyed. Nevertheless, when their animals had been cared for, one and another of their number slipped away on foot and visited their separate claims, but only to find their worst fears proven true. Their homes were gone. The earth where their cabins had stood was bare and black and desolate. But did these men weep and wring their hands, and weakly moan over the desolation wrought over cabins burned, over crops trampled into the ground by the hoofs of thousands of half-wild cattle ? Not so ! Some angry words, some oaths, some threats of what they would do if the perpetrators of these new outrages should be incautious enough to fall into their hands PHIL'S FIRST CABIN. 333 and that was all. There was no crying over spilled milk, but no more milk was to be spilled. They built other cabins as they had builded those destroyed by the selfish greed of the cattle kings. The ground where the growing corn had been trampled and devoured they sowed to wheat. The corner stakes which marked the boundary lines of their separate claims they re-established where they had been removed. They foreswore the pleasures of the chase, or hunted only as they had need of procuring food, and worked steadily and hard. They spoke not over much of the past at first, and then less and still less, and then not at'all, but only of the future and of the good time coming. As for Phil, the loss of his cabin was not a heavy affliction, and he was not suffering greatly for the want of it. The burning of a dozen or a hundred cabins all belonging to him, if he had possessed so many, would not have made him unhappy just then. His corn was trampled and destroyed, of course. This was a much greater loss than his cabin, which had not been a very valuable one, and had not cost a very great amount of labor. Being without a family and boarding with a neigh- bor, he had considered it necessary to build only such a house as would meet the requirements of the law. A few logs put up without much hewing or nice care and 234 MR M'KINLEY'S LITTLE WEAKNESS, roofed over with poles and long grass a house in which, in fact, he kept his plow and whatever other implements of tillage he had, and allowed Mr. Jones to store his also, but in which he slept occasionally, that he might comply with the letter of the law, the spirit of which he was complying with in breaking the sod, and in whatever way he made clear his intentions honestly to make it his permanent home this was the kind of a house Phil had owned, and such another he could build, if he wished, in a week's time, with a little help from some of the neighbors in putting the logs in position. But Phil did not hurry to rebuild. Instead, he gave assistance in rebuilding to Mr. Jones, and to others who had families, and were in more immediate need of home shelter. The McKinleys were strong handed of themselves. True, the old gentleman was not over fond of work, as a rule, but now he awoke to the spirit of the occasion and of those with whom he was associated. With the help of his two sons, he soon had a very comfortable double cabin erected on the claim which they had fixed upon. This claim abutted upon the river at a point where it would be easy to establish a ferry, when he should have secured a license to do so from the Territorial Legisla- j*- ture which was to be. To erect a ferry without a license, probably, did not occur to him as possible, or if it did he did not care to MR. M'KINLEY'S RECIPE. 235 do so. The owning of a ferry without a charter signed and sealed in due form with the big seal of the State and with a ribbon attached to it would carry no dignity with it. It was recognition by the Commonwealth as a per son fit to be intrusiTed with the responsibility of the high position which Mr. McKinley coveted, and not the work or profits of the business. Heretofore, at least, Mr. McKinley had worried him self very little over the problem of how to make a living for the family. That was a duty which he felt belonged by right to his wife, and with which he never interfered to any great extent. He probably reasoned that, as it was the generally accepted theory and one everywhere reduced to practice that the wife should cook the food for the family, and as in order for her to do this the food must first be procured, it followed naturally that whoever did the cooking should also procure that which was to be cooked. Mr. McKinley indorsed and adopted the recipe which opens with the admonition : " First catch your hare." Thus Mr. McKinley's recipe for all manner of cooking was : "First get something to cook." Having furnished this recipe, he felt that his duty, so far as it related to providing food and raiment for his household, was fully performed. All that yet remained 2 36 A WOMAN OF SENSE. for him to do was to properly sustain the dignity of the family, which in his opinion could best be done by secur ing recognition from the State in the shape of a charter or license of some kind, such appearing in his mind to be in the nature of a certificate of character, a formal acknowledgment from those in authority that the person certified to was one worthy of being held in high esteem by them, and hence by all. He had insisted on maintaining the ferry across the Wabash long after it had ceased to pay for the trouble of tending it, and had only consented to leave the town when his charter expired and he learned that he could not get it renewed because of the fact that a ferry at that point was no longer needed by any considerable number of people; and now his anxiety for the rapid settlement of Oklahoma arose apparently from a desire to see the Territory organized and a Legislature elected, which would be endowed with authority to grant him a certifi cate of respectability or, in other words, a charter to establish a ferry across the Canadian River at the point where he had located his claim. This little weakness of Mr. McKinley did not, how ever, interfere to make either himself or family inhos pitable or unsociable. Indeed, its members were more than ordinarily sociable, both among themselves and with others. Mrs. McKinley was a woman of much natural ability PHIL'S BRIGHT PLOW. and good sense, though entirely without education, and was quite capable, as a general thing, of both catching and cooking her own hare, and she respected, and taught her children to respect, this fear which their father had of compromising his dignity, and to treat him with a mild species of formality quite sufficient to satisfy his idea of what was right and proper, and so prevented any rasp^ ing of tempers on anybody's part, and made theirs one of the pleasantest of families in which to remain, either for a short or long period of time. Phil soon found that he was not alone in his admira tion for the beautiful eldest daughter. Neither was he the only one who was a frequent and apparently welcome visitor at the spacious and inviting double cabin on the river bank. Meantime he kept industriously at work on the im provement of his claim. Phil had found his plow in the furrow where he left it when he was arrested by the soldiery, and had again hitched to it, and resumed his plowing when he had ren dered such assistance in the erection of new cabins as he felt was necessary to those who had families. He kept this plow bright by constant use until the time for seed ing was over. Then he began the work of erecting a new house, which he meant should be a little better than the most of those built near him, 238 SLIGHTLY JEALOUS. He felt under no need of making great haste, for he still boarded with Mr. Jones and his wife, and he had not reached a formal understanding with Nettie. In truth, Phil was a little jealous, at times, of some of the other young men of the colony. Generally, however, he was hopeful, and even confident ; and, as he had to erect a house of some kind in order to keep good his claim under the law, he decided that it should be one as nearly wor thy of Nettie as could well be, considering the circum stances. So he hewed all the logs of which it was to be built in such a way that the walls would be smooth both inside and out, and notched and laid them up with care. Then he carefully chinked and plastered them as best he could. He also made a wide shed or porch at the rear of the house. This was done by allowing the third log from the top, in the body of the house, to extend over at the back some eight or ten feet. Then by putting posts under these at the end and a girder across from one to the other, and extending the rafters upon that side clear down to the girder, it was ready to be roofed over with <( shakes,'* rough shingles, split or rived from straight-grained trees the same as those with which the main body of the house was covered. The autumn was far advanced when Phil's house was completed. He felt a little proud of it, as it was the WANTED A BIRD. 2 39 best one in the settlement. At least, this was the own er's estimate of his handiwork. And now if Nettie would consent to become his wife his happiness would be complete, and he felt that he could not much longer delay asking the question, upon her answer to which his future happiness or misery solely depended. He thought over the matter a great deal thought of it all the time, in fact. But, like many another lover, he was loath to " Put his chances to the touch, And win or lose it all." Here, again, was procrastination the thief of time. Poor Phil ! He waited for some word or look from Net tie which should give Him better courage and a basis for hope. And so, wailing and hoping, the days went by, and a week had elapsed since his house was finished. Still he had not asked Nettie to share it with him. Finally one of the young men with whom he asso ciated said to him : " I say, Phil ! Why don't you have a dance and a party over at your new house ? Dedicate it, you know ? Joe Anderson will fiddle for us, and we can have a way- up time. Say you '11 do it." Phil jumped at the idea, and wondered he had not thought of it before. 240 PHIL GOES TO INVITE NETTIE. He would invite everybody which would, of course, include Nettie. Maybe, when once she was over there, actually within his own house, he could find some way of telling her how much he loved her, and how he had built the house with the hope that she would share it with him. He told the friend who had suggested the party that it would be all right, and together they fixed upon a time for it to come off. Then Phil told him to invite every body he saw, and to tell them to invite everybody they saw, so that no one in the settlement might be missed. This preliminary arranged, Phil set out for McKin- ley's cabin to invite Nettie and the rest of the family. JOS- CHAPTER XVI. fi RATHER STRANGE BETROTHAL FOLLOWED BY HASTY PREPARATIONS FOR A FIGHT. 4 * Nettie and the other girls are gone over to a neigh bor's," Mrs. McKinley told Phil when he inquired for her at her father's cabin. Then he started out to find them and escort them home. He found them at the house to which their mother had directed him, and with them he ate supper there. Then they all started to walk home. As they walked the younger girls went on before, but Phil and Nettie lingered. At first their conversation was on the things of which they had been talking while at the neighbor's where they were visiting. These were some trifles the newest hap penings among the families constituting the colony ; the contents of a letter some one had received from friends in the East ; then of their own friends, and of things 242 COMING TO THE POINT. which had happened when they were children ; of the old home in the older times. Then Phil told her of how his house was finished and ready for occupancy, and of how they were all going to have a frolic there some evening soon, and that he want ed her to let him come for her and see her home again afterward. To all this Nettie assented with so sweet a grace that Phil grew bold. He told her, with much stammering, how he longed to make her his wife, to have her love him and share his home ; how he always had meant to have returned some time to the'old home and to her ; how, not hearing from home, he feared to go, lest he had been forgotten or lest he find her married to another ; how, since he had met her that afternoon in the emigrant train, he had thought of nothing else save how to win her and to be worthy of her afterward. To Phil's impassioned story Nettie made no reply, but instead walked by his side with her head turned from him, and gazed away off across the prairie and the river, as if looking at some distant object. Seeing that she turned away from him, Phil thought Nettie was indifferent to his suit. This made him des perate, and he pleaded the harder. He told her that for all his imperfections his lack of education and polish he would try to even up with a fuller measure of love ; "YES." 243 told Jier AOW, with every blow struck upon his new house, he had sent yp 3. fervent prayer that she might share it with him and make it bright and cheery with her pres ence. But still Nettie walked w*tfi head averted and made no answer. Phil cast his eyes in the direction she was looking. He Sb.w that which caused him to stop in his walk sud denly and his cheek to pale, though the tan upon it was as thick as the sun and wind could make it. Nettie stopped also, and for a few minutes they stood side by side, gazing away across the river, where could be seen approaching a body of horsemen in uniform, and riding at a sharp trot. Then Nettie turned to Phil, and, putting her two hands in his, she looked him in the face and said : ' ' Phil, I lo^e you. I have always loved you and be lieved in you, and always will ; and I am ready to be your wife and share your home. But not you nor any of us will have a home tomorrow. " And Phil answered not a word, for he knew she spoke the truth. He, too, had recognized the approaching horsemen as United States cavalry, and he knew they could have but one errand there ; that they had come a second time to evict the settlers from their homes. And he released Nettie's hands without even offering to seal their betrothal with a kiss. 244 OTHER STRANGE THINGS. "A strange betrothal," did you say ? Well perhaps. Strange conditions environed them. Those are strange conditions which induce yes, compel men whose souls are tall and strong and white to leave the settled portions of the country, those loca tions where the genius of the race has achieved its grandest triumphs over the forces of nature, and where wealth is a thing of so little value that it is heaped up in stacks and measured by millions, and go out into the wilderness, where there is absolutely no wealth, in order that they may obtain shelter and food for themselves and their families. And yet more strange is it when they have done this and are peacefully seeking by their own labor, upon God's own land, to build homes for themselves and those they love, that there should come bands of armed men bearing aloft the ensign of the country of which these home builders are citizens, and burn their houses and drive them from the country. Strange, indeed, are these things so strange that one scarce can believe them true. But when one knows them to be true, there is nothing that can follow which can appear strange, or which can not follow naturally. The apple blossom without fragrance, the fruit all withered upon the boughs, the tree dead and bare in the midst of green fields and soft waters even these anoma- A TRYING ORDEAL. 245 lies cease to appear strange when it is known that those other things can be, and are. Nor is Oklahoma the only spot where the joyfulness of young lovers has been stolen from them in the very moment of betrothal ; where mothers have given birth to infants whose gestation was not yet complete ; where men have clasped the hand of Death and have gone with him from the sight of those who loved them and whom they loved, because of these things which are here nar rated. There are ruins of coliseums and palaces, of princi palities and of states, to be seen in Greece, Italy and many other countries ruins which appear strange and unaccountable until we remember that there, too, armed men drove forth those who, in obedience to the divine law, sought to make themselves homes and fortunes by the tilling of the soil. The thoughts which were now burning themselves through Phil's brain as he stood there after letting go his sweetheart's proffered hands were plainly written on his face, and Nettie read them as from an open book. She saw the great veins upon his forehead swell, the 246 BOR LOVE'S SWEET SAKE. fire of determination and hate kindle and flash from his eyes, the lips draw together, the hands clinch, and the right hand lift as if to draw a weapon from the belt, and she was frightened not at what the fast approaching soldiers might do, but what Phil might do in defense or retaliation. Quickly Nettie's small hands crept back into Phil's larger ones, and her fingers twined themselves about his, as if she would hold him back from the desperate deeds on which he seemed to meditate. Then he stooped and kissed her upon the lips kissed her cheeks and hair, put his arms about her and spoke lovingly, albeit solemnly. " Nettie," said he, "I know what your fear is, and I will do no rash thing. For your sake I will be careful, and will hold my life and the lives of our enemies of more value than the pleasure of resistance to a mighty wrong. It is an awful thing, this feeling that we are be ing wronged so deeply without power of resistance ; this being compelled to receive insult and injury without giv ing a fitting answer. But it must be so. Those soldiers come in the name of the law, and we must respect the law ; though if it were not for you, I think I don't know I I don't understand why we may not be left in peace here why the government permits us to be so wronged." Nettie, sobbing upon his shoulder, begged him to be GATHERING FOR DEFENSE. 24? patient. She assured him all would come right in the end ; and that maybe, after all, the soldiers were not come to drive them away. But Phil knew better than to think this. He well knew there was nothing else to bring them into that vicinity in such force, and he felt that the worst might be anticipated. He guessed that the explanation which he and others had sent to Washington had not been properly directed, or in some way had not reached its destination, and that the military were acting under their previous orders to keep the colonists out, and not upon orders which were newly received. For a few moments yet the lovers stood exchanging pledges of continued love and fealty, and might have remained thus longer but for the sound of approaching horsemen. So, after a parting kiss, they hastened to ward Nettie's home. A moment later several men on horseback, with rifles in their hands and revolvers in their belts, came flying across the prairie, headed in the direction of the ford. These men were neighbors, members of the colony, who had observed the approach of the soldiers and were hurrying to meet them. They called to Phil, as they flew past, to get his rifle and come on. Looking to the right and left, Phil and Nettie could see others of the colonists, some afoot and others astride 248 MEN THREATEN WOMEN WEEP. horses or mules from which the harness had been hastily stripped, riding and running and gathering on the bank of the river. And they, too, hurried as fast as they could, even running the last part of the way, and soon reached the ford, at which the people men, women and children were now gathering. Few of the men but had brought their arms v and all those who had not were being urged to return to their cabins for them. Threats that the soldiers should never cross the river were heard from some, while others proposed that each man return to his own cabin, barricade his door, and refuse to be arrested or evicted under any circumstances. Some of the women were wringing their hands and weeping ; others were following their husbands or sons about, pleading with them to do nothing rash. Infants were carried in arms, and children crying with excite ment clung to their agonized mothers. The leader or president of the colony was not pres ent, he having, as it chanced, gone out for an afternoon hunt across the prairie, from which he had not as yet returned ; and when Phil entered the excited group quite a number turned to him for counsel and advice, for he had come to have influence among them. Gathering about him, they asked : ' ' What shall we do ? They are coming to arrest us again, and if they do the cattlemen will burn our houses as soon as we are out AN EXCITED CROWD. 249 of the way. Our crops will be destroyed and our settle ment broken up." " Fight 'em that 's my advice !" called out one who had just reached the group. tl They 're nigger troops, anyway!" shouted one of the men. This announcement caused fresh tremors to extend through the crowd. ' ' I fought four years to free the niggers, " shouted a colonist, " and I '11 be d d if any crowd of niggers is going to oust me when I 'm minding my own business and disturbing nobody." That this sentiment was generally approved was evi denced quickly. "I 'm with you, old comrade." " Your head 's level there." "That 's the way to talk it." These exclamations came indiscriminately from the crowd of excited men and weeping women and children gathered upon the river bank, watching the approach of the colored troops sent to evict them a second time from their homes. Phil felt his whole soul respond to this warlike spirit of the more reckless of the crowd. He had spent so much of his life among those whose hands are for ever playing with the butts of their revolv ers, had seen so much of force and so little of any thing 25O PHIL MAKES A SPEECH, else, as a governing power, that he hardly knew there was any other way of opposing the wrong or protecting the right except with fire-arms. The slave bred and born in slavery feels but slightly the weight of his chain as compared with him whose limbs it chafes for the first time, and while in the full possession of health and strength and with a knowledge of freedom's worth. Phil's whole soul cried out in wrathful protest against the indignity and wrong now threatening them. His hand clinched involuntarily, and the fire of mighty anger flashed from his eyes. But before he had given expres sion to the thoughts and feelings which were burning for utterance a small, soft hand from out the crowd touched his. Looking down, he saw Nettie's anxious eyes and tear-stained face turned up to his, and at once his anger cooled, and instead of urging his companions to prepare for fight he pleaded with them to be patient and keep cool, and so do nothing rashly. At first his voice was hoarse and his words came with an effort, but as his anger died out it took a smoother tone, and then became soft and flexible, with a strange power to sway the excited feelings of his fellow back woodsmen. Phil felt a mild surprise at this. He was surprised, first, that he could speak after this fashion, and then that his words should have such power over his compan- A NATURAL LEADER. 3$ I ions. He had not suspected himself of possessing such oratorical ability, and he knew nothing of the power that lies in the word, if strongly asserted, to compel obedi ence ; and he was, therefore, as much surprised at the effect of his speaking as he had time to be. Having calmed the excitement in a measure and hav ing brought order out of confusion, he was on the point of proposing that a committee be selected to ride forward and meet the approaching soldiers, when the leader of the colony arrived, and to him Phil resigned the author ity with which circumstances and his own recognized fitness had momentarily invested him. This man whom the colonists called their leader was .aot one having any autocratic authority over them. He was the one who presided at their meetings held for the purpose of deciding upon business of interest to the col ony, at which each head of a family was entitled to a voice and a vote. He was their guide and spokesman. He was their leader in the sense of one who goes ahead. But he was not one who had autocratic power to compel others to follow. If they followed, they did so because they were pleased to follow, confident that they were being led in the way they themselves had decided to go, and not be cause they were ordered to do so. But this man was a natural leader of men as well. He had that quick perception of what is necessary and ON COME THE TROOPS. best to do on occasion, and also jin air of knowing that he knew, which showed itself in every word and move ment, and inspired that confidence in others which in times of unusual happenings gave him a power that was autocratic so long as exercised within limits which per mitted those over whom it was exercised to retain their self-respect unimpaired. This man did not await the appointing of a commit tee. He took command as by right, and with one word produced quiet. Then he said, in a voice that betrayed no trace of excitement or fear : "If the rest of you will remain here, Mr. Johnson and I will ride forward and see what the troops want. We will report to you as soon as we ascertain the situa tion." To Phil he said : "Come with me. If you have no horse here, one of the men will lend you his." With this Capt. Paine turned away and rode down the bank into the river. Phil borrowed a horse and joined him before gaining the opposite shore, and together their animals clambered up the bank and cantered away, side by side, to meet the troops, now only a few hundred rods distant. When they had approached quite near, the Lieuten ant in command of the troops, who were part of a black regiment that for some months past had been stationed "WE 'VE COME FOR YOU AGAIN." 2J3 on the frontier, rode forward accompanied by an orderly, and both sides saluted with proper courtesy. Then, wheeling their horses, the two colonists fell in line with the Lieutenant and orderly, and rode back a little in advance of the company of regulars, whose nags had dropped to a walk. The Lieutenant was the first to speak. His manner was not lacking in politeness, but his words carried an awful meaning. " You see that we 've come for you again." " I supposed that was your purpose," replied the Seader of, the colonists, ' ' as I could not think of any other errand you could have down this way. I hoped the explanation that we made and forwarded to Washington on the other occasion would prove sufficient to save us further trouble, but it appears to have failed, in some manner." * ' Who gave the order for driving us out of the coun try ?" asked Phil. * ' Orders to me came from my superior officers, " an swered the Lieutenant, "and that is all I am supposed to know. However, I learned that they originated in Washington ; indeed, they could not well originate any where else." "Do you mean to say," asked Phil, a little excitedly, " that the government that is, the President ordered that WB be taken out, after the explanation we made 254 PLYING QUERIES. under oath the other time ?" Though not so intended, Phil's words nettled the officer. 4 ' I don't mean to say any thing about it, " replied the officer, hotly. " All I care to know is, that I have orders from those whom I am bound to obey to take you out of here, and that you are going." The words and the manner of the officer rasped both men, but they managed to contain themselves, although Phil was compelled to call up Nettie's words and looks before he could choke back the hot retort that sprang to his lips. His companion, more accustomed to self-command, answered without apparent feeling that he regretted that such orders had been issued. "Could there be found," he asked, * ' some way by which the matter can be held in abeyance for a time, so the colonists can be left in possession of their homes until communication can be held with the President of the United States, who cer tainly is laboring under a misapprehension regarding the matter, and an effort made to secure the revocaticp c* the order ?" "I have no orders of that kind," replied the Liey- tenant. "But could you delay a little? I will send to th* nearest telegraph office a man mounted on the swiftes* horse in the settlement, or will go myself, and there tele graph a full account of the nature of our claims, an appear in the midst of the wide stretches of green, the old ones having already been worked over and plant ed, making the third time that these older colonists had sowed and cultivated without being permitted to reap a harvest. And so the time passed. The men worked at turning the sod and preparing for a future harvest of grain, taking only an occasional day off for hunting, that there might never be a scarcity of meat in the larder. The women looked to household affairs and to the bright bits of gardens about their dooryards. The children fished in the river, hunted for flowers in the prairie grass along the borders of the wood, and while so occupied grew strong and healthy and as black as Indians from the sun and tan. By-and-by the corn, which for a time had turned to green again the patches and ribbons of black, changed them to brown and gold instead. The first harvest of the colonists is nearly ready for the gathering. It is not a large one, but it is the first fruits which AGAIN A SCHOOLMA'AM. 295 have ripened beneath their care, and they are proud of it happy because of it, and because of the promise that it contains of other and broader harvests yet to spring from the rich soil of this most beautiful valley in this fairest of lands, when they shall have had time to turn some wider furrows across the prairie's rich soil. The McKinleys, like all the rest, have been busy, and their claim has some narrow bands of gold and brown, and some wider ones of black across it, where the young men have been plowing and planting. Mr. McKinley's interest in life, as in the prosperity of the colony, has increased rather than diminished with the passing weeks, and he has been as busy as the very busiest though just what he has done is not so clear, except that he has helped to imbue the colonists anew with faith in the dignity of labor and with lofty aspira tions for the future of Oklahoma, and has selected, at least in his own mind, the exact site for the new Terri torial State House, which the first Legislature, of which he will be a member, will order erected. Immediately after getting into their own cabins, the colonists had erected a school house on the site of the city which is to be, and in this Nettie has been following her vocation as teacher to the children. They made a pretty large school, and a pretty diffi cult one to manage well, but Nettie has had experience with such, and manages them nicely. 296 PHIL A STUDENT. The younger ones are kept in only just long enough to be heard say their ABC lesson or read an a-b ab les son and then sent out to play, while their teacher gives her attention to the larger scholars, to whom she is a companion as well as teacher. On Sunday afternoons, and usually on one or two evenings during the week, she gives private lessons to a young man by the name of Johnson, familiarly called Phil, in matters not set forth in the school books. Phil has his new house under way again now, and is building the same sweet hopes in with the other material that he put into the one which he built a year ago, and which was destroyed by order of the cattle kings during his enforced absence. Nettie comes over with him on Sunday afternoons, and together they lay their plans for the future, which is to begin so soon now just so soon, in fact, as the house is finished, and that will be but a little while, only a few weeks. A printing press has been purchased and brought out by the president of the colony, and a little paper devoted to the interests of the members and to the settlement of the country about them has been started. Weekly edi tions of it are struck off and sent here and there and everywhere, to friends of the colonists and to any who can be induced to take an interest in this new country and the development of its resources. A FRIENDLY TIP. 2Q? The colony, quite plainly, is already assuming the airs of an old settlement. It has faith in itself and in its future, and it has room in which to grow. One Saturday afternoon, as the weekly paper, the Oklahoma Bee, was being distributed to a group of col onists who had come for it, a stranger appeared, dressed in the garb of a cowboy. He was mounted on a cow pony, as the little Mexi can horses used so largely by the cattle men are called. He wore the usual complement or revolvers and carried the customary Winchester rifle lying across his lap be hind the pommel of his saddle. Halting in front of the little group gathered about the board shanty in which the newspaper was printed, he leaned forward in his saddle and looked the crowd over leisurely without speaking. Naturally all eyes were turned toward him, and one or two of the younger men pitched some half joking remark in his direction, to which he made no response, but continued coolly running his eye from one to another with a look of quizzical curiosity. At last he said : "I was wondering, as I rode along, what kind of stuff you fellows are made of. You don't look, now, like a set that would show the white feather without first rinding out -vhat the other fellows had for exchange." INFORMATION OF VALUE. For a moment no one answered. Then one asked, Angrily: " What do you mean ?" "Oh, not much," replied the other, with an air of carelessness. Then the mysterious visitor glanced away across the country, and after a moment added : 1 ' Got some pretty good claims here, I should say Pretty good claims. Nice town site, school house and printing office every thing getting fixed up just about right. I should think you fellows would kind of hate to pull out of here. I should, for a fact." " Say, pardner, if you 've got any information that 's of value to this crowd, this is just as good an opportu nity to dispose of it as you will ever get. Suppose you speak right out now, and have it over with at once. " It was Phil Johnson who spoke, and as he did so he left the place where he was standing in the door of the printing office, and came close up to the horseman, who eyed him closely, and then said : " Your observation is correct, pard. You Ve hit the bull's-eye dead center, first pop. " Now, what I 've got to say I can say mighty quick. So here goes. "If you fellows mean to hang on to your claims, you Ve got to fight for 'em. "Do I make myself understood?" " No I Speak out plainly about the matter." THE TALE IS TOLD. 299 "What do you mean, anyhow?" "Who 's going to jump our claims ?" Everybody spoke at once, and all crowded forward and formed a circle about Phil Johnson and the strange horseman. The stranger had the appearance of enjoying the sensation which he was creating. He again surveyed the crowd with a look of careless indifference which one could not help seeing was par tially, if not wholly, assumed. The man was doubtless a natural lover of the trag ical, and almost unconsciously sought to gratify his love of it by the manner in which he imparted the informa tion he had to give. "Well," he said, still with an air of nonchalance, "you fellows can see who I am tell that by the set of my clothes. " I 'm a cow puncher, and I herd for one of the com panies that own cattle and a range not very far from this locality. That is, they own the cattle and claim to own the range leased it, you know, from some other fellow, who leased it from the Indians. ' ' Well, I accidentally overheard a little conversation between a couple of partners cattle kings, they are called the other night, and they were remarking that your corn fields would make right good picking for their steers this winter, after the soldiers had run you fellows 300 NOT MY CHUCK WAGON. out of the country again. Then they chuckled, and ap peared to like the arrangement." This choice bit of cattle king pleasantry excited gen eral indignation, and one of the colonists replied : " But they can 't run us out. We have a decision of the court in our favor." ' ' Oh, well ! Just as you fellows think ; this aint my chuck wagon, of course," returned the stranger. "But maybe you don't know who 's back of this thing as well as some other folks. Maybe the military have n't been informed of the decision of the court, and maybe it would make no difference if they had. Maybe those who are back of this thing don't care what the law says, any way. ' 'But if you know more about it than I do, why, then I can't see that you need any more information from me." He straightened himself in his saddle and lifted the bridle from the neck of his pony, as if about to ride off, but they called to him to " hold on," and urged that he tell them all he knew about the matter, and whether he was certain that a descent upon them by the troops from any of the forts in the Territory was positively decided upon. They could not believe such a thing possible, and yet they were quick to take alarm, being made suspicious by previous experiences. ORDERS FROM WASHINGTON. 3OI But the good-hearted cowboy, although anxious to warn them, had told about all he knew. He had overheard a conversation from which he had gathered that a movement was on foot to again drive the colonists out of the country, but when the attempt to do so was to be made he had not learned. He was of the opinion that the date was near at hand it might be any day, or it might not be for a month. He could not tell. But he was confident of two facts that the troops were to be again ordered to remove the settlers out of the Territory, and that the orders came straight from Washington. While an excited talk, which this announcement created, was taking place among the colonists. Phil put his hand upon the neck of the stranger's pony, and then walked a few paces by his side. "Pard," he said, "you have done us a good turn, I reckon, though I can't say as it 's pleasant news you Ve brought. Come, spend the night with me, and rest both yourself and pony." "Can't do it. Would if I could, but it is better not. I told the boss when I left camp that I was just going for a little canter after some antelope, and I '11 tell the boys when I get back that I had a long chase of it. ' I reckon the looks of my pony will bear out that last statement, if I get in much before midnight." 302 THE COWBOY'S OPINION. * ' It will be a sad thing for the members of the colo ny, if what you think is in store for us proves true, " said Phil. First satisfying himself that no one but Phil would hear what he had to say, the cow puncher remarked with emphasis : " And if you fellows have the sand to make a fight, and so bring the question of who owns this country be fore the world, it will be a sad day for the cattle compa nies. There'll be 'weeping and gnashing of teeth,' sure. " Putting spurs to his pony, he was soon out of sight in the gathering darkness. CHAPTER XX. I ROUGH-AND-TUMBLE FIGHT MR. M'KINLEY ASSISTS IN SAVING THE COUNTRY. The rumor that troops were to be again sent to take away the settlers spread rapidly, and produced the wild est excitement. Instead of diminishing, the crowd about the printing office constantly augmented, and at midnight was many times greater than at sundown. A bonfire had been built early in the evening, which, flashing out across the prairie, attracted the attention ot one and another of the settlers. Every one who saw it wondered what it could mean, and while wondering grew uneasy in his mind regarding it and hastened over to his neighbor's house to ask if he knew what its meaning was. Then the two looked, and saw the flames leap up and flare out, and a shower of sparks arise as some one threw on fresh fuel ; saw the 304 THE BALE-FIRE'S GLEAM. group of men standing by, and wondered yet more what it could mean. Wondering and speculating, they heard the hallo of a third neighbor, calling to them from the road, asking if they were going up to see what the bonfire meant. They joined him, and all three went together ; and so, from every direction, men, singly and in groups of three or four and a dozen, began to come in and swell the crowd about the fire, and, hearing the rumors, to talk loudly of resistance or to keep silent and to finger their weapons. The bale-fires built by old-time Scottish chiefs to call the clans together, the blast by Roderick Dhu on lone Benledi's side, were scarce more magical in their effects than was this bonfire built upon a little eminence away out on the prairies of Oklahoma, albeit there was no previous understanding that it should be the signal for the rallying of any clan. And never did bolder men gather at any bugle blast or bale-fire's gleam than gathered there that night and discussed the probability of the story told by the cowboy being true. Some asked what could be done ; others told what they would do in case eviction was attempted. What they would do ? What could they do ? " Can we again submit quietly to being driven from QUANDARY NO, 3, 30$ our claims, insulted, imprisoned, robbed ? Can we lift hands against the authority of the government to which we owe allegiance ? Against men who wear the uniform and carry the flag of our country ?" "What can we, do ?" " Can we see our families rendered homeless, subject to indignities God knows what and make no resist ance ? Shall we lift no strong hand to defend them or avenge them ?" * ' Can we leave this fair land, and with it all our bright visions of comfort and happiness, because a syn dicate of rich men, many of them aliens to the govern ment and enemies of the Republic, want it for herding grounds for their cattle ?" Such were the questions they asked themselves and each other, standing about the bonfire that night in early December. This is the conclusion they came to : " Rather than be driven off again, we will fight." And yet to do so was to array themselves against the old flag. Could they do that ? In their desperation they said they could. They said the flag had ceased to represent liberty and justice ; that the government no longer protected the weak against the strong ; that it was no longer worthy of respect and reverence. Yet, within their hearts, the echo of their own terri- 3O6 DECIDE TO FIGHT. ble words caused sharp pangs, and their awful meaning caused them to hesitate and grow silent Could they fight ? What would they do ? What could they do ? It was not until two weeks later that the troops came detachment from Fort Reno, headed by Lieutenant Knight, acting under orders of his superior officer. In regular line of battle the troops advanced, and they were met by the colonists armed and ready for the contest. The latter had decided that they could not submit to being again driven from their homes without making armed resistance. They had the law, justice and the decision of a Dis trict Court on their side. So they felt, and they would fight. Marching his troops up to within short rifle range of the colonists, who had thrown up some slight breast works in front of the printing office and school house and were waiting to receive them, Lieutenant Knight sant an orderly with a demand for an immediate surren- "TURN 'EM LOOSE." 307 der. This demand was refused. Surrender could not be even thought of. "Go tell your master to turn his dogs loose !" Such was the answer sent back by the leader of the colonists in response to the demand for immediate sur render. Turning to the colonists, he added : "Prepare to defend yourselves." This was not just what the Lieutenant expected, and it put a new and not entirely pleasant face upon the situ ation. The commanding officer found his force of less than one hundred opposed by at least an equal number of determined men, all of them good shots and well armed, and protected in some degree by the redoubt which they had thrown up. An order to his troops to fire would surely be met by a volley from the settlers, which might wipe out his little company of regulars at the first round, and would surely do so before the firing ceased. His own life would not be worth a rush, once he gave the order to begin the attack. Therefore, the Lieutenant concluded that discretion is the better part of valor, and he decided upon using strategy. He asked for a parley, which was granted. The leader, Phil Johnson, Mr. McKinley, Mr. Jones and Tom Price went out between the lines and met the $o8 THE LIEUTENANT'S STRATEGY. Lieutenant, who was accompanied by an escort befitting the occasion. The pour-parlers held a long consultation. The Lieu tenant tried to convince them of the uselessness of their offering resistance. The pioneers answered that, since nothing else was left them, they were compelled to fight. Only by resistance could they bring the question of their right to settle in those parts before the country, and so arouse a public sentiment which would save the whole of Oklahoma, the Cherokee Strip and the Public Land Strip to the people, which else would remain for ever in the grip of the syndicates and cattle kings. After more than an hour spent in this kind o{ argu ment, the parties separated and the soldiers went into camp on the spot. The colonists, not believing an attack would be vent ured upon and not intending to begin an attack but only to act in defense of their lives and their property, simply lounged about, chatting and smoking. But they stayed close by their arms and kept a watchful lookout on the camp of the soldiers. By-and-by the Lieutenant came strolling over to the settlers' camp, accompanied by an orderly. A little later a. Corporal and three privates strolled over, and after a bit a few more soldiers. Discipline appeared to be pretty loose, considering that they were regulars, but as they left their arms be* SCHEMING TO AVOID BLOODSHED. 309 and nothing was thought of it by the unsuspecting colo nists. The settlers understood as well as did the Lieutenant that only as the very last resort was blood to be shed, or such a course pursued as to compel the country to take recognition of what was going on. No John Brown affair was to be made of this thing no martyr blood shed if it was possible to avoid it; but a quiet removal of the settlers, the imprisonment of the leaders for a time and their discharge without trial after their followers had scattered. This would raise no storm. This would never be heard of by the country. This was the thiMg- intended. Well knowing this, the settlers thought nothing very strange when the attempt to frighten them into leaving having apparently been abandoned the soldiers lounged about without arms, and so strolled over to the opposite camp, only a few rods away. The unarmed soldiers mingled freely in the camp of the settlers and chatted with some degree of friendliness, for the soldiers had personally no enmity against the colonists and the colonists understood that the soldiers were but obeying orders. At sundown the soldiers were recalled to their camp, and the settlers slept upon their arms, after eating such food as was brought to them from their several homes or as they cooked around their camp fire, 310 LAYING THE TRAP. Both parties put out pickets the regulars only for purposes of discipline, for they knew they would not be attacked. The settlers did not know that the regulars would not attack them, though they did not expect it, knowing that a more quiet plan would be devised if the commandant could arrange it. Next day the soldiers and citizens fraternized in the camp of the latter, and mingled more freely than on the day before. That is to say, there were more soldiers in fact, about all the soldiers except the guards, who paced back and forth in front of the Lieutenant's tent and the commissary wagon. They appeared to have come over for a friendly talk and smoke with the back woodsmen. Lieut. Knight came with them, and after chatting pleasantly awhile with the president he proposed that he call together eight or ten of the more influential settlers, and hold another conference. He said he hoped to con vince them of the folly of continued resistance, and so end the matter. The president replied that he had no objection to the Lieutenant talking to as many of the settlers as he chose. He was assured, in advance, that nothing which he could say would change things. If he got them out of Okla homa this time he must do it by force, as they were now determined to make a stand for their rights. ODD ARMY TACTICS. 311 However, he called Phil Johnson, Mr. McKinley and a dozen other colonists into the printing office, and told the Lieutenant to go ahead with his entertainment. As those inside talked, those outside gathered about the doors and windows of the little frame shanty, and listened. At first those gathered around seemed to be about equally citizens and soldiers, but after a bit there were more soldiers and fewer citizens, and gradually these few were crowded back until a. cordon of soldiers surrounded the building, and a number had entered it. Phil Johnson noticed this disposition on the part of the soldiers to crowd forward, and he grew suspicious. It was not customary for privates in the regular army to attend a conference with the officers, even where the meeting was in a way informal and in their midst, as was this one. He felt sure that an attempt was to be made to cap ture those in the shanty, thinking that by securing them without bloodshed or the use of arms the others would capitulate without a fight. Nor was he wrong in his conclusions, for suddenly, at a signal from the Lieutenant, the soldiers pressed for ward and attempted to seize upon the persons of the set tlers, two or three reaching for one man. The officer expected to secure them almost before his intentions were understood. $12 A ROUGH-AND-TUMBLE FIGHT. But his calculations for the coup were far too opti mistic. Phil Johnson, at least, was prepared, and at the first move indicating treachery his fist went straight out from his shoulder, and a man in uniform went sprawling over the floor in front of his companions, causing several to stumble and fall. This prompt action on Phil's part gave his comrades time to realize the situation. And now began one of the oddest rough-and-tumble fights on record a fight with fists between soldiers of the regular army, led by a commissioned officer, and a body of frontiersmen cooped up in a shanty. Nor was the fighting confined to those inside, for the settlers outside the printing office heard the sounds of the melee and attempted to push their way inside. Being resisted by the soldiers about the door and win dows, who were acting under orders of a Sergeant and two Corporals, blows fell thick and fast, and in a few moments a free fight was going on that would have done credit to Donnybrook Fair in its palmiest days. Inside the shanty, a half-dozen settlers, crowded into one corner by twice or thrice their number, were making the best fight their cramped condition would permit. Blows, the force of which was greatly lessened by the nearness of the combatants to each other, but which Started noses to bleeding and caused black eyes to sud- A BAD MIX-UP. 313 denl> ippear and bumps to start forth in profusion upon heads were being given and taken on both sides. At the other end of the shanty the combatants had overturned the cases of type. Some had stumbled over these c\nd others had been knocked over them, and the soldiers and settlers were mixed up in an indistinguisha ble mass. It was a bad mess of printer's "pi." Among those entangled were the Captain, McKinley, Jones and the Lieutenant, though to have picked out any one of them and separated him from the others would have app^ired quite an impossibility, as nothing was to be seen except aa indiscriminate pile of legs, arms and heads. Beginning at the bottom, there appeared, as nearly as could be seen, first a couple of cases of type, then a man in uniform, then Mr. McKinley and the ink keg, then another soldier and more cases of type, then Lieu tenant Knight and old man Jones, then more soldiers and the leader of the colony with more cases of type and more men, both in uniform and without it. After this fashion the battle raged, and for a time vic tory appeared loath to decide between these unscientific combatants. Within the shanty the settlers were getting the worst of it, so far as could be judged from appearances. As they were hemmed in ar^d fighting two or three times 314 DESPOILERS RETREAT. their own numoers, they were at a disadvantage and had barely held their own. Outside the shanty the citizens were in the majority, and they were crowding the soldiers and rolling them in the dirt. Here and there, on the outskirts of the crowd, might be found two combatants who had gotten a little separated from the thickest of the fray and were having it out by themselves. But, after a bit, the advantage which the settlers had became apparent. The soldiers were not used to this kind of warfare, and had no particular relish for it. They fought simply because they had orders to fight, and not because they loved the pastime. The colonists enjoyed it. It was their opportunity to even things up a little, and they improved it to the utmost for five or ten minutes. By this time the soldiers outside were drawing off for repairs, and those just inside were reached for, drawn out and forcibly started off in the direction of their camp. Then a separation of the mass of arms and legs and heads on the floor of the shanty began, and was contin ued until all had risen, or had been picked up and car ried out. Next to the last man in the pile to be found and lifted up was Mr. McKinley. He was pretty badly battered up, but not in a worse condition than the soldier underneath him, with whom WIPING OFF THE INK. 31 5 he had been contending since the fight began. Both had been bitten and clawed about the face, and both were covered with printer's ink until neither was recognizable by his comrades. It was not until Mr. McKinley had been dragged off the soldier under him and set upon his feet in the open air that he was identified, and they did not know him then until he spoke. Wiping the ink from his face with his hand and then glaring at the retreating regulars, he drew himself up and remarked : ' ' I think that particular portion of the regular army hesitate before again offering me an insult." The reader may think it strange that a fight with fists such as is above described should actually occur be tween citizens and soldiers, and no arms be used. Yet, 'Such a fight did occur ; and there is nothing very strange about it when all the attending conditions are kept in the mind's eye. The soldiers wished to remove the citizens without taking life. Failing to overawe them, they attempted to arrest the leaders in a mai. ]er such as would not provoke the use of bullets. On the other hand, the settlers respected the fact 3l6 A DRAWN BATTLE. that those who sought to arrest them wore the uniform of the United States, and so wished, if possible, to avoid taking their lives, yet were determined not to be driven off their claims. Here, then, was the strongest possible incentive on both sides not to take life, but on the one hand to arrest and on the other hand to resist arrest without blood shed ; and when the soldiers found they could not effect the arrest without precipitating a fight with arms, they got out of it as easily as they could, which was not so easily as they could have wished, as many of them car ried black eyes and swollen heads and a banged-up front generally for days. But many of the home defenders were in the same fix, so the fight may properly go down into history as a drawn battle. Both armies slept that night upon the same ground which they had occupied in the morning, and both slept upon their arms. :os- CHAPTER XXI. MR. M'KINLY GOES TO JAIL, AND FINALLY RETURNS TO THE BANKS OF THE WABASH, On the morning following the day on which the rough-and-tumble fight had occurred the soldiers were withdrawn, and the settlers were at liberty to return to their families. At first very few of them were inclined to regard the result of the fight as a real victory. True, they had given rather more black eyes and broken heads than they had received in return, and the enemy had now withdrawn from the field of battle ; but still they had a feeling that the end was not yet, and what added to this feeling was that the soldiers had not withdrawn toward Fort Reno, whence they came, but had moved away in the direction of Fort Russell, where it was known that a considerable body of United States troops were stationed. ji8 MR. M'KINLEY'S BELIEF. Among the few who took a more cheerful view of th matter, and who believed that they had really conquered a peace, was Mr. McKinley. Perhaps he was the only one who looked at it in that way at the very first, but if so he soon inspired others with his own views of the case, and pretty soon one and another began to look at it as he did and to regard the matter in the light of a great victory. He would say : < ' I tell you, gentlemen, they are licked licked, Sir and they will not come back. And if they do, we '11 lick 'em again. We can do it do it easy. Why, if you men outside the shanty had fought the way me and the Captain and Phil Johnson did, there would n't be any of 'em left now. They were three to one agin us when the fight commenced yes, Sir, three to one and more, too ' but you ought to see the way we piled 'em up yes, Sir, piled 'em up. Why, me and the Captain and Phil Johnson and old man Jones piled 'em up in a pile, and then fell on to 'em and pounded 'em till we was tired yes, Sir, till we was tired. You just ought to have seen the way we did it. * 'And as for their retreatin' in the direction of Fort Russell, that 's nothing strange. They 're 'fraid and 'shamed to go back to Fort Reno, and own that they got licked. Like as not some of 'em died last night of their wounds some of 'em was hurt mighty bad and they 're DRESSING THE WOUNDS. 319 just goin* off that way to bury 'em on the sly, so 's not to have it known. Don't you be afraid ; they aint com ing back. Reckon they 've got sense enough to know when they 're licked, if that 's all they have got." It is never very hard to make men believe that which they-wish to believe, and the faith which Mr. McKinley possessed that the regulars had abandoned the contest and left not to return imparted itself to others, and soon a voice somewhere in the crowd made an attempt at a cheer. Like other cheers which are without support, this particular " hip-hip" sounded weak to start on, and it grew weaker as it progressed, but it was not long before the spirits of the crowd had raised sufficiently to induce some one else to start a cheer, which this time was joined in by half the company, and grew in volume as it went until the last " hurrah" gave indication of having a good deal of confidence in itself. Now, while the majority of them were feeling their spirits rise with the departure of the troops and with the hopeful view of the situation which Mr. McKinley in sisted upon everybody's taking, there were those among them who felt that, now the need for suffering in silence was over, they would like very much to have their hurts and bruises attended to. Among them there were several who had received wounds of a painful character. 330 PHH- RECEIVES CONSOLATION, Phil Johnson had received quite a long and deep gash across the scalp, apparently made by a column rule, wielded by some one who in the general melee had hap pened to get his hand on it. Old man Jones, the presi dent and a dozen others had bruises and cuts that were painful, though not of a dangerous character, none of which had as yet received any attention, except that Phil had bound up his head with a handkerchief. The handkerchief had answered very well, so long as there was a necessity of remaining on guard against an other possible assault ; but, now that the soldiers had gone, Phil felt that he needed something further in the way of attention to his injuries. He repaired to the McKinley home, that being the place where he felt cer tain of receiving the consolation which his wounds now required. Of course, he received it. Nettie furnished the consolation, and her mother the iniment and bandages, and between them they fixed him up as good as new ; in fact, they made him feel that he should be tempted to have his head laid open every once in a while, just for the pleasure of having it repaired again. Mr. McKinley also required and received careful at tention at the hands of his wife and daughters. He was not very seriously hurt not quite so badly as he wished he was when he saw that Phil's having his COMBING OUT THE INK. 3d I head tied up was accepted as proof that he had been where the fight raged hottest. He had, however, some black-and-blue spots on his person and about his face, from one of which a few drops of blood had issued and dried, and a sight of the red stain made upon the cloth with which his wife was striving to remove the ink from his face satisfied him. He had fought and bled for his country, and he was now content. Two or three hours were required to get the printer's ink out of his hair and off his person. His wife and daughters soaped and scrubbed away diligently, without causing him to utter a complaint of any kind. He felt that he was having his wounds dressed, and that the time spent over him was evidence of the undaunted bravery with which he had led the contest. Mr. McKinley was now positive that he should never again run a ferry boat. If he was not called onto organ ize a regiment for the protection of the frontier of the Territory when it should be organized, he would accept a seat in the Legislature, and serve his country there with a dignity equal to the desperate courage which he had displayed in fighting for its independence upon this memorable occasion. Thus was Mr. McKinley mentally occupied while his devoted wife was conducting the work necessary to his physical repair and rejuvenation. Sorry was he when, 322 AN UNSETTLED FEELING. this task finished, he realized that matters of grave con cern demanded his immediate attention. His was the usual regret attendant upon the sudden termination of a day-dream. The unsettled feeling among the colonists that came as a consequence of the events just recorded caused an- other postponement by Phil and Nettie of their intended wedding. There was no one living in the settlement wlio was legally authorized to officiate at weddings ; and in the uncertainty of what might be, they delayed their pro posed trip to a place at which they could be united and begin their honeymoon. They felt the better contented to do this now that Phil was spending most of his time at Mr. McKinley's house, being for several days quite unfit to do any thing, and for a still longer period suffering severely from a rush of blood to the head whenever he bent over ; so that he made little attempt to work on his claim, but kept him- SIX HUNDRED STRONG. 323 self closely in the house and suffered himself to be made much of and coddled without a murmur. Neither did any of the colonists feel greatly inclined to go on with their intended improvement. They tried to^Jiope that the troops had gone not to return, but they doubted if they had. Even Mr. McKin- ley could not keep alive their belief that the soldiers had been too badly frightened to think of returning, and that the Lieutenant was sure to make such a report to his superiors as would discourage them from renewing the attack. Hence they did little except to secure a small portion of their crops, and wait and watch for what the future had in store for them. Now, if preference could be followed in this narra tive, Mr. McKinley would be sustained in his belief that the government was too badly scared to take any further steps in the matter of removing squatters from Okla homa ; but a stern resolve to adhere to the facts compels a different course. The soldiers did return, and they came back six hun dred strong, being reinforced by a detachment from Fort Russell ; and, still under the command of Lieutenant Knight, they surrounded the little band of colonists, who had learned of their approach and boldly set out to fight them. Having surrounded them, the army sat down to starve $24 NETTIE SEES HER LOVER IN JAIL. them into submission, a feat which it accomplished in a week by cutting off all supplies which their families at tempted to carry to them and by preventing them from obtaining food for themselves. And then they compelled them to pack up for the third time their household goods, put their wives and children into the wagons, and after setting fire to the printing office without having first permitted the removal of the press, type and other appurtenances, conveyed them out of the Territory in the same manner that they had done twice before. At the State line all except the leader, Phil Johnson and Mr. McKinley were released and told to go where they would, so they did not return to the disputed terri tory. These three men were taken to one of the larger towns of the State, turned over to the civil authorities and put in jail. After some delay the leader obtained bail for himself in the sum of $3,000, and as soon as he had secured his own release he set about obtaining the release of his two companions. Mrs. McKinley had followed on with the family wher. she learned where her husband was, and thus Nettie saw her father and lover in jail. Bail was at last secured for both, and they were then released. Again arose the question as to what should be done. WHO OWNS OKLAHOMA? 32$ Should they again rally their friends and enter Okla homa at once ? Where were the colonists who had just been driven out? A portion of them, they learned, were still in camp, or had scattered along the borders of Kansas, awaiting another opportunity to enter Oklahoma and take posses sion of their claims. Others had become discouraged or had exhausted their means, and could not return imme diately. Leaving Mrs'. McKinley and the family at the town where the men had been incarcerated, Phil and the oth ers went to the vicinity where the larger portion of the colonists were, and after getting some of them together asked them what their wishes were regarding an immedi ate return to Oklahoma. For themselves, they told them that they were ready to return at once, but would have to be back at the time set for their trial. Many were in favor of going back at once, but others declared such action unwise. They thought some time could be spent advantageously in efforts to enlighten the country regarding the struggle between themselves, as representatives of the people, and the cattle syndicates, through the press and by other means. It had been learned that already a partial knowledge of the outrages committed upon them had reached the 326 THE WAR CHIEF. public ear, and that there were several members in Con gress who would respond to any request to bring th? matter before that body. It was finally resolved to refrain for the time being from again entering the disputed territory, and to devote the interval to agitating before the country the question: " Who Owns Oklahoma ?" Accordingly, arrangements were made for the estab< lishment of permanent headquarters at Caldwell, Kan sas, which is close to the territorial line. Fresh printing materials were purchased, and their newspaper, bearing now the name The Oklahoma War Chief, was started again and placed under the editorial management of a competent person, with orders to give it the widest pos* sible circulation. Petitions were also printed, asking Congress to take cognizance of the matter of protecting citizens in theil right to settle in Oklahoma. These petitions, published in such journals as were in possession of the facts of the case and friendly to the purpose of the petitioners, were passed from hand to hand among the friends of the colonists, and, signed by thousands, were sent rolling in upon the members of the House and Senate of the United States and upon the President. This procedure frightened the cattle kings, and they hastened to send a representative to Washington to bring SYNDICATE LOBBY ACTIVE. 327 such influence to bear as would prevent any action that might be unfavorable to their interests or expose the means by which they had secured the aid of the military arm of the government and of the civil courts to enable them to hold possession of such great bodies of land, and to drive from their homes, arrest and imprison men who were acting in good faith, in accord with the home stead and pre-emption laws of the country and in full harmony with the practices in similar cases since those laws were enacted. Nevertheless, the cattle kings were only partially suc cessful. Public sentiment was too far aroused and too much in sympathy with the colonists to allow the matter to be left untouched by Congress and the President. Petitions continued to roll in, and more than one Congressman received hints from his constituents that it would be better for his future prospects if he would heed the demands of the people in this matter. The politicians at length began to feel that it would be a good stroke of policy for the new Administration to make some show of being interested in the people, even if it went no farther. Then came the President's order for everybody, cat tle king and squatter, to get out of Oklahoma. It was a field day for the colonists when they heard read the President's sweeping order in the matter. 328 A PARTIAL VICTORY. Although they were now scattered widely, and only such as were connected directly with the work of putting a knowledge of these things before Congress and the country were at Caldwell, yet this news was to them, at whatever point located, a note of victory. The colonists knew that if the cattle were removed there would be no objectors sufficiently strong to prevent the acknowledgment by the Interior Department of their right, and the right of all citizens who wished, to make homes upon the prairies and along the beautiful streams of Oklahoma and the Cherokee Strip. The trial of the Captain, Mr. McKinley and Phil Johnson for violation of the laws in entering Oklahoma, never came off. When the date set for the trial arrived they were present in court, but were discharged without a hearing, although they strongly protested against the nolle prosequi. The colonists were anxious to be able to prove again, as once before they had proved in the District Court at Topeka, that there was no law under which any citizen could be punished for entering upon and improving the lands in question, and they denounced as unjust and an outrage their arrest, removal, imprisonment and arraign ment, only to be discharged without opportunity to show proof of their innocence or expose the flagrant violation of civil law by the military in persecuting them at tile bidding of the cattle kings. A FARCICAL TRIAL. But in nothing were they allowed opportunity to make themselves heard by the court. They were simply told that, since their followers had vacated the disputed territory, they would not be prosecuted. And in spite of their protest against this attempt to convict them with out trial, they were compelled to bear it. After the farcical ending of this pretended trial, and after it had been decided that the colonists would not return to their claims at once, but would await the action of Congress, if action could be obtained within such time as should be considered at all reasonable, Mr. McKin- ley's family thought it best for them to return to theii old home on the Wabash, and await the further move ments of the colony. They had not sold the old place when they left it principally because no one wanted to buy it at much of a figure. The little old town of yore was still a little old town, and the few acres which Mr. McKinley owned possessed no value other than as agricultural land. Not knowing how the West might please them, they had decided not to accept the only offer they had had for it, which was from a farmer who owned land adjoining, and would in all probability be as ready to purchase it a year or two later as then. To the old home, then, Mr. McKinley 's family had returned, with the exception of one of the boys, who obtained work with the team in Kansas, and decided to 33O PATIENT LOVE. remain there until such time as the family would return to enter once more upon their Oklahoma claim. Phil and Nettie had again postponed their wedding, but only for a little while. When Phil decided that he must remain in Kansas for a time, and help to start the movement which was *.o bring a pressure to bear upon Congress to compel action in relation to Oklahoma, Nettie and he talked the mat ter over and came to the conclusion that, inasmuch as Phil must be constantly moving about for some months, it would be best not to marry until this part of the work was performed. Nettie decided, therefore, to return with her parents to the old home, and there wait for Phil's coming. Equally with Phil, Nettie felt interested in the settle ment of the question of right involved in the contest in which they were engaged with the cattle syndicates. The wrongs done to the colonists, of whom she had been one, the insults and injuries heaped upon her father and lover, the memory of their having been tied with ropes like criminals all these things had aroused the spirit of resistance within her, and she was as ready to iiiake sacrifices for the good of the cause as was Phil himself. And, besides, Nettie was in love with her Oklahoma home or Phil's home, which she was to share with him and she wished to be able to return there with him. FRATERNAL COLONISTS. 331 and with her father's family and the other colonists, among all of whom had grown up bonds of friendship which made them seem nearer than any could seem who had never rejoiced together in prospective peace and prosperity, as they, had done, or sympathized with one another over the disappointments and losses that for the time had broken up all their plans and hopes. She was, therefore, anxious that Phil and others should do all that could be done to bring about a peace ful removal of the difficulties standing in the way of the colonists' return and their permanent settlement of the country. Nettie and Phil had spent one last evening together, taken one last kiss, exchanged vows of eternal constancy and adoration, and she, with her father and family, had returned to the old home, while Phil started out. on his mission. But he went with a light heart. Just so soon as he could do the work he had under taken in behalf of the colony, he also was to return to the old home to his father's home and to Nettie, who would then become his wife. He went forth, too, with Mr. McKinley's blessing, for the dignified old gentleman's heart was warm toward his prospective son-in-law. Phil was brave and ready, and the old man, in spite of some little weaknesses, was fully capable of appreci- 33* WHO KNOWS? ating courage and honesty of purpose ; and, besides this, nobody treated him with more deference than did Phil. Perhaps the reverence which, in his boyish days, he had felt for the great man who held commission from two States to run a ferry boat on the Wabash had never quite deserted Phil. Still, beneath his appearance of ingenuousness were inaudible whisperings of policy, telling him it was wisest to keep on the good side of the father of the girl whom he loved. Naturally, he had a high sense of the respect due to men older than himself. In the case of Mr. McKinley he probably saw more clearly than did others of his inti- mates a true inward dignity in the man, to which the outward dignity of his manner was but an ill-fitting gar ment. When the old gentleman came to bid Phil good-by his lips trembled a little and his voice had the suspicion of a tremor in it. The two men, the old man and the young one, had been in prison together ; they had ridden together many a weary mile between lines of soldiers their guards ; they had slept side by side upon the green sward of the prairies, and yes, they had fought and bled together in a cause sacred to both. In addition to these strong ties, Phil was soon to be the husband of the old man's beau tiful daughter. And now that they were to be parted for PHIL'S PATRIARCHAL BLESSING. 333 a time, he would give the boy his blessing. Straightway he proceeded to do so. His lips trembled a little at first, but he fought hard against a display of emotion, and before he had finished speaking all his dignity of manner and fluency of lan guage had returned to him. He said : "Go, Philip, and do the work which is for you to do. You have my blessing the blessing of a man who has been honored by having shed his blood for his couni/y and in defense of the sacred rights of the people to set tle in Oklahoma," CHAPTER XXII. FARMER- LOOKING INDIVIDUAL, WHO ALSO ENDURES A THREE-PRONGED FRONT NAME. Phil was one day sitting in the office of a little hotel in one of the frontier towns of Kansas, whither he had gone on colony business, when a stranger dressed in the garb of a farmer entered. This farmer-looking individual was a man apparently 55 or 60 years of age, well formed and preserved, and wore an unusually jovial countenance. He paused for a second upon entering the door, and glanced around the room, as if hoping to find there some one to whom he could impart the impression which he held that this is as good a world as any one need wish to live in ; or, if not that, it was just as well for a body not to be aware of that fact. Seeing no audience other than Phil, he nodded famil iarly and said : 'Howdy, stranger. Glad to meet ye, 18 (354) A FARMER-LOOKING INDIVIDUAL. 335 To which Phil returned an equally courteous saluta tion. Though a stranger to Phil, this man evidently was no stranger to the house. He was, in fact, a resident of the vicinity and owned a farm a few miles out in the country. Being in town on business, he had dropped into the hotel for dinner, as is the custom of those farmers who feel that they can afford to spend a quarter for a meal now and then when away from home at meal time. After nodding to Phil he walked up to the office of the clerk and was in the act of reaching for one of those rusty, ink-corroded pens which usually furnish forth the desks of such hotels, and with which guests are expected to perform the next to impossible feat of legibly record ing their names in the hotel register, when from a door opening into the room back of the counter the landlord entered and greeted the new comer with : " Hallo, Johnson! That you ? Glad to see you was just wishing you would happen to drop in. Look here." The last two words were spoken in a low tone, and with a kind of confidential air, and as he spoke the land lord turned the register around and shoved it in front of his farmer-looking guest, pointing to some entry on one of its pages. Now, this register supposed to be kept for the sole purpose of registering the names of guests and the time 33^ A POLYGLOT REGISTER. of their arrival and departure had become something unique among hotel registers. Besides being a record, more or less accurate, of the arrival and departure of an occasional traveler from foreign parts that is, from parts as far away as the next county seat town, or possi bly a drummer or two from Kansas City it contained the names of all the farmers who occasionally dropped in to dinner, of all the regular boarders written as often as it occurred to them to do so, and of all the loungers about town who made the hotel office their headquar ters, and who, since they never patronized the house to the extent of so much as a meal of victuals, felt it to be a duty which they owed to the landlord to help him to maintain an appearance of brisk business by writing their names among those of the guests and the regular boarders at least once a week, and as much oftener as circumstances seemed to require it of them. Some of them did still more to make their presence agreeable to the landlord and apparent to the traveler who might chance to register there. Besides their own names, these occasionally wrote the name of a chum or of some business man or other citizen of the place, with a prefix denoting the enjoy ment of civic or military honors. Others, apparently less ambitious, contented themselves with simply adding huge flourishes to their own names or in drawing aimless lines in ink or pencil across the pages. Still others there PHIL'S JOHN HANCOCK. 337 were who, with an eye to the beautiful in art, added ink sketches of the landlord or of any person or any thing that appeared to them as a good subject from which to draw inspiration. Now, when Phil had this caricature of a register laid before him by the good-natured but unmethodical land lord, with a request to "give us your ' John Hancock,' stranger, please," the peculiar appearance of the page upon which he was thus asked to write his name struck him as requiring something more than ordinary in the way of a signature. Appreciating this requirement, he had written, with all the flourishes he could command and with a superabundance of ink : " Philip P. P. Johnson." This was the first time he had ever written his allit erative signature to any document as any thing but plain Philip Johnson. For this reason the peculiarity of the signature struck him as somewhat odd, and he stood with the pen still in his hand and looked at it for an instant, as if to photograph upon his memory some thing which he regarded as a kind of curiosity, the like of which he never expected to see again. Then he turned away and other matters engrossed him. But now the landlord and his jolly guest were evi dently looking at that signature and discussing the coin cidence. Their heads were close together as they leaned over 338 PHIL'S JOHN HANCOCK CHALLENGED. the counter from opposite sides, the landlord keeping his finger upon the open page of the register, at which his guest was looking intently. During the inspection of the register Phil heard the landlord say, in a low tone : "That 's him over there." Then the deeply interested farmer also put a finger upon the pie-bald register, and appeared to be making a thorough study of it. Phil could see the man's finger move along by steps or jumps, much as an inch worm " measures " his way across one's path or along a blade of grass. He was evi dently studying Phil's chirography, and was moving his finger from one letter to another in an effort to make certain that there was no mistake about it. When he had apparently satisfied himself that it was what it appeared to be, he turned to Phil, who was sit ting on the opposite side of the room, and called out : 41 1 say, stranger, if it aint bein' too impertinent, would you mind tellin' me if this is your John Hancock that 's wrote here ?" "I reckon it is," replied Phil, good-naturedly. " An 1 your name 's Johnson, an' you actily claim them there three P's that you 've got attached to your name as your 'n, do you ?" 1 ' Yes, I reckon they honestly belong to me, though I don't often put 'em to use," Phil answered. "Because," continued the other, as if he had not PHIL'S REJOINDER. 339 heard Phil's reply, "you see, that 's my name, too, and I thought I had all the P's in the Johnson dish on my own plate." He raised his hand and brought it down on his thigh with a slap, and gave expression to his appreciation of his own joke in a loud guffaw, while his eyes twinkled and danced like those of the Santa Claus of our child hood days, and his whole body shook with merriment. ' ' Well, maybe you did, " returned Phil, willing to aid the old gentleman enjoy himself. " Maybe you did have 'em, and they just warmed 'em over for me." The effect of this sally was to break the old fellow up entirely. He placed both hands upon his knees, shut his eyes and mouth and bent himself nearly double, while his whole person shook like a man with the ague. Then suddenly his mouth flew open, and a peal of laughter that could easily have been heard a block away rolled forth and shook the building. He straightened up with a jerk which gave a twist to his voice and compelled his laughter to end with a kind of " whoop-e-e-e, ah!" a sort of a cross between the snort of a mad bull and the scream of a factory engine. And then his body came together again like a jack-knife, and the operation was repeated. "W-h-a-t what do your P's stand for, young man?" he asked as soon as breath would permit. 34O FRESH PEAS. " Well, you see," returned Phil, who was becoming interested in the entertainment and anxious to have it continued, "the fact is I sort of inherited two of them. They were, so to speak, warmed over for me, in the first place." Here the joHy man gave a snort, but held on to him self out of a desire to hear what Phil might have to say further. " I was a triplet," continued Phil (another snort from the old gentleman), " and when the other two died I was allowed to keep the names which had been given to all three because, you see, they did n't exactly know which of us had died and which was still living." "And the names?" snorted the other, making effort to hold himself down. "The bunch of young Johnsons were named Philip, Phineas and Philander," replied Phil. "Then they're mostly fresh Peas," yelled the old gentleman. ''Mine are Philip Peter Pendegast." Away he went again, doubling up like a jack-knife, shaking all over for an instant and then opening out with a jerk and a " whoop-e-e-e, ah!" His hilarity attracted the attention of every man in that end of the town, and brought a dozen of the least busy among them around to the hotel on purpose "to hear old man Johnson laugh." This was not an entirely new experience with them, AN HONOR TO THE NAME. 341 for the old fellow was in the habit of coming to town about once a week, and whenever he was known to be in town everybody who felt a necessity for having a good laugh was sure to gather about him. The old gentleman often declared, with a snort : "The blues and me have never camped under the same blanket." When this last ebullition of laughter had subsided, the old fellow came over to where Phil sat and shook his hand. "I 'm mighty glad to have seed you, young man," he said. " You are an honor to the name you bear, and I don't (with a snort) begrudge you the single warmed-up P of mine which your parients gin you ; and, jnoreover, I reckon I have got something of more value consider ing Peas is so plenty (another snort) in our family that belongs to you. Now, if you will go out home with me, or, if you can't do that, if you will wait until I gallop out and back, I '11 turn it over to you 'thout sayin' any thing about what you 've got of mine. Maybe it aint your 'n, but I reckon it is. It 's a letter which I got outen the post office at Caldwell, two or three years ago or, rather, one of the boys, a young fellow what lives with us, did and I forgot all about it till just the other day. 4< You see, we camped down near there once when we first came to the State and we had our mail come 342 THE MISSING LETTER. there. This letter I 'm telling you about came there and was taken out by one of my folks, as I was saying, who put it in his coat pocket, where it slipped down through the linin', where my wife found it only t'other day, when she was a-rippin' the thing up for to make carpet rags outen. "She s'posed, in course, it was mine, and having a natural curiosity to know what was inside, she tore the thing open. But it was n't for me nor for any of my family, and I reckon it must be for you. "I hope the loss on 't haint caused you any special oneasiness." "Whether it has or not, you certainly are not to blame in the matter," replied Phil. "I have not received many letters at least, was not receiving many at the time you got this out of the post office at Caldwell and it is difficult to tell what effect it might have had upon me. But it does not matter now. I imagine it is a letter from my mother, failing to get which I wandered off still farther, and have never since returned to the old home or seen any of my own people not one." " Are that a fact, " the old man commented, rather than asked. "Wall, now, let me give you a little ad vice. We are sort of relations, you know both John sons, and also we both got part of our P's from the same patch." THE OLD LETTER. 343 Here the old man's eyes twinkled, and his body gave indications of the doubling up process. "What I 'm wantin' to say to you is this : If that letter is your 'n, an' was writ by your mother, she 's a mighty good woman ; an' if you are a good son you '11 not waste any time in goin' back an' givin' her another look at you. " You see, wife and I read the letter, 'cause we could not exactly understand how there could be two Johnsons with so many P's to their names, and we kept wonderin' what it could all mean the finding of it there, and all that till finally the boy, who is older now and not afraid of owning up to any mistakes which he makes, told us how he remembered getting a letter out of the post office at Caldwell and losin' it, and then we guessed that this was that letter, and that it was writ to somebody else. So we read it all over again, tryin' to find out who writ it so as we could send it back, but it did n't have no name signed to it 'ceptin' just ' Mother,' and no place of startin' 'ceptin' just 'Home,' but it was full of lovin' messages, and if it had really been writ to me, and she that writ it was my mother, I 'd feel like skipping back pretty lively for fear she got tired of waitin' for me here, and crossed over the river to do the rest o' the waitin' where maybe it will be easier doin' of it." "You see," he added, in an apologetical kind of a way, 4 * you see, wife and I have got a boy out in the 344 PETER AND PENDEGAST DONATED. world somewhere we don't know where and that sort of enables me to understand how your parients must feel about you." There was moisture in Phil's eyes when he put out his hand again and heartily shook that of the farmer- looking individual. When they had shaken hands, Phil spoke with more than usual deliberation : ' * I am going to start for the old home inside of a week. It shall not be longer. I ought to have gone a year ago. In truth, I should never have left my home on the Wabash." If there had been no moisture in his own eyes, Phil might have seen something suspiciously like it in those of the reminiscent old farmer, as he took his proffered hand. "That 's right, young man that 's right. Go back to the old folks and let 'em set eyes on ye once more. They won't be ashamed of your looks could n't be, if you looked a heap wuss than you do." Here the moisture left the old man's eyes, and they began to twinkle again. 4 'Young man, take your parients my best compli ments, and tell 'em if they want to use any more of my P's they 're welcome. Bein' they 've got Philip, they can have both Peter and Pendegast if they can find ekally good use for 'em, " MOTHER'S MISLAID MESSAGE. 345 And again he started off with a snort and ended up with a whistle. # * After eating dinner together, Phil rode out home with his new acquaintance. There he was handed the letter written to him by his mother four years before, and for the first time read the loving message which it contained. CHAPTER XXIII. BACK TO THE LITTLE OLD TOWN ON THE WABASH THE WEDDING BELLS RESOUND. A week later Phil made his report at headquarters, and then took the next train for his old home in the State of Indiana. It all seemed to him as if he were in a dream, as ne went bowling along across the prairies and by the banks of the rivers and through the woodlands seemed as if his whole life had been a dream, and as if he were not yet fully awakened. Possibly it was a dream, and he had not awakened, but was still dreaming. Perchance that is true which is taught by the occultists, and which they claim to have proven, that the real is the spiritual and that which we regard as the real is but a dream an illusion of the senses from which we shall awaken some time, to know the truth and to live. it. KIND OF BROWN. S4f Now, if it was a dream this reverie 416 QUEENS OF THE RANCH, seer. She bought for herself, sold for herself, knew how her cattle were fed, learned to be a fearless rider, and was over the range about as frequently as the cowboys she employed, and more carefully. She enlarged her enterprises every season, and her business is still growing today. Two rich widows, who have inherited ranches from their husbands, are Mrs. Massey of Colorado and Mrs. Mary Easterly of Nevada. Mrs. Massey went to Colo rado as agent for a life insurance company, married a man with 150,000 head of cattle, and it is said she now manages them quite as well as he did. Mrs. Easterly has not a large herd, but her stock is of a fine grade, and she gets good prices for it. She is worth, proba bly, $300,000. Mrs. Iliff, widow of John Iliff, a cattle king, and Mrs. Meredith, widow of Gen. Meredith of Illinois, are excellent business worner^, and making money on stock. Of unmarried women, there are Clara Dempsey of Nevada and Ellen Callahan of newspaper fame the one worth $20,000 and the other less which they have earned from the initial dollar, and are young women to have made so fair a start in the world. The Marquise de Mores enjoys life on the ranch with her husband. She is a good shot and fine huntswoman. The number of women who have gone West and made money is large, and it grows every year. CHAPTER VI. CALIFORNIA AS A CATTLE RAISING STATE LAWS- -CON CERNING WATER RIGHTS. California, after having been one of the best ranges for stock, is by degrees turning everywhere, except in the mountains, into an agricultural State. This of necessity follows from the greater profits of husbandry and the diminishing profits of cattle farming to men of small capital. So soon as the soil becomes valuable and the choicer portions are taken up by indi viduals, the cattle are no longer free to roam over th country, costing nothing for food. They must be looked after and herded, hay must be put up for their suste nance in Winter, and a few days in the Spring and Autumn must be given up by the farmer. His boys are no longer sufficient for guarding his interests, nor for keeping track of his property, which are driven by the inclosing of the former pasture grounds to wander far< t'faer afislcL 41 S HALCYON DAYS FLOWN. In the golden days of old, which in California are days of memory and not of tradition, the quantity of land actually purchased or taken up, whether under the laws or merely held by a sort of squatter right, would be limited to an occasional ranch along the fertile valleys of the big rivers and to inclosures of meadows where the natural dampness of the soil or primitive irrigation gave large quantities of hay. The owners would let their horses and cattle run at perfect liberty to feed themselves, and would only round them up when it was desirable to brand the young calves and colts or to pick out horses or fat steers for the pur pose of sending them to market. There are still a few wide ranges, the property of companies or of individual millionaires. The land is owned, however, and if not fenced is constantly ridden over by the boys, who drive off outside cattle and carry on a perpetual warfare with the Basque and Portuguese swners of bands of sheep which have to traverse the ranges on their way to the mountains or to the railroad. Those halcyon days of the California stock raiser can never return. Land has grown exceedingly in value. Water taken out of the rivers is led by large canals over a wide tract of country. Emigrants have crowded in, some purchas ing small lots of twenty-five to forty acres at high prices from the pioneer farmers and far-seeing land speculators, CALIFORNIA LAWS. 419 who by ingenious manipulation of the land laws, backed by the power of ready money, succeeded in acquiring considerable tracts at an early date. California Laws. So long as a State is but sparsely settled, the stock interest is sufficiently strong to make laws favoring that industry ; but when the numbers of farmers have in creased the law making, following the balance of votes, is taken into the new hands, and one of their first acts is naturally in the direction of safeguarding their pock ets. Whereas, before the land owner had to protect his crop from the roaming herds, subsequently the stock raiser is held responsible for any damage caused by his cattle, and therefore has to look to this. Practically, it is found convenient by the farmers to protect themselves, and, either in combination or singly, they soon begin to inclose the land where the more valuable crops are to be grown, and in the older settled districts fencing is the order of the day. The cattle are thus shut out of the water, and they lose the protection of the copses and fringes of trees which border the valley streams. They leave the bottoms and range far back in the mountains, where they find small springs, and put up with the shel ter of broken ground. Formerly timber was cheap, and it was mostly used 42O ALL AGAINST THE STRAN6ER. for fencing, but now barbed wire of different patterns is more common. The laws which concern stock, though they differ in the. various States and Territories, have been in each case made by people who know exactly what they want. From the local standpoint they are excellent that is, they suit the majority and benefit the framers. This, no doubt, appears the best ends of justice to men struggling for wealth in a primitive society. The basis of equity may be neglected. Each must look after his own inter ests, and if a man does not like the laws he can move. If the stock owners are in power, they say to the small rancher: "Fence your fields." If the farmers preponderate, they turn on the stockman and say : " Herd your cattle." Meanwhile all combine against the stranger within their bounds. Laws are useful to those who command the market, and who can thereby profit themselves or frustrate the commercial competition of outsiders. At least, such is the hearsay evidence of the inhabitants and one of the leading topics of their newspapers. It is a common saying that the rich man may secure a verdict. With all this fencing and irrigation the lawyers in California have their hands full of work, with a harvest which lasts all the year round. LAW FAVORS THE LONG PURSE. 421 Water Rights. The ranchers living farther down a river find the vol ume of water on which their crops and stock depend gradually diminishing as the upper reaches are settled and new canals are laid out. Suddenly, in some par ticularly dry year, there is no water at all in the lower channel of the river, and the crops suffer and the cattle must be driven to the hills. A In the old days the injured party was apt to set out with his shotgun and argue the matter in person. Now the majesty of the law favors the long purse, and the man who wins his case recovers just enough to pay his lawyer. There is no more fruitful source of litigation than water rights, and in purchasing land the buyer must be extremely careful to know that his title to water, and to a fixed quantity thereof, is undoubted ; otherwise, he may be called upon by his neighbors to join in a lawsuit to protect their common rights, or perhaps find that he has bought the privilege to fight single-handed a large owner who has strong influence in the courts and is pre pared to appeal as a pure matter of business. CHAPTER VII. SHOWING PROFITS ON CATTLE RAISING IN TEXAS, AS THE BUSINESS WAS FORMERLY CONDUCTED. As the cattle business was conducted many years ago the cost of raising cattle was but a trifle. To start in business, it was only necessary to have a good pony and a couple of men experienced with the lasso to catch mavericks and brand them, the cost being about 50 cents per head. These cattle would run at large, feeding on govern ment pastures, and would be rounded but once a year. The owner then branded all calves following the cows. This brand was registered at the county seat, and all the cattle bearing it were recognized property of the owner of the brand. The natural increase of stock is so great that in a few years a daring and adventurous man would have a large (4*4 PROFITS IN CATTLE RAISING. herd arising from the capital shown in the cost of the brand and the wages of a few men. In after years the Eastern capitalists began to em bark in the cattle business. They bought these registered brands, figuring five head of cattle to every calf branded at the last round-up. The price usually paid for this stock averaged $10 per head, so $9. 50 per head profit was realized. Some of these herds had increased to 50,000 head. Many of the cattle kings of Texas started in this way, and still hold their stock, and are now the million aires of Texas. But the days for starting in the cattle business in this simple fashion are now past. The Eastern capitalist, though termed ' ' tenderfoot " in this section, is very wary of how he invests, and pre fers to see the cattle rounded up and counted before he parts with his money. CHAPTER VIII. THE PROFITS ON CATTLE RAISING AS THE BUSINESS IS AT PRESENT CONDUCTED. The cost of raising cattle at the present time is more than in olden times. More attention is given to provid ing them with shelter in the Winter months and furnish ing them with hay. Yet the stock matures better and is of more value because of this care and attention, so the stockman is fully compensated in the additional price that his stock will bring in the markets. The average cost of raising three-year-old cattle in large numbers is about $4.50 per head. This stock may be marketed in Chicago at an additional cost of $6 per head, making the cost, laid down in Chicago, $10.50 per head. The average weight of Texas cattle sold on the Chi- (424) PROFITS IN CATTLE RAISING. 425 cago market is about 900 pounds, and the average price is about $3 per hundred, leaving a net profit to ranch men of $16. 50 per head. Another way of making money in the cattle business by those who are familiar with the " ropes" and market in Chicago is to purchase droves of fat cattle from the ranchmen and ship to Chicago. One who understands his business and is a judge of stock may make on a fair market in Chicago $6 per head in this way. The popular and surest way of succeeding in the cat tle business is to locate a ranch near a good water right and start in the business yourself. For instance, one may purchase loo cows, and the increase from this stock in ten years would amount to 2, 500 head. This stock could all be marketed in Chicago in thirteen years. It wil/ cost the ranchman $4 per head there on the ranch, oi $lO,ooo. It will cost him $6 per head to ship to the Chicago market, allowing 3 per cent for loss, which will make the gross cost to him, laid down in Chicago. $lo per head, or $25,000 for the bunch of 2,500. These cattle would bring, at the present low rates in Chicago, $3 per hundred, or $2 7 per head, making, after deducting cost and expense, a grand total of $67, 500. The ranchman's net profit would be $42, 500. These figures show what can be done in ten years, with a start of only loo head of cattle. The ranchman will have, in addition to this as it will require thirteen 426 AVERAGE PROSPECTS. years to market the same the increase of the last three years. These figures are based on the present depressed con dition of the cattle markets of the world, which is hot likely to continue always. A war of magnitude in Europe would increase prices of stock, and would have its effect on stock and beef sooner than on any other commodity, with the possible exception of pork. In that case the value of these cattle would be not less than 50 per cent greater than estimated. It is proper in any business to consider the average prospects for and against the chances of success. Besides, the ratio of increase of the world's popula tion is greater than the increase of cattle, as pasturage is growing less by reason of the plow. All these causes will tend ultimately to advance the price of beef and improve the chances of success. CHAPTER IX. ADVICE TO COWBOYS WAGES PAID TO THEM AND THEIR NECESSARY EXPENSES OF OUTFIT. Wages received on The Plains in the capacity of a cowboy vary from $15 to $60 per month, according to experience and the section of country in which employ ment is sought. The farther North you go the better the wages, but the expense of living is greater, as the clothing must be heavier, and other expenses are greater than they are in the Southern country. Formerly it was the habit of the cowboy to spend from $300 to $500 in an outfit for himself. For exam ple, a $loo saddle, a $75 revolver, a $25 silver-mounted hat, expensive belts and sometimes as much as $25 for a horse. (427) 428 ADVICE TO COWBOYS. But the cowboy has learned that it is better for him to save his money, and start with an outfit costing not to exceed $loo, never forgetting . that part of this money should be expended for a good revolver, as this weapon certainly commands respect on The Plains. If you are industrious and watchful of the interests of the man for whom you are working, you will soon be getting better wages and be given an opportunity of in vesting your savings in cattle. The owner of the drove will allow your cattle to run with his. Possibly he may charge you $1 per head per annum for this privilege. At the low prices for which cattle can be purchased, if you pave your wages and do not spend your money for whisky, gambling or sprees of any kind, you will soon have quite a herd of cattle of your own. In a few years, if you maintain your habits of sobri' ety, economy and thrift, you will have a competence. SHEEP. CHAPTER X. JHEEP DRIVING SPANISH MERINOS PROCURE CERTIFI CATE FOR TAXES THE OUTFIT TAKING THE HORSES THROUGH MOUNTAINS HIRING DRIVERS. Texas has lately been a good outlet for some of the surplus stock of California. Young sheep have been bought and sent by rail half way, and afterward driven into that State. For many years previously large bands have left both the northern and southern parts of California for the newly settled States of Colorado, Wyoming and Mon tana. The numbers run up to many hundreds of thou sands each year. The bands start from every county, but generally cross the Sierra Nevada over three main passes. The pass north of the Central Pacific Railway is the outlet (429) 43O SHEEP DRIVING. for sheep from the Sacramento Valley. Southeast of San Francisco the sheep cross a little to the north of the Yosemite. Those from the direction of Los Angeles torn the lower end of the range, and, taking a north ward direction, subsequently join the second route. The second trail joins the first near the head waters of the HumboMt River. From here the trail crosses a corner of Idaho and Utah, and then splits. One road leads north into the western portion of Montana and the other goes east into Wyoming and Colorado. If rain does not fall, the sparse grazing to be picked up in ordinary years along the road, on which animals must depend while traveling, has totally disappeared after the passage of a few herds. There is naught but dust, under which sheep for a time will continue to find scraps and pickings, though not a blade is observable to the human eye. This, of course, does not last long. To buy sheep in such a season is a mere lottery. Rain may fall, and then your transaction turns up trumps. Rain may hold off, and then your sheep, unless singu larly well managed, will weaken. Once they begin dying, they depart by hundreds. Spanish Merinos. The better bred sheep have been mostly improved with Spanish merinos, They are small sized sheep, but CERTIFICATE FOR TAXES. 43 1 carry a heavy fleece. They are thought more hardy than French merinos and are close feeders, finding something to eat on the most barren looking plains. Certificate for Taxes. Before starting, have the man of whom you purchase procure two certificates that the taxes for the year have been paid on them. These certificates should come from the county office. They are the most informal docu ments, merely stating that Mr. John Doe or Richard Roe has paid his taxes for the current year. Nothing is added to say that the sheep taxed are the same which are now your property, or that they bore a particular mark. Often they are not dated. I will, however, speak well of them, for I was once called on to show my tax receipts, and after some very proper objections to the informality of the documents they were allowed to pass. People moving from one neighborhood to another should carry their tax receipts along with them, as they are liable to be stopped, wherever there is a collector, and asked to show cause why they should not pay the county taxes on the value of their horses, wagon, and outfit, and also something in the shape of poll tax upon each individual for the construction and improvement of roads throughout that particular county. 432 FLIMSY WAGONS RECKLESS DRIVERS. The Outfit. Besides the sheep, it is necessary to get an outfit. This ordinarily consists of a wagon and pair of horses, two riding ponies, cooking and eating utensils, saddles, harness, a few tools and a stock of food to start with. When the boys shall have thrown their bedding and bags in the wagon, the whole will make a solid load for the team. The wagons all over the West are imported. They are very much alike, regardless of the makers, and vary mainly in diameter of wheels and size of axles. The driver's seat has a pair of springs and hooks onto the sides of the wagon box. The body is painted green and the wheels and working parts red. You will see them in dozens at most railway stations, lying in parts. , They are quickly put together. There is a large demand for these wagons. They are much lighter than the ordinary English farm wagon, but they are weak and do not last. Their early break-down is due to the hastily dried wood of which they are made. The usage they receive is rough. They are frequently loaded far beyond the maximum which even the makers will guarantee, and are rattled along with four horses by a reckless young fellow, who cares not for his employer'? THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS. 433 property nor his own neck, over a nominal road full of ruts, washouts and boulders. But our lad has driven from the time he could hold the reins, and he is at home on the box. Perched up there, with one foot dangling over the side and resting on the handle of the brake, he sends the team along. The wagon leaps and swings and sidles, steered as well as may be past the big boulders and then checked through the washouts by a heavy pressure on the brake. The journey is lively, and the driver has quite a time in recovering his seat when thrown out by a jolt or slid to the farther end by the sway in turning a corner or in changing his ruts. This is something like driving, and as a science is far ahead of any skill called into play in the jog-trot travel along our hum-drum and excellent roads. Taking Horses Through the Mountains. There is a heavy expense in taking horses through the mountains, for not only is barley expensive, but, as there is little grazing, hay has to be freighted out to the different points, and varies from 1^ to 3j cents a pound. When it comes to feeding big horses, thirty or forty pounds do not go far. I receive a letter from my temporary foreman, sent by the hand of a traveler who has just crossed, saying 434 THE HIND-END MESS BOX. that he has hired a range, besides entering upon other transactions, and asks for a big sum of money. This is a serious matter. If I will only give him time he will, I feel sure, like an electioneering agent, study my interests by getting rid of any amount of money with the greatest industry. I therefore determine to leave the wagon at the foot of the pass, and to ride over the team horses. A large sheet of canvas, which serves as a tilt to the wagon in rainy weather, is eminently serviceable. On The Plains, where nothing stands higher than a bush which hardly gives shade from the hot sun to a dog, this canvas is stretched from the wagon bows to pegs in the ground, and gives a little shelter. A mess box is fitted into the hind end of the wagon. It is made with shelves, and holds a supply of daily wants. The door is hinged at the bottom, and when lowered it is propped by a stick. This makes a fairly good table, on which food can be prepared for cooking, out of the dust. But you eat your meals on the ground, as there is more room for everybody. Besides, at noon you want the shade of the tilt ; morning and night, the light and solace of the camp fire. Hiring Drivers. The important affair is to hire men. Settlers in Cali fornia have come to employ Chinese labor almost wholly HIRING DRIVERS. 435 for indoor work, and to a great extent for any outdoor work which is continuous not, as one might suppose, that there is any economy therein. The Chinaman is a thoroughly self-satisfied being ; he considers his work " allee same like Melican man," and lets you know that he is not to be hired for less than white man's wages. I would assert that Chinese labor is neither in quantity nor quality equal to that of the average European. All over the world the Chinaman is a copyist. He invents noth ing and improves nothing. His aim is to produce a fac simile ; he can never excel. Notwithstanding this inferiority, he is preferred for the reason that he is more to be depended on mainly in the matter of sobriety. As a household servant he looks clean and is fairly willing, but he is far behind the class of domestics in European houses on the other side of the Pacific. Nevertheless, he has a solid footing in California, and you find a smutty, yellow-faced cook in small farm houses, where elsewhere in the States the wife and daughters do the household work. In choosing sheep herders, the best will be found among the Mexicans, Basques or Portuguese. These latter two do not, as a rule, take service except with their own people. Their aim is ultimately to possess a share in the herds, and to rise to the position of owners. The Mexicans enter into service willingly enough, but CALIFORNIA WAGES. they dislike to leave the temperate parts of California. It is a great advantage when employing them to be able to talk Spanish. They can seldom be persuaded to join a drive which takes them off into unknown regions, for they are profoundly ignorant of the geography of the world beyond their districts. There is, besides, little inducement to travel with stock for good men, who are sure of employment locally. They have to undergo hard work, exposure and some privation. And for what result ? None ! Every cent a man can earn above ordinary Caliform'a wages will go to pay his railway fare, even by emigrant train, on his return to California. A herd of 5,000 sheep requires about six men, be sides the cook an important member of the outfit. CHAPTER XI. SHEEP SHEARING ON THE ROAD THROUGH SAN JOAQUIN VALLEY SCAB DIPPING. In California the sheep are shorn twice a year. It is necessary to take their wool off before starting. The band is driven out onto a barren plain, where a few tumble-down open sheds guide you to the shearing cor ral. The first thing to do is to go around and rearrange panels and make fast ties and block holes, so as to keep the sheep in the pens. A mixed band of Mexicans and Chinese do the shear ing. Each man is careful not to catch any sheep which, on account of size or wool, is likely to prove slightly more troublesome. A badly boarded floor is all the men work upon. The fleeces, having been rolled up and tied, are thrown into a long bag hung on a stand, and are filled in by stamp ing on them. The bags are then carried to the railway, (437) 438 ON THE ROAD. where they are either sold to brokers or shipped to an agent in San Francisco. On the Road. Preliminaries are completed and the herd is started on the road, which lies at first along the railway running through the San Joaquin Valley. As the land is all owned, the drover has no right beyond the width of sixty feet. Where there are no fences it is futile to try to keep a large flock within such narrow limits. The sheep will spread across some 200 yards, and so long as they are kept going it is hoped that the land owners, most of whom are owners of sheep which have to be traveled twice a year, will not object. As a rule, large owners do not trouble traveling bands much. But a man with a small holding, whose land borders the road, will mount his horse on the first sight of the column of dust which announces the approach of a band of sheep, and ride to meet it. He is all on the fight. First he wants you to go back, then to go around, and last to manage the herd as you might a battalion of soldiers, and march them past his grazing ground in a solid pack, on a narrow strip of road. It is a lucky day's travel in which you have not to go through some annoyance and jaw. Each year driving becomes more difficult, grazing in creases in value, the fields are fenced, and more land is SCAB. 439 broken up. It would be difficult to take sheep on the drive, close along green crops, without their breaking into them. Here troubles begin with the farmer's opportu nity of claiming compensation. As a matter in which he may have to go to law, he must exaggerate the damage. He can always find neighborly friends who will swear to his complaint and assess the loss arising from a few hun dred sheep crossing a corner of his field at the price of a crop from twenty acres of wheat. Scab in Sheep. Before taking the sheep out of the country it is nec essary to dip them to check scab. The Californians are not careful in eradicating this disease. I do not know of any practical system, as in Australia, for dealing with the malady or for detecting its presence in certain flocks and compelling the owners to effect a cure. Most own ers dip their sheep at least once a year, after shearing. Yet hardly in any band you pass can you omit noticing marks of the disease on some of the sheep. In some of the Territories laws have been passed and scab inspect ors appointed. The attention of the latter is directed mainly to overhauling bands passing through. Provision is generally made by the county or State to pay these inspectors of sheep for detection of scab in sheep. 44<> DIPPING SHEEP. Dipping How It Is Done, The use of a dipping station must be procured. This consists principally of a trough lined with wood, twenty- five to thirty feet long, five feet deep and about two or three feet wide at the top. This is sunk in the ground. At one end is a shed roofed over to shelter the men at work. The floor is boarded and has a slight slope to the trough. At the other end the sheep walk out of the trough by an inclined plank onto the dripping platform, which is divided into pens. This is also boarded, so that the water which runs out of the fleece may fall back into the trough, and save material. At either end is an in- closure to hold the sheep that are being worked. Iron tanks for heating water stand conveniently near, for hot water must be used with some of the scab-curing ingre dients. The number of sheep which can be handled in a morning are folded in a large inclosure. Then smaller bunches are cut off and penned near the shed, which will hold thirty or forty sheep. So many are driven in as to crowd the place tightly. The gate is shut, and two men step in, standing near the outlet which overhangs the trough. The sheep naturally turn their heads away and press more closely to the upper side. This is just what is wanted. The men catch them one by one by the hind leg, with a good pull and final jerk drag each one toward DIPPING SHEEP. 441 the trough, tur,n him around and tumble him, head first, into the fluid. It is rough work, but they get through the business at a fair pace. When properly done, the sheep souses, head first, in the trough, and comes up turned in the proper direction. Seeing the others swimming in front, he follows, and walks up the sloping plank onto the dripping platform. Sometimes it happens that a sheep will fall in backward, and floats with feet up in the air, no doubt feeling partic ularly uncomfortable with the composition of the dip half chemical and turbid with grease and mud from the fleeces filling his mouth and nostrils. A man stands alongside the trough, armed with a long pole which has a crutch at one end. It is his duty to restore these acro bats right side up, to push the heads of those not wetted properly under water and to keep the line of bathers moving on. When one compartment of the dripping platform is full, a gate is shut, ,and while the alternate pen is filling the former lot of sheep stand and shake themselves, sneeze, cough and generally strive to recover their mental equilibrium. Soon their turn arrives to be let out into the larger inclosure. Here they ought to remain till nearly dry, as the dipping mixtures are more or less poisonous, and should not be scattered on the feeding ground, as would happen from wet fleeces. The dip mostly used is lime and sulphur, which is effective in killing scab, but makes the wool brittle. It 44% DIPPING SHEEP. has the merit of cheapness. A decoction of tobacco and sulphur is also common. Both of these have to be used with hot water, which is a great additional trouble, as the appliances at most dipping stations are of the rudest. A weak solution of carbolic acid and a patent Australian chemical are also used for dipping. These can be mixed in cold water. Some men put their sheep through the natural hot mineral waters which abound in the West. Each farmer will swear by his own spring. It cures scab in sheep, removes corns and rheumatism in men, and is of universal efficacy. He nurses a pleasant dream that some day its virtues will be apparent to an Eastern capi talist, who will develop it and create an establishment like the White Sulphur Springs, with a vision of shares, purchase money and a snug monopoly for the rest of his days. About noon the sheep penned in the morning are through, and the men knock off for dinner. Although there are three reliefs in plunging the sheep into the dip, the work has been hard. The sun is bright and hot, and the air is close inside the shed. The work of driving the sheep into compact bunches in the pens is tedious, and when you have jerked forty or fifty sheep by the hind leg you find yourself winded and your back aching. CHAPTER XII. SHEEP DRIVING FROM CALIFORNIA TO SONORA TOLLS- CROSSING THE SIERRAS THE BEDDING GROUND THE SAN ANTONIO DESERT. After having dipped the band they are -all marked with a brand, and next day you start off. Driving sheep is simple enough in theory. The herd is marched from day to day a distance of eight or ten miles, feeding as they go, starting very early so as to travel in the cool, and, if possible, reaching the banks of a stream before the sun grows hot. Through the heat of the day the sheep do not care to feed or to travel. If full, they will lie down, seeking some shade, or drooping their heads under the shadow of each other's bodies. This is called nooning. It may begin- as early as 8 A. M. in the height of Summer, and last until 4 or 5 p. M. It is a regular part of the day's business, and is often very troublesome, when you have a little distance yet to go, (443) 444 WHEN THE SHEEP BAA. to find the sheep stopping in bunches, some lying down and the whole baaing their protest against further exer tion. If you want to reach your point now is the critical time. When the sheep baa shout at them and hustle them a bit with the dogs. Beware of a check, for if the flock once gets bunched up your chances are over. You may then let the sheep lie, for they will not travel again until evening. There is a disagreeable feeling of helplessness when handling sheep. They are the boss, and in your own in terest you must study their whims. Suppose, however, your arrangements have been good. You have brought the sheep to water, and they have been pleased to approve the quality and to drink at once, without wandering off in search of something clearer, fresher, warmer or different. It is not always we can understand their fancies. They will feed again for a little while, after which you may bunch them up where you can conveniently watch them. You will see some standing in a line, each head under the belly in front. Others gather around a bush, with their heads together in the shade and tails out. Some lie down to sleep, but many stand with vacant eyes, noses stretched to the ground, and ease their feelings by heavy panting. In the afternoon, so soon as the sheep show a ten dency to scatter out and feed, they are headed in the desired direction, and they travel slowly until nightfall, SHEEP DRIVING. 445 when they are rounded up in a bunch and expected to sleep. A good driver will, as much as possible, fall in with the inclinations of the herd, and let them start, travel and feed as much as they are disposed always, of course, with due regard to the prime necessity of getting over the ground. There are, besides, certain factors of which the sheep can scarcely be expected to be aware with regard to the situation of water and feed, and it will often be desirable to drive them even a couple of miles after they show a desire to noon, so as to reach water. Sometimes, to get across a desert, you may drive the sheep as much as twenty miles a day, but this has to be done at night if the weather is warm, and can seldom be ventured for more than two or three days. Crossing the mountains, the sheep are often as much as four or five days on the snow without losing many of the band. After reaching good grass on the farther side they soon recover themselves. At night the sheep, if well fed, will lie still ; but as a rule, when traveling, they should be watched.* Leaving the main road is not, on the whole, a suc cess. The feed is better, but on the country road you *A cruel necessity is disposing of the newly born lambs. New arriv als are de trop, and more likely to injure the ewes than be of any benefit themselves. There is nothing to be done but to knock the flicker of life out of the little things, and drive the mothers on. The latter never make any fuss. At all times these merinos are careless parents during the first few days after the birth of their young. 44 6 OBJECTIVE POINT TOLLS. are more on your rights and meet with fewer annoyances from small farmers, whose object often seems merely to exhibit "cussedness, " though to the credit of the few it must be said that their intention is elevated into the region of common sense by the motive of extracting a few dollars. At one place you may be amused by a woman run ning out of a farm house and calling to her husband : "Give 'em h 11, Jack." These are little incidents, but will serve to illustrate the dislike which farmers have against sheep and. the petty annoyances they are not above putting in practice on the drovers. To see the worst side of the character of settlers in California, I could not suggest a better plan than moving a band of sheep through one or two counties. After that you may try any thing else and enjoy the change. The objective point of the drive is Sonora, which stands at the west end of the only road over the Sierra Nevada Mountains which is passable by wagons in this part of California. Tolls Exorbitant Charges. There are several rivers to cross, where the only con venient points of crossing are farmed to some man who works a ferry and taxes sheep exorbitantly. The rates HOW FARMERS EVADE TOLLS. 447 permitted by the charter often reach as much as 10 cents a head for sheep and pigs. This the collectors reduce to about 3 cents in their printed rates, but are generally satisfied with about half. Even these amounts, when they recur three or four times, together with the road tolls, add a heavy percentage to the original cost of about $2 per head. These annoying charges can only be avoided by cross ing the mountains over out-of-the-way and very difficult passes, which are known to but few people. The farm ers who have lived many years near the hills and have sent their flocks up regularly hazard these passes, not withstanding the risk of spending several days in the snow, rather than pay the heavy tolls. From Sonora onward, except for a few miles at the beginning, the road runs through the forest, and is quite unfenced. This is about the most difficult part of the drive, on account of the loss from sheep straying into the bush. Generally a few extra hands are hired, who are often Indians. The latter belong to the Digger tribe, and some of them are not averse to work, either on the farm or in town. They are not all equally civilized, and one of their little settlements of a few miserable hovels, with granaries of pine-nuts in the shape of bee hives four feet high, enclosed by a poor fence made of brambles, cut down and thrown into a line, gives a notion of their abo- 44^ CROSSING THE SIERRAS. riginal and miserable style of living. The picture will be completed by supposing an ancient and wrinkled hag sitting on a flat rock in the grounds, pounding the pine- nuts into flour, the mortar being a hole in the rock. For a few marches out there are corrals, in which the sheep can be placed at night, and out of which they can be counted in the morning. This, however, takes so long a time that, as a rule, it is done only every second or third day. Counting the black sheep and those with bells is thought a sufficient check for intermediate occa sions. It is quite possible for a bunch of 400 or 500 sheep to disappear out of a band of as many thousands, and the ordinary herder will not notice their absence, even in an open country, where he can see his flock together. Crossing the Sierras. Crossing the Sierras, a very small portion of the band travel on the road. Most of the sheep are scrambling along the hillside in a parallel direction, browsing on the young shoots or wildly climbing in search of the young grass. With all this bush to contend with, it is hard work to keep the sheep together, and it is no unusual sight to see a band, as if gone mad, mounting higher and higher to ward the hill-top, scattered everywhere in groups of ten CROSSING THE SIERRAS. 449 to twenty, striving to out-run or out-climb some bunch with a slight advance, baaing and rushing as if quite dis traught, and all because they have come on a patch of wild leek or green snow bush, butter weed or brier. Now is the occasion for the shepherds to show their activity. They must outpace the sheep in climbing the hill, and strive to turn them in fifty places, or they will have a small chance of collecting the rabble without sus taining great loss. In such moments a dog is of more use than three men not only that he gets more quickly over the ground, but the sheep mind a dog, whereas they have no fear of the men. When started on one of these escapades, they will stand and dodge a herder, or turn only so long as he is driving them. Others will sneak into the bushes, or hide in some little ravine, while nature aids the troublesome brutes' in exhausting the men, who are often taken in by the appearance of rocks far above them, and thinking to catch a band of strays, do not find out their mistake till they have had a long climb. Toward evening the sheep follow well. It would be as difficult to separate them now as in the day time it was hard to bring them together. No longer in search of food, they come down to the path, succeeding each other in endless line. For a quarter of a mile the road is a solid mass of 4 5<> THE BEDDING GROUND. woolly heads and backs, with wisps joining in at inter vals from out the dusk through some gap in the bushes, or down a broken ramp in the bank. The Bedding Ground. A bedding ground has been chosen already, and so soon as the leaders reach the farther limit they are all stopped. The rest crowd in, and are made to close up their ranks. The men and dogs walk around and check the usual discontented ones who now want to go forag ing. There is plenty of dead wood, and soon a half-dozen fires blaze at various points, lighting a small portion of the forest and picking out, with a ruddy glare, the out lines of the men and*pine trees. By and by cook shouts 4 'Supper!" One man is left on guard, and we gather around the piece of oil-cloth spread on the ground, on which are laid the exact number of tin plates. After the supper is served the watch is settled for the night. We all turn in, except the cook, who is left washing up and getting every thing ready for the most speedy preparation of breakfast next morning. After ten days' travel through the mountains, the herders are pretty well tired out by the unwonted exer cise of chasing vagrant and skittish yearlings along the steep and rocky slopes, or in slowly pushing their way in SAN ANTONIO DESERT. 45 1 the rear of a straggling bunch through a labyrinth o{ tangled manzanita or bull brush. Here you have to con tend each step with the tough branches, forcing the upper ones apart with your arms, while you feel with your feet for some firm footing in a mixture of low ground stems, roots and loosely holding stones. It is bad enough to work your way down hill, but if you have to mount upward with a band of a hundred sheep to watch and bring them back to the road; to head off those which foolishly fancy an outlet by some small clearance to one side ; to keep the leaders in view and in the right direction ; to persuade those lagging behind to follow at all, you will enjoy no small trial of your calf muscles, and a moral victory if you repress the bitter anathemas on the whole race of sheep. Sheep driving is no dashing occupation. It requires endless patience. The San Antonio Desert. The San Antonio Desert can be crossed in several places, but nowhere is it less than forty miles wide, un less you skirt its upper end, to do which you must go around the sink of the Carson River, which adds to the length of the whole route. It is not a desert in the sense of a sandy waste, for much bunch grass grows in little tufts throughout, but SAN ANTONIO DESERT. water there is none, except in rare and tiny springs far up in the hills. Along the road you intend to travel there are several of these small springs, which will suffice for the camp and the horses. The sheep must do without until you reach the farther side. For yourselves, too, you must often carry water. In this matter of crossing the desert, an ounce of ex perience is worth a ton of theory. Sheep should be moved quietly early in the morning and late at night. CHAPTER XIII. DRIVING SHEEP IN NEVADA FOOD IN CAMP THE COOK'S DUTIES SHEEP DRIVERS' CLOTHING BATHING THE SHEEP DRIVER'S BED TEMPERATURE SLEEPING IN CAMP SHEPHERD DOGS PRAIRIE DOGS. It would not be in the least interesting to detail from day to day the recurring duties and inevitable annoy ances. Nevada is a thirsty land. The little water which is to be found along the road is being monopolized by indi viduals, so that stock of all sorts but more particularly sheep, which are violently disliked by farmers have a bad time when following the Emigrant Trail. Where there are rivers the water is taken out for irri gation, and the approaches to the banks are fenced. On some of the down-stream farms the people, after the Spring freshets, must content themselves with very little water. The upper sluices may be closed once a week to (453) 454 FOOD IN CAMP. allow a supply to run down to them, which supply has to be ponded, and it then becomes unfit in a few days for most uses. Food in Camp. The food out in camp is simple and coarse. Nothing but the wonderfully pure air and hard exercise would make it palatable to, or digestible by, the ordinary mor tal. There is, however, no choice. Rich and poor, master and m^n, all sit down to the same provisions, fare alike, and enjoy their food. The stock for camp consists of flour, baking powder, necessary but more or less deleterious, coffee, tea, sugar and bacon. With a wagon we can afford to carry tins of tomato, green corn and fruit, a bag each of rice and beans, some dried apples and peaches and a gallon of syrup. These are luxuries ; more would be superfluous. The bacon serves the double purpose of supplying the grease in which to fry any meat or fish that we can get on the road and of taking the place of fresh meats when the latter are unobtainable. The Cook's Duties. The cook's chief qualities should be cleanliness and 455 dispatch. Skill comes third it requires so little and the boys are so hungry. When the meat is fried and the coffee is boiled, a piece of oil-cloth is stretched on the ground, and the necessary number of plates, tin cups, knives, forks and spoons are set out. The word is given: 4 'Grub pile. " Every man washes his face and hands, and, seizing his convert, he helps himself and eats. The cook hands around the coffee. After the meat a clean place is scraped in one corner of the plate for syrup, fruit or pudding, so long as these luxuries hold out. The boys are moderate, except when any thing new tickles their palate. Then they like to finish it at once. If, then, the wagon comes within reach they ransack the mess box, and supplement three hearty meals by an extra lunch. The cook, however, should be a despot, and stand them off. This raid up sets his calculations, and may lead to a second baking. It is the same with whisky. No self-control will prevent them finishing any given quantity at best speed, though it is all theirs, and might easily last longer. Clothing, While traveling through this parched and waterless country your condition, as may be guessed, is somewhat grimy. Your outer clothing is made of canvas, which 456 CLOTHING. can be bought in every store. The overalls of the herd ers are generally blue, worn either without undergar ments or over a pair of cloth trousers or red flannel drawers, according to the state of the weather. One or two flannel shirts, usually dark blue, with a turn-down collar and some ornament, either lacing or buttons, in front, a brown canvas coat lined with flannel, a felt hat with a wide brim, strong highlows, and a stick. There is seldom any difference in the men's working dress torn the above. These are the kind invariably provided for the Western market, and the woolen goods are worse than inferior. The overalls are soonest worn out and to be replaced. On leaving every town some of the boys will appear in a new pair of blue trousers. A light-colored patch, sown into the waist band behind, represents a galloping horse as trade-mark, and informs all concerned that the wearer is, clothed in "Wolf & Neuman's Boss of the Road, with riveted buttons and patent continuous fly." Then come two figures say, 36 and 34 which refer to the size of waist and length of leg. If short and stout, you buy a large man's size and turn up the bottom of the leg. If, on the contrary, 32 would suit you for waist, in a country store you are often compelled to take 40, so as to secure the other dimension. An odd size, however, leads to a tailoring in camp, which is an unprofitable employment. For this reason most men start with at BATHING. 457 least one extra pair of overalls to fit. The patch is left either from idleness or as a memorandum of one's measurements. For the rough and rusty work of driving, whether on horseback or on foot, these canvas suits are the most efficient. They turn wind and dirt, and can be washed. Where you must follow stock in a cloud of dust and have the ground as your only seat, woolen outer garments would be objectionable. In cold weather, therefore, you put the canvas overalls and coat over the woolen ordi nary clothes. They make a great difference, and help immensely in keeping you warm. Bathing. Whenever sufficient water can be found and a little leisure secured, it is a great achievement to have a bath. Dust is so penetrating that the least said about one's condition is best said. It is a great consolation that it is clean dirt, for after having washed thoroughly a quarter of an hour at the tail of the herd would blacken you as before. In truth, the occupation is so laborious, the hours so long and the attention must be so unremitting that a bath is often out of the question, even after the proper quantity of water is found, for those who have to do the work. The middle of the day is the only time available, as the drives are arranged for the stock to get A FESTIVE DAY. water at that time. The wagon generally gets ahead in order to fill up kegs before the stock come in and tram ple the stream into mud, which takes but a few minutes after they arrive. Where no provision is made for the men beforehand, they must go a half-mile to get clean water. To bathe in the evening, long after sunset, or in the early morning, when you should have finished breakfast by sunrise, is out of the question. First, you are too tired ; second, it is too cold among the hills, even in Summer. You are very seldom camped on water. When by good luck you find yourself near a deep and slowly flow ing stream, in which the water is warmed a little by the sun, it is a festive day. There is generally feed on the banks. The sheep, which prefer slightly warm water to a cold rivulet, are content to stop around. You can then go in for real luxury bathe, change and wash the clothes you remove. In the evening you are again as before the bath but a memory. The natural result of these circumstances is that the boys seldom look to ablution beyond washing their faces and hands. They are careful in this. Barring dust, it is a clean country, and there is fresh air all around. Dirty men abound, and at least one is to be found in every outfit ; but his habits are sharply criticised^ and sharing of bedding or clothes is cai'elully A DRIVER'S NIGHT TOILET. #59 avoided. It is fate that he should be there. You must put up with him at least, for a time. Beds Rocky Improvisations. The bedding consists of blankets or quilted counter panes. Your pillow is a bag stuffed with your spare clothing. If possible, the whole should be contained in a sheet of extra stout canvas, sufficiently long that it can be spread underneath you, and when brought over to cover you fully. The width must allow a wide margin, being tucked under the sides. About fifteen feet by seven answers well. At night you spread your bed on the ground, and if the sides are properly tucked in, should it come on to rain you draw the upper fly over your head and lie snug ; the canvas is fairly waterproof. In the morning you turn the edges inward on top, roll up the bed and strap or tie it tightly. The canvas keeps the bedding clean and dry, protecting it against dust and ob jectionable emigrants, who find themselves crowded in other blankets. Usually the boys sleep in pairs, which increases their resources and saves weight. The bedding is the most bulky part of the load in the wagon. Your night toilet consists in taking off your coat and boots. The coat you may imagine a pillow, and your boots must be tucked away safely to keep them dry and beyond the reach of coyotes, which will steal into camp at night and 460 TEMPERATURE. carry off any thing made of leather. Without your boots you would be in a very poor fix on the prairies. Temperature. As in all elevated countries, the difference of temper ature during the day in the sun from that at night is very great. Although you may work in a single flannel shirt, it is proper to have plenty of blankets for your bed. Sleeping in Camp. It is the cook's duty, after fetching camp in the even ing, having unhitched the team, to tumble all the beds out of the wagon onto the ground. Each boy at night carries his bed to a spot he likes and there unrolls it. He is limited to some definite direction, from which he is supposed to assist in guarding the sheep. It is not always a search which ends successfully. When you start after supper in the dark, carrying a heavy load of bedding for the purpose of making your bed, the ground may slope and be thickly covered with sage brush. There are hol low and stony places, but no level spot, even six feet by three. You are a little out of breath with the weight on your shoulders. It leans against your head, which you hold sideways. You can not see clearly, and stumble against bushes or trip over stumps in the dark. You drop SLEEPING IN CAMP. 46! your bed carelessly with a flop, and up jump the sheep. Having jumped up, they begin to stray from their bed ground in search of feed. Your first business must now be to drive them back and watch them till they lie down and are still again. You may then return to your bed, i and after spreading it out as much as can be done in a narrow space between the bushes, you pull off your boots and creep inside the blankets. But where is comfort ? A root stump is under the very middle of your bed invisible to your eyes in the dust, but prominent to your present feelings. It is, how ever, a very aggressive stump that makes you shift your quarters. You are far too tired to mind a little bullying. If by means of bending yourself into a C or an S curve you can avoid the knotty point it is good enough ; at any rate, you will not move. Granted that your expectations are accomplished ; suppose the sheep have fed and drunk well during the day, and therefore are not inclined to move that night ; say that there is no wind storm to disturb you and the plaintive coyote is dumb then the hours pass away too quickly. You wake in the dull gray light of day-break. A little flame is seen flickering in camp, and the cook's call is heard : <4 Roll out !" You jump up, but before you have time to dress and pack your bed the second call is heard : " Breakfast !" You carry your bedding to the wagon and dump it down somewhere. Having 462 SHEPHERD DOGS. washed your face and hands, you take a place near the fire. Some one throws on a bush to make a blaze, and you eat a hearty meal of fried meat, bread and coffee. Long before you are ready the sheep are on the move p and break up their camp. If they travel in the right direction you can let them go, but if they are wandering one man must start at once and take charge. The other boys finish breakfast, fill their canteens with water, grab their sticks and follow the herd. The cook is left in sole possession. He must wash up, reload the wagon, feed and water the team, and then follow the trail of the herd and be up with them in time to cook dinner. Shepherd Dogs. Well bred and well broken dogs fetch a good price, if you can hold them till you find a purchaser who is really in want of such an animal. The day-dream of a herder is to get a dog that will watch the sheep at night, for to wake and hallo even a few times makes a bad night, and no one need envy the man whose fate com pels him to walk, half-chilled, round and round a lot of fractious and pig-headed sheep ; to find the same brutes leading off again and again, bunches watching him, and standing still as statues in his presence, but stealing out from the corner on which he has just turned his back. If he iits down on a stone for ten minutes the whole work PATIENCE AND PERSISTENCY. 463 may have to be done over again. He comes on a band that he has already headed back several times. They wait till the last minute and trot into the herd just about a yard in front of him ; so soon as he is past they walk out again. You must take matters slowly. Impatience would do more harm than good. The sheep you drove in with a rush would startle ten times their number among those which, perhaps, had been lying down. They then pack and squeeze on the center heads inward and tails out ward. The chief culprits have knowingly secured places quite out of reach. The lot can not remain so, and to lie down must open out. You have to leave them. Quietness, patience and persistency these are the cardinal qualities. Keep on turning them back until fchey are all lying down. You may then go to bed. In the first place, use judgment in choosing your bed ground. Have room enough for the herd to lie down without crowding. They will lie more quietly with elbow room. Any place does not suit a sheep's idea of comfort. If a big wether sees a smaller sheep in a spot which he fancies, he will touch him with a fore foot as a signal to clear out. If the sheep will not take the hint the big one will butt him out. On several occasions, when the sheep had been par ticularly well fed and were proportionately content, they spread out their ranks till in the morning they were seen 464 EVERY BAND NEEDS DOGS, lying all around the men's beds, and quite close thereto. But at these times they did not care to feed at night. Properly handled, sheep like nothing better than to carry out their role, which is to grow wool and grow fat. It is for the men to help them to do so. Good dogs are of great assistance on a drive. They are scarce in California in the early Summer, when every band going to the hills needs two or three dogs. Some owners pretend they would rather be without dogs. It is possible that in driving fat sheep on The Plains the man would work the herd more quietly than would the average dog, but the dog is a necessity where the ground is rough and covered with bush, and if the sheep, attracted by some new food they are fond of, are liable to scatter, dogs get them in more quickly than any man can do, and by turning those heading in a wrong direc tion at once save time and save the sheep an unnecessary journey. Sheep, too, will mind a single dog when they would not be controlled by several men. They watch the lat ter, and dodge them so soon as their attention is engaged elsewhere. A dog which has nipped them once or twice instills a wholesome fear, and for him they will turn at once. In bad hands a dog is liable to be rough. A lazy man will spoil his dog by over-working him, The dog soon learns bad tricks, when he feels that he is misused, and THE PRAIRIE DOG. 465 saves himself by cutting across little bunches, instead of going outside of all. The Prairie Dog. Prairie dogs are not common in Nevada. There are plenty on the prairies in Wyoming and Montana. Their bark is more like a chirrup. They are fat and pretty little beasts, as seen sitting upon the mounds which surround the mouths of their burrows. They eat the grass very close around their vil lage, but they are otherwise harmless. On the other hand, as they are of no use to you as food, you naturally slight them. CHAPTER XIV. DRIVING SHEEP IN IDAHO THE LARAMIE PLAINS NEAR THE GREAT SALT LAKE HOW TO MAKE MONEY ON SHEEP IN UTAH. As you get into Idaho there is a marked improvement in the country. Grass and water are more plentiful. There are cottonwood and birch trees all along the streams and in fringes on the hillsides. Wherever a hol low has retained snow after its general disappearance from the ridges of the hills and from open spots the late moisture has encouraged the growth of every thing that is green. But the Autumn is decidedly fading into early Win ter. The higher ranges have been once or twice capped with snow ; the leaves are changing from green into col ors more lively ; the sun, even in the middle of the day, is occasionally feeble, having probably over-worked itself in scorching us through the Summer. It is high time to (466) THE LARAMIE PLAINS. 407 consider where the sheep shall be wintered. Your choice lies between taking them south to the country which bor ders the Salt Lake and pushing on either to Green River or to the Laramie Plains. The Green River country is said to have been overstocked for many years, and though ranges may still be found, good ones are scarce. Without plenty of feed a band of sheep, more par ticularly one which has traveled up north from a warmer climate, would have a poor chance in the extreme cold of these parts. The Laramie Plains* These comprise a portion of the highest table land between the oceans. Although subject to as bitter cold as any other place in the Northwest, its exposed position, liable to be swept by strong winds, enables stock to live, for the reason that, the snow being blown off, the herb age is laid bare. This is the case in ordinary winters. Animals which start healthy and in good condition pull through on these plains fairly well. But in every season there are severe snow storms and piercing winds, during which it is impossible to take out sheep and when cattle and horses can not do better for themselves than to turn tail to the blast and drift slowly before the storm. The chinook, which is a warm wind, blows at times and melts the snow, but the greatest danger to all stock 468 NEAR SALT LAKE. is when such a partial thaw is followed by sharp frost The surface of the snow is then ice-bound, and it is im possible for any animal to care for itself. To meet these cases a sufficient quantity of hay must be provided for the sheep. If this is not done, the chances are that the whole herd will be starved and frozen to death. Even with hay in hand, it is not always a good plan to feed it to the herd, for they will not in future take the trouble to hunt for themselves, but idle all the day and wait for the hay in the evening a proceeding that is exasperat ing to the most even-tempered herder, but all in a piece with the general behavior of sheep. Near Salt Lake. The climate of the country lying to the south of and surrounding Salt Lake is much milder than that of the nearest portions of Idaho and Wyoming. The snow does not lie deeply, and the plains, besides grass, bear the white sage, which is very nutritious. The latter, after it has been nipped by frost, is apparently much relished by all stock. A light fall of snow here is an advantage, as it per mits the herds to push out into the plains, which are waterless. The sheep can eat snow, and the herders melt it. HOW TO MAKE MONEY IN UTAH. 469 On these trips the herders live in a small canvas house, which is built onto the wagon. In this there is a stove. The bed is on a low shelf across the hind end. The entrance is on one side. With the traps and sup plies of a couple of men, two horses only are required. The wagon does not move every day, and often the jour neys are short. How to Make Money in Utah. To men who are not averse to a solitary life and do not fear rough times and exposure this wintering with sheep may be tolerable. A man who understands the work, and can be trusted to do it, should always be able to secure something bet ter than good wages. There are plenty of men in Utah who, having saved money, would like to invest it in a band of sheep. The sheep, to live, must travel Summer and Winter. It is impossible for a man resident in town and with a business to see after his sheep in person. He must look around either for a herder to manage for him or a joint owner to share in the speculation. The current expenses are not heavy. Two men can through the year easily drive 2,000 or 3,000 sheep, with a little help at lambing time. The returns from wool 47 SALT LAKE CITY. and increase are not exaggerated at 25 per cent. As the profit with sheep, much more than with other stock, is dependent on the care and success of the men in charge, the man who knows has a power which in some cases transfers the flock from the owner's hands into his own in three or four years. The alternative to the proprietor who can not accom pany his own herd often lies between seeing his property destroyed through ignorance or transferred through un scrupulous acumen. There is a good opening for any man thoroughly up in sheep to make his way in Utah. A short stay in Salt Lake City satisfies most persons. It certainly may be called a pretty town, the trees and gardens having a good effect. But how long would the latter be retained should the land become valuable ? At present worse places can easily be found, and when the burning question is settled the town may start afresh* I think I have given a truthful picture of the manner of life which must be followed on the trail. It is not everywhere so dry and dusty as in Nevada. But, with due allowances for the more pleasant aspects of affairs in journeying through a better grassed and bet ter watered country, any one can fancy for himself how far he is likely to appreciate the life. There may be dif- AU REVOIR, READERc 4/f ficulties special to that portion of the territories lying farther north, owing to heavier timber and bush, into which sheep might stray, and to the greater cold and deeper snow which prevail through a longer Winter. But wherever it is followed the business of driving or looking after sheep is rude and tiresome. The outdoor life is healthy and exhilarating. The roughing does not show too disagreeably. Young men who are fitted out with good spirits and manliness have nothing to dread. The West is a Land of Hope. It is well to go and try it for yourself. BOOKS PUBLISHED BY THOS. W. JACKSON PUB. CO. CHICAGO, ILL. All Handsomely Bound in the Best American and English Cloths, Uniform in Style of Binding. Together, They Make a Handsome Library Separately, They Make Handsome Center-Table Volumes. PRICE, SENT POST-PAID, $1.00 EACH. Thirty-One Years on the Plains and in the Moun tains; or, The Last Voice from the Plains An authentic record of a life time of hunting, trap ping, scouting and Indian fighting in the Far West. Copiously illustrated by H. S. De Lay and by many reproductions from photographs. By Capt. W. P. Drannan, who went on to The Plains when fifteen years old. 654 pages. Bough Life on the Frontier. A True and Graphic tale of the Doing and Daring of the Men who pushed Westward in the early days of our coun try's life; told by a man who was one of them, and shared their struggles, hardships and final success. Copiously illustrated with 23 full page engravings from original drawings by H. S. De Lay. 530 pages. Life in the Mines; or, Crime Avenged. Including thrilling adventures among miners and outlaws, the mystery of the Phantom Horseman and the dark concoctions of One-Eyed Kiley. By C. H. Simpson, author of "Wild Life in the Far West," "A Yankee's Adventures in South Africa," etc. Copiously illustrated by H. S. De Lay. 308 pages. Elegantly Cloth Bound Books, $1.00 Per Copy Ten Years a Cow Boy. A full and vivid description of frontier life, including romance, adventure and all the varied experiences incident to a life on The Plains as cow boy, stock owner, rancher, etc., to gether with articles on cattle and sheep raising, how to make money, description of The Plains, etc. Illustrated with 100 full page engravings. Contains of reading matter 471 pages. Wild Life in the Far West By C. H. Simpson, a resident detective, living in this country. Giving a full and graphic account of his thrilling ad ventures among the Indians and outlaws of Mon tana including hunting, hair-breadth escapes, captivity, punishment and difficulties of all kinds met with in this wild country. Illustrated with 30 full-page engravings by Gr. S. Littlejohn. Heading matter, 264 pages. Captain W. P. Drannan, Chief of Scouts, as Pilot to Emigrant and Government Trains Across the Plains of the Wild West of Fifty Years Ago. This book, being a sequel to the famous "Thirty- one Years on the Plains and in the Mountains," of which over 100 editions have been printed in less than ten years, does not need any recommen dation ; the author being an abundant warrant as to its value. The book contains over 400 pages of reading matter, and many illustrations. Elegantly Cloth Bound Books, $1.00 Per Copy Pearls from Many Seas. A collation of the best thoughts of 400 writers of wide repute. Selected and classified by Rev. J. B. McClure. Illustrated with 50 full-page engravings selected especially for this work from the great art galleries of the world. A volume of rare value and interest to all lovers of good literature. Reading matter, 528 pages. Evils of the Cities. By T. De Witt Talmage, D. D. The author, in company with the proper detec tives, visited many of the most vile and wicked places in New York City and Brooklyn, ostensibly looking for a thief, but in reality taking notes for a series of discourses, published in this volume, which contains a full and graphic description of what he saw and the lessons drawn therefrom. The Doctor has also extended his observations to the "Summer Resorts," the '^ Watering Places," the " Races," etc., all of which are popularized from his standpoint in this volume. Reading mat ter, 397 pages. A Yankee's Adventures in South Africa. (In the diamond country.) By C. H. Simpson. Giving the varied experiences, adventures, dangers and narrow escapes of a Yankee seeking his fortune in this wild country, who, by undaunted courage, perseverance, suffering, fighting and adventures of various sorts, is requited at last by the owner ship of the largest diamond taken out of the Kim- berly mines up to that time and with the heart and hand of the fairest daughter of a diamond king. Containing 30 full-page illustrations by H. S. De La^ Reading matter, 234 pages. THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW RENEWED BOOKS ARE SUBJECT TO IMMEDIATE RECALL LIBRARY, UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, DAVIS Book Slip-55m-10,'68(J4048s8)45S A-31/5 N9 589784 PS2649 Post, C.C. P6 Ten years a T4 cowboy. LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA DAVIS