And now the hour of twelve was at hand, and every one on the _qui
vive_ for the bugle blast that would dissolve the chain of enchantment
hitherto girding about this coveted land. Many of the “boomers” were
mounted on high-spirited and fleet-footed horses, and had ranged
themselves along the territorial line, scarcely restrained even by the
presence of the troops of cavalry from taking summary possession. The
better class of wagons and carriages ranged themselves in line with
the horsemen, and even here and there mule teams attached to
canvas-covered vehicles stood in the front ranks, with the reins and
whip grasped by the “boomers’” wives. All was excitement and
expectation. Every nerve was on tension and every muscle strained.
Suddenly the air was pierced with the blast of a bugle. Hundreds of
throats echoed the sound with shouts of exultation. The quivering
limbs of saddled steeds, no longer restrained by the hands that held
their bridles, bounded forward, simultaneously into the “beautiful
land” of Oklahoma; and wagons and carriages and buggies and prairie
schooners and a whole congregation of curious equipages joined in this
unparalleled race, where every starter was bound to win a prize—the
“Realization Stakes” of home and prosperity.
We, the spectators, witnessed the spectacle with most intense
interest. Away dashed the thoroughbreds, the bronchos, the pintos, and
the mustangs at a breakneck pace, across the uneven surface of the
prairie. It was amazing to witness the recklessness of those cowboy
riders. They jumped obstacles. They leaped ditches. They cantered with
no diminution of speed through waterpools; and when they came to a
ravine too wide to leap, down they would go with a rush, and up the
other side with a spurt of energy, to scurry once more like mad over
the level plain.
The occupants of our train now became absorbed in their own fate....
It was rather hard pulling for our engine until we reached the apex of
the Cimarron Valley, spread out in picturesque beauty at our very
feet. Our train now rushed along the downgrade with the speed of a
limited express crossing the fine bridge that spans the Cimarron with
a roar, and swinging around the hills that intervened between the
river and the Guthrie town site with the rapidity of a swallow’s
flight. All that there was of Guthrie, the now famous “magic city,” on
April 22, at 1:30 P.M., when the first train from the north drew up at
the station and unloaded its first instalment of settlers, was a
water-tank, a small station-house, a shanty for the Wells Fargo
Express, and a Government Land Office.
I remember throwing my blankets out of the car window the instant the
train stopped at the station. I remember tumbling after them through
the self-same window. Then I joined the wild scramble for a town lot
up the sloping hillside at a pace discounting any “go-as-you-please”
race. There were several thousand people converging on the same plot
of ground, each eager for a town lot which was to be acquired without
cost and without price, each solely dependent on his own efforts, and
animated by a spirit of fair play and good humor. The race was not
over when you reached the particular lot you were content to select
for your possession. The contest still was who should drive their
stakes first, who would erect their tents soonest, and then, who would
quickest build a little wooden shanty. It reminded me of playing
blind-man’s bluff. One did not know how far to go before stopping. It
was hard to tell when it was best to stop; and it was a puzzle whether
to turn to the right hand or the left.
I found myself, without exactly knowing why, about midway between the
government building and depot. It occurred to me that a street would
probably run past the depot. I accosted a man who looked like a
deputy, with a piece of white card in his hands, and asked if this was
to be a street along here.
“Yes,” he replied. “We are laying off four corner lots right here for
a lumber yard.”
“Is this the corner where I stand?” I inquired.
“Yes,” he responded, approaching me.
“Then I claim this corner lot!” I said with decision, as I jammed my
location stick in the ground and hammered it securely home with my
heel....
An angry altercation [_argument_] ensued, but I stoutly maintained my
position and my rights. I proceeded at once to unstrap a small
folding-cot I brought with me, and by standing it on its end made a
tolerable center-pole for a tent. I then threw a couple of my blankets
over the pole, and staked them securely into the ground on either
side. Thus I had a claim that was unjumpable because of substantial
improvements.
As night approached I strolled up on the eminence near the land
office, and surveyed the wonderful cyclorama spread out before me on
all sides. Ten thousand people had “squatted” upon a square mile of
virgin prairie that first afternoon, and as the myriad of white tents
suddenly appeared upon the face of the country, it was as though a
vast flock of huge white-winged birds had just settled down upon the
hillsides and in valleys. Here indeed was _a city laid out and
populated in half a day_. Thousands of campfires sparkled upon the
dark bosom of the prairie as far as the eye could reach.
I will never forget the first night of occupancy of this army. Unlike
the hosts of the Assyrians that descended on the Israelites, their
tents were not silent. On the contrary, there was a fusilade of shots
on all sides from Winchesters, and Colts, and Remingtons, disturbing
the stillness of the night, mingled with halloos, and shoutings, and
the rebel yell, and the imitated warwhoop of the savage. I expected on
the morrow to see the prairie strewn with gory corpses, but not a
single corpse appeared, and I was not slow in making up my mind that
nine-tenths of all the shots were fired in a mere wanton spirit of
bravado to intimidate a few such nervous tenderfeet as myself.
I was witness of all this magical municipal development, and could
scarcely realize the miracle that was unfolding before me. The
wealth-creating force that was displayed in the building up of Guthrie
can not be better illustrated than in the fact that lots which had no
value prior to April 22 sold in the center of the business district as
high as five hundred dollars within a week thereafter, and a number
changed hands before the expiration of the first month for one
thousand, five hundred dollars each.
[Illustration: Texas cattle being driven to the cattle rendezvous]