How the Old Man Subdued the Indians with an Electric Battery and
Phosphorus--He Tries His Hand at Roping a Steer--The Disastrous Result.
Gee, but I thought Pa was all in when I closed by last letter, when the
Indians had him bound on a board, and had lighted a fire, and were just
going to broil him. Jealousy is bad enough in a white man, but when an
Indian gets jealous of his squaw there is going to be something doing,
and when a whole tribe gets jealous of one old man, 'cause he has taught
the squaws to be independent, and rise up as one man against the tyranny
of their husbands, that white man is not safe, and as Pa lay there,
waiting for the fire to get hot enough for them to lay him on the coals,
I felt almost like crying, 'cause I didn't want to take pa's remains
back home so scorched that they wouldn't be an ornament to society, so
I went up to pa's couch to get his instructions as to our future course,
when he should be all in.
I said, “Pa, this is the most serious case you have yet mixed up in. O,
wimmen, how you do ruin men who put their trust in you.”
Pa winked at me, and said:
“Never you mind me, Hennery. I will come out of this scrape and have all
the Indians on their kpeesan less than an hour, begging my pardon,” and
then Pa whispered to me, and I went to pa's valise and got an electric
battery and put it in pa's pocket and scattered copper wires all around
pa's body, and fixed it so pa could touch a button and turn on a charge
of electricity that would paralyze an elephant, and then I got some
matches and took the phosphorus off and put it all over pa's face and
hands and clothes and as it became dark and the phosphorus began to
shine, Pa was a sight. He looked like moonlight on the lake, and I got
the cowboy and the big game hunter and the educated Indian to get down
on their knees around pa, and chant something that would sound terrible
to the Indians. The only thing in the way of a chant that all of them
could chant was the football tune, “There'll Be a Hot Time in the Old
Town Tonight,” and we were whooping it up over pa's illuminated remains
when the Indians came out to put Pa on the fire, and when they saw the
phosphorescent glow all over him, and, his face looking as though he was
at peace with all the world, and us whites on our knees, making motions
and singing that hot dirge, they all turned pale, and were scared, and
they fell back reverently, and gazed fixedly at poor pa, who was winking
at us, and whispering to us to keep it up, and we did.
The old chief was the first to recover, and he saw that something had to
be done pretty quick, so he talked Indian to some of the braves, and I
slipped away and put some phosphorus all over a squaw, and she looked
like a lightning bug, and told her to go and fall on pa's remains and
yell murder. The Indians had started to grab Pa and put him on the fire
when Pa turned on the battery and the big chief got a dose big enough
for a whole flock of Indians, and all who touched Pa got a shock, and
they all fell back and got on their knees, and just then the squaw with
the phosphorus on her system came running out, and she fell across pa's
remains, and she shone so you could read fine print by the light she
gave, and that settled it with the tribe, 'cause they all laid down flat
and were at pa's mercy. Pa pushed the illuminated squaw away, and went
around and put his foot on the neck of each Indian, in token of his
absolute mastery over them, and then he bade them arise, and he told
them he had only done these things to show them the power of the great
father over his children, and now he would reveal to them his object in
coming amongst them, and that was to engage 20 of the best Indians, and
20 of the best squaws, to join our great show, at an enormous salary,
and be ready in two weeks to take the road. The Indians were delighted,
and began to quarrel about who should go with the show, and to quiet
them Pa said he wanted to shake hands with all of them, and they lined
up, and Pa took the strongest wire attached to the battery in his pistol
pocket, and let it run up under his coat and down his sleeve, into his
right hand, and that was the way he shook hands with them. I thought I
would die laughing. Pa took a position like a president at a New Year's
reception, and shook hands with the tribe one at a time. The old chief
came first, and Pa grasped his hand tight, and the chief stood on his
toes and his knees knocked together, his teeth chattered, and he danced
a cancan while Pa held on to his hand and squeezed, but he finally let
go and the chief wiped his hand on a dog, and the dog got some of the
electricity and ki yield to beat the band. Then Pa shook hands with
everybody, and they all went through the same kind of performance,
and were scared silly at the supernatural power Pa seemed to have. The
squaws seemed to get more electricity than the buck Indians, 'cause Pa
squeezed harder, and the way they danced and cut up didoes would make
you think they had been drinking. Finally Pa touched them all with
his magic wand, and then they prepared a feast and celebrated their
engagement to go with the circus, and we packed up and got ready to
go to a cattle round up the next day at a ranch outside the Indian
reservation, where Pa was to engage some cowboys for the show. As
we left the headquarters on the reservation the next morning all the
Indians went with us for a few miles, cheering us, and Pa waved his
hands to them, and said, “bless you, me children,” and looked so wise,
and so good, and great that I was proud of him. The squaws threw kisses
at pa, and when we had left them, and had got out of sight, Pa said,
“Those Indians will give the squaws a walloping when they get back to
camp, but who can blame them for falling in love with the great father?”
and then pa winked, and put spurs to his pony and we rode across the
mesa, looking for other worlds to conquer.
[Illustration: “The Chief's Knees Knocked Together.”]
On the way to the ranch where we were to meet the cowboys and engage
enough to make the show a success, the cowboy Pa had along told Pa that
it might be easy enough to fool Indians with the great father dodge, and
the electric battery, and all that, but when he struck a mess of cowboys
he would find a different proposition, 'cause he couldn't fool cowboys a
little bit. He said if Pa was going to hire cowboys, he had got to be a
cowboy himself, and if he couldn't rope steers he would have to learn,
'cause cowboys, if they were to be led in the show by pa, would want
him to be prepared to rope anything that had four feet. Pa said while he
didn't claim to be an expert, he had done some roping, and could throw a
lasso, and while he didn't always catch them by the feet, when he tried
to, he got the rope over them somewhere, and if the horse he rode knew
its business he ultimately got his steer, and he would be willing to
show the boys what he could do.
We got to the cow camp in time for dinner, and our cowboy introduced
Pa to the cowboys around the chuck wagon, and told them Pa was an old
cowboy who had traveled the Texas trail years ago, and was one of the
best horsemen in the business, a manager of a show that was adding a
wild west department and wanted to hire 40 or more of the best ropers
and riders, at large salaries, to join the show, and that Pa considered
himself the legitimate successor of Buffalo Bill, and money was no
object. Well, the boys were tickled to meet pa, and some said they had
heard of him when he was roping cattle on the frontier, and that tickled
pa, and they smoked cigarettes, and finally saddled up and began to
brand calves and rope cattle to get them where they belonged, each
different brand of cattle being driven off in a different direction,
and we had the most interesting free show of bucking horses and roping
cattle I ever saw. Pa watched the boys work for a long time, and
complimented them, or criticised them for some error, until the crazy
spirit seemed to get into him, and he thought he could do it as well as
any of the boys, and he told our cowboy that whenever the boys got tired
he would like to get on a buckskin pony that one of the men was riding,
and show that while a little out of practice he could stand a steer
on its head, and get off his horse and tie the animal in a few seconds
beyond the record time.
I told Pa he better hire a man to do it for him, but he said, “Hennery,
here is where your Pa has got to make good, or these cowboys won't
affiliate. You take my watch and roll, 'cause no one can tell where a
fellow will land when he gets his steer,” and I took pa's valuables and
the boys brought up the buckskin horse, which smelled of Pa and snorted,
and didn't seem to want Pa to get on, but they held the horse by the
bridle, and Pa finally got himself on both sides of the horse, and took
the lariat rope off the pommel of the saddle and began to handle it,
kind of awkward, like a boy with a clothesline. I didn't like the way
the cowboys winked around among themselves and guyed pa, and I told Pa
about it, and tried to get him to give it up, but he said, “When I get
my steer tied, and stand with my foot on his neck, these winking cowboys
will take off their hats to me all right. I am Long Horn Ike, from the
Brazos, and you watch my smoke.”
Well, the boys tightened up the cinch on pa's saddle, and pointed out a
rangy black steer in a bunch down on the flat, and told pa the game was
to cut that steer out of the bunch and rope it, and tie it, and hold up
his right hand for the time keeper to record it. Gee, but Pa spurred
the horse and rode into that bunch of cattle like a whirlwind, and I was
proud of him, and he cut out the black steer all right, and rode up near
it, and swung his lariat, and sent it whizzing through the air, and the
noose went out over the head and neck and fore feet of the steer, and
the horse stopped and set itself back on its haunches, and the rope got
around the belly of the steer, and when the rope became taut, and the
steer ought to have been turned bottom-side up, the cinch of pa's saddle
broke, the saddle came off with pa hugging his legs around it, and the
black steer started due west for Texas, galloping and bellowing, and
you couldn't see Pa and the saddle for the dust they made following the
steer. If Pa had let go of the saddle, he would have stopped, but he
hung to it, and the rope was tied to the saddle. The buckskin horse,
relieved of the saddle, looked around at the cowboys as much as to say,
“wouldn't that skin you,” and went to grazing, the other cattle looked
on as though they would say, “Another tenderfoot gone wrong,” and as the
black steer and Pa and the saddle went over a hill, Pa only touching the
high places, the boss cowboy said, “Come on and help head off the steer,
and send a wagon to bring back the remains of Long Horn Ike from the
Brazos,” and then I began to cry for pa.
[Illustration: “Pa Only Touched the High Places.”]