The Circus Has Bad Luck in Indian Territory--A Herd of Animals
Turned Out to Graze Is Stampeded by Indians--They Go Dashing Over
the Plains, and the Circus Tent Follows, Picked Up by a Cyclone. No
more horse racing for this circus.
The managers held a meeting at Guthrie, Okla., after we had lost our
money horse racing with the Indians, and pa said the consensus of
opinion was that we better stick to the legitimate show business, and
not try to work in any side lines. Pa says he made a speech at the
managers' meeting, in which he showed that the business man who attended
strictly to the business which he knew all about, would make money,
while the man who knew about dry goods, but worked in a millinery store
or a stock of tinware, got it in the neck. He would either get stuck on
the head milliner, or buy a stock of tinware that would not hold water.
So a resolution was passed to the effect that hereafter no temptation
could be great enough to get our show to go into anything outside of the
business, no matter how good it looked as a get-rich-quick affair. So we
gathered up our show and played a whole week in Oklahoma, and had full
houses all the time, and made money enough to redeem our animals that
had been attached by creditors. We have paid up our debts, and we got
out of Oklahoma with flying colors.
If we had gone right on to Kansas we would have shown sense, but some
cowboys from the Indian Territory told pa and the other managers that if
we would take the show to the Indian Territory we couldn't get cars
enough to haul the money away, as the Indians had got round-shouldered
and bow-legged carrying the money they had made grazing cattle, and the
territory was full of cowboys that had money to burn, and they hadn't
seen a circus since the war.
Well, it seemed a shame to go by the Indian Territory, and allow those
poor Indians to break their backs carrying money around, and so we sent
a carload of bill pasters into the territory and billed towns that would
hold us about a week, and we figured that we would clean up enough money
to last us all a life-time. I wish I didn't have to write about the
result, 'cause we are broke up so we can't look pleasant to have our
pictures taken.
It was a bright, beautiful Sunday morning that we arrived at Muskoka,
and soon after daylight we had our tents pitched. As we had all day
Sunday to rest, pa suggested that it would be a good idea to take all
our animals that eat grass out on the grazing ground on the edge of the
town and let them fill up on the nice blue grass that was knee-high all
over the country. So after breakfast we detailed men to take charge of
the different animals, and herd them out in the tall grass. It was a
beautiful sight to see those rare animals, gathered from all over the
world, eating grass together, in perfect peace, in this new country. The
animals that we thought would stand without hitching, like the
elephants, were cared for by their attendants, but the animals that
might wander from their own fireside, were picketed out, or held by long
ropes, the deer, the buffalo, the zebras, the sacred cattle, the elk,
the yaks, the camels and that kind, were tied with long lariats, and
held by the men detailed by the managers. For a couple of hours the
animals just gorged themselves, after they had kicked up their heels a
spell and rolled in the grass. Then one of the elephants got up on his
hind feet and held up two toes, like boys in school hold up two fingers
when they want to go in swimming, and the elephant started for a creek
and went in the water, and the whole herd followed, and they spattered
each other, and ducked and rolled around just like school boys. The
whole population of the town, whites and Indians, came to the bank of
the river to watch the fun.
Pa was holding his elk by a rope and one of the managers had a rope
around the neck of a giraffe: the treasurer and the ticket taker was
leading the zebras, and everybody was busy with some kind of animal, and
I had a rope around an antelope, and some of our men on horseback were
herding the buffaloes. It didn't seem as though anything wrong could
happen. The elephants wouldn't come out of the creek, so the boss
canvasman went over to where there were about 500 cowboys and Indians on
horseback, and asked them to ride into the creek and drive the elephants
out where the rest of the animals were, on the prairie.
Gee, but that was the greatest mistake he could have made. The men on
horseback didn't want any better fun, so they made a charge, in line of
battle, just like Sheridan's cavalry, down the bank, into the creek,
yelling and waving lariat ropes, and snapping whips and the elephants
got out of that creek in a hurry. The cowboys threw lassoes over the
hind feet of the elephants, and tried to hold them, and the elephants
bellowed, and dragged the cowboys and their ponies right amongst the
other animals, and in about a minute, as the boss canvasman said when he
came to, and they were picking the cactus thorns out of him: "Hell was
just plumb out for noon."
The buffaloes smelled the Indians, and they started to stampede, like
they used to do when they lived on the plains, and all the animals
followed, dragging the men who had hold of their ropes, and away we all
went over a rise of ground, the zebras in the lead and the elephants
fetching up the rear, the cowboys and Indians behind, yelling and
ki-i-ing, and more than 500 Indian dogs barking.
Well, pa was the foolishest man in the lot, 'cause he had tied the
lariat rope that he held his elk by, around his belt, and when the elk
went over the hill pa was only hitting the high places, and he was
yelling for me to head off his elk. But I was busy trying to keep up
with my antelope, which was scared worse than any animal in the race.
When the antelope and I overtook the boss canvasman, who was digging his
heels into the ground trying to hold his zebra, I thought it was a good
time to say something pleasant, so I said: "This is a lovely country we
are passing through," but I never heard his reply, 'cause just then the
zebra jumped over a big cactus and the boss canvasman went into it, and
stayed there, yelling for a piece of ice, while the zebras that were
dragging the treasurer and the ticket taker passed us. I yelled to the
treasurer and told him I should have to have my salary raised if I was
expected to keep up with my antelope, but he told me where to go to get
an increase of salary, some place in Arkansas--maybe Hot Springs.
[Illustration: Dad Was Only Hitting the High Places.]
[Illustration: The Boss Canvasman Went Into a Cactus.]
Then my antelope heard the Indians and cowboys coming behind, and he got
his second wind, and I never did touch the ground no more, and I must
have looked like a buzzard sailing through the air. When my antelope got
up to where pa was trying to keep up with his elk. I told pa he better
let go his elk and get the cowboys and Indians to ride around ahead of
the stampede and head them off.
Pa said he couldn't let go of his elk 'cause the rope was tied to his
belt, but for me to hit the ground somewhere ahead and let go of that
jack rabbit I was chasing, and tell the cowboys to head off the
stampede. So when I lit again I let go the rope, and the antelope got
ahead of everything, and I wished I had bet on him.
When the cowboys and Indians got up to me I delivered the message from
pa, and they divided and went around the flanks of the stampeders, and
in another mile they headed them off in a nice pasture, and kept riding
around the animals so they couldn't get away. They soon had the whole
bunch under control, and we all got together to see if anybody was hurt.
Well, pa was the worst sight of all If his belt had broke he never would
have lost his pants, 'cause more than a million cactus thorns had gone
through and pinned them on. We had to cut them off, and pull out the
thorns with pincers, one at a time, and pa yelling murder for every
thorn. The boss canvasman was in the same fix, and everybody that tried
to hold an animal was pinned together with thorns, and they had gravel
up their trousers from sticking their heels into the soil.
Everybody was mad and they threatened to lynch pa when they got back to
the tent for suggesting letting the animals out to graze. We started
back to town, the cowboys and Indians driving the animals, and the
zebras and giraffes kicking up and acting as though they had got out of
school on account of the death of a dear teacher, like schoolboys.
Before we got to town a wind came up so strong that we had to walk
edgewise to go against it, and finally we met the tent coming out to
meet us, 'cause a cyclone had taken it bodily and was blowing it all
over the prairie. And when we got to town the animals in the cages, that
can't eat grass, were having an indignation meeting, and howling awful.
Pa was the first man to get back to the lot, and he asked me what I
thought he better do, and I told him he better get in the porcupine
cage, 'cause he looked, with the cactus thorns sticking out of him, like
the father of all porcupines. He said I thought I was smart, and he
asked me if I was hurt any, and I told him all I could find was a stone
bruise on my spine where I struck a prairie dog house.
Well, we got the animals into a livery barn, and it took us almost the
whole week to have the tent hauled back and sewed together, and we had
to pay the cowboys and Indians more than the animals were worth to bring
them back, and let them into the show free. The managers had a meeting
and resolved to get out of the Indian Territory and into Kansas just as
quick as possible.