CHAPTER XXII.

A Few Reminiscences of the Range: Some Men I Have Met;

Buffalo Bill; the James Brothers; Yellowstone Kelly; the

Murder of Buck Cannon by Bill Woods; the Suicide of Jack

Zimick. 155

CHAPTER I.

SLAVERY DAYS. THE OLD PLANTATION. MY EARLY FORAGING. THE STOLEN

DEMIJOHN. MY FIRST DRINK. THE CURSE OF SLAVERY.

In an old log cabin, on my Master's plantation in Davidson County in

Tennessee in June, 1854, I first saw the light of day. The exact date of

my birth I never knew, because in those days no count was kept of such

trivial matters as the birth of a slave baby. They were born and died

and the account was balanced in the gains and losses of the Master's

chattels, and one more or less did not matter much one way or another.

My father and mother were owned by Robert Love, an extensive planter and

the owner of many slaves. He was in his way and in comparison with many

other slave owners of those days a kind and indulgent Master.

My father was a sort of foreman of the slaves on the plantation, and my

mother presided over the kitchen at the big house and my Master's table,

and among her other duties were to milk the cows and run the loom,

weaving clothing for the other slaves. This left her scant time to look

after me, so I early acquired the habit of looking out for myself. The

other members of father's family were my sister Sally, about eight years

old, and my brother Jordan, about five. My sister Sally was supposed to

look after me when my mother was otherwise occupied; but between my

sister's duties of helping mother and chasing the flies from Master's

table, I received very little looking after from any of the family,

therefore necessity compelled me at an early age to look after myself

and rustle my own grub. My earliest recollections are of pushing a chair

in front of me and toddling from one to the other of my Master's family

to get a mouthful to eat like a pet dog, and later on as I became older,

making raids on the garden to satisfy my hunger, much to the damage of

the young onions, watermelons, turnips, sweet potatoes, and other

things I could find to eat. We had to use much caution during these

raids on the garden, because we well knew what we would catch if someone

caught us, but much practice made us experts in escaping undetected.

[Illustration: My Old Plantation Home]

One day when Master and the family went to town mother decided to make

some wine of which she was very fond, accordingly she gathered some

grapes and after pressing them she made some fairly good wine. This she

placed in a demijohn, and this for better security she hid in the

garden, as she thought unknown to anyone, but my brother, sister and

myself had been watching the process with considerable curiosity, which

finally reached such a pitch that there was nothing to it; we must

sample a liquid that looked so good. So Jordan went to the hay loft from

where a good view could be obtained all around, while myself and Sally

busied ourselves in the vineyard. Presently Mother thinking all secure

left the house with the demijohn and proceeded to hide it. Jordan, from

the hay loft, noted that mother never left the garden until she returned

to the house, empty handed, but he was unable to see the exact hiding

place.

It was several days later while passing through the garden that we ran

across the lost demijohn. It did not take us long to discover that its

contents suited our tastes. Sally and Jordan dragged it into a sweet

corn patch, where we were safe from observation. An oyster can was

secured to serve as a glass and the way we attacked that wine was a

caution to the Temperance Workers. And I can assure you we enjoyed

ourselves for a while, but for how long I am unable to tell exactly.

Mother soon missed us but being very busy she could not look for us

until evening, when she started out to look us up, after searching and

calling in vain. She decided to take the dogs to help find us. With

their aid we were soon located, lying in the sweet corn, "dead drunk,"

while the demijohn quite empty, bottom side up, stared at mother with a

reproachful stare, and the oyster can which had served up and took me to

the house, and let Sally and Jordan lie in near by, bearing mute witness

against us. Mother picked me up and took me to the house, and let Sally

and Jordan lie in the sweet corn all night, to dwell on the events.

Immediately preceding our return to consciousness is a painful subject

to me as it was exceedingly painful then. I was most feverish the next

day with a head on my shoulders several sizes larger than the one I was

used to wearing. Sally and Jordan were enjoying about the same health as

myself, but the state of our health did not exempt us from mother's

wrath. We all received a good sound old-fashioned thrashing. A fitting

prelude to my first "drunk."

[Illustration: Mother Ran the Loom]

I suppose I acquired the taste for strong drink on this occasion; be

that as it may, the fact remains that I could out-drink any man I ever

met in the cattle country. I could drink large quantities of the fiery

stuff they called whiskey on the range without it affecting me in any

way, but I have never been downright drunk since that time in the sweet

corn patch. Our plantation was situated in the heart of the black belt

of the south, and on the plantations all around us were thousands of

slaves, all engaged in garnering the dollars that kept up the so-called

aristocracy of the south, and many of the proud old families owe their

standing and wealth to the toil and sweat of the black man's brow, where

if they had to pay the regular rate of wages to hire laborers to

cultivate their large estates, their wealth would not have amounted to a

third of what it was. Wealth was created, commerce carried on, cities

built, and the new world well started on the career that has led to its

present greatness and standing in the world of nations. All this was

accomplished by the sweat of the black man's brow. By black man I do not

mean to say only the black men, but the black woman and black child all

helped to make the proud south what it was, the boast of every white man

and woman, with a drop of southern blood in their veins, and what did

the black man get in return? His keep and care you say? Ye gods and

little fishes! Is there a man living today who would be willing to do

the work performed by the slaves of that time for the same returns, his

care and keep? No, my friends, we did it because we were forced to do it

by the dominant race. We had as task masters, in many instances, perfect

devils in human form, men who delighted in torturing the black human

beings, over whom chance and the accident of birth had placed them. I

have seen men beaten to the ground with the butts of the long whips

carried by these brutal overseers, and for no other reason than that

they could not raise to their shoulders a load sufficient for four men

to carry. I have seen the long, cruel lash curl around the shoulders of

women who refused to comply with the licentious wishes of the men who

owned them, body and soul--did I say soul? No, they did not own their

soul; that belonged to God alone, and many are the souls that have

returned to him who gave them, rather than submit to the desires of

their masters, desires to which submission was worse than death. I have

seen the snake-like lash draw blood from the tender limbs of mere

babies, hardly more than able to toddle, their only offense being that

their skin was black. And young as I was my blood often boiled as I

witnessed these cruel sights, knowing that they were allowed by the laws

of the land in which I was born. I used to think it was not the

country's fault, but the fault of the men who made the laws. Of all the

curses of this fair land, the greatest curse of all was the slave

auction block of the south, where human flesh was bought and sold.

Husbands were torn from their wives, the baby from its mother's breast,

and the most sacred commands of God were violated under the guise of

modern law, or the law of the land, which for more than two hundred

years has boasted of its freedom, and the freedom of its people.

[Illustration: My First Drunk]

Some of the slaves, like us, had kind and indulgent masters. These were

lucky indeed, as their lot was somewhat improved over their less

fortunate brothers, but even their lot was the same as that of the horse

or cow of the present day. They were never allowed to get anything in

the nature of education, as smart negroes were not in much demand at

that time, and the reason was too apparent, education meant the death of

the institution of slavery in this country, and so the slave owners took

good care that their slaves got none of it.

Go and see the play of "Uncle Tom's Cabin," and you will see the black

man's life as I saw it when a child. And Harriett Beecher Stowe, the

black man's Saviour, well deserves the sacred shrine she holds, along

with the great Lincoln, in the black man's heart.

CHAPTER II.

WAR. "THE REBELS AND YANKEES." I RAISE A REGIMENT TO FIGHT. DIFFICULTY

IN FINDING AN ENEMY. ASH SAKE. FREEDOM.

When I was ten years old the war broke out between the "North and the

South." And there was little else talked about, among the slaves as well

as the slave owners of the neighborhood. And naturally the many

different stories we heard worked us children to a high state of

excitement. So much so that we wanted to go to war, and fight for the

Union, because among us slave children there was no difference of

opinion, as to which side was right.

The Union was "IT," and we were all "Yankees." Not being able to go to

war as our masters did, we concluded to play war, accordingly I gathered

all the boys of the neighborhood together, into a regiment, which it was

my intention to divide into two parties of Rebels and Yankees, but in

this I met an insurmountable obstacle. Not one of the boys wanted to be

a rebel, consequently we had to look elsewhere for an enemy to give us

battle, and serve as a vent for our growing enthusiasm. The next Sunday

preceding the organization of our regiment, we started out over the

surrounding country in quest of trouble, which we were not long in

finding, as we soon ran across a nest of yellow jackets. These we

proceeded to exterminate, in which we were successful after a short but

destructive battle. We suffered considerably in wounded but lost none of

our soldiers. This engagement we called the capture of fort "Hell." For

some time thereafter we made regular raids into the surrounding country

in quest of an enemy. We were eventually successful in our quest, as in

quick order we ran across and captured a company of bumble bees. This we

called the "Battle of the Wilderness." Victory over a nest of hornets we

called the capture of "Fort Sumter." A large nest of wasps gave us

perhaps the hardest fight of our campaigning. This we ran across in the

fields not far from home. There was an unusually large number of them,

and as is usually the case with these insects, they proved very

ferocious. Nothing loth, however, we attacked with cheers, only to be

driven back time and again and finally we were compelled to make a very

undignified retreat, at full speed in the direction of home. Not to be

beaten, however, we secured reinforcements and more ammunition, in the

shape of old rags, brooms and so forth, and returned to the charge, and

although we were driven back several times we stayed until we won out,

and the last insect lay a quivering mass on the ground. There was not

one among us, not wounded in some manner, as for myself I had enough of

it. My nose looked like a dutch slipper, and it was several days before

my eyes were able to perform the duties for which they were made.

However, the Union forces were victorious and we were happy. Our masters

told us if the soldiers caught us, they would hang us all, which had the

effect of keeping most of us close around home. Master had gone to join

Lee's forces, taking with him father, who was engaged in building forts,

which work kept him with the Confederate army until General Grant

arrived in the country, when he was allowed to come home. From then on

Union soldiers passed the neighborhood most every day on their way

south, to join the fighting regiments.

We soon found out they would not hurt us and they were the wonderment

and pride of our youthful minds. They would take everything they could

find to eat for themselves and horses, leaving the plantation stripped

clean of provisions and food, which entailed considerable misery and

hardships on those left at home, especially the colored people who were

not used to such a state of affairs, and were not accustomed to

providing for their own wants. Finally Lee surrendered and master

returned home. But in common with other masters of those days he did not

tell us we were free. And instead of letting us go he made us work for

him the same as before, but in all other respects he was kind. He moved

our log cabin on a piece of ground on a hill owned by him, and in most

respects things went on the same as before the war. It was quite a

while after this that we found out we were free and good news, like bad

news, sometimes travels fast. It was not long before all the slaves in

the surrounding country were celebrating their freedom. And "Massa

Lincoln" was the hero of us all.

[Illustration: Mother Making Ashcake]

While a great many slaves rejoiced at the altered state of affairs;

still many were content to remain as before, and work for their old

masters in return for their keep. My father, however, decided to start

out for himself, to that end he rented twenty acres of land, including

that on which our cabin stood, from our late master.

We were at this time in a most destitute condition, and father had a

very hard time to get a start, without food or money and almost naked,

we existed for a time on the only food procurable, bran and cracklins.

The limited supply of provisions made the culinary duties most simple,

much to the disgust of mother, who was one of the best cooks in the

country, but beggars cannot be choosers, and she very cheerfully

proceeded to make the best of what we had. She would make a great fire

in the large fire place in the cabin. The fire when hot enough, was

raked from the hearth and a small place cleaned away, in the center of

this clean space, mother would lay a cabbage leaf, on which she would

pour some batter made from bran and water or buttermilk and a little

salt. Then on top another cabbage leaf was laid and hot coals raked over

the whole, and in a short time it would be baked nicely. This we called

ash cake.

This, with occasional cracklins made up our entire bill of fare for many

months. Father would make brooms and mats from straw and chair bottoms

from cane and reeds, in which my brother and I would help him, after he

had taught us how. During the week a large load was made and Friday

night father would take the load on his shoulders and walk to town, a

dozen miles, where he would sell them and bring seed and food home. When

the weather would permit we worked in the field, preparing for our first

crop.

The twenty acres, being mostly uncultivated, had to be cleared, plowed

and thoroughly harrowed. Our first crop consisted of corn, tobacco and a

few vegetables.

Father would lay off the corn rows. Jordan and I would drop the corn

while father came behind and covered the rows.

In this manner we soon had in a considerable crop of corn and some

vegetables for our own use. During the winter which was sometimes

severe, during which time nothing, of course, could be done in the

farming line, and when not otherwise engaged, we started to try and

learn ourselves something in the educational line. Father could read a

little, and he helped us all with our A B C's, but it is hard work

learning to read and write without a teacher, and there was no school a

black child could attend at that time. However, we managed to make some

headway, then spring came and with it the routine of farm work. Father

was a man of strong determination, not easily discouraged, and always

pushing forward and upward, quick to learn things and slow to forget

them, a keen observer and a loving husband and father. Had he lived this

history would not have been written.

CHAPTER III.

RAISING TOBACCO, OUR FIRST YEAR OF FREEDOM. MORE PRIVATIONS. FATHER

DIES. IT NEVER RAINS--BUT IT POURS. I BECOME THE HEAD OF THE FAMILY AND

START TO WORK AT $1.50 PER MONTH.

As soon as the corn crop was in the ground we commenced to plant

tobacco. Before the seed was sown, it was necessary to gather large

piles of brush and wood and burn it to ashes on the ground to destroy

the seeds of the weeds. The ground was then spaded and raked thoroughly,

and the seed sown. After it had come up and got a fair start, it was

transplanted in rows about three feet apart. When the plants become

large enough it is necessary to pull the suckers off, also the worms off

the leaves. This task fell upon Jordan and myself.

In picking the worms off the plants it is necessary to use the greatest

care that the plants are not damaged, but Jordan and I were afraid to

touch the worms with our fingers, so we took sticks and knocked them

off, also a few leaves with each worm. This fact called forth some

rather strong language from father, who said we were doing more harm

than good. But our aversion to the worms was so strong that we took

several thrashings before we could bring ourselves to use our fingers

instead of a stick. When the tobacco was ripe there would be yellow

spots on the leaves. It was then cut, let lie for one day, then hung on

a scaffold to be sun cured. It was allowed to remain on the scaffold for

perhaps a week, then it was hung up in the barn to be smoked, after

which it was made into a big bulk and a weight placed on it to press it

out, then it was stripped, and put into hands and then it was ready for

the market. Our crop the first year was not large and the most of it

went to pay the rent and the following winter proved a hard one, and

entailed considerable privation and suffering among the many

ex-slaves, who had so recently been thrown on their own resources,

without money or clothing or food, and only those who have had the

experience can appreciate the condition of things or rather lack of

things, at the close of the war, and these conditions did not only

affect the ex-slaves and colored people, but covered the entire south,

and many former well-to-do slave owners now found themselves without a

penny they could call their own, having been stripped of everything and

compelled to start all over again. Surely "war is hell"--but slavery is

worse. Early in the spring father went to work for a neighboring planter

a couple of weeks in order to get his plows and horses again to plow his

land. A somewhat larger crop was put in this year, but unfortunately for

us when everything was planted father took sick and died shortly after.

This was a stunning loss to us just at a time when we most needed a

father and husband's help, counsel and protection. But we did not lose

courage for long.

[Illustration: Raising Tobacco]

The crop must be looked after and the coming winter provided against. My

sister Sally had been married about three years at this time and was

with her husband and two little girls on a small farm some distance

away, which my brother-in-law rented. That left mother, Jordan and I to

look after things. Although I was the youngest, I was the most

courageous, always leading in mischief, play and work. So I now took the

leadership, and became the head of the family. Things were beginning to

take on a more hopeful look, when my brother-in-law died, leaving my

sister sick with two small children and in about the same circumstances

as ourselves. Everything, indeed, looked hopeless now, as our late

master and his brother had left the old place and gone north. So

remembering I was the only man on the place now, though only fifteen

years old, I said to mother and sister who were weeping bitterly, "brace

up, and don't lose your heads. I will look after you all." I said this

with a bravado I was far from feeling, but I could not see the use of

weeping now there was work to be done, if we were to keep from starving

the coming winter. We all turned in to help one another and in this

manner. The crop was gathered and we were in fairly good condition for

the coming winter, but the work was too much for Sally who lingered

through the winter and early in the spring we laid her beside her father

and husband, and her two little orphans were left to us. It now became

very apparent to me that something must be done, because the crop raised

the year before was barely enough to last us through the winter and we

would soon be in actual need again. We needed clothing, especially the

little girls of my sister, and we had no money to buy seed for this

season's crop or food to last us out. So I concluded to go to work for

some one if I could find anything to do. With that resolve, I put on my

best rags and to mother's inquiry as to where I was going I told her I

did not know myself. It fairly made my heart ache to see my little

nieces going around almost naked, bare footed, and have them always

asking for things I was powerless to give them. I determined to go from

place to place until I secured employment of some kind that would in a

measure, permit me to feed, and as far as I was able, clothe mother and

the children, now dependent on me.

[Illustration: Raising Tobacco--We Knock the Worms Off]

The fact that I was now free, gave me new born courage to face the world

and what the future might hold in store for me. After tramping around

the country for two days, I finally secured work with a Mr. Brooks,

about six miles from home at one dollar and fifty cents a month.

Notwithstanding the smallness of my prospective wages, I was happy and

returned home in a jubilant frame of mind, to impart the news to mother.

I was to commence the next morning. Mother said it was not much, but

better than nothing. I told mother that I thought I could bring some

food and clothing home for the children before the month was out. The

little ones hearing this, were overjoyed and looked on me as a rich man

indeed. Jordan was to remain at home and attend to what little there was

to do, and the next day I started work for Mr. Brooks. In less than a

week I made my first visit home, taking with me some potatoes, bacon,

cornmeal, and some molasses, which I had rustled in various ways. I also

had a bundle of old clothing given to me by the neighbors, which mother

could make over for the children, and to say the children were happy is

but a mild expression.

For the second month I received a raise of fifty cents, and the third

month of my employment, so good did I work, that I received three

dollars. With so many at home to provide for, my wages did not last

long, but out of my three dollars I bought each of the children a book.

The rest went for provisions and clothing. One day while passing the

store of Mr. Graves, near our home I saw a checked sunbonnet and a red

calico dress which struck my fancy as just what I wanted for mother. On

asking the price Mr. Graves told me I could have the sunbonnet for

twenty-five cents and the dress for four bits. That seemed to be within

my means, and quite reasonable. I asked him to keep them for me until I

got my wages at the end of the month. This Mr. Graves promised to do if

I would pay him something down. I only had fifteen cents of which I paid

five cents on the bonnet and ten cents on the dress and went on my way,

filled with happy thoughts as the result of my bargain. I resolved to be

very saving this month and I became very impatient for my month to end

and was continually asking Mr. Brooks if my month was not soon over. He

would laugh and say "yes, soon." But it seemed to me that was the

longest month I ever knew. When at last the month was over he gave me

fifty cents, claiming I had drawn my wages during the month. I knew that

was not so. I also knew I had a balance coming to me and told him so.

But he denied it and the result was that we had a fight. I hit him in

the head with a rock and nearly killed him after which I felt better.

Then going to Mr. Graves the storekeeper, I told him the whole trouble.

He expressed sympathy for me and said to give him the fifty cents and

take the bonnet and dress, and we will call it square. And you can

imagine my feelings as I took the things home to mother, and she was

more pleased with them than any queen with her silks and satins. There

being plenty of work to do at home, I did not again look for other

work. The only thing that worried me was that the little ones were still

without shoes, but on my promise to soon get them some they were

satisfied. It was here I got my first lessons in self-dependence and

life's struggles. I learned true usefulness and acquired the habit of

helping others which I carried with me all through my after life and

that trait perhaps more than any other endeared me to my companions on

the range and all with whom I have had dealings.

CHAPTER IV.

BOYHOOD SPORTS. MORE DEVILMENT. THE ROCK BATTLES. I HUNT RABBITS IN MY

SHIRT TAIL. MY FIRST EXPERIENCE IN ROUGH RIDING. A QUESTION OF BREAKING

THE HORSE OR, BREAKING MY NECK.

In those days it was more the custom, than now, to work six days and

rest on the seventh, accordingly us boys always had our Sundays free.

And we never lost an opportunity to put in motion some devilment to make

the time pass in what we thought was the most pleasant way. Anything to

have a great time. Our chief means of having fun for a while was the

rock battles. We boys of the entire neighborhood would get together,

then divide in equal numbers on a side, then after gathering all the

available rocks from the landscape, we would proceed to have a pitched

battle, throwing the rocks at each other as hard as we could, and with a

grim intent to commit battery. As a rational consequence the bravest

would force the weaker side to retreat. It then became a question of

running or being rocked to death. After these battles we were all

usually in very bad condition, having received very hard knocks on

sundry and various parts of our anatomy, but for all that we have never

bore malice toward each other. We were careful to keep these escapades

from the knowledge of our elders. In this way we were quite successful

until one time we had a boy nearly killed, then we thought the old folks

would whip us all to death. This incident ended the rock battles. But we

soon had something else doing to furnish ourselves fun and excitement.

[Illustration: I Hunt Rabbits in My Shirt Tail]

About this time we planned a rabbit hunt, after the small cotton tail

rabbits, which were plentiful in the surrounding country. Getting all

the boys together and securing the track hounds of the neighborhood we

were off. It was not long before the dogs caught track of something and

away they went with all the boys behind. Now at that time it was not

customary for us boys of the plantation to wear shoes and pants, the

principal reason being that we did not have either shoes or pants to

wear. So you can perhaps imagine the sight presented by a score or more

of boys of all ages chasing behind the hounds, with our shirt tails

flying through bushes, thorns and brambles, up hill and down hill, many

of us bleeding like stabbed pigs, but we were too much interested to pay

any attention to a little blood. We wanted the rabbits, and everything

else was of secondary importance, even the calls of the younger boys who

got tired and fell behind. Onward we went over rocks, through fields,

over fences, until we could hear the dogs no more, then tired out we had

to stop. I told the boys to sit down, that I thought the dogs would come

this way again. It was not long before I thought I heard something and

told the boys to hush and have their rocks ready to kill the rabbit. It

never occurred to me that it would be anything but a rabbit. The bay of

the dogs came nearer, then over the fence jumped a big red fox right in

front of me. He stopped and we looked in each others eyes. It was hard

to tell which of us was the most surprised, however, I was the first to

run away, and run I did. I ran like a black tailed deer. Many times I

thought I felt him nibble at my shirt tails, and his eyes grew in my

imagination as large as wagon wheels and Mr. Fox, himself, seemed to

grow as big as an elephant. When at last I dropped from sheer exhaustion

and could summon courage to look behind me, I could see nothing. It was

then I realized I was not so game as I thought I was and the knowledge

was not pleasant by any means. Not far from our house there was a horse

ranch, owned by a Mr. Williams. He had two sons about my own age and I

would often go and see them on Sundays. As I was very fond of riding

horses most of the horses on the ranch were very wild. So one day the

oldest boy and I made a plan to break the young colts. The only chance

we had of doing so was on Sunday, when the family went to church, as we

did not think Mr. Williams would approve of our plan. Mr. Williams' boy

said he would give me ten cents for every colt I broke. That was

perfectly satisfactory to me. The money was made of shin plaster those

days (paper). The next Sunday I started to break horses. We did not dare

to put the bridle on them as we were afraid the boss might surprise us

and we would not be quick enough to get it off. Our mode of procedure

was to drive one at a time in the barn, get it in a stall, then after

much difficulty I would manage to get on its back. Then the door was

opened and the pole removed and the horse liberated with me on its back,

then the fun would commence. The colt would run, jump, kick and pitch

around the barn yard in his efforts to throw me off. But he might as

well tried to jump out of his skin because I held on to his mane and

stuck to him like a leech. The colt would usually keep up his bucking

until he could buck no more, and then I would get my ten cents. Ten

cents is a small amount of money these days, but in those days that

amount was worth more to me than ten dollars now.

[Illustration: A Case of Breaking the Horse or Breaking My Neck]

Well, we went on Sunday after Sunday and I broke about a dozen colts in

this way, and also managed to do it without the boss discovering the

favor I was undoubtedly doing him, in breaking all his wild horses. Only

his boys were aware of the doings and they paid me. So I had no scruples

about what I was doing, especially as it afforded me great fun. Finally

the boys wanted me to break a big handsome black horse called Black

Highwayman. Knowing the horse's uncertain temper and wild disposition

and taking into consideration its size, I refused to break him for ten

cents, as the fact was I was rather scared of him. After considerable

bargaining, in which I held out for fifty cents, we finally compromised

on twenty-five cents. But I can assure you it was more for the money

than the fun of the thing, that I finally consented to ride him. With

great difficulty we managed to get him in a stall as we did the others,

but I no sooner landed on his back than he jumped in the manger with me

hanging to his mane. Finally the door was opened and the pole removed

and out of the barn we shot like a black cloud, around the yard we flew,

then over the garden fence. At this juncture the track hounds became

interested and promptly followed us. Over the fields we went, the horse

clearing the highest fences and other obstacles in his way with the

greatest ease. My seat on his back was not the most comfortable place in

the world, but as the horse did not evince any disposition to stop and

let me get off, I concluded to remain where I was. All the dogs of the

neighborhood were fast joining in the race and I had quite a respectable

following. After running about two miles we cleared a fence into a

pasture where there was a large number of other horses and young colts,

who promptly stampeded as we joined them, Highwayman taking the lead

with me on his back, looking very much like a toad. And all the dogs in

the country strung out in the rear. Naturally we formed a spectacle that

could not fail to attract the attention of the neighbors, who soon as

possible mounted horses and started in pursuit and vainly tried to catch

my black mount but could get nowhere near him, while I without bridle or

anything to control him could do nothing but let him run as all the

other horses bunched around us and the dogs kept up a continual din. I

simply held on and let him go. It was a question of breaking the horse

or breaking my neck. We went over everything, through everything, until

finally the killing pace told and Black Highwayman fell, a thoroughly

exhausted and completely conquered and well broken horse. As for myself,

I was none the worse for my exciting ride. But on looking for my

twenty-five cents, I found it gone. The boys had paid me in advance, as

I insisted, and I had tied the money up in a corner of my shirt tail and

during my wild ride it had come untied and worked out. This was a great

misfortune to me and for a while I was inconsolable. I asked the boys if

they would make it right, but no, they had paid me once and they refused

to give me another quarter. This riled me considerable and I told them

all right, to come again when they wanted a horse broken. That settled

us and the horse breaking. The experiences I gained in riding during

these times, often stood me in good stead in after years during my wild

life on the western plains. Mr. Williams of course, heard of my last

wild ride, but instead of being angry, he seemed to see the funny side

of it, which I could not.

[Illustration: Black Highwayman]

The spectators wondered how in the world I ever escaped a broken neck

and I have often wondered how I escaped in after years from situations

that seemed to be sure death. But escape I did and am now hale and

hearty, without pain, with muscles like iron and able at any time to run

a hundred yards in eleven seconds or jump a six foot fence.

CHAPTER V.

HOME LIFE. PICKING BERRIES. THE PIGS COMMIT LARCENY. NUTTING. WE GO TO

MARKET. MY FIRST DESIRE TO SEE THE WORLD. I WIN A HORSE IN A RAFFLE. THE

LAST OF HOME.

I now settled down to the work around the farm and the problem of making

a living for those dependent on me. The crop was all in and after

attending to such work around home as had to be done, we found a source

of revenue in gathering berries for market. Large quantities of black

berries and others grew wild in the woods near by. And they always found

a ready market. With small pails and a big basket mother and I would

start out after the work at home was done. Reaching the woods we would

sit under the bushes and fill the pails, then empty them into the big

basket until that was full which usually comprised our day's work.

One day, wishing to secure a large quantity of berries for market, we

went early in the morning and on reaching the woods we placed the big

basket in what we thought a safe place, and after some hours of

industrious work, the big basket was full of nice ripe blackberries. We

then proceeded to fill our pails again which would be sufficient for the

day. This accomplished, we prepared to start for home. But when mother

went to take the big basket it was empty.

The stray pigs had found them and committed larceny. Mother felt so bad

she cried. We had put in a hard day's work for nothing. It had been our

intention to take them to town on the morrow and buy something for

Sunday, but now the fruit of our labor was gone and the disappointment

was great. I looked at mother, then at the empty basket and did not know

for which to feel most sorry. So I said, "Well, there is no use grieving

over spilt milk. If we had not had them we could not have lost them, and

there are plenty more of the same kind for the picking." Mother turned

toward me, and said, with a look I will always remember, "My boy,

whatever happens, you never get discouraged." I did not see the use of

losing courage and I think the only time I weakened was when father

died, as he could not be replaced.

[Illustration: The Pigs Commit Larceny]

We went on talking and picking berries, and before we knew it the basket

was full again and the pails. It was now night so mother took the bushel

basket on her head and I took the pails and we were soon home. That

night mother took my clothing, as was customary, and washed and pressed

it so I would look nice and clean to go to market the next day. As I

only had one outfit of clothes I had necessarily to go without them

during the washing process, however, mother always kept me clean, at

considerable labor on her part. The next morning, early, mother and I

started for town, five miles distant, walking along the hot, dusty road,

each of us with a basket of berries on our heads and bunches of

cucumbers in our hands, mother having much the larger load, but she was

a very strong woman. As it chanced we had a lucky day and sold our stock

of berries and cucumbers in a short time. We then bought what we needed

and had a little money left but for all that, I was not quite satisfied.

I wanted mother to buy something that was not necessary, but she said,

"My son, if we don't save a few cents now what will it be later on? We

will have to go to the poorhouse." I said, "Dear mother if there is a

house poorer than ours I don't want to see it." I will always remember

the sight of mother's face as she turned to me, the tears running down

her cheeks as she answered, "Yes, my son, you are right there are few

houses poorer than ours now." The same year when fall came mother and I

thought we had the bull by the horns. There were several fine groves of

walnut, hickory nut, chestnut and shirly bark nut trees in the woods and

I made a sleigh on which I nailed a big box. I tied a rope for a tongue

and with a stick on the end, mother and I working as a sort of double

team would draw through the woods among the trees gathering the

different kinds of nuts and as the box was big, large quantities could

be gathered in this manner. During the nut season we worked every day

from morning to night, gathering large quantities of nuts for which we

always found a ready market. As we worked we talked of what we would buy

with the money and making plans for the future. The nuts we sold usually

brought us: chestnuts one dollar a bushel; walnuts fifty cents, and

hickory nuts fifty cents a bushel. This money added to the proceeds of

the crop netted us quite a nice sum and made our condition much better,

but I assure you, dear readers, it took hard work from morning to night

to make both ends meet but with the help of God we made them meet, and

during this time we were always healthy and the knowledge that we were

free and working for ourselves gave us courage to continue the struggle.

It was about this time that I commenced thinking about going west.

[Illustration: We Go to Market]

[Illustration: I Win a Horse in a Raffle]

I wanted to see more of the world and as I began to realize there was so

much more of the world than what I had seen, the desire to go grew on me

from day to day. It was hard to think of leaving mother and the

children, but freedom is sweet and I wanted to make more of the

opportunity and my life than I could see possible around home. Besides I

suppose, I was a little selfish as mortals are prone to be. Finally the

desire to go out in the world grew so strong that I mentioned it to

mother, but she did not give me much encouragement, and I don't think

she thought I had the courage to go, and besides I had neither clothing

or money and to tell the truth, the outlook was discouraging even to me,

but I continued to look for an opportunity which happened in a very

unexpected manner shortly after. One day a man by the name of Johnson

announced that he would raffle a fine beautiful horse at fifty cents a

chance. I heard of it at once, but had no money with which to get a

chance. However, when there's a will there's a way, so I went to the

barn and caught two chickens which I sold for fifty cents and at once

got a chance. My chance won the horse. Mr. Johnson said he would give me

fifty dollars for the horse and as I needed the money more than the

horse I sold the horse back. Mr. Johnson at once raffled him off again

and again I won the horse, which I again sold for fifty dollars. With

nearly a hundred dollars I went home and told mother of what I had done

and gave her half of the money, telling her I would take the other

half and go out in the world and try and better my condition. I then

went to town and bought some underwear and other needful articles,

intending to leave at once, but mother pleaded with me so hard to stay

home, that I finally consented to remain one more month, but at the end

of that time she pleaded for one more and I could not refuse her. During

this time my uncle came to live with us and I asked him to take my place

at home. This he consented to do gladly. Things were going on fairly

well at home now. The farm was yielding a fair living and the children

having grown much larger they were a source of help instead of an

hindrance and now that my uncle and my brother Jordan were home to look

after mother, I felt I could better leave them now, because I was not

really needed at home. After gathering what few things I wanted to take

with me and providing myself with some needed clothes, I bade mother and

the old home farewell, and started out for the first time alone in a

world I knew very little about.

CHAPTER VI.

THE WORLD IS BEFORE ME. I JOIN THE TEXAS COWBOYS. RED RIVER DICK. MY

FIRST OUTFIT. MY FIRST INDIAN FIGHT. I LEARN TO USE MY GUN.

It was on the tenth day of February, 1869, that I left the old home,

near Nashville, Tennessee. I was at that time about fifteen years old,

and though while young in years the hard work and farm life had made me

strong and hearty, much beyond my years, and I had full confidence in

myself as being able to take care of myself and making my way.

I at once struck out for Kansas of which I had heard something. And

believing it was a good place in which to seek employment. It was in the

west, and it was the great west I wanted to see, and so by walking and

occasional lifts from farmers going my way and taking advantage of every

thing that promised to assist me on my way, I eventually brought up at

Dodge City, Kansas, which at that time was a typical frontier city, with

a great many saloons, dance halls, and gambling houses, and very little

of anything else. When I arrived the town was full of cow boys from the

surrounding ranches, and from Texas and other parts of the west. As

Kansas was a great cattle center and market, the wild cow boy, prancing

horses of which I was very fond, and the wild life generally, all had

their attractions for me, and I decided to try for a place with them.

Although it seemed to me I had met with a bad outfit, at least some of

them, going around among them I watched my chances to get to speak with

them, as I wanted to find some one whom I thought would give me a civil

answer to the questions I wanted to ask, but they all seemed too wild

around town, so the next day I went out where they were in camp.

Approaching a party who were eating their breakfast, I got to speak with

them. They asked me to have some breakfast with them, which invitation

I gladly accepted. During the meal I got a chance to ask them many

questions. They proved to be a Texas outfit, who had just come up with a

herd of cattle and having delivered them they were preparing to return.

There were several colored cow boys among them, and good ones too. After

breakfast I asked the camp boss for a job as cow boy. He asked me if I

could ride a wild horse. I said "yes sir." He said if you can I will

give you a job. So he spoke to one of the colored cow boys called Bronko

Jim, and told him to go out and rope old Good Eye, saddle him and put me

on his back. Bronko Jim gave me a few pointers and told me to look out

for the horse was especially bad on pitching. I told Jim I was a good

rider and not afraid of him. I thought I had rode pitching horses

before, but from the time I mounted old Good Eye I knew I had not

learned what pitching was. This proved the worst horse to ride I had

ever mounted in my life, but I stayed with him and the cow boys were the

most surprised outfit you ever saw, as they had taken me for a

tenderfoot, pure and simple. After the horse got tired and I dismounted

the boss said he would give me a job and pay me $30.00 per month and

more later on. He asked what my name was and I answered Nat Love, he

said to the boys we will call him Red River Dick. I went by this name

for a long time.

The boss took me to the city and got my outfit, which consisted of a new

saddle, bridle and spurs, chaps, a pair of blankets and a fine 45 Colt

revolver. Now that the business which brought them to Dodge City was

concluded, preparations were made to start out for the Pan Handle

country in Texas to the home ranch. The outfit of which I was now a

member was called the Duval outfit, and their brand was known as the Pig

Pen brand. I worked with this outfit for over three years. On this trip

there were only about fifteen of us riders, all excepting myself were

hardy, experienced men, always ready for anything that might turn up,

but they were as jolly a set of fellows as one could find in a long

journey. There now being nothing to keep us longer in Dodge City, we

prepared for the return journey, and left the next day over the old

Dodge and Sun City lonesome trail, on a journey which was to prove the

most eventful of my life up to now.

A few miles out we encountered some of the hardest hail storms I ever

saw, causing discomfort to man and beast, but I had no notion of getting

discouraged but I resolved to be always ready for any call that might be

made on me, of whatever nature it might be, and those with whom I have

lived and worked will tell you I have kept that resolve. Not far from

Dodge City on our way home we encountered a band of the old Victoria

tribe of Indians and had a sharp fight.

These Indians were nearly always harrassing travelers and traders and

the stock men of that part of the country, and were very troublesome. In

this band we encountered there were about a hundred painted bucks all

well mounted. When we saw the Indians they were coming after us yelling

like demons. As we were not expecting Indians at this particular time,

we were taken somewhat by surprise.

We only had fifteen men in our outfit, but nothing daunted we stood our

ground and fought the Indians to a stand. One of the boys was shot off

his horse and killed near me. The Indians got his horse, bridle and

saddle. During this fight we lost all but six of our horses, our entire

packing outfit and our extra saddle horses, which the Indians stampeded,

then rounded them up after the fight and drove them off. And as we only

had six horses left us, we were unable to follow them, although we had

the satisfaction of knowing we had made several good Indians out of bad

ones.

This was my first Indian fight and likewise the first Indians I had ever

seen. When I saw them coming after us and heard their blood curdling

yell, I lost all courage and thought my time had come to die. I was too

badly scared to run, some of the boys told me to use my gun and shoot

for all I was worth. Now I had just got my outfit and had never shot off

a gun in my life, but their words brought me back to earth and seeing

they were all using their guns in a way that showed they were used to

it, I unlimbered my artillery and after the first shot I lost all fear

and fought like a veteran.

We soon routed the Indians and they left, taking with them nearly all

we had, and we were powerless to pursue them. We were compelled to

finish our journey home almost on foot, as there were only six horses

left to fourteen of us. Our friend and companion who was shot in the

fight, we buried on the plains, wrapped in his blanket with stones piled

over his grave. After this engagement with the Indians I seemed to lose

all sense as to what fear was and thereafter during my whole life on the

range I never experienced the least feeling of fear, no matter how

trying the ordeal or how desperate my position.

The home ranch was located on the Palo Duro river in the western part of

the Pan Handle, Texas, which we reached in the latter part of May, it

taking us considerably over a month to make the return journey home from

Dodge City. I remained in the employ of the Duval outfit for three

years, making regular trips to Dodge City every season and to many other

places in the surrounding states with herds of horses and cattle for

market and to be delivered to other ranch owners all over Texas, Wyoming

and the Dakotas. By strict attention to business, born of a genuine love

of the free and wild life of the range, and absolute fearlessness, I

became known throughout the country as a good all around cow boy and a

splendid hand in a stampede.

After returning from one of our trips north with a bunch of cattle in

the fall of 1872, I received and accepted a better position with the

Pete Gallinger company, whose immense range was located on the Gila

River in southern Arizona. So after drawing the balance of my pay from

the Duval company and bidding good bye to the true and tried companions

of the past three years, who had learned me the business and been with

me in many a trying situation, it was with genuine regret that I left

them for my new position, one that meant more to me in pay and

experience. I stayed with Pete Gallinger company for several years and

soon became one of their most trusted men, taking an important part in

all the big round-ups and cuttings throughout western Texas, Arizona and

other states where the company had interests to be looked after,

sometimes riding eighty miles a day for days at a time over the trails

of Texas and the surrounding country and naturally I soon became well

known among the cowboys, rangers, scouts and guides it was my pleasure

to meet in my wanderings over the country, in the wake of immense herds

of the long horned Texas cattle and large bands of range horses. Many of

these men who were my companions on the trail and in camp, have since

become famous in story and history, and a braver, truer set of men never

lived than these wild sons of the plains whose home was in the saddle

and their couch, mother earth, with the sky for a covering. They were

always ready to share their blanket and their last ration with a less

fortunate fellow companion and always assisted each other in the many

trying situations that were continually coming up in a cowboy's life.

When we were not on the trail taking large herds of cattle or horses to

market or to be delivered to other ranches we were engaged in range

riding, moving large numbers of cattle from one grazing range to

another, keeping them together, and hunting up strays which, despite the

most earnest efforts of the range riders would get away from the main

herd and wander for miles over the plains before they could be found,

overtaken and returned to the main herd.

Then the Indians and the white outlaws who infested the country gave us

no end of trouble, as they lost no opportunity to cut out and run off

the choicest part of a herd of long horns, or the best of a band of

horses, causing the cowboys a ride of many a long mile over the dusty

plains in pursuit, and many are the fierce engagements we had, when

after a long chase of perhaps hundreds of miles over the ranges we

overtook the thieves. It then became a case of "to the victor belongs

the spoils," as there was no law respected in this wild country, except

the law of might and the persuasive qualities of the 45 Colt pistol.

Accordingly it became absolutely necessary for a cowboy to understand

his gun and know how to place its contents where it would do the most

good, therefore I in common with my other companions never lost an

opportunity to practice with my 45 Colts and the opportunities were not

lacking by any means and so in time I became fairly proficient and able

in most cases to hit a barn door providing the door was not too far

away, and was steadily improving in this as I was in experience and

knowledge of the other branches of the business which I had chosen as my

life's work and which I had begun to like so well, because while the

life was hard and in some ways exacting, yet it was free and wild and

contained the elements of danger which my nature craved and which began

to manifest itself when I was a pugnacious youngster on the old

plantation in our rock battles and the breaking of the wild horses. I

gloried in the danger, and the wild and free life of the plains, the new

country I was continually traversing, and the many new scenes and

incidents continually arising in the life of a rough rider.

CHAPTER VII.

I LEARN TO SPEAK SPANISH AND AM MADE CHIEF BRAND READER. THE BIG

ROUND-UPS. RIDING THE 7-Y-L STEER. LONG RIDES. HUNTING STRAYS.

Having now fairly begun my life as a cowboy, I was fast learning the

many ins and outs of the business, while my many roamings over the range

country gave me a knowledge of it not possessed by many at that time.

Being of a naturally observant disposition, I noticed many things to

which others attached no significance. This quality of observance proved

of incalculable benefit to me in many ways during my life as a range

rider in the western country. My employment with the Pete Gallinger

company took me all over the Pan Handle country, Texas, Arizona, and New

Mexico with herds of horses and cattle for market and to be delivered to

other ranch owners and large cattle breeders. Naturally I became very

well acquainted with all the many different trails and grazing ranges

located in the stretch of country between the north of Montana and the

Gulf of Mexico, and between the Missouri state line and the Pacific

ocean. This whole territory I have covered many times in the saddle,

sometimes at the rate of eighty or one hundred miles a day. These long

rides and much traveling over the country were of great benefit to me,

as it enabled me to meet so many different people connected with the

cattle business and also to learn the different trails and the lay of

the country generally.

Among the other things that I picked up on my wanderings, was a

knowledge of the Spanish language, which I learned to speak like a

native. I also became very well acquainted with the many different

brands scattered over this stretch of country, consequently it was not

long before the cattle men began to recognize my worth and the

Gallinger company made me their chief brand reader, which duties I

performed for several years with honor to myself and satisfaction to my

employers. In the cattle country, all the large cattle raisers had their

squad of brand readers whose duty it was to attend all the big round-ups

and cuttings throughout the country, and to pick out their own brands

and to see that the different brands were not altered or counterfeited.

They also had to look to the branding of the young stock.

During the big round-ups it was our duty to pick out our brand, and then

send them home under the charge of our cowboys, likewise the newly

branded stock. After each brand was cut out and started homeward, we had

to stay with the round up to see that strays from the different herds

from the surrounding country did not again get mixed up, until the

different home ranges were reached. This work employed a large number of

cowboys, who lived, ate and often slept in the saddle, as they covered

many hundreds of miles in a very short space of time. This was made

possible as every large cattleman had relays of horses sent out over the

country where we might be expected to touch, and so we could always

count on finding a fresh horse awaiting us at the end of a twenty-five

or a fifty mile ride. But for us brand readers there was no rest, we

merely changed our saddles and outfit to a fresh horse and were again on

the go. After the general round up was over, cowboy sports and a good

time generally was in order for those engaged in it. The interest of

nearly all of us centered in the riding of what was known as the 7 Y-L

steer. A big long horn wild steer, generally the worst in the herd, was

cut out and turned loose on the open prairie. The cow boy who could rope

and ride him would get the steer as his reward, and let me assure you

dear reader, that it was not so easy as it sounds, as the steer

separated from its fellows would become extremely ferocious and wild,

and the man who attempted to rope and ride him would be in momentary

danger of losing his life, if he relaxed in the least his vigilance and

caution, because a wild steer is naturally ferocious. Even in cutting

them out of the round up I have known them to get mad and attack the

cowboys who only saved themselves by the quickness of their horses, or

the friendly intervention of a comrade who happened to be near to rope

the maddened long horn, and thus divert his attention to other things.

But in the case of the 7 Y-L steer such intervention is against the

rules, and the cowboy who attempts to rope and ride the steer must at

all times look out for himself. I have seen two horses and their riders

gored to death in this sport, and I have had to shoot more than one

steer to save myself and horse after my horse had fallen with me and

placed himself as well as me at the maddened beast's mercy. At such

times it takes a cool head and a steady hand as no random shot will stop

a wild steer. The bullet must be placed in a certain spot, the center of

the forehead, to accomplish its mission. The last time I had a horse

fall with me in roping the 7 Y-L steer, he fell as the steer was but a

few feet away, falling in such a way that my leg caught under the

saddle, holding me fast. Quick as I could I gave the steer a bullet in

the head and he stumbled and fell dead on top of my horse and me, so

that the boys had to interfere to the extent of dragging the steer and

horse off of my leg.

[Illustration: Riding the 7-Y-L Steer]

The cowboy who is successful in roping the steer must then mount and

ride him. If he does that successfully the steer becomes his personal

property to do with as he will, only a slight reward for the risking of

his life and the trouble of accomplishing the feat. But it is done more

for sport's sake than anything else, and the love of showing off, a

weakness of all cow boys more or less. But really it takes a high class

of horsemanship to ride a long horn, to get on his back and stay there

as he runs, jumps, pitches side ways, backwards, forward, up and down,

then over the prairie like a streak of lightning. I have had the

experience and I can assure you it is no child's play. More than one 7

Y-L steer has fallen to my lot, but I had to work for it, and work hard.

After all it was only part of the general routine of the cow boy's life,

in which danger plays so important a part. It is seldom thought of being

merely a matter of course, and none of us would have foregone the sport,

had we known that sure death awaited us as the result, because above

all things, the test of a cow boy's worth is his gameness and his nerve.

He is not supposed to know what fear means, and I assure you there are

very few who know the meaning of that word.

Most of my readers no doubt have heard of the great round ups and

cuttings, connected with the cattle raiser's life. But not one in a

hundred has any idea as to how an immense herd of wild cattle are

handled in a big round up. My many years of experience has given me

unusual knowledge on the subject, and you may bring any cattleman or

boss to me, and I will guarantee to answer any question he can ask me

about the cattle business. The first general round up occurs about the

first of April. This round up is to run in all the near cattle belonging

to each man, and head them toward our respective ranges. If we find any

other brand mixed up with ours we head them toward their own range, and

keep our own together. Every cow boy does the same and in this way every

cattleman is enable to get his own brand together on his own range, so

that when the next general round up occurs he will have most of his near

cattle together on the home range. In order to get the cattle together

in the first general round up, we would have to ride for hundreds of

miles over the country in search of the long horn steers and old cows

that had drifted from the home range during the winter and were now

scattered to the four winds of heaven. As soon as they were found they

were started off under the care of cow boys for the place agreed upon

for the general round up, whether they belonged to us or not, while the

rest of us continued the search. All the cow boys from the many

different outfits working this way enabled us to soon get all the strays

rounded up in one great herd in which the cattle of a dozen different

owners were mixed up together. It then became our duty to cut out our

different herds and start them homewards. Then we had to brand the young

stock that had escaped that ordeal at the hands of the range riders. On

finding the strays and starting them homewards, we had to keep up the

search, because notwithstanding the fact that we had done range riding

or line riding all winter, a large number of cattle would manage to

evade the vigilance of the cow boys and get away. These must all be

accounted for at the great round up, as they stood for dollars and

cents, profit and loss to the great cattle kings of the west. In going

after these strayed and perhaps stolen cattle we boys always provided

ourselves with everything we needed, including plenty of grub, as

sometimes we would be gone for nearly two months and sometimes much

longer. It was not an uncommon occurrence for us to have shooting

trouble over our different brands. In such disputes the boys would kill

each other if others did not interfere in time to prevent it, because in

those days on the great cattle ranges there was no law but the law of

might, and all disputes were settled with a forty-five Colt pistol. In

such cases the man who was quickest on the draw and whose eye was the

best, pretty generally got the decision. Therefore it was of the

greatest importance that the cow boy should understand his gun, its

capabilities and its shooting qualities. A cow boy would never carry

anything but the very best gun obtainable, as his life depended on it

often. After securing a good gun the cow boy had to learn how to use it,

if he did not already know how. In doing so no trouble or expense was

spared, and I know there were very few poor shots on the ranges over

which we rode and they used the accomplishment to protect themselves and

their employer's cattle from the Indian thiefs and the white desperadoes

who infested the cattle country, and who lost no opportunity to stampede

the herds and run off large numbers of them. Whenever this happened it

generally resulted in a long chase and a fierce fight in which someone

was sure to get hurt, and hurt badly. But that fact did not bother us in

the least. It was all simply our duty and our business for which we were

paid and paid good, and so we accepted things as they came, always ready

for it whatever it might be, and always taking pride in our work in

which we always tried to excel.

Christmas, Dec. 25, 1872, is a day in my memory which time cannot blot

out. I and a number of friends were in a place called Holbrook, Ariz. A

dispute started over a saddle horse with the following result. Arizona

Bob drew his forty-five Colt revolver, but before he had time to fire he

was instantly killed by A. Jack. Then a general fight ensued in which

five horses and three men were killed.

It was a sad thing for me to see my friends dead in a corral on a

Christmas morning, but I helped bury the dead and took care of the

wounded. The names were A. Jack, Wild Horse Pete and Arizona Bill.

CHAPTER VIII.

ON THE TRAIL. A TEXAS STORM. A CATTLE STAMPEDE. BATTLE WITH THE

ELEMENTS. AFTER BUSINESS COMES PLEASURE.

After the round ups and on returning from our long rides after strayed

cattle we would have to prepare to take the trail with herds of cattle

and horses for market and to be delivered to other large ranch owners.

The party of cow boys to make these trips were all selected men. We

would spend several days at the home ranch resting up and preparing our

outfit, in which our guns, saddles, blankets and horses were given a

thorough overhauling and placed in first class condition, as they would

be called on to do good hard service on these trips on the trail. The

nature of our journey would depend very much on the kind of cattle we

were called upon to handle. Sometimes it would be all classes together;

on other occasions the herd would consist of a certain kind, such as

long yearlings, short yearlings, tail end and scabs. The larger demand

however, seemed to be for straight three and four year old steers. These

latter kind were the easiest to handle on the trail. It is no doubt

necessary that I explain the difference between the different kinds I

mention here. Short yearlings were those over one year old and short of

two years, long yearlings those two years and short of three years, tail

end and scabs mean nearly the same thing, and comprise all the very

young stock of all classes not yet reached the dignity of yearlings.

These latter were in demand from the cattle men, who took them to feed

until they got their growth or to raise from, as stock cattle three or

four years old were generally the market or beef cattle. These latter

were by all odds the easiest to handle on the trail. Sometimes we would

have an order for five or six hundred head of all classes of cattle,

then again we would have to start out with fifteen hundred head of

shipping steers, or several hundred head of horses.

Shortly after I entered the employ of the Pete Gallinger company, and

after the round-ups of the early season, we received an order for two

thousand five hundred head of three year old steers to be delivered at

Dodge City, Kansas. This was the largest herd I had up to the present

time followed good rest at the home ranch, we strung the large herd out

with two months provisions, and the camp wagon. After a and one hundred

extra saddle horses and several pack horses, on the trail. Our outfit

consisted of forty picked cow boys, along the old Chillers trail en

route for Kansas, and we started on what proved to be an eventful

journey. The herd behaved splendidly and gave us very little trouble

until we crossed the Red river and struck the Old Dog and Sun City

trail, here they became restless, and stampeded nearly every night, and

whenever they got half a chance. This made it very hard on us cowboys,

as it is no easy matter to ride the lines of such a large herd, let

alone having to chase them back in line from many miles over the prairie

where they had stampeded in their wild career. After crossing the Kansas

line at a place known as the South Forks, while making for the head of

the Cimarron river on the twenty-seventh of June, we experienced one of

the hardest rain and hail storms I had ever seen, in the western

country, the rain came down in torrents only to cease and give place to

hail stones the size of walnuts. While the thunder and lightning was

incessant. It was shortly after dark when the storm commenced. The

twenty-five hundred head of cattle strung out along the trail became

panic stricken and stampeded, and despite our utmost efforts, we were

unable to keep them in line.

Imagine, my dear reader, riding your horse at the top of his speed

through torrents of rain and hail, and darkness so black that we could

not see our horses heads, chasing an immense herd of maddened cattle

which we could hear but could not see, except during the vivid flashes

of lightning which furnished our only light. It was the worst night's

ride I ever experienced. Late the next morning we had the herd rounded

up thirty miles from where they started from the night before. On going

back over the country to our camp of the night before, we saw the great

danger we had been in during our mad ride. There were holes, cliffs,

gulleys and big rocks scattered all around, some of the cliffs going

down a sheer fifty feet or more, where if we had fallen over we would

have been dashed to pieces on the rocks below, but we never thought of

our personal danger that night, and we did not think particularly of it

when we saw it further than to make a few joking remarks about what

would have happened if some one of us had gone over. One of the boys

offered to bet that a horse and rider going over one of those cliffs

would bring up in China, while others thought he would bring up in Utah.

It was our duty to save the cattle, and every thing else was of

secondary importance. We never lost a single steer during this wild

night--something we were justly proud of. This proved the last trouble

we were to have with the herd, and we soon reached the five mile divide,

five miles from Dodge City without further incident, and with our herd

intact. Here we were to hold them until turned over to their new owners.

This accomplished, our work was done and done well for this trip. Then

we all headed for Dodge City to have a good time, and I assure you we

had it. It was our intention and ambition to paint the town a deep red

color and drink up all the bad whiskey in the city. Our nearly two

months journey over the dusty plains and ranges had made us all

inordinately thirsty and wild, and here is where we had our turn,

accordingly we started out to do the town in true western style, in

which we were perfectly successful until the town had done us, and we

were dead broke. This fact slowed us up, because being broke we could

not get up any more steam and we had to cool down right there. We then

started out to find our boss, but that gentleman being wise in his time

and generation, and knowing we would soon all be broke, and would be

wanting more money, and that he would let us have it if we asked him for

it only to be thrown away, he made himself scarce, and he kept out of

our sight until we cooled off. For my part I would not spend all my

money. I would draw about fifty dollars, then I would get what things I

wanted and then would let the other go free, but while our money lasted

we would certainly enjoy ourselves, in dancing, drinking and shooting

up the town. It was our delight to give exhibitions of rough riding

roping and everything else we could think of to make things go fast

enough to suit our ideas of speed. After several days spent in this

manner we would begin to make ready to start on the return journey home

to Texas. We left Dodge City on the first of July and on the fifteenth

of August we were back on the old home ranch, where we rested up a few

days before again starting out to ride the range after the long horns

again. As I was a brand reader I had little time to rest as my services

were in demand from many of the large cattle kings of Texas and Arizona,

and when ever a dispute arose over brands, I was generally sent for to

straighten matters out. This with the numerous round ups which I had to

attend and the many transfers of cattle throughout the pan handle

country kept me continually on the go. When my services were not needed

as a brand reader I rode the range along with the other cow boys. This

kept us almost continually in the saddle, and away from the home ranch

for days at a time; when this was the case our food consisted of biscuit

and cakes which we made ourselves from meal which we carried with us,

and such meat and game as we could knock over with our guns. We camped

wherever it suited and where there was feed for our horses. A cow boy's

first care is always after his gun and his horse, that animal often

meaning life and liberty to the cow boy in a tight place and the cow boy

without a horse is like a chicken without its head, completely lost. My

faithful horse has times without number carried me out of danger and

preserved my life. We were not destined to have much rest this season as

shortly after we returned from the trip to Dodge City, the boss bought a

large herd of cattle down on the Rio Grande, just over the line in

Mexico, which we had orders for, so we had to start out and round them

up. This was no easy matter as they were scattered over a large range of

territory and many strays had to be rounded up and got with the main

herd. This we finally accomplished, after a great deal of hard riding

over the rough Rio Grande country, and both men and horses were

completely tired out, so we went into camp, only holding the herd

together and getting rested up. This opportunity we improved by getting

acquainted and fraternizing with the cow boys of one of the oldest

cattle countries this side of the herring pond--Old Mexico. These men

were for the most part typical greasers, but they proved to us that they

knew a thing or two about the cattle business, and all things considered

they were a jolly companionable sort of an outfit. From them we learned

a few pointers and also gave them a few very much to our mutual benefit.

We remained here a few days before starting northward with our herd, but

these few days proved very pleasant ones to us boys who, on account of

the monotony of the life we led always welcomed new experiences or

events that would give us something to think and talk about while on our

long rides behind the slow moving herd of long-horn steers, or around

our camp fires when in camp on the plains, and it gave us especial

pleasure to meet men of the same calling from other states over the

west. It not only gave us pleasure, but it added to our cow knowledge,

and of the country over which we might at any time be called on to drive

cattle, and in such cases a knowledge of the country was most valuable

to us. Then a cow boy's life contains many things in which he is

continually trying to improve and excel, such as roping, shooting,

riding and branding and many other things connected with the cattle

business. We, in common with other trades, did not know it all, and we

were always ready to learn anything new when we met any one who was

capable of teaching us.

[Illustration: After Business Comes Pleasure]

CHAPTER IX.

EN ROUTE TO WYOMING. THE INDIANS DEMAND TOLL. THE FIGHT. A BUFFALO

STAMPEDE. TRAGIC DEATH OF CAL. SURCEY. AN EVENTFUL TRIP.

[Illustration: A Buffalo Stampede--On They Came, a Maddened, Plunging

Snorting, Bellowing Mass of Horns and Hoofs]

After getting the cattle together down on the Rio Grande and both man

and beast had got somewhat rested up, we started the herd north. They

were to be delivered to a man by the name of Mitchell, whose ranch was

located along the Powder river, up in northern Wyoming. It was a long

distance to drive cattle from Old Mexico to northern Wyoming, but to us

it was nothing extraordinary as we were often called on to make even

greater distances, as the railroads were not so common then as now, and

transportation by rail was very little resorted to and except when beef

cattle were sent to the far east, they were always transported on the

hoof overland. Our route lay through southern Texas, Indian Territory,

Kansas and Nebraska, to the Shoshone mountains in northern Wyoming. We

had on this trip five hundred head of mostly four year old long horn

steers. We did not have much trouble with them until we struck Indian

Territory. On nearing the first Indian reservation, we were stopped by a

large body of Indian bucks who said we could not pass through their

country unless we gave them a steer for the privilege. Now as we were

following the regular government trail which was a free public highway,

it did not strike us as justifiable to pay our way, accordingly our boss

flatly refused to give the Indians a steer, remarking that we needed all

the cattle we had and proposed to keep them, but he would not mind

giving them something much warmer if they interfered with us. This

ultimatum of our boss had the effect of starting trouble right there. We

went into camp at the edge of the Indian country. All around us was the

tall blue grass of that region which in places was higher than a horse,

affording an ideal hiding place for the Indians. As we expected an

attack from the Indians, the boss arranged strong watches to keep a keen

lookout. We had no sooner finished making camp when the Indians showed

up, and charged us with a yell or rather a series of yells, I for one

had got well used to the blood curdling yells of the Indians and they

did not scare us in the least. We were all ready for them and after a

short but sharp fight the Indians withdrew and every thing became quiet,

but us cow boys were not such guys as to be fooled by the seeming

quietness. We knew it was only the calm before the storm, and we

prepared ourselves accordingly, but we were all dead tired and it was

necessary that we secure as much rest as possible, so the low watch

turned in to rest until midnight, when they were to relieve the upper

watch, in whose hands the safety of the camp was placed till that time.

Every man slept with his boots on and his gun near his hand. We had been

sleeping several hours, but it seemed to me only a few minutes when the

danger signal was given. Immediately every man was on his feet, gun in

hand and ready for business. The Indians had secured reinforcements and

after dividing in two bands, one band hid in the tall grass in order to

pick us off and shoot us as we attempted to hold our cattle, while the

other band proceeded to stampede the herd, but fortunately there were

enough of us to prevent the herd from stringing out on us, as we gave

our first attention to the cattle we got them to merling. Back and

forward, through the tall grass, the large herd charged, the Indians

being kept too busy keeping out of their way to have much time to bother

with us. This kept up until daylight, but long before that time we came

to the conclusion that this was the worst herd of cattle to stampede we

ever struck, they seemed perfectly crazy even after the last Indian had

disappeared. We were unable to account for the strange actions of the

cattle until daylight, when the mystery was a mystery no longer. The

Indians in large numbers had hid in the tall grass for the purpose of

shooting us from ambush and being on foot they were unable to get out of

the way of the herd as it stampeded through the grass, the result was

that scores of the painted savages were trampled under the hoofs of the

maddened cattle, and in the early gray dawn of the approaching day we

witnessed a horrible sight, the Indians were all cut to pieces, their

heads, limbs, trunk and blankets all being ground up in an inseparable

mass, as if they had been through a sausage machine. The sight was all

the more horrible as we did not know the Indians were hidden in the

grass during the night, but their presence there accounted for the

strange actions of the herd during the night. We suffered no loss or

damage except the loss of our rest, which we sorely needed as we were

all pretty well played out. However, we thought it advisable to move our

herd on to a more desirable and safe camping place, not that we greatly

feared any more trouble from the Indians, not soon at any rate, but only

to be better prepared and in better shape to put up a fight if attacked.

The second night we camped on the open plain where the grass was not so

high and where the camp could be better guarded. After eating our supper

and placing the usual watch the men again turned in, expecting this time

to get a good night's rest. It was my turn to take the first watch and

with the other boys, who were to watch with me, we took up advantageous

positions on the lookout. Everything soon became still, the night was

dark and sultry. It was getting along toward midnight when all at once

we became aware of a roaring noise in the north like thunder, slowly

growing louder as it approached, and I said to the boys that it must be

a buffalo stampede. We immediately gave the alarm and started for our

herd to get them out of the way of the buffalo, but we soon found that

despite our utmost efforts we would be unable to get them out of the

way, so we came to the conclusion to meet them with our guns and try and

turn the buffalo from our direction if possible, and prevent them from

going through our herd. Accordingly all hands rode to meet the oncoming

stampede, pouring volley after volley into the almost solid mass of

rushing beasts, but they paid no more attention to us than they would

have paid to a lot of boys with pea shooters. On they came, a maddened,

plunging, snorting, bellowing mass of horns and hoofs. One of our

companions, a young fellow by the name of Cal Surcey, who was riding a

young horse, here began to have trouble in controlling his mount and

before any of us could reach him his horse bolted right in front of the

herd of buffalo and in a trice the horse and rider went down and the

whole herd passed over them. After the herd had passed we could only

find a few scraps of poor Cal's clothing, and the horse he had been

riding was reduced to the size of a jack rabbit. The buffalo went

through our herd killing five head and crippling many others, and

scattering them all over the plain. This was the year that the great

buffalo slaughter commenced and such stampedes were common then. It

seemed to me that as soon as we got out of one trouble we got into

another on this trip. But we did not get discouraged, but only wondered

what would happen next. We did not care much for ourselves, as we were

always ready and in most cases anxious for a brush with the Indians, or

for the other dangers of the trail, as they only went to relieve the

dull monotony of life behind the herd. But these cattle were entrusted

to our care and every one represented money, good hard cash. So we did

not relish in the least having them stampeded by the Indians or run over

by the buffaloes. If casualties kept up at this rate, there would not be

very many cattle to deliver in Wyoming by the time we got there. After

the buffalo stampede we rounded up our scattered herd and went into camp

for a couple of days' rest before proceeding on our journey north. The

tragic death of Cal Surcey had a very depressing effect on all of us as

he was a boy well liked by us all, and it was hard to think that we

could not even give him a Christian burial. We left his remains trampled

into the dust of the prairie and his fate caused even the most hardened

of us to shudder as we contemplated it. After getting fairly rested we

proceeded on our journey north and were soon out of the Indian

Territory, though we often met small bands of roving bucks, but aside

from exchanging a few shots at each other they caused us no trouble. We

crossed Kansas and Nebraska and reached the end of our long journey

without further incident worthy of note, and we delivered our herd only

five head short which was not bad considering the distance we had

travelled and the events that had happened. It was a wonder that we had

been able to get through with half of our herd or men. Consequently it

was with genuine relief that we turned the cattle over to their new

owners and received our receipt therefor. We remained at the Mitchell

ranch in Wyoming several days, fraternizing with our northern brothers,

swapping yarns and having a good time generally. On the return journey

to Arizona we were of course, able to make better time and we returned

more direct by way of Colorado and Utah, taking note of the cattle

trails and the country over which we passed. In that way we secured

valuable information of the trails and the country that stood us in good

stead in future trips north. Arriving home at the Pete Gallinger ranch,

in Arizona, we became the heroes of the range, and we received unstinted

praise from our boss, but the loss of Cal Surcey was universally

regretted.

[Illustration: Tragic Death of Cal Surcey]