evening were spent in making camp snug for the night. Every horse or
mule was either picketed or hobbled. Every man washed his saddle
blankets, as the long continuous ride had made them rancid with sweat.
The night air was so dry and warm that they would even dry at night.
There was the usual target practice and the never-ending cleaning of
firearms. As night settled over the camp, everything was in order. The
blankets were spread, and smoking and yarning occupied the time until
sleep claimed us.
“Talking about the tight places,” said Orchard, “in which a man often
finds himself in this service, reminds me of a funny experience which I
once had, out on the head-waters of the Brazos. I’ve smelt powder at
short range, and I’m willing to admit there’s nothing fascinating in
it. But this time I got buffaloed by a bear.
“There are a great many brakes on the head of the Brazos, and in them
grow cedar thickets. I forget now what the duty was that we were there
on, but there were about twenty of us in the detachment at the time.
One morning, shortly after daybreak, another lad and myself walked out
to unhobble some extra horses which we had with us. The horses had
strayed nearly a mile from camp, and when we found them they were
cutting up as if they had been eating loco weed for a month. When we
came up to them, we saw that they were scared. These horses couldn’t
talk, but they told us that just over the hill was something they were
afraid of.
“We crept up the little hill, and there over in a draw was the cause of
their fear,—a big old lank Cinnamon. He was feeding along, heading for
a thicket of about ten acres. The lad who was with me stayed and
watched him, while I hurried back, unhobbled the horses, and rushed
them into camp. I hustled out every man, and they cinched their hulls
on those horses rapidly. By the time we had reached the lad who had
stayed to watch him, the bear had entered the thicket, but unalarmed.
Some fool suggested the idea that we could drive him out in the open
and rope him. The lay of the land would suggest such an idea, for
beyond this motte of cedar lay an impenetrable thicket of over a
hundred acres, which we thought he would head for if alarmed. There was
a ridge of a divide between these cedar brakes, and if the bear should
attempt to cross over, he would make a fine mark for a rope.
“Well, I always was handy with a rope, and the boys knew it, so I and
three others who could twirl a rope were sent around on this divide, to
rope him in case he came out. The others left their horses and made a
half-circle drive through the grove, beating the brush and burning
powder as though it didn’t cost anything. We ropers up on the divide
scattered out, hiding ourselves as much as we could in the broken
places. We wanted to get him out in the clear in case he played nice.
He must have been a sullen old fellow, for we were beginning to think
they had missed him or he had holed, when he suddenly lumbered out
directly opposite me and ambled away towards the big thicket.
“I was riding a cream-colored horse, and he was as good a one as ever
was built on four pegs, except that he was nervous. He had never seen a
bear, and when I gave him the rowel, he went after that bear like a cat
after a mouse. The first sniff he caught of the bear, he whirled
quicker than lightning, but I had made my cast, and the loop settled
over Mr. Bear’s shoulders, with one of his fore feet through it. I had
tied the rope in a hard knot to the pommel, and the way my horse
checked that bear was a caution. It must have made bruin mad. My horse
snorted and spun round like a top, and in less time than it takes to
tell it, there was a bear, a cream-colored horse, and a man sandwiched
into a pile on the ground, and securely tied with a three-eighths-inch
rope. The horse had lashed me into the saddle by winding the rope, and
at the same time windlassed the bear in on top of us. The horse cried
with fear as though he was being burnt to death, while the bear grinned
and blew his breath in my face. The running noose in the rope had cut
his wind so badly, he could hardly offer much resistance. It was a good
thing he had his wind cut, or he would have made me sorry I enlisted. I
didn’t know it at the time, but my six-shooter had fallen out of the
holster, while the horse was lying on my carbine.
“The other three rode up and looked at me, and they all needed killing.
Horse, bear, and man were so badly mixed up, they dared not shoot. One
laughed till he cried, another one was so near limp he looked like a
ghost, while one finally found his senses and, dismounting, cut the
rope in half a dozen places and untied the bundle. My horse floundered
to his feet and ran off, but before the bear could free the noose, the
boys got enough lead into him at close quarters to hold him down. The
entire detachment came out of the thicket, and their hilarity knew no
bounds. I was the only man in the crowd who didn’t enjoy the bear
chase. Right then I made a resolve that hereafter, when volunteers are
called for to rope a bear, my accomplishments in that line will remain
unmentioned by me. I’ll eat my breakfast first, anyhow, and think it
over carefully.”
“Dogs and horses are very much alike about a bear,” said one of the
boys. “Take a dog that never saw a bear in his life, and let him get a
sniff of one, and he’ll get up his bristles like a javeline and tuck
his tail and look about for good backing or a clear field to run.”
Long John showed symptoms that he had some yarn to relate, so we
naturally remained silent to give him a chance, in case the spirit
moved in him. Throwing a brand into the fare after lighting his
cigarette, he stretched himself on the ground, and the expected
happened.
“A few years ago, while rangering down the country,” said he, “four of
us had trailed some horse-thieves down on the Rio Grande, when they
gave us the slip by crossing over into Mexico. We knew the thieves were
just across the river, so we hung around a few days, in the hope of
catching them, for if they should recross into Texas they were our
meat. Our plans were completely upset the next morning, by the arrival
of twenty United States cavalrymen on the cold trail of four deserters.
The fact that these deserters were five days ahead and had crossed into
Mexico promptly on reaching the river, did not prevent this squad of
soldiers from notifying both villages on each side of the river as to
their fruitless errand. They couldn’t follow their own any farther, and
they managed to scare our quarry into hiding in the interior. We waited
until the soldiers returned to the post, when we concluded we would
take a little _pasear_ over into Mexico on our own account.
“We called ourselves horse-buyers. The government was paying like
thirty dollars for deserters, and in case we run across them, we
figured it would pay expenses to bring them out. These deserters were
distinguishable wherever they went by the size of their horses;
besides, they had two fine big American mules for packs. They were
marked right for that country. Everything about them was _muy grande_.
We were five days overtaking them, and then at a town one hundred and
forty miles in the interior. They had celebrated their desertion the
day previous to our arrival by getting drunk, and when the horse-buyers
arrived they were in jail. This last condition rather frustrated our
plans for their capture, as we expected to kidnap them out. But now we
had red tape authorities to deal with.
“We found the horses, mules, and accoutrements in a corral. They would
be no trouble to get, as the bill for their keep was the only concern
of the corral-keeper. Two of the boys who were in the party could
palaver Spanish, so they concluded to visit the alcalde of the town,
inquiring after horses in general and incidentally finding out when our
deserters would be released. The alcalde received the boys with great
politeness, for Americans were rare visitors in his town, and after
giving them all the information available regarding horses, the subject
innocently changed to the American prisoners in jail. The alcalde
informed them that he was satisfied they were deserters, and not
knowing just what to do with them he had sent a courier that very
morning to the governor for instructions in the matter. He estimated it
would require at least ten days to receive the governor’s reply. In the
mean time, much as he regretted it, they would remain prisoners. Before
parting, those two innocents permitted their host to open a bottle of
wine as an evidence of the friendly feeling, and at the final
leave-taking, they wasted enough politeness on each other to win a
woman.
“When the boys returned to us other two, we were at our wits’ end. We
were getting disappointed too often. The result was that we made up our
minds that rather than throw up, we would take those deserters out of
jail and run the risk of getting away with them. We had everything in
readiness an hour before nightfall. We explained, to the satisfaction
of the Mexican hostler who had the stock in charge, that the owners of
these animals were liable to be detained in jail possibly a month, and
to avoid the expense of their keeping, we would settle the bill for our
friends and take the stock with us. When the time came every horse was
saddled and the mules packed and in readiness. We had even moved our
own stock into the same corral, which was only a short distance from
the jail.
“As night set in we approached the _carsel_. The turnkey answered our
questions very politely through a grated iron door, and to our request
to speak with the prisoners, he regretted that they were being fed at
that moment, and we would have to wait a few minutes. He unbolted the
door, however, and offered to show us into a side room, an invitation
we declined. Instead, we relieved him of his keys and made known our
errand. When he discovered that we were armed and he was our prisoner,
he was speechless with terror. It was short work to find the men we
wanted and march them out, locking the gates behind us and taking
jailer and keys with us. Once in the saddle, we bade the poor turnkey
good-by and returned him his keys.
“We rode fast, but in less than a quarter of an hour there was a
clanging of bells which convinced us that the alarm had been given. Our
prisoners took kindly to the rescue and rode willingly, but we were
careful to conceal our identity or motive. We felt certain there would
be pursuit, if for no other purpose, to justify official authority. We
felt easy, for we were well mounted, and if it came to a pinch, we
would burn powder with them, one round at least.
“Before half an hour had passed, we were aware that we were pursued. We
threw off the road at right angles and rode for an hour. Then, with the
North Star for a guide, we put over fifty miles behind us before
sunrise. It was impossible to secrete ourselves the next day, for we
were compelled to have water for ourselves and stock. To conceal the
fact that our friends were prisoners, we returned them their arms after
throwing away their ammunition. We had to enter several ranches during
the day to secure food and water, but made no particular effort to
travel.
“About four o’clock we set out, and to our surprise, too, a number of
horsemen followed us until nearly dark. Passing through a slight
shelter, in which we were out of sight some little time, two of us
dropped back and awaited our pursuers. As they came up within hailing
distance, we ordered them to halt, which they declined by whirling
their horses and burning the earth getting away. We threw a few rounds
of lead after them, but they cut all desire for our acquaintance right
there.
“We reached the river at a nearer point than the one at which we had
entered, and crossed to the Texas side early the next morning. We
missed a good ford by two miles and swam the river. At this ford was
stationed a squad of regulars, and we turned our prizes over within an
hour after crossing. We took a receipt for the men, stock, and
equipments, and when we turned it over to our captain a week
afterwards, we got the riot act read to us right. I noticed, however,
the first time there was a division of prize money, one item was for
the capture of four deserters.”
“I don’t reckon that captain had any scruples about taking his share of
the prize money, did he?” inquired Gotch.
“No, I never knew anything like that to happen since I’ve been in the
service.”
“There used to be a captain in one of the upper country companies that
held religious services in his company, and the boys claimed that he
was equally good on a prayer, a fight, or holding aces in a poker
game,” said Gotch, as he filled his pipe.
Amongst Dad’s other accomplishments was his unfailing readiness to tell
of his experiences in the service. So after he had looked over the camp
in general, he joined the group of lounging smokers and told us of an
Indian fight in which he had participated.
“I can’t imagine how this comes to be called Comanche Ford,” said Dad.
“Now the Comanches crossed over into the Panhandle country annually for
the purpose of killing buffalo. For diversion and pastime, they were
always willing to add horse-stealing and the murdering of settlers as a
variation. They used to come over in big bands to hunt, and when ready
to go back to their reservation in the Indian Territory, they would
send the squaws on ahead, while the bucks would split into small bands
and steal all the good horses in sight.
“Our old company was ordered out on the border once, when the Comanches
were known to be south of Red River killing buffalo. This meant that on
their return it would be advisable to look out for your horses or they
would be missing. In order to cover as much territory as possible, the
company was cut in three detachments. Our squad had twenty men in it
under a lieutenant. We were patrolling a country known as the Tallow
Cache Hills, glades and black-jack cross timbers alternating. All kinds
of rumors of Indian depredations were reaching us almost daily, yet so
far we had failed to locate or see an Indian.
“One day at noon we packed up and were going to move our camp farther
west, when a scout, who had gone on ahead, rushed back with the news
that he had sighted a band of Indians with quite a herd of horses
pushing north. We led our pack mules, and keeping the shelter of the
timber started to cut them off in their course. When we first sighted
them, they were just crossing a glade, and the last buck had just left
the timber. He had in his mouth an arrow shaft, which he was turning
between his teeth to remove the sap. All had guns. The first warning
the Indians received of our presence was a shot made by one of the men
at this rear Indian. He rolled off his horse like a stone, and the next
morning when we came back over their trail, he had that unfinished
arrow in a death grip between his teeth. That first shot let the cat
out, and we went after them.
“We had two big piebald calico mules, and when we charged those
Indians, those pack mules outran every saddle horse which we had, and
dashing into their horse herd, scattered them like partridges. Nearly
every buck was riding a stolen horse, and for some cause they couldn’t
get any speed out of them. We just rode all around them. There proved
to be twenty-two Indians in the band, and one of them was a squaw. She
was killed by accident.
“The chase had covered about two miles, when the horse she was riding
fell from a shot by some of our crowd. The squaw recovered herself and
came to her feet in time to see several carbines in the act of being
leveled at her by our men. She instantly threw open the slight covering
about her shoulders and revealed her sex. Some one called out not to
shoot, that it was a squaw, and the carbines were lowered. As this
squad passed on, she turned and ran for the protection of the nearest
timber, and a second squad coming up and seeing the fleeing Indian,
fired on her, killing her instantly. She had done the very thing she
should not have done.
“It was a running fight from start to finish. We got the last one in
the band about seven miles from the first one. The last one to fall was
mounted on a fine horse, and if he had only ridden intelligently, he
ought to have escaped. The funny thing about it was he was overtaken by
the dullest, sleepiest horse in our command. The shooting and smell of
powder must have put iron into him, for he died a hero. When this last
Indian saw that he was going to be overtaken, his own horse being
recently wounded, he hung on one side of the animal and returned the
fire. At a range of ten yards he planted a bullet squarely in the
leader’s forehead, his own horse falling at the same instant. Those two
horses fell dead so near that you could have tied their tails together.
Our man was thrown so suddenly, that he came to his feet dazed, his
eyes filled with dirt. The Indian stood not twenty steps away and fired
several shots at him. Our man, in his blindness, stood there and beat
the air with his gun, expecting the Indian to rush on him every moment.
Had the buck used his gun for a club, it might have been different, but
as long as he kept shooting, his enemy was safe. Half a dozen of us,
who were near enough to witness his final fight, dashed up, and the
Indian fell riddled with bullets.
“We went into camp after the fight was over with two wounded men and
half a dozen dead or disabled horses. Those of us who had mounts in
good fix scoured back and gathered in our packs and all the Indian and
stolen horses that were unwounded. It looked like a butchery, but our
minds were greatly relieved on that point the next day, when we found
among their effects over a dozen fresh, bloody scalps, mostly women and
children. There’s times and circumstances in this service that make the
toughest of us gloomy.”
“How long ago was that?” inquired Orchard.
“Quite a while ago,” replied Dad. “I ought to be able to tell exactly.
I was a youngster then. Well, I’ll tell you; it was during the
reconstruction days, when Davis was governor. Figure it out yourself.”
“Speaking of the disagreeable side of this service,” said Happy Jack,
“reminds me of an incident that took all the nerve out of every one
connected with it. When I first went into the service, there was a
well-known horse-thief and smuggler down on the river, known as El
Lobo. He operated on both sides of the Rio Grande, but generally stole
his horses from the Texas side. He was a night owl. It was nothing for
him to be seen at some ranch in the evening, and the next morning be
met seventy-five or eighty miles distant. He was a good judge of
horse-flesh, and never stole any but the best. His market was well in
the interior of Mexico, and he supplied it liberally. He was a typical
dandy, and like a sailor had a wife in every port. That was his weak
point, and there’s where we attacked him.
“He had made all kinds of fun of this service, and we concluded to have
him at any cost. Accordingly we located his women and worked on them.
Mexican beauty is always over-rated, but one of his conquests in that
line came as near being the ideal for a rustic beauty as that
nationality produces. This girl was about twenty, and lived with a
questionable mother at a ranchito back from the river about thirty
miles. In form and feature there was nothing lacking, while the
smouldering fire of her black eyes would win saint or thief alike. Born
in poverty and ignorance, she was a child of circumstance, and fell an
easy victim to El Lobo, who lavished every attention upon her. There
was no present too costly for him, and on his periodical visits he
dazzled her with gifts. But infatuations of that class generally have
an end, often a sad one.
“We had a half-blood in our company, who was used as a rival to El Lobo
in gathering any information that might be afloat, and at the same
time, when opportunity offered, in sowing the wormwood of jealousy.
This was easy, for we collected every item in the form of presents he
ever made her rival señoritas. When these forces were working, our
half-blood pushed his claims for recognition. Our wages and prize money
were at his disposal, and in time they won. The neglect shown her by El
Lobo finally turned her against him, apparently, and she agreed to
betray his whereabouts the first opportunity—on one condition. And that
was, that if we succeeded in capturing him, we were to bring him before
her, that she might, in his helplessness, taunt him for his perfidy
towards her. We were willing to make any concession to get him, so this
request was readily granted.
“The deserted condition of the ranchito where the girl lived was to our
advantage as well as his. The few families that dwelt there had their
flocks to look after, and the coming or going of a passer-by was
scarcely noticed. Our man on his visits carefully concealed the fact
that he was connected with this service, for El Lobo’s lavish use of
money made him friends wherever he went, and afforded him all the
seclusion he needed.
“It was over a month before the wolf made his appearance, and we were
informed of the fact. He stayed at an outside pastor’s camp, visiting
the ranch only after dark. A corral was mentioned, where within a few
days’ time, at the farthest, he would pen a bunch of saddle horses.
There had once been wells at this branding pen, but on their failing to
furnish water continuously they had been abandoned. El Lobo had friends
at his command to assist him in securing the best horses in the
country. So accordingly we planned to pay our respects to him at these
deserted wells.
“The second night of our watch, we were rewarded by having three men
drive into these corrals about twenty saddle horses. They had barely
time to tie their mounts outside and enter the pen, when four of us
slipped in behind them and changed the programme a trifle. El Lobo was
one of the men. He was very polite and nice, but that didn’t prevent us
from ironing him securely, as we did his companions also.
“It was almost midnight when we reached the ranchito where the girl
lived. We asked him if he had any friends at this ranch whom he wished
to see. This he denied. When we informed him that by special request a
lady wished to bid him farewell, he lost some of his bluster and
bravado. We all dismounted, leaving one man outside with the other two
prisoners, and entered a small yard where the girl lived. Our
half-blood aroused her and called her out to meet her friend, El Lobo.
The girl delayed us some minutes, and we apologized to him for the
necessity of irons and our presence in meeting his Dulce Corazon. When
the girl came out we were some distance from the jacal. There was just
moonlight enough to make her look beautiful.
“As she advanced, she called him by some pet name in their language,
when he answered her gruffly, accusing her of treachery, and turned his
back upon her. She approached within a few feet, when it was noticeable
that she was racked with emotion, and asked him if he had no kind word
for her. Turning on her, he repeated the accusation of treachery, and
applied a vile expression to her. That moment the girl flashed into a
fiend, and throwing a shawl from her shoulders, revealed a pistol,
firing it twice before a man could stop her. El Lobo sank in his
tracks, and she begged us to let her trample his lifeless body. Later,
when composed, she told us that we had not used her any more than she
had used us, in bringing him helpless to her. As things turned out it
looked that way.
“We lashed the dead thief on his horse and rode until daybreak, when we
buried him. We could have gotten a big reward for him dead or alive,
and we had the evidence of his death, but the manner in which we got it
made it undesirable. El Lobo was missed, but the manner of his going
was a secret of four men and a Mexican girl. The other two prisoners
went over the road, and we even reported to them that he had attempted
to strangle her, and we shot him to save her. Something had to be
said.”
The smoking and yarning had ended. Darkness had settled over the camp
but a short while, when every one was sound asleep. It must have been
near midnight when a number of us were aroused by the same disturbance.
The boys sat bolt upright and listened eagerly. We were used to being
awakened by shots, and the cause of our sudden awakening was believed
to be the same,—a shot. While the exchange of opinion was going the
round, all anxiety on that point was dispelled by a second shot, the
flash of which could be distinctly seen across the river below the
ford.