The Life and Adventures OF NAT LOVE BETTER KNOWN IN THE CATTLE COUNTRY AS "DEADWOOD DICK" --BY HIMSELF-- A TRUE HISTORY OF SLAVERY DAYS, LIFE ON THE GREAT CATTLE RANGES AND ON THE PLAINS OF THE "WILD AND WOOLLY" WEST, BASED ON FACTS, AND PERSONAL EXPERIENCES OF THE AUTHOR Published: Los Angeles: Wayside Press, 1907. [Illustration: Nat Love, Better Known as Deadwood Dick, and His Family] * * * * * This book is dedicated to my wife, MRS. ALICE LOVE * * * * * PREFACE Having passed the half century mark in life's journey, and yielding topersistent requests of many old and valued friends of the past andpresent, I have decided to write the record of slave, cowboy and pullmanporter will prove of interest to the reading public generally andparticularly to those who prefer facts to fiction, (and in this caseagain facts will prove stranger than fiction). I assure my readers thatevery event chronicled in this history is based on facts, and mypersonal experiences, of more than fifty years of an unusuallyadventurous life. While many things contained in this record happened many years ago, theyare as fresh in my memory as if they happened but yesterday. I havetried to record events simply as they are, without attempting to varnishover the bad spots or draw on my imagination to fill out a chapter atthe cost of the truth. It has been my aim to record things just as theyhappened, believing they will prove of greater interest thereby; and ifI am able to add to the interest and enjoyment of a single reader I willconsider myself well repaid for the time and labor of preparing thishistory. To my playmates of my boyhood, who may chance to read this I sendgreetings and wish them well. To the few friends, who assisted myselfand widowed mother in our early struggles, I tender my sincerest thanks, and hope they have prospered as they deserve. For those who proved ourenemies, I have no word of censure. They have reaped their reward. To that noble but ever decreasing band of men under whose blue andbuckskin shirts there lives a soul as great and beats a heart as true asever human breast contained--to the cowboys, rangers, scouts, huntersand trappers and cattle-men of the "GREAT WESTERN PLAINS, " I extend thehand of greeting acknowledging the FATHER-HOOD of GOD and theBROTHERHOOD of men; and to my mother's Sainted name this book isreverently dedicated. THE AUTHOR. CONTENTS CHAPTER I. Slavery Days; the Old Plantation; My Early Foraging; the Stolen Demijohn; My First Drunk. 7 CHAPTER II. The War; the Rebels and the Yankees; I Raise a Regiment; Difficulty in Finding an Enemy; Ash Cake; Freedom. 14 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; I Start to Work at One Dollar and Fifty Cents a Month. 19 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. 29 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. 36 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. 40 CHAPTER VII. I Learn to Speak Spanish; I Am Made Chief Brand Reader; the Big Round-up; the 7-Y-L Steer; Long Rides; Hunting Strays. 46 CHAPTER VIII. On the Trail; a Texas Storm; Battle with the Elements; After Business Comes Pleasure. 52 CHAPTER IX. Enroute to Wyoming; the Indians Demand Toll; the Fight; a Buffalo Stampede; Tragic Death of Cal Surcey; An Eventful Trip. 58 CHAPTER X. We Make a Trip to Nebraska; the "Hole in the Wall Country;" a Little Shooting Scrape; Cattle on the Trail and the Way to Handle Them; a Bit of Moralization. 66 CHAPTER XI A Buffalo Hunt; I Lose My Lariat and Saddle; I Order a Drink for Myself and My Horse; a Close Place in Old Mexico. 72 CHAPTER XII. A Big Mustang Hunt; We Tire Them Out; the Indians Capture Mess Wagon and Cook; Our Bill of Fare Buffalo Meat without Salt. 82 CHAPTER XIII On the Trail with Three Thousand Head of Texas Steers; Rumors of Trouble with the Indians; at Deadwood, S. D. ; the Roping Contest; I Win the Name of "Deadwood Dick;" the Shooting Match; the Custer Massacre; We View the Battlefield; Government Scouts; at Home Again. 88 CHAPTER XIV. Riding the Range; the Fight with Yellow Dog's Tribe; I am Captured by the Indians and Adopted into the Tribe; My Escape; I ride a Hundred Miles in Twelve Hours without a Saddle; My Indian Pony; "Yellow Dog Chief;" the Boys Present Me with a New Outfit; in the Saddle and on the Trail Again. 98 CHAPTER XV. On a Trip to Dodge City, Kan. ; I Rope One of Uncle Sam's Cannon; Captured by the Soldiers; Bat Masterson to My Rescue; Lost on the Prairie; the Buffalo Hunter Cater; My Horse Gets Away and Leaves Me Alone on the Prairie; the Blizzard; Frozen Stiff. 106 CHAPTER XVI. The Old Haze and Elsworth Trail; Our Trip to Cheyenne; Ex-Sheriff Pat F. Garret; the Death of Billy the "Kid;" the Lincoln County Cattle War. 116 CHAPTER XVII. Another Trip to Old Mexico; I Rope an Engine; I Fall in Love; My Courtship; Death of My Sweetheart; My Promised Wife; I Must Bear a Charmed Life; the Advent of Progress; the Last of the Range. 123 CHAPTER XVIII. The Pullman Service; Life on the Rail; My First Trip; a Slump in Tips; I Become Disgusted and Quit; a Period of Husking; My Next Trip on the Pullman; Tips and the People Who Give Them. 131 CHAPTER XIX. The Pullman Palace Sleeping Car; Long Trips on the Rail; the Wreck; One Touch of Nature Makes the Whole World Kin; a Few of the Railroads Over Which I Have Traveled; the Invalids and the Care We Give Them. 137 CHAPTER XX. The Tourist Sleeping Car; the Chair Car; the Safeguards of Modern Railroading; See America, Then Let Your Chest Swell with Pride that You are an American. 142 CHAPTER XXI. A Few of the Railroad Men Under Whom I Have Served; George M. Pullman; the Town of Pullman, Ill. ; American Railroads Lead the World; a Few Figures. 148 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 STOLENDEMIJOHN. MY FIRST DRINK. THE CURSE OF SLAVERY. In an old log cabin, on my Master's plantation in Davidson County inTennessee in June, 1854, I first saw the light of day. The exact date ofmy birth I never knew, because in those days no count was kept of suchtrivial matters as the birth of a slave baby. They were born and diedand the account was balanced in the gains and losses of the Master'schattels, 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 andthe owner of many slaves. He was in his way and in comparison with manyother slave owners of those days a kind and indulgent Master. My father was a sort of foreman of the slaves on the plantation, and mymother 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 lookafter me, so I early acquired the habit of looking out for myself. Theother members of father's family were my sister Sally, about eight yearsold, and my brother Jordan, about five. My sister Sally was supposed tolook after me when my mother was otherwise occupied; but between mysister's duties of helping mother and chasing the flies from Master'stable, I received very little looking after from any of the family, therefore necessity compelled me at an early age to look after myselfand rustle my own grub. My earliest recollections are of pushing a chairin front of me and toddling from one to the other of my Master's familyto 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 ofthe young onions, watermelons, turnips, sweet potatoes, and otherthings I could find to eat. We had to use much caution during theseraids on the garden, because we well knew what we would catch if someonecaught 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 makesome wine of which she was very fond, accordingly she gathered somegrapes and after pressing them she made some fairly good wine. This sheplaced in a demijohn, and this for better security she hid in thegarden, as she thought unknown to anyone, but my brother, sister andmyself had been watching the process with considerable curiosity, whichfinally reached such a pitch that there was nothing to it; we mustsample a liquid that looked so good. So Jordan went to the hay loft fromwhere a good view could be obtained all around, while myself and Sallybusied ourselves in the vineyard. Presently Mother thinking all secureleft the house with the demijohn and proceeded to hide it. Jordan, fromthe hay loft, noted that mother never left the garden until she returnedto the house, empty handed, but he was unable to see the exact hidingplace. It was several days later while passing through the garden that we ranacross the lost demijohn. It did not take us long to discover that itscontents suited our tastes. Sally and Jordan dragged it into a sweetcorn patch, where we were safe from observation. An oyster can wassecured to serve as a glass and the way we attacked that wine was acaution to the Temperance Workers. And I can assure you we enjoyedourselves 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 usuntil evening, when she started out to look us up, after searching andcalling in vain. She decided to take the dogs to help find us. Withtheir aid we were soon located, lying in the sweet corn, "dead drunk, "while the demijohn quite empty, bottom side up, stared at mother with areproachful stare, and the oyster can which had served up and took me tothe house, and let Sally and Jordan lie in near by, bearing mute witnessagainst us. Mother picked me up and took me to the house, and let Sallyand Jordan lie in the sweet corn all night, to dwell on the events. Immediately preceding our return to consciousness is a painful subjectto me as it was exceedingly painful then. I was most feverish the nextday with a head on my shoulders several sizes larger than the one I wasused to wearing. Sally and Jordan were enjoying about the same health asmyself, but the state of our health did not exempt us from mother'swrath. We all received a good sound old-fashioned thrashing. A fittingprelude to my first "drunk. " [Illustration: Mother Ran the Loom] I suppose I acquired the taste for strong drink on this occasion; bethat as it may, the fact remains that I could out-drink any man I evermet in the cattle country. I could drink large quantities of the fierystuff they called whiskey on the range without it affecting me in anyway, but I have never been downright drunk since that time in the sweetcorn patch. Our plantation was situated in the heart of the black beltof the south, and on the plantations all around us were thousands ofslaves, all engaged in garnering the dollars that kept up the so-calledaristocracy of the south, and many of the proud old families owe theirstanding and wealth to the toil and sweat of the black man's brow, whereif they had to pay the regular rate of wages to hire laborers tocultivate their large estates, their wealth would not have amounted to athird of what it was. Wealth was created, commerce carried on, citiesbuilt, and the new world well started on the career that has led to itspresent greatness and standing in the world of nations. All this wasaccomplished by the sweat of the black man's brow. By black man I do notmean to say only the black men, but the black woman and black child allhelped to make the proud south what it was, the boast of every white manand woman, with a drop of southern blood in their veins, and what didthe black man get in return? His keep and care you say? Ye gods andlittle fishes! Is there a man living today who would be willing to dothe work performed by the slaves of that time for the same returns, hiscare and keep? No, my friends, we did it because we were forced to do itby the dominant race. We had as task masters, in many instances, perfectdevils in human form, men who delighted in torturing the black humanbeings, over whom chance and the accident of birth had placed them. Ihave seen men beaten to the ground with the butts of the long whipscarried by these brutal overseers, and for no other reason than thatthey could not raise to their shoulders a load sufficient for four mento carry. I have seen the long, cruel lash curl around the shoulders ofwomen who refused to comply with the licentious wishes of the men whoowned them, body and soul--did I say soul? No, they did not own theirsoul; that belonged to God alone, and many are the souls that havereturned to him who gave them, rather than submit to the desires oftheir masters, desires to which submission was worse than death. I haveseen the snake-like lash draw blood from the tender limbs of merebabies, hardly more than able to toddle, their only offense being thattheir skin was black. And young as I was my blood often boiled as Iwitnessed these cruel sights, knowing that they were allowed by the lawsof the land in which I was born. I used to think it was not thecountry's fault, but the fault of the men who made the laws. Of all thecurses of this fair land, the greatest curse of all was the slaveauction 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 ofmodern law, or the law of the land, which for more than two hundredyears 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 werelucky indeed, as their lot was somewhat improved over their lessfortunate brothers, but even their lot was the same as that of the horseor cow of the present day. They were never allowed to get anything inthe nature of education, as smart negroes were not in much demand atthat time, and the reason was too apparent, education meant the death ofthe institution of slavery in this country, and so the slave owners tookgood care that their slaves got none of it. Go and see the play of "Uncle Tom's Cabin, " and you will see the blackman's life as I saw it when a child. And Harriett Beecher Stowe, theblack man's Saviour, well deserves the sacred shrine she holds, alongwith the great Lincoln, in the black man's heart. CHAPTER II. WAR. "THE REBELS AND YANKEES. " I RAISE A REGIMENT TO FIGHT. DIFFICULTYIN FINDING AN ENEMY. ASH SAKE. FREEDOM. When I was ten years old the war broke out between the "North and theSouth. " And there was little else talked about, among the slaves as wellas the slave owners of the neighborhood. And naturally the manydifferent stories we heard worked us children to a high state ofexcitement. So much so that we wanted to go to war, and fight for theUnion, because among us slave children there was no difference ofopinion, as to which side was right. The Union was "IT, " and we were all "Yankees. " Not being able to go towar as our masters did, we concluded to play war, accordingly I gatheredall the boys of the neighborhood together, into a regiment, which it wasmy intention to divide into two parties of Rebels and Yankees, but inthis I met an insurmountable obstacle. Not one of the boys wanted to bea rebel, consequently we had to look elsewhere for an enemy to give usbattle, and serve as a vent for our growing enthusiasm. The next Sundaypreceding the organization of our regiment, we started out over thesurrounding country in quest of trouble, which we were not long infinding, as we soon ran across a nest of yellow jackets. These weproceeded to exterminate, in which we were successful after a short butdestructive battle. We suffered considerably in wounded but lost none ofour soldiers. This engagement we called the capture of fort "Hell. " Forsome time thereafter we made regular raids into the surrounding countryin quest of an enemy. We were eventually successful in our quest, as inquick order we ran across and captured a company of bumble bees. This wecalled the "Battle of the Wilderness. " Victory over a nest of hornets wecalled the capture of "Fort Sumter. " A large nest of wasps gave usperhaps the hardest fight of our campaigning. This we ran across in thefields not far from home. There was an unusually large number of them, and as is usually the case with these insects, they proved veryferocious. Nothing loth, however, we attacked with cheers, only to bedriven back time and again and finally we were compelled to make a veryundignified retreat, at full speed in the direction of home. Not to bebeaten, however, we secured reinforcements and more ammunition, in theshape of old rags, brooms and so forth, and returned to the charge, andalthough 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 notone among us, not wounded in some manner, as for myself I had enough ofit. My nose looked like a dutch slipper, and it was several days beforemy eyes were able to perform the duties for which they were made. However, the Union forces were victorious and we were happy. Our masterstold us if the soldiers caught us, they would hang us all, which had theeffect of keeping most of us close around home. Master had gone to joinLee's forces, taking with him father, who was engaged in building forts, which work kept him with the Confederate army until General Grantarrived in the country, when he was allowed to come home. From then onUnion soldiers passed the neighborhood most every day on their waysouth, to join the fighting regiments. We soon found out they would not hurt us and they were the wondermentand pride of our youthful minds. They would take everything they couldfind to eat for themselves and horses, leaving the plantation strippedclean of provisions and food, which entailed considerable misery andhardships on those left at home, especially the colored people who werenot used to such a state of affairs, and were not accustomed toproviding for their own wants. Finally Lee surrendered and masterreturned home. But in common with other masters of those days he did nottell us we were free. And instead of letting us go he made us work forhim the same as before, but in all other respects he was kind. He movedour log cabin on a piece of ground on a hill owned by him, and in mostrespects things went on the same as before the war. It was quite awhile after this that we found out we were free and good news, like badnews, sometimes travels fast. It was not long before all the slaves inthe surrounding country were celebrating their freedom. And "MassaLincoln" 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 oldmasters in return for their keep. My father, however, decided to startout for himself, to that end he rented twenty acres of land, includingthat on which our cabin stood, from our late master. We were at this time in a most destitute condition, and father had avery 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 thecountry, but beggars cannot be choosers, and she very cheerfullyproceeded to make the best of what we had. She would make a great firein the large fire place in the cabin. The fire when hot enough, wasraked from the hearth and a small place cleaned away, in the center ofthis clean space, mother would lay a cabbage leaf, on which she wouldpour some batter made from bran and water or buttermilk and a littlesalt. Then on top another cabbage leaf was laid and hot coals raked overthe whole, and in a short time it would be baked nicely. This we calledash cake. This, with occasional cracklins made up our entire bill of fare for manymonths. Father would make brooms and mats from straw and chair bottomsfrom cane and reeds, in which my brother and I would help him, after hehad taught us how. During the week a large load was made and Fridaynight father would take the load on his shoulders and walk to town, adozen miles, where he would sell them and bring seed and food home. Whenthe weather would permit we worked in the field, preparing for our firstcrop. The twenty acres, being mostly uncultivated, had to be cleared, plowedand thoroughly harrowed. Our first crop consisted of corn, tobacco and afew vegetables. Father would lay off the corn rows. Jordan and I would drop the cornwhile father came behind and covered the rows. In this manner we soon had in a considerable crop of corn and somevegetables for our own use. During the winter which was sometimessevere, during which time nothing, of course, could be done in thefarming line, and when not otherwise engaged, we started to try andlearn ourselves something in the educational line. Father could read alittle, and he helped us all with our A B C's, but it is hard worklearning to read and write without a teacher, and there was no school ablack child could attend at that time. However, we managed to make someheadway, then spring came and with it the routine of farm work. Fatherwas a man of strong determination, not easily discouraged, and alwayspushing forward and upward, quick to learn things and slow to forgetthem, a keen observer and a loving husband and father. Had he lived thishistory would not have been written. CHAPTER III. RAISING TOBACCO, OUR FIRST YEAR OF FREEDOM. MORE PRIVATIONS. FATHERDIES. IT NEVER RAINS--BUT IT POURS. I BECOME THE HEAD OF THE FAMILY ANDSTART TO WORK AT $1. 50 PER MONTH. As soon as the corn crop was in the ground we commenced to planttobacco. Before the seed was sown, it was necessary to gather largepiles of brush and wood and burn it to ashes on the ground to destroythe 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 wastransplanted in rows about three feet apart. When the plants becomelarge enough it is necessary to pull the suckers off, also the worms offthe leaves. This task fell upon Jordan and myself. In picking the worms off the plants it is necessary to use the greatestcare that the plants are not damaged, but Jordan and I were afraid totouch the worms with our fingers, so we took sticks and knocked themoff, also a few leaves with each worm. This fact called forth somerather strong language from father, who said we were doing more harmthan good. But our aversion to the worms was so strong that we tookseveral thrashings before we could bring ourselves to use our fingersinstead of a stick. When the tobacco was ripe there would be yellowspots on the leaves. It was then cut, let lie for one day, then hung ona scaffold to be sun cured. It was allowed to remain on the scaffold forperhaps a week, then it was hung up in the barn to be smoked, afterwhich it was made into a big bulk and a weight placed on it to press itout, then it was stripped, and put into hands and then it was ready forthe market. Our crop the first year was not large and the most of itwent to pay the rent and the following winter proved a hard one, andentailed considerable privation and suffering among the manyex-slaves, who had so recently been thrown on their own resources, without money or clothing or food, and only those who have had theexperience can appreciate the condition of things or rather lack ofthings, at the close of the war, and these conditions did not onlyaffect the ex-slaves and colored people, but covered the entire south, and many former well-to-do slave owners now found themselves without apenny they could call their own, having been stripped of everything andcompelled to start all over again. Surely "war is hell"--but slavery isworse. Early in the spring father went to work for a neighboring plantera couple of weeks in order to get his plows and horses again to plow hisland. A somewhat larger crop was put in this year, but unfortunately forus 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 afather and husband's help, counsel and protection. But we did not losecourage for long. [Illustration: Raising Tobacco] The crop must be looked after and the coming winter provided against. Mysister Sally had been married about three years at this time and waswith her husband and two little girls on a small farm some distanceaway, which my brother-in-law rented. That left mother, Jordan and I tolook after things. Although I was the youngest, I was the mostcourageous, always leading in mischief, play and work. So I now took theleadership, and became the head of the family. Things were beginning totake on a more hopeful look, when my brother-in-law died, leaving mysister sick with two small children and in about the same circumstancesas ourselves. Everything, indeed, looked hopeless now, as our latemaster and his brother had left the old place and gone north. Soremembering I was the only man on the place now, though only fifteenyears old, I said to mother and sister who were weeping bitterly, "braceup, and don't lose your heads. I will look after you all. " I said thiswith a bravado I was far from feeling, but I could not see the use ofweeping now there was work to be done, if we were to keep from starvingthe coming winter. We all turned in to help one another and in thismanner. The crop was gathered and we were in fairly good condition forthe coming winter, but the work was too much for Sally who lingeredthrough the winter and early in the spring we laid her beside her fatherand husband, and her two little orphans were left to us. It now becamevery apparent to me that something must be done, because the crop raisedthe year before was barely enough to last us through the winter and wewould soon be in actual need again. We needed clothing, especially thelittle girls of my sister, and we had no money to buy seed for thisseason's crop or food to last us out. So I concluded to go to work forsome one if I could find anything to do. With that resolve, I put on mybest rags and to mother's inquiry as to where I was going I told her Idid not know myself. It fairly made my heart ache to see my littlenieces going around almost naked, bare footed, and have them alwaysasking for things I was powerless to give them. I determined to go fromplace to place until I secured employment of some kind that would in ameasure, permit me to feed, and as far as I was able, clothe mother andthe 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 worldand what the future might hold in store for me. After tramping aroundthe 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 andreturned 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, butbetter than nothing. I told mother that I thought I could bring somefood and clothing home for the children before the month was out. Thelittle ones hearing this, were overjoyed and looked on me as a rich manindeed. Jordan was to remain at home and attend to what little there wasto do, and the next day I started work for Mr. Brooks. In less than aweek I made my first visit home, taking with me some potatoes, bacon, cornmeal, and some molasses, which I had rustled in various ways. I alsohad a bundle of old clothing given to me by the neighbors, which mothercould make over for the children, and to say the children were happy isbut a mild expression. For the second month I received a raise of fifty cents, and the thirdmonth of my employment, so good did I work, that I received threedollars. With so many at home to provide for, my wages did not lastlong, 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 thestore of Mr. Graves, near our home I saw a checked sunbonnet and a redcalico dress which struck my fancy as just what I wanted for mother. Onasking the price Mr. Graves told me I could have the sunbonnet fortwenty-five cents and the dress for four bits. That seemed to be withinmy means, and quite reasonable. I asked him to keep them for me until Igot my wages at the end of the month. This Mr. Graves promised to do ifI would pay him something down. I only had fifteen cents of which I paidfive 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 bevery saving this month and I became very impatient for my month to endand was continually asking Mr. Brooks if my month was not soon over. Hewould laugh and say "yes, soon. " But it seemed to me that was thelongest month I ever knew. When at last the month was over he gave mefifty cents, claiming I had drawn my wages during the month. I knew thatwas 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 inthe 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 andtake the bonnet and dress, and we will call it square. And you canimagine my feelings as I took the things home to mother, and she wasmore pleased with them than any queen with her silks and satins. Therebeing plenty of work to do at home, I did not again look for otherwork. The only thing that worried me was that the little ones were stillwithout shoes, but on my promise to soon get them some they weresatisfied. It was here I got my first lessons in self-dependence andlife's struggles. I learned true usefulness and acquired the habit ofhelping others which I carried with me all through my after life andthat trait perhaps more than any other endeared me to my companions onthe range and all with whom I have had dealings. CHAPTER IV. BOYHOOD SPORTS. MORE DEVILMENT. THE ROCK BATTLES. I HUNT RABBITS IN MYSHIRT TAIL. MY FIRST EXPERIENCE IN ROUGH RIDING. A QUESTION OF BREAKINGTHE HORSE OR, BREAKING MY NECK. In those days it was more the custom, than now, to work six days andrest on the seventh, accordingly us boys always had our Sundays free. And we never lost an opportunity to put in motion some devilment to makethe time pass in what we thought was the most pleasant way. Anything tohave a great time. Our chief means of having fun for a while was therock battles. We boys of the entire neighborhood would get together, then divide in equal numbers on a side, then after gathering all theavailable rocks from the landscape, we would proceed to have a pitchedbattle, throwing the rocks at each other as hard as we could, and with agrim intent to commit battery. As a rational consequence the bravestwould force the weaker side to retreat. It then became a question ofrunning or being rocked to death. After these battles we were allusually in very bad condition, having received very hard knocks onsundry and various parts of our anatomy, but for all that we have neverbore malice toward each other. We were careful to keep these escapadesfrom the knowledge of our elders. In this way we were quite successfuluntil one time we had a boy nearly killed, then we thought the old folkswould whip us all to death. This incident ended the rock battles. But wesoon 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 tailrabbits, which were plentiful in the surrounding country. Getting allthe boys together and securing the track hounds of the neighborhood wewere off. It was not long before the dogs caught track of something andaway they went with all the boys behind. Now at that time it was notcustomary for us boys of the plantation to wear shoes and pants, theprincipal reason being that we did not have either shoes or pants towear. So you can perhaps imagine the sight presented by a score or moreof boys of all ages chasing behind the hounds, with our shirt tailsflying through bushes, thorns and brambles, up hill and down hill, manyof us bleeding like stabbed pigs, but we were too much interested to payany attention to a little blood. We wanted the rabbits, and everythingelse was of secondary importance, even the calls of the younger boys whogot 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 hadto stop. I told the boys to sit down, that I thought the dogs would comethis way again. It was not long before I thought I heard something andtold the boys to hush and have their rocks ready to kill the rabbit. Itnever occurred to me that it would be anything but a rabbit. The bay ofthe dogs came nearer, then over the fence jumped a big red fox right infront of me. He stopped and we looked in each others eyes. It was hardto tell which of us was the most surprised, however, I was the first torun away, and run I did. I ran like a black tailed deer. Many times Ithought I felt him nibble at my shirt tails, and his eyes grew in myimagination as large as wagon wheels and Mr. Fox, himself, seemed togrow as big as an elephant. When at last I dropped from sheer exhaustionand could summon courage to look behind me, I could see nothing. It wasthen I realized I was not so game as I thought I was and the knowledgewas not pleasant by any means. Not far from our house there was a horseranch, owned by a Mr. Williams. He had two sons about my own age and Iwould often go and see them on Sundays. As I was very fond of ridinghorses most of the horses on the ranch were very wild. So one day theoldest boy and I made a plan to break the young colts. The only chancewe had of doing so was on Sunday, when the family went to church, as wedid not think Mr. Williams would approve of our plan. Mr. Williams' boysaid he would give me ten cents for every colt I broke. That wasperfectly satisfactory to me. The money was made of shin plaster thosedays (paper). The next Sunday I started to break horses. We did not dareto put the bridle on them as we were afraid the boss might surprise usand we would not be quick enough to get it off. Our mode of procedurewas to drive one at a time in the barn, get it in a stall, then aftermuch difficulty I would manage to get on its back. Then the door wasopened 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 pitcharound the barn yard in his efforts to throw me off. But he might aswell tried to jump out of his skin because I held on to his mane andstuck to him like a leech. The colt would usually keep up his buckinguntil he could buck no more, and then I would get my ten cents. Tencents is a small amount of money these days, but in those days thatamount 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 inthis way, and also managed to do it without the boss discovering thefavor I was undoubtedly doing him, in breaking all his wild horses. Onlyhis boys were aware of the doings and they paid me. So I had no scruplesabout what I was doing, especially as it afforded me great fun. Finallythe boys wanted me to break a big handsome black horse called BlackHighwayman. Knowing the horse's uncertain temper and wild dispositionand taking into consideration its size, I refused to break him for tencents, as the fact was I was rather scared of him. After considerablebargaining, in which I held out for fifty cents, we finally compromisedon twenty-five cents. But I can assure you it was more for the moneythan the fun of the thing, that I finally consented to ride him. Withgreat 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 mehanging to his mane. Finally the door was opened and the pole removedand 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 becameinterested and promptly followed us. Over the fields we went, the horseclearing the highest fences and other obstacles in his way with thegreatest ease. My seat on his back was not the most comfortable place inthe world, but as the horse did not evince any disposition to stop andlet me get off, I concluded to remain where I was. All the dogs of theneighborhood were fast joining in the race and I had quite a respectablefollowing. After running about two miles we cleared a fence into apasture where there was a large number of other horses and young colts, who promptly stampeded as we joined them, Highwayman taking the leadwith me on his back, looking very much like a toad. And all the dogs inthe country strung out in the rear. Naturally we formed a spectacle thatcould not fail to attract the attention of the neighbors, who soon aspossible mounted horses and started in pursuit and vainly tried to catchmy black mount but could get nowhere near him, while I without bridle oranything to control him could do nothing but let him run as all theother horses bunched around us and the dogs kept up a continual din. Isimply held on and let him go. It was a question of breaking the horseor breaking my neck. We went over everything, through everything, untilfinally the killing pace told and Black Highwayman fell, a thoroughlyexhausted and completely conquered and well broken horse. As for myself, I was none the worse for my exciting ride. But on looking for mytwenty-five cents, I found it gone. The boys had paid me in advance, asI insisted, and I had tied the money up in a corner of my shirt tail andduring my wild ride it had come untied and worked out. This was a greatmisfortune to me and for a while I was inconsolable. I asked the boys ifthey would make it right, but no, they had paid me once and they refusedto give me another quarter. This riled me considerable and I told themall right, to come again when they wanted a horse broken. That settledus and the horse breaking. The experiences I gained in riding duringthese times, often stood me in good stead in after years during my wildlife on the western plains. Mr. Williams of course, heard of my lastwild ride, but instead of being angry, he seemed to see the funny sideof it, which I could not. [Illustration: Black Highwayman] The spectators wondered how in the world I ever escaped a broken neckand I have often wondered how I escaped in after years from situationsthat seemed to be sure death. But escape I did and am now hale andhearty, without pain, with muscles like iron and able at any time to runa hundred yards in eleven seconds or jump a six foot fence. CHAPTER V. HOME LIFE. PICKING BERRIES. THE PIGS COMMIT LARCENY. NUTTING. WE GO TOMARKET. MY FIRST DESIRE TO SEE THE WORLD. I WIN A HORSE IN A RAFFLE. THELAST OF HOME. I now settled down to the work around the farm and the problem of makinga living for those dependent on me. The crop was all in and afterattending to such work around home as had to be done, we found a sourceof revenue in gathering berries for market. Large quantities of blackberries and others grew wild in the woods near by. And they always founda ready market. With small pails and a big basket mother and I wouldstart out after the work at home was done. Reaching the woods we wouldsit under the bushes and fill the pails, then empty them into the bigbasket until that was full which usually comprised our day's work. One day, wishing to secure a large quantity of berries for market, wewent early in the morning and on reaching the woods we placed the bigbasket in what we thought a safe place, and after some hours ofindustrious work, the big basket was full of nice ripe blackberries. Wethen proceeded to fill our pails again which would be sufficient for theday. This accomplished, we prepared to start for home. But when motherwent to take the big basket it was empty. The stray pigs had found them and committed larceny. Mother felt so badshe cried. We had put in a hard day's work for nothing. It had been ourintention to take them to town on the morrow and buy something forSunday, but now the fruit of our labor was gone and the disappointmentwas great. I looked at mother, then at the empty basket and did not knowfor which to feel most sorry. So I said, "Well, there is no use grievingover spilt milk. If we had not had them we could not have lost them, andthere are plenty more of the same kind for the picking. " Mother turnedtoward me, and said, with a look I will always remember, "My boy, whatever happens, you never get discouraged. " I did not see the use oflosing courage and I think the only time I weakened was when fatherdied, as he could not be replaced. [Illustration: The Pigs Commit Larceny] We went on talking and picking berries, and before we knew it the basketwas full again and the pails. It was now night so mother took the bushelbasket on her head and I took the pails and we were soon home. Thatnight mother took my clothing, as was customary, and washed and pressedit so I would look nice and clean to go to market the next day. As Ionly had one outfit of clothes I had necessarily to go without themduring the washing process, however, mother always kept me clean, atconsiderable labor on her part. The next morning, early, mother and Istarted for town, five miles distant, walking along the hot, dusty road, each of us with a basket of berries on our heads and bunches ofcucumbers in our hands, mother having much the larger load, but she wasa very strong woman. As it chanced we had a lucky day and sold our stockof berries and cucumbers in a short time. We then bought what we neededand 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? Wewill have to go to the poorhouse. " I said, "Dear mother if there is ahouse poorer than ours I don't want to see it. " I will always rememberthe sight of mother's face as she turned to me, the tears running downher cheeks as she answered, "Yes, my son, you are right there are fewhouses poorer than ours now. " The same year when fall came mother and Ithought we had the bull by the horns. There were several fine groves ofwalnut, hickory nut, chestnut and shirly bark nut trees in the woods andI made a sleigh on which I nailed a big box. I tied a rope for a tongueand with a stick on the end, mother and I working as a sort of doubleteam would draw through the woods among the trees gathering thedifferent kinds of nuts and as the box was big, large quantities couldbe gathered in this manner. During the nut season we worked every dayfrom morning to night, gathering large quantities of nuts for which wealways found a ready market. As we worked we talked of what we would buywith the money and making plans for the future. The nuts we sold usuallybrought us: chestnuts one dollar a bushel; walnuts fifty cents, andhickory nuts fifty cents a bushel. This money added to the proceeds ofthe 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 nightto make both ends meet but with the help of God we made them meet, andduring this time we were always healthy and the knowledge that we werefree 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 somuch more of the world than what I had seen, the desire to go grew on mefrom day to day. It was hard to think of leaving mother and thechildren, but freedom is sweet and I wanted to make more of theopportunity and my life than I could see possible around home. Besides Isuppose, I was a little selfish as mortals are prone to be. Finally thedesire to go out in the world grew so strong that I mentioned it tomother, but she did not give me much encouragement, and I don't thinkshe thought I had the courage to go, and besides I had neither clothingor 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 veryunexpected manner shortly after. One day a man by the name of Johnsonannounced that he would raffle a fine beautiful horse at fifty cents achance. I heard of it at once, but had no money with which to get achance. However, when there's a will there's a way, so I went to thebarn and caught two chickens which I sold for fifty cents and at oncegot a chance. My chance won the horse. Mr. Johnson said he would give mefifty dollars for the horse and as I needed the money more than thehorse I sold the horse back. Mr. Johnson at once raffled him off againand again I won the horse, which I again sold for fifty dollars. Withnearly a hundred dollars I went home and told mother of what I had doneand gave her half of the money, telling her I would take the otherhalf and go out in the world and try and better my condition. I thenwent to town and bought some underwear and other needful articles, intending to leave at once, but mother pleaded with me so hard to stayhome, that I finally consented to remain one more month, but at the endof that time she pleaded for one more and I could not refuse her. Duringthis time my uncle came to live with us and I asked him to take my placeat home. This he consented to do gladly. Things were going on fairlywell at home now. The farm was yielding a fair living and the childrenhaving grown much larger they were a source of help instead of anhindrance and now that my uncle and my brother Jordan were home to lookafter mother, I felt I could better leave them now, because I was notreally needed at home. After gathering what few things I wanted to takewith me and providing myself with some needed clothes, I bade mother andthe old home farewell, and started out for the first time alone in aworld I knew very little about. CHAPTER VI. THE WORLD IS BEFORE ME. I JOIN THE TEXAS COWBOYS. RED RIVER DICK. MYFIRST 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 mestrong and hearty, much beyond my years, and I had full confidence inmyself 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. Andbelieving it was a good place in which to seek employment. It was in thewest, and it was the great west I wanted to see, and so by walking andoccasional lifts from farmers going my way and taking advantage of everything that promised to assist me on my way, I eventually brought up atDodge City, Kansas, which at that time was a typical frontier city, witha great many saloons, dance halls, and gambling houses, and very littleof anything else. When I arrived the town was full of cow boys from thesurrounding ranches, and from Texas and other parts of the west. AsKansas was a great cattle center and market, the wild cow boy, prancinghorses of which I was very fond, and the wild life generally, all hadtheir 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 ofthem, going around among them I watched my chances to get to speak withthem, as I wanted to find some one whom I thought would give me a civilanswer to the questions I wanted to ask, but they all seemed too wildaround 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 withthem. They asked me to have some breakfast with them, which invitationI gladly accepted. During the meal I got a chance to ask them manyquestions. They proved to be a Texas outfit, who had just come up with aherd of cattle and having delivered them they were preparing to return. There were several colored cow boys among them, and good ones too. Afterbreakfast I asked the camp boss for a job as cow boy. He asked me if Icould ride a wild horse. I said "yes sir. " He said if you can I willgive you a job. So he spoke to one of the colored cow boys called BronkoJim, and told him to go out and rope old Good Eye, saddle him and put meon his back. Bronko Jim gave me a few pointers and told me to look outfor the horse was especially bad on pitching. I told Jim I was a goodrider and not afraid of him. I thought I had rode pitching horsesbefore, but from the time I mounted old Good Eye I knew I had notlearned what pitching was. This proved the worst horse to ride I hadever mounted in my life, but I stayed with him and the cow boys were themost surprised outfit you ever saw, as they had taken me for atenderfoot, pure and simple. After the horse got tired and I dismountedthe boss said he would give me a job and pay me $30. 00 per month andmore later on. He asked what my name was and I answered Nat Love, hesaid to the boys we will call him Red River Dick. I went by this namefor a long time. The boss took me to the city and got my outfit, which consisted of a newsaddle, bridle and spurs, chaps, a pair of blankets and a fine 45 Coltrevolver. Now that the business which brought them to Dodge City wasconcluded, preparations were made to start out for the Pan Handlecountry in Texas to the home ranch. The outfit of which I was now amember was called the Duval outfit, and their brand was known as the PigPen brand. I worked with this outfit for over three years. On this tripthere were only about fifteen of us riders, all excepting myself werehardy, 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 longjourney. There now being nothing to keep us longer in Dodge City, weprepared for the return journey, and left the next day over the oldDodge and Sun City lonesome trail, on a journey which was to prove themost eventful of my life up to now. A few miles out we encountered some of the hardest hail storms I eversaw, causing discomfort to man and beast, but I had no notion of gettingdiscouraged but I resolved to be always ready for any call that might bemade on me, of whatever nature it might be, and those with whom I havelived and worked will tell you I have kept that resolve. Not far fromDodge City on our way home we encountered a band of the old Victoriatribe of Indians and had a sharp fight. These Indians were nearly always harrassing travelers and traders andthe stock men of that part of the country, and were very troublesome. Inthis band we encountered there were about a hundred painted bucks allwell mounted. When we saw the Indians they were coming after us yellinglike 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 ourground and fought the Indians to a stand. One of the boys was shot offhis horse and killed near me. The Indians got his horse, bridle andsaddle. During this fight we lost all but six of our horses, our entirepacking outfit and our extra saddle horses, which the Indians stampeded, then rounded them up after the fight and drove them off. And as we onlyhad six horses left us, we were unable to follow them, although we hadthe satisfaction of knowing we had made several good Indians out of badones. This was my first Indian fight and likewise the first Indians I had everseen. When I saw them coming after us and heard their blood curdlingyell, I lost all courage and thought my time had come to die. I was toobadly scared to run, some of the boys told me to use my gun and shootfor all I was worth. Now I had just got my outfit and had never shot offa gun in my life, but their words brought me back to earth and seeingthey were all using their guns in a way that showed they were used toit, I unlimbered my artillery and after the first shot I lost all fearand fought like a veteran. We soon routed the Indians and they left, taking with them nearly allwe had, and we were powerless to pursue them. We were compelled tofinish our journey home almost on foot, as there were only six horsesleft to fourteen of us. Our friend and companion who was shot in thefight, we buried on the plains, wrapped in his blanket with stones piledover his grave. After this engagement with the Indians I seemed to loseall sense as to what fear was and thereafter during my whole life on therange I never experienced the least feeling of fear, no matter howtrying the ordeal or how desperate my position. The home ranch was located on the Palo Duro river in the western part ofthe Pan Handle, Texas, which we reached in the latter part of May, ittaking us considerably over a month to make the return journey home fromDodge City. I remained in the employ of the Duval outfit for threeyears, making regular trips to Dodge City every season and to many otherplaces in the surrounding states with herds of horses and cattle formarket and to be delivered to other ranch owners all over Texas, Wyomingand the Dakotas. By strict attention to business, born of a genuine loveof the free and wild life of the range, and absolute fearlessness, Ibecame known throughout the country as a good all around cow boy and asplendid hand in a stampede. After returning from one of our trips north with a bunch of cattle inthe fall of 1872, I received and accepted a better position with thePete Gallinger company, whose immense range was located on the GilaRiver in southern Arizona. So after drawing the balance of my pay fromthe Duval company and bidding good bye to the true and tried companionsof the past three years, who had learned me the business and been withme in many a trying situation, it was with genuine regret that I leftthem for my new position, one that meant more to me in pay andexperience. I stayed with Pete Gallinger company for several years andsoon became one of their most trusted men, taking an important part inall the big round-ups and cuttings throughout western Texas, Arizona andother states where the company had interests to be looked after, sometimes riding eighty miles a day for days at a time over the trailsof Texas and the surrounding country and naturally I soon became wellknown among the cowboys, rangers, scouts and guides it was my pleasureto meet in my wanderings over the country, in the wake of immense herdsof the long horned Texas cattle and large bands of range horses. Many ofthese men who were my companions on the trail and in camp, have sincebecome famous in story and history, and a braver, truer set of men neverlived than these wild sons of the plains whose home was in the saddleand their couch, mother earth, with the sky for a covering. They werealways ready to share their blanket and their last ration with a lessfortunate fellow companion and always assisted each other in the manytrying 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 tomarket or to be delivered to other ranches we were engaged in rangeriding, moving large numbers of cattle from one grazing range toanother, keeping them together, and hunting up strays which, despite themost earnest efforts of the range riders would get away from the mainherd 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 usno end of trouble, as they lost no opportunity to cut out and run offthe choicest part of a herd of long horns, or the best of a band ofhorses, causing the cowboys a ride of many a long mile over the dustyplains in pursuit, and many are the fierce engagements we had, whenafter a long chase of perhaps hundreds of miles over the ranges weovertook the thieves. It then became a case of "to the victor belongsthe spoils, " as there was no law respected in this wild country, exceptthe law of might and the persuasive qualities of the 45 Colt pistol. Accordingly it became absolutely necessary for a cowboy to understandhis gun and know how to place its contents where it would do the mostgood, therefore I in common with my other companions never lost anopportunity to practice with my 45 Colts and the opportunities were notlacking by any means and so in time I became fairly proficient and ablein most cases to hit a barn door providing the door was not too faraway, and was steadily improving in this as I was in experience andknowledge of the other branches of the business which I had chosen as mylife's work and which I had begun to like so well, because while thelife was hard and in some ways exacting, yet it was free and wild andcontained the elements of danger which my nature craved and which beganto manifest itself when I was a pugnacious youngster on the oldplantation in our rock battles and the breaking of the wild horses. Igloried in the danger, and the wild and free life of the plains, the newcountry I was continually traversing, and the many new scenes andincidents continually arising in the life of a rough rider. CHAPTER VII. I LEARN TO SPEAK SPANISH AND AM MADE CHIEF BRAND READER. THE BIGROUND-UPS. RIDING THE 7-Y-L STEER. LONG RIDES. HUNTING STRAYS. Having now fairly begun my life as a cowboy, I was fast learning themany ins and outs of the business, while my many roamings over the rangecountry gave me a knowledge of it not possessed by many at that time. Being of a naturally observant disposition, I noticed many things towhich others attached no significance. This quality of observance provedof incalculable benefit to me in many ways during my life as a rangerider in the western country. My employment with the Pete Gallingercompany took me all over the Pan Handle country, Texas, Arizona, and NewMexico with herds of horses and cattle for market and to be delivered toother ranch owners and large cattle breeders. Naturally I became verywell acquainted with all the many different trails and grazing rangeslocated in the stretch of country between the north of Montana and theGulf of Mexico, and between the Missouri state line and the Pacificocean. This whole territory I have covered many times in the saddle, sometimes at the rate of eighty or one hundred miles a day. These longrides and much traveling over the country were of great benefit to me, as it enabled me to meet so many different people connected with thecattle business and also to learn the different trails and the lay ofthe country generally. Among the other things that I picked up on my wanderings, was aknowledge of the Spanish language, which I learned to speak like anative. I also became very well acquainted with the many differentbrands scattered over this stretch of country, consequently it was notlong before the cattle men began to recognize my worth and theGallinger company made me their chief brand reader, which duties Iperformed for several years with honor to myself and satisfaction to myemployers. In the cattle country, all the large cattle raisers had theirsquad of brand readers whose duty it was to attend all the big round-upsand cuttings throughout the country, and to pick out their own brandsand 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 thensend them home under the charge of our cowboys, likewise the newlybranded stock. After each brand was cut out and started homeward, we hadto stay with the round up to see that strays from the different herdsfrom the surrounding country did not again get mixed up, until thedifferent home ranges were reached. This work employed a large number ofcowboys, who lived, ate and often slept in the saddle, as they coveredmany hundreds of miles in a very short space of time. This was madepossible as every large cattleman had relays of horses sent out over thecountry where we might be expected to touch, and so we could alwayscount on finding a fresh horse awaiting us at the end of a twenty-fiveor a fifty mile ride. But for us brand readers there was no rest, wemerely changed our saddles and outfit to a fresh horse and were again onthe go. After the general round up was over, cowboy sports and a goodtime generally was in order for those engaged in it. The interest ofnearly all of us centered in the riding of what was known as the 7 Y-Lsteer. A big long horn wild steer, generally the worst in the herd, wascut out and turned loose on the open prairie. The cow boy who could ropeand ride him would get the steer as his reward, and let me assure youdear reader, that it was not so easy as it sounds, as the steerseparated from its fellows would become extremely ferocious and wild, and the man who attempted to rope and ride him would be in momentarydanger of losing his life, if he relaxed in the least his vigilance andcaution, because a wild steer is naturally ferocious. Even in cuttingthem out of the round up I have known them to get mad and attack thecowboys who only saved themselves by the quickness of their horses, orthe friendly intervention of a comrade who happened to be near to ropethe 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 therules, and the cowboy who attempts to rope and ride the steer must atall times look out for himself. I have seen two horses and their ridersgored to death in this sport, and I have had to shoot more than onesteer to save myself and horse after my horse had fallen with me andplaced himself as well as me at the maddened beast's mercy. At suchtimes it takes a cool head and a steady hand as no random shot will stopa wild steer. The bullet must be placed in a certain spot, the center ofthe forehead, to accomplish its mission. The last time I had a horsefall with me in roping the 7 Y-L steer, he fell as the steer was but afew feet away, falling in such a way that my leg caught under thesaddle, holding me fast. Quick as I could I gave the steer a bullet inthe head and he stumbled and fell dead on top of my horse and me, sothat the boys had to interfere to the extent of dragging the steer andhorse off of my leg. [Illustration: Riding the 7-Y-L Steer] The cowboy who is successful in roping the steer must then mount andride him. If he does that successfully the steer becomes his personalproperty to do with as he will, only a slight reward for the risking ofhis life and the trouble of accomplishing the feat. But it is done morefor sport's sake than anything else, and the love of showing off, aweakness of all cow boys more or less. But really it takes a high classof horsemanship to ride a long horn, to get on his back and stay thereas he runs, jumps, pitches side ways, backwards, forward, up and down, then over the prairie like a streak of lightning. I have had theexperience and I can assure you it is no child's play. More than one 7Y-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 beingmerely 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 aboveall 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 arevery few who know the meaning of that word. Most of my readers no doubt have heard of the great round ups andcuttings, connected with the cattle raiser's life. But not one in ahundred has any idea as to how an immense herd of wild cattle arehandled in a big round up. My many years of experience has given meunusual knowledge on the subject, and you may bring any cattleman orboss to me, and I will guarantee to answer any question he can ask meabout the cattle business. The first general round up occurs about thefirst of April. This round up is to run in all the near cattle belongingto each man, and head them toward our respective ranges. If we find anyother brand mixed up with ours we head them toward their own range, andkeep our own together. Every cow boy does the same and in this way everycattleman is enable to get his own brand together on his own range, sothat when the next general round up occurs he will have most of his nearcattle together on the home range. In order to get the cattle togetherin the first general round up, we would have to ride for hundreds ofmiles over the country in search of the long horn steers and old cowsthat had drifted from the home range during the winter and were nowscattered to the four winds of heaven. As soon as they were found theywere started off under the care of cow boys for the place agreed uponfor the general round up, whether they belonged to us or not, while therest of us continued the search. All the cow boys from the manydifferent outfits working this way enabled us to soon get all the straysrounded up in one great herd in which the cattle of a dozen differentowners were mixed up together. It then became our duty to cut out ourdifferent herds and start them homewards. Then we had to brand the youngstock that had escaped that ordeal at the hands of the range riders. Onfinding the strays and starting them homewards, we had to keep up thesearch, because notwithstanding the fact that we had done range ridingor line riding all winter, a large number of cattle would manage toevade the vigilance of the cow boys and get away. These must all beaccounted for at the great round up, as they stood for dollars andcents, profit and loss to the great cattle kings of the west. In goingafter these strayed and perhaps stolen cattle we boys always providedourselves with everything we needed, including plenty of grub, assometimes we would be gone for nearly two months and sometimes muchlonger. It was not an uncommon occurrence for us to have shootingtrouble over our different brands. In such disputes the boys would killeach other if others did not interfere in time to prevent it, because inthose days on the great cattle ranges there was no law but the law ofmight, and all disputes were settled with a forty-five Colt pistol. Insuch cases the man who was quickest on the draw and whose eye was thebest, pretty generally got the decision. Therefore it was of thegreatest importance that the cow boy should understand his gun, itscapabilities and its shooting qualities. A cow boy would never carryanything but the very best gun obtainable, as his life depended on itoften. 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 wasspared, and I know there were very few poor shots on the ranges overwhich we rode and they used the accomplishment to protect themselves andtheir employer's cattle from the Indian thiefs and the white desperadoeswho infested the cattle country, and who lost no opportunity to stampedethe herds and run off large numbers of them. Whenever this happened itgenerally resulted in a long chase and a fierce fight in which someonewas sure to get hurt, and hurt badly. But that fact did not bother us inthe least. It was all simply our duty and our business for which we werepaid and paid good, and so we accepted things as they came, always readyfor it whatever it might be, and always taking pride in our work inwhich we always tried to excel. Christmas, Dec. 25, 1872, is a day in my memory which time cannot blotout. I and a number of friends were in a place called Holbrook, Ariz. Adispute started over a saddle horse with the following result. ArizonaBob drew his forty-five Colt revolver, but before he had time to fire hewas instantly killed by A. Jack. Then a general fight ensued in whichfive horses and three men were killed. It was a sad thing for me to see my friends dead in a corral on aChristmas morning, but I helped bury the dead and took care of thewounded. The names were A. Jack, Wild Horse Pete and Arizona Bill. CHAPTER VIII. ON THE TRAIL. A TEXAS STORM. A CATTLE STAMPEDE. BATTLE WITH THEELEMENTS. AFTER BUSINESS COMES PLEASURE. After the round ups and on returning from our long rides after strayedcattle we would have to prepare to take the trail with herds of cattleand 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. Wewould spend several days at the home ranch resting up and preparing ouroutfit, in which our guns, saddles, blankets and horses were given athorough overhauling and placed in first class condition, as they wouldbe called on to do good hard service on these trips on the trail. Thenature of our journey would depend very much on the kind of cattle wewere called upon to handle. Sometimes it would be all classes together;on other occasions the herd would consist of a certain kind, such aslong yearlings, short yearlings, tail end and scabs. The larger demandhowever, seemed to be for straight three and four year old steers. Theselatter kind were the easiest to handle on the trail. It is no doubtnecessary that I explain the difference between the different kinds Imention here. Short yearlings were those over one year old and short oftwo years, long yearlings those two years and short of three years, tailend and scabs mean nearly the same thing, and comprise all the veryyoung stock of all classes not yet reached the dignity of yearlings. These latter were in demand from the cattle men, who took them to feeduntil they got their growth or to raise from, as stock cattle three orfour years old were generally the market or beef cattle. These latterwere by all odds the easiest to handle on the trail. Sometimes we wouldhave 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 ofshipping steers, or several hundred head of horses. Shortly after I entered the employ of the Pete Gallinger company, andafter the round-ups of the early season, we received an order for twothousand five hundred head of three year old steers to be delivered atDodge City, Kansas. This was the largest herd I had up to the presenttime followed good rest at the home ranch, we strung the large herd outwith two months provisions, and the camp wagon. After a and one hundredextra saddle horses and several pack horses, on the trail. Our outfitconsisted of forty picked cow boys, along the old Chillers trail enroute for Kansas, and we started on what proved to be an eventfuljourney. The herd behaved splendidly and gave us very little troubleuntil we crossed the Red river and struck the Old Dog and Sun Citytrail, here they became restless, and stampeded nearly every night, andwhenever 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, letalone having to chase them back in line from many miles over the prairiewhere they had stampeded in their wild career. After crossing the Kansasline at a place known as the South Forks, while making for the head ofthe Cimarron river on the twenty-seventh of June, we experienced one ofthe hardest rain and hail storms I had ever seen, in the westerncountry, the rain came down in torrents only to cease and give place tohail stones the size of walnuts. While the thunder and lightning wasincessant. It was shortly after dark when the storm commenced. Thetwenty-five hundred head of cattle strung out along the trail becamepanic stricken and stampeded, and despite our utmost efforts, we wereunable to keep them in line. Imagine, my dear reader, riding your horse at the top of his speedthrough torrents of rain and hail, and darkness so black that we couldnot see our horses heads, chasing an immense herd of maddened cattlewhich we could hear but could not see, except during the vivid flashesof lightning which furnished our only light. It was the worst night'sride I ever experienced. Late the next morning we had the herd roundedup thirty miles from where they started from the night before. On goingback over the country to our camp of the night before, we saw the greatdanger we had been in during our mad ride. There were holes, cliffs, gulleys and big rocks scattered all around, some of the cliffs goingdown a sheer fifty feet or more, where if we had fallen over we wouldhave been dashed to pieces on the rocks below, but we never thought ofour personal danger that night, and we did not think particularly of itwhen we saw it further than to make a few joking remarks about whatwould have happened if some one of us had gone over. One of the boysoffered to bet that a horse and rider going over one of those cliffswould 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 ofsecondary importance. We never lost a single steer during this wildnight--something we were justly proud of. This proved the last troublewe 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 herdintact. 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. Thenwe all headed for Dodge City to have a good time, and I assure you wehad it. It was our intention and ambition to paint the town a deep redcolor and drink up all the bad whiskey in the city. Our nearly twomonths journey over the dusty plains and ranges had made us allinordinately thirsty and wild, and here is where we had our turn, accordingly we started out to do the town in true western style, inwhich we were perfectly successful until the town had done us, and wewere dead broke. This fact slowed us up, because being broke we couldnot get up any more steam and we had to cool down right there. We thenstarted out to find our boss, but that gentleman being wise in his timeand generation, and knowing we would soon all be broke, and would bewanting more money, and that he would let us have it if we asked him forit only to be thrown away, he made himself scarce, and he kept out ofour sight until we cooled off. For my part I would not spend all mymoney. I would draw about fifty dollars, then I would get what things Iwanted and then would let the other go free, but while our money lastedwe would certainly enjoy ourselves, in dancing, drinking and shootingup the town. It was our delight to give exhibitions of rough ridingroping and everything else we could think of to make things go fastenough to suit our ideas of speed. After several days spent in thismanner we would begin to make ready to start on the return journey hometo Texas. We left Dodge City on the first of July and on the fifteenthof August we were back on the old home ranch, where we rested up a fewdays before again starting out to ride the range after the long hornsagain. As I was a brand reader I had little time to rest as my serviceswere 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 tostraighten matters out. This with the numerous round ups which I had toattend and the many transfers of cattle throughout the pan handlecountry kept me continually on the go. When my services were not neededas a brand reader I rode the range along with the other cow boys. Thiskept us almost continually in the saddle, and away from the home ranchfor days at a time; when this was the case our food consisted of biscuitand 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 campedwherever it suited and where there was feed for our horses. A cow boy'sfirst care is always after his gun and his horse, that animal oftenmeaning life and liberty to the cow boy in a tight place and the cow boywithout a horse is like a chicken without its head, completely lost. Myfaithful horse has times without number carried me out of danger andpreserved my life. We were not destined to have much rest this season asshortly after we returned from the trip to Dodge City, the boss bought alarge herd of cattle down on the Rio Grande, just over the line inMexico, which we had orders for, so we had to start out and round themup. This was no easy matter as they were scattered over a large range ofterritory and many strays had to be rounded up and got with the mainherd. This we finally accomplished, after a great deal of hard ridingover the rough Rio Grande country, and both men and horses werecompletely tired out, so we went into camp, only holding the herdtogether and getting rested up. This opportunity we improved by gettingacquainted and fraternizing with the cow boys of one of the oldestcattle countries this side of the herring pond--Old Mexico. These menwere for the most part typical greasers, but they proved to us that theyknew a thing or two about the cattle business, and all things consideredthey were a jolly companionable sort of an outfit. From them we learneda 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, butthese few days proved very pleasant ones to us boys who, on account ofthe monotony of the life we led always welcomed new experiences orevents that would give us something to think and talk about while on ourlong rides behind the slow moving herd of long-horn steers, or aroundour camp fires when in camp on the plains, and it gave us especialpleasure to meet men of the same calling from other states over thewest. 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 drivecattle, and in such cases a knowledge of the country was most valuableto us. Then a cow boy's life contains many things in which he iscontinually trying to improve and excel, such as roping, shooting, riding and branding and many other things connected with the cattlebusiness. We, in common with other trades, did not know it all, and wewere always ready to learn anything new when we met any one who wascapable of teaching us. [Illustration: After Business Comes Pleasure] CHAPTER IX. EN ROUTE TO WYOMING. THE INDIANS DEMAND TOLL. THE FIGHT. A BUFFALOSTAMPEDE. TRAGIC DEATH OF CAL. SURCEY. AN EVENTFUL TRIP. [Illustration: A Buffalo Stampede--On They Came, a Maddened, PlungingSnorting, Bellowing Mass of Horns and Hoofs] After getting the cattle together down on the Rio Grande and both manand beast had got somewhat rested up, we started the herd north. Theywere to be delivered to a man by the name of Mitchell, whose ranch waslocated along the Powder river, up in northern Wyoming. It was a longdistance to drive cattle from Old Mexico to northern Wyoming, but to usit was nothing extraordinary as we were often called on to make evengreater distances, as the railroads were not so common then as now, andtransportation by rail was very little resorted to and except when beefcattle were sent to the far east, they were always transported on thehoof overland. Our route lay through southern Texas, Indian Territory, Kansas and Nebraska, to the Shoshone mountains in northern Wyoming. Wehad on this trip five hundred head of mostly four year old long hornsteers. We did not have much trouble with them until we struck IndianTerritory. On nearing the first Indian reservation, we were stopped by alarge body of Indian bucks who said we could not pass through theircountry unless we gave them a steer for the privilege. Now as we werefollowing the regular government trail which was a free public highway, it did not strike us as justifiable to pay our way, accordingly our bossflatly refused to give the Indians a steer, remarking that we needed allthe cattle we had and proposed to keep them, but he would not mindgiving them something much warmer if they interfered with us. Thisultimatum of our boss had the effect of starting trouble right there. Wewent into camp at the edge of the Indian country. All around us was thetall blue grass of that region which in places was higher than a horse, affording an ideal hiding place for the Indians. As we expected anattack from the Indians, the boss arranged strong watches to keep a keenlookout. We had no sooner finished making camp when the Indians showedup, and charged us with a yell or rather a series of yells, I for onehad got well used to the blood curdling yells of the Indians and theydid not scare us in the least. We were all ready for them and after ashort 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 seemingquietness. We knew it was only the calm before the storm, and weprepared ourselves accordingly, but we were all dead tired and it wasnecessary that we secure as much rest as possible, so the low watchturned in to rest until midnight, when they were to relieve the upperwatch, 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 beensleeping several hours, but it seemed to me only a few minutes when thedanger signal was given. Immediately every man was on his feet, gun inhand and ready for business. The Indians had secured reinforcements andafter dividing in two bands, one band hid in the tall grass in order topick us off and shoot us as we attempted to hold our cattle, while theother band proceeded to stampede the herd, but fortunately there wereenough of us to prevent the herd from stringing out on us, as we gaveour first attention to the cattle we got them to merling. Back andforward, through the tall grass, the large herd charged, the Indiansbeing kept too busy keeping out of their way to have much time to botherwith us. This kept up until daylight, but long before that time we cameto the conclusion that this was the worst herd of cattle to stampede weever struck, they seemed perfectly crazy even after the last Indian haddisappeared. We were unable to account for the strange actions of thecattle until daylight, when the mystery was a mystery no longer. TheIndians in large numbers had hid in the tall grass for the purpose ofshooting us from ambush and being on foot they were unable to get out ofthe way of the herd as it stampeded through the grass, the result wasthat scores of the painted savages were trampled under the hoofs of themaddened cattle, and in the early gray dawn of the approaching day wewitnessed a horrible sight, the Indians were all cut to pieces, theirheads, limbs, trunk and blankets all being ground up in an inseparablemass, as if they had been through a sausage machine. The sight was allthe more horrible as we did not know the Indians were hidden in thegrass during the night, but their presence there accounted for thestrange actions of the herd during the night. We suffered no loss ordamage except the loss of our rest, which we sorely needed as we wereall pretty well played out. However, we thought it advisable to move ourherd on to a more desirable and safe camping place, not that we greatlyfeared any more trouble from the Indians, not soon at any rate, but onlyto 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 sohigh and where the camp could be better guarded. After eating our supperand placing the usual watch the men again turned in, expecting this timeto get a good night's rest. It was my turn to take the first watch andwith the other boys, who were to watch with me, we took up advantageouspositions on the lookout. Everything soon became still, the night wasdark and sultry. It was getting along toward midnight when all at oncewe became aware of a roaring noise in the north like thunder, slowlygrowing louder as it approached, and I said to the boys that it must bea buffalo stampede. We immediately gave the alarm and started for ourherd to get them out of the way of the buffalo, but we soon found thatdespite our utmost efforts we would be unable to get them out of theway, so we came to the conclusion to meet them with our guns and try andturn the buffalo from our direction if possible, and prevent them fromgoing through our herd. Accordingly all hands rode to meet the oncomingstampede, pouring volley after volley into the almost solid mass ofrushing beasts, but they paid no more attention to us than they wouldhave paid to a lot of boys with pea shooters. On they came, a maddened, plunging, snorting, bellowing mass of horns and hoofs. One of ourcompanions, a young fellow by the name of Cal Surcey, who was riding ayoung horse, here began to have trouble in controlling his mount andbefore any of us could reach him his horse bolted right in front of theherd of buffalo and in a trice the horse and rider went down and thewhole herd passed over them. After the herd had passed we could onlyfind a few scraps of poor Cal's clothing, and the horse he had beenriding was reduced to the size of a jack rabbit. The buffalo wentthrough our herd killing five head and crippling many others, andscattering them all over the plain. This was the year that the greatbuffalo slaughter commenced and such stampedes were common then. Itseemed to me that as soon as we got out of one trouble we got intoanother on this trip. But we did not get discouraged, but only wonderedwhat would happen next. We did not care much for ourselves, as we werealways ready and in most cases anxious for a brush with the Indians, orfor the other dangers of the trail, as they only went to relieve thedull monotony of life behind the herd. But these cattle were entrustedto our care and every one represented money, good hard cash. So we didnot relish in the least having them stampeded by the Indians or run overby the buffaloes. If casualties kept up at this rate, there would not bevery many cattle to deliver in Wyoming by the time we got there. Afterthe buffalo stampede we rounded up our scattered herd and went into campfor a couple of days' rest before proceeding on our journey north. Thetragic death of Cal Surcey had a very depressing effect on all of us ashe was a boy well liked by us all, and it was hard to think that wecould not even give him a Christian burial. We left his remains trampledinto the dust of the prairie and his fate caused even the most hardenedof us to shudder as we contemplated it. After getting fairly rested weproceeded on our journey north and were soon out of the IndianTerritory, though we often met small bands of roving bucks, but asidefrom exchanging a few shots at each other they caused us no trouble. Wecrossed Kansas and Nebraska and reached the end of our long journeywithout further incident worthy of note, and we delivered our herd onlyfive head short which was not bad considering the distance we hadtravelled and the events that had happened. It was a wonder that we hadbeen able to get through with half of our herd or men. Consequently itwas with genuine relief that we turned the cattle over to their newowners and received our receipt therefor. We remained at the Mitchellranch in Wyoming several days, fraternizing with our northern brothers, swapping yarns and having a good time generally. On the return journeyto Arizona we were of course, able to make better time and we returnedmore direct by way of Colorado and Utah, taking note of the cattletrails and the country over which we passed. In that way we securedvaluable information of the trails and the country that stood us in goodstead in future trips north. Arriving home at the Pete Gallinger ranch, in Arizona, we became the heroes of the range, and we received unstintedpraise from our boss, but the loss of Cal Surcey was universallyregretted. [Illustration: Tragic Death of Cal Surcey] We were relieved of all duty until we got thoroughly rested up, whileour horses had the best the ranch afforded. But at a large cattle ranchthere is always something doing and it was not long before we were againin the saddle and preparing for another trip on the trail. To the cowboy accustomed to riding long distances, life in the saddle ceases to betiresome. It is only the dull monotony of following a large herd ofcattle on the trail day after day that tires the rider and makes himlong for something to turn up in the way of excitement. It does notmatter what it is just so it is excitement of some kind. This the cowboy finds in dare-devil riding, shooting, roping and such sports when heis not engaged in fighting Indians or protecting his herds from theorganized bands of white cattle thieves that infested the cattle countryin those days. It was about this time that I hired to Bill Montgomeryfor a time to assist in taking a band of nine hundred head of horses toDodge City. The journey out was without incident, on arriving at DodgeCity we sold the horses for a good price returning to the old ranch inArizona by the way of the old lone and lonesome Dodge City trail. Whileen route home on this trail we had a sharp fight with the Indians. WhenI saw them coming I shouted to my companions, "We will battle them tohell!" Soon we heard their yells as they charged us at full speed. Wemet them with a hot fire from our Winchesters, but as they were in suchlarge numbers we saw that we could not stop them that way and it soondeveloped into a hand to hand fight. My saddle horse was shot from underme; at about the same time my partner James Holley was killed, shotthrough the heart. I caught Holley's horse and continued the fight untilit became evident that the Indians were too much for us, then it becamea question of running or being scalped. We thought it best to run as wedid not think we could very well spare any hair at that particular time, any way we mostly preferred to have our hair cut in the regular way by acompetent barber, not that the Indians would charge us too much, theywould have probably done the job for nothing, but we didn't want totrouble them, and we did not grudge the price of a hair cut any way, sowe put spurs to our horses and they soon carried us out of danger. Nearly every one of us were wounded in this fight but Holley was theonly man killed on our side though a few of the Indians were made betteras the result of it. We heard afterwards that Holley was scalped and hisbody filled with arrows by the red devils. This was only one of the manysimilar fights we were constantly having with the Indians and the cattlethieves of that part of the country. They were so common that it was notconsidered worth mentioning except when we lost a man, as on thisoccasion. This was the only trouble we had on this trip of anyimportance and we soon arrived at the Montgomery ranch in Texas whereafter a few days rest with the boys, resting up, I made tracks in thedirection of my own crib in Arizona. CHAPTER X. WE MAKE A TRIP TO NEBRASKA. THE HOLE IN THE WALL COUNTRY. A LITTLESHOOTING SCRAPE. CATTLE ON THE TRAIL AND THE WAY TO HANDLE THEM. A BITOF MORALIZATION. The ranch boss's voice rang out sharply, but kindly as he entered ourquarters where we were engaged in all sorts of occupations, some of theboys playing cards, others smoking and swapping stories, while thosemore industrious were diligently engaged in cleaning their forty-fives. I glanced up from my long barreled rifle I was just putting thefinishing touches to, wondering what was up now. The boss informed usthat we were to take another herd of cattle north, away up in thenorthwestern part of Nebraska, and that all of us who were on the lasttrip had been selected for the duty again this trip. This announcementwas met with exclamations of approval from the boys who had now gotthoroughly rested up and were anxious for regular duty again. Since ourreturn from Wyoming we had not been doing much, but taking it easy withoccasional range riding and were becoming rusty in consequence. We wereto start on our second journey north this season as soon as possible, sowe lost no time in getting ready. We were to take the same size herd asbefore. It did not take us long to round the herd up and the second dayfrom the time we received the order we were off. Our route was differentthis time, starting from the home ranch in Arizona we went by way of NewMexico, Colorado and into Nebraska, by way of the Platte river, which wecrossed near where the forks of the North and South Platte unite. It wasnow late in the season and we had to hurry in order to get through ingood weather, therefore we put the cattle to the limit of theirtraveling powers. Beef cattle, that is, four year old long horns differgreatly from other cattle in their travel. The first day after being putout on the trail they will travel twenty-five miles without any troublethen as the pace begins to tell on them they fall back to fifteen ortwenty miles a day, and there also seems to be an understanding amongthe cattle themselves that each must take a turn at leading the herd, those that start in the lead in the morning will be away back in thecenter of the herd at noon, and those that started in the center are nowleading. This they keep up until all have had their turn at leading andas a rule if they are not scared by something they will stay pretty wellbunched. We allowed the herd to graze and rest during the night, onlytraveling during the day, as a herd of cattle should never be moved offtheir grazing ground until the dew is off the grass because their feetare made soft by the wet grass and if they are moved onto the hard trailwhile in that condition sore heels are sure to result, and a steer withsore heels cannot travel and will have to be left behind on the trail orthe herd held until those affected have recovered. Our saddle horsestravel several times the distance that a herd of cattle does on thetrail, as it is necessary to ride from one end of the herd to the otherto keep them in line and headed in the right direction. This work ishard on the horses but that is always provided for by having a smallherd of horses along under the charge of a horse rustler as we calledhim and any of the boys could change his tired horse for a fresh one atany time he chose, but he would have no one to help him make the change. He would have to rope, throw, saddle and bridle the horse himselfwithout any assistance whatever from his companions, and this was noeasy matter as most of the horses were wild Texas mustangs and had neverhad the saddle on more than once or twice and so as often happened thecow boy would be led a hard life before he finally made the change ofmounts. On such occasions he always received the unwelcome and unaskedadvice of the other boys, but as most of the boys were expert at thatbusiness there was slight chance for railing and chaff. But if for anyreason he should get the laugh from his companions he always took it inthe same spirit in which it was given, only waiting his chance to geteven, and such a chance was not long in coming. This particular herdacted very well and gave us no trouble to speak of. Our route lay overthe old Hays' and Elsworth trail, one of the best known cattle trails inthe west, then by way of Olga, Nebraska, at that time a very small andalso a very tough place. It was a rendezvous of the tough element andthe bad men of the cow country. There were a large number of cow boysthere from the surrounding ranges and the place looked very enticing toour tired and thirsty crowd, but we had our herd to look after anddeliver so we could not stop, but pushed on north crossing the Platteriver, then up the trail that led by the hole in the wall country, nearwhich place we went into camp. Then as now this hole in the wall countrywas the refuge of the train robbers, cattle thieves and bandits of thewestern country, and when we arrived the place was unusually full ofthem, and it was not long before trouble was brewing between our men andthe natives which culminated in one of our men shooting and killing oneof the bad men of the hole. Fearing more trouble and not being in thebest possible shape to meet it, burdened as we were with five hundredhead of cattle we broke camp at once and proceeded on our journey north. We arrived at the ranch where our herd were to be delivered withoutfurther incident and with all our cattle intact and after turning theherd over to their new owners and spending several days in gettingacquainted with our northern neighbors, the Nebraska cowboys whom wefound hot numbers and a jolly all round crowd of cattle men, we left forArizona on the return journey by way of Wyoming, Colorado and NewMexico, arriving home in good shape late in the fall without furtherincident, and were soon engaged in range riding over our own rangesagain, and getting everything in shape for the winter, but we had to beout on the range off and on all winter. Then in the spring came theusual round ups, cuttings and brandings, during which time all our menwere needed at the home ranch. I had long since developed into a firstclass cow boy and besides being chief brand reader in Arizona and thepan handle country. My expertness in riding, roping and in the generalroutine of the cow boy's life, including my wide knowledge of thesurrounding country, gained in many long trips with herds of cattle andhorses, made my services in great demand and my wages increasedaccordingly. To see me now you would not recognize the bronze hardeneddare devil cow boy, the slave boy who a few years ago hunted rabbits inhis shirt tail on the old plantation in Tennessee, or the tenderfoot whoshrank shaking all over at the sight of a band of painted Indians. I hadlong since felt the hot sting of the leaden bullet as it plowed its waythrough some portion of my anatomy. Likewise I had lost all sense offear, and while I was not the wild blood thirsty savage and all aroundbad man many writers have pictured me in their romances, yet I was wild, reckless and free, afraid of nothing, that is nothing that I ever saw, with a wide knowledge of the cattle country and the cattle business andof my guns with which I was getting better acquainted with every day, and not above taking my whiskey straight or returning bullet for bulletin a scrimmage. I always had been reckless, as evidenced by my riding ofBlack Highwayman on the old home plantation and I never lost courage ormy nerve under the most trying circumstances, always cool, observant andready for what might turn up, made me liked and respected by myemployers and those of the cattle kings of the western country it was mygood fortune to meet and know. On our own ranch, among my own companionsmy position was as high as a king, enjoying the trust and confidence ofmy employers and the homage of the men many of whom were indebted to meon occasions when my long rope or ever ready forty-five colt pistol hadsaved them from serious injury or death. But I thought nothing of thosethings then, my only ambition was to learn the business and excel in allthings connected with the cow boy's life that I was leading and forwhich I had genuine liking. Mounted on my favorite horse, my longhorsehide lariat near my hand, and my trusty guns in my belt and thebroad plains stretching away for miles and miles, every foot of which Iwas familiar with, I felt I could defy the world. What man with the fireof life and youth and health in his veins could not rejoice in such alife? The fall and winter of 1874 passed on the Arizona ranch withoutany unusual occurrence, the cattle wintered well and prospects werebright for the coming year. In the early spring we again beganpreparing for the big round up, the brandings and the cuttings. Therehad been hundreds of calves and colts added to the vast herds, these allhad to be cut out and branded, while all the cattle that had strayedduring the winter had to be rounded up and accounted for. This work keptus in the saddle the greater part of the time. Sometimes we would beabsent for days and weeks at a time on the trail of a bunch of strayedcattle. On these trips we often encountered big herds of buffalo andthese supplied us with meat, and such meat! A buffalo steak fresh from astill quivering buffalo broiled over coals is a dish fit for the Gods. Coming back from one of these trips after strays early in 1875 we werenotified to get ready to take a herd of five hundred head of horses upin South Dakota, the trip was a long one but horses can travel muchfaster than cattle and on the whole are much easier to handle. On thetrails we were all happy at the prospect of the trip and were not longin getting ready and getting the horses started out on the trail, wetook them by way of New Mexico, Colorado and Nebraska. They gave us verylittle trouble on the way up, and we reached our destination anddelivered them without incident worthy of note, returning by way ofWyoming, Colorado and New Mexico. On starting out on the return journeywe came down Pold creek and stopped at the old log saloon to get adrink, that being the first place where we could get any whiskey. Herein moving around among the large number of cow boys and toughcharacters, generally, another fuss was started between our men and somecattle rustlers resulting in some shooting, but fortunately withoutserious consequences. As we were not looking for trouble, and notwishing to kill any one we left at once for home. It was our policy toalways avoid trouble if possible while on these trips, but to alwaysdefend ourselves and our rights against all comers, be they white men orIndians and then it would look bad for us to have to report the loss ofa man or so in a saloon fight when we were sent out to attend tobusiness, for that reason we did not stop to give an exhibition of ourfighting qualities, although we were very anxious to have matters outwith them. We arrived home safely with all well and in time to assist inthe round ups and the other ranch work in which we were needed. [Illustration: A Little Scrap--Hole-in-the-Wall Country] CHAPTER XI. A BUFFALO HUNT. I LOSE MY LARIAT AND SADDLE. I ORDER A DRINK FOR MYSELFAND MY HORSE. A CLOSE PLACE IN OLD MEXICO. When there was not much doing around the ranch, we boys would get up abuffalo hunt. Buffaloes were plentiful in those days and one did nothave to ride far before striking a herd. Going out on the open plain wewere not long in sighting a herd, peacefully grazing on the luxuriantgrass, and it would have been an easy task to shoot them but that wasnot our idea of sport. In the first place it was too easy. Then to shootthem would rob the hunt of all element of danger and excitement, forthat reason we prepared to rope them and then dispatch them with theknife or revolver. As soon as the herd caught sight of us they promptlyproceeded to stampede and were off like the wind. We all had pretty goodmounts and we started in pursuit. It is a grand sight to see a largeherd of several thousand buffalo on a stampede, all running with theirheads down and their tongues hanging out like a yard of red flannel, snorting and bellowing they crowd along, shaking the ground for yardsaround. We soon reached the rear of the herd and began operations. I hadroped and dispatched several, when my attention was attracted by amagnificent bull buffalo, which I made up my mind to get, running freebehind the herd. My buffalo soon came within range and my rope settledsquarely over his horns and my horse braced himself for the strain butthe bull proved too much for us. My horse was knocked down, the saddlesnatched from under me and off my horse's back and my neck nearly brokenas I struck the hardest spot in that part of Texas After I got throughcounting the stars not to mention the moons that I could see quiteplainly, I jumped to my feet and after assuring myself that I was allthere I looked for my horse, he was close by just getting up while inthe distance and fast growing more distant each moment was my favoritesaddle flying in the breeze, hanging to the head of the infuriatedbuffalo. Now I did not think I could very well lose that saddle so I sprang on myhorse's bare back and started in pursuit. My horse could run like a deerand his hard fall did not seem to affect him much, so it did not take uslong to overtake the plunging herd. Running my horse close up by theside of the thief who stole my saddle, I placed the muzzle of myforty-five close against his side and right there I took charge of Mr. Buffalo and my outfit. It was no trouble to get all the buffalo meat we wanted in those days, all that was necessary was to ride out on the prairie and knock themover with a bullet, a feat that any cow boy can accomplish withoutuseless waste of ammunition, and a running buffalo furnishes perhaps thebest kind of a moving target for practice shooting. And the man that candrop his buffalo at two hundred yards the first shot can hit pretty muchanything he shoots at. I never missed anything I shot at within this distance and many a timewhen I thought the distance of an object was too great, the boys haveencouraged me by saying, shoot, you never miss, and as much to mysurprise as theirs, my old stand by placed the bullet where I aimed. I early in my career recognized the fact that a cow boy must know how touse his guns, and therefore I never lost an opportunity to improve myshooting abilities, until I was able to hit anything within range of myforty-five or my winchester. This ability has times without numberproved of incalculable value to me, when in tight places. It has oftensaved the life of myself and companions and so by constant practice Isoon became known as the best shot in the Arizona and pan handlecountry. After the buffalo hunt we were sent down in Old Mexico to get a herd ofhorses, that our boss had bought from the Mexicans in the southwesternpart of Old Mexico. We made the journey out all right without specialincident, but after we had got the horses out on the trail, headed northI was possessed with a desire to show off and I thought surprise thestaid old greasers on whom we of the northern cattle country looked withcontempt. So accordingly I left the boys to continue with the herd, while I made for the nearest saloon, which happened to be located in oneof the low mud houses of that country, with a wide door and clay floor. As the door was standing open, and looked so inviting I did not want togo to the trouble of dismounting so urging my horse forward, I rode inthe saloon, first however, scattering with a few random shots therespectable sized crowd of dirty Mexicans hanging around as I was in nohumor to pay for the drinks for such a motley gathering. Riding up tothe bar, I ordered keller for myself and a generous measure of pulky formy horse, both popular Mexican drinks. [Illustration: I Lose My Lariat and Saddle--I Hit the Hardest Spot inthat Part of Texas] The fat wobbling greaser who was behind the bar looked scared, but heproceeded to serve us with as much grace as he could command. Myforty-five colt which I proceeded to reload, acting as a persuader. Hearing a commotion outside I realized that I was surrounded. The crowdof Mexican bums had not appreciated my kindly greeting as I rode up andit seems did not take kindly to being scattered by bullets. And notrealizing that I could have killed them all, just as easy as I scatteredthem, and seeing there was but two of us--I and my horse--they hadsummoned sufficient courage to come back and seek revenge. There was agood sized crowd of them, every one with some kind of shooting iron, andI saw at once that they meant business. I hated to have to hurt some ofthem but I could see I would have to or be taken myself, and perhapsstrung up to ornament a telegraph pole. This pleasant experience I hadno especial wish to try, so putting spurs to my horse I dashed out ofthe saloon, then knocking a man over with every bullet from my Colts Icut for the open country, followed by several volleys from the angryMexicans' pop guns. [Illustration: I Take Charge of My Buffalo and Outfit] The only harm their bullets did, however, was to wound my horse in thehip, not seriously, however, and he carried me quickly out of range. Iexpected to be pursued, however, as I had no doubt I had done for someof those whom I knocked over, so made straight for the Rio Granderiver riding day and night until I sighted that welcome stream and onthe other side I knew I was safe. Crossing the Rio Grande and enteringTexas at the Eagle pass, I rode straight to the old home ranch where Istayed resting up until the boys got the horses out of Mexico intoTexas, then I joined them and assisted in driving the horses into theranch. I congratulated myself that I escaped so easily and with suchlittle damage. It was certainly a close place but I have been in evencloser places numbers of times and always managed to escape. Eitherthrough trick, the fleetness of my horse or my shooting and sometimesthrough all combined. At this time I was known all over the cattlecountry as "Red River Dick, " the name given to me by the boss of theDuval outfit, when I first joined the cow boys at Dodge City, Kansas. And many of the cattle kings of the west as well as the Indians andscores of bad men all over the western country have at some time orother had good reason to remember the name of "Red River Dick. " This was in 1875. It was not till the next year that I won the name of"Deadwood Dick, " a name I made even better known than "Red River Dick. "And a name I was proud to carry and defend, if necessary, with my life. This season we made several trips North. The horses we brought up fromTexas now had to be driven to old man Keith's in Nebraska, on the NorthPlatte river. On this trip we had no trouble to speak of. Several bandsof Indians showed up at different times but a shot or so from one of theboys would send them scurrying off at full speed, without stopping tosample further our fighting abilities. This was in some ways disappointing to us as we were spoiling for afight or excitement of some kind. However, nothing turned up, so afterdelivering the horses to their new owners, we made tracks for homeagain. It was the same round of duties, season after season, but all ourtrips on the trail were not by any means alike, we were continuallyvisiting new country and new scenes, traveling over trails new to us, but old in history. Many of these old trails are now famous in history. [Illustration: I Order a Drink for Myself and Horse] Each trip gave us new experiences, and traveling so much as we were, there were few outfits in the cattle country that knew the trails andthe country as we did. And we were continually adding to this knowledgeand experience. After returning from old man Keith's in Nebraska we hadto take the trail again with a herd of cattle for the Spencer brothers, whose ranch was located just north of the Red Light about sixty-fivemiles north of the bad lands in South Dakota. This was one of thelargest cattle ranches in the West. Their brand was known as the R Box Circle Brand. There we remained forsome time, adding to our knowledge of the cattle business such things ascan only be learned at a large cattle ranch. On our way home we passedthrough Laramie, Wyoming. As fate would have it, we arrived at LaramieCity on July 4, 1875, just as the notorious Jack Watkins escaped fromthe Albany county jail, and the excitement in the town was at feverheat. Jack Watkins, who was probably the most desperate criminal thatwas ever placed behind prison bars, had been arrested and placed inclose confinement, as the officers of the western states had long triedto effect his capture. And they did not want to take any chances oflosing him, now they had him, but for all their caution he had escaped, shooting Deputy Sheriff Lawrence in the leg, crippling him for life. Ex-Conductor Brophy was at that time sheriff. The officers noting ourarrival at such time, at once ordered us out of the city, as theysuspected we knew something about the outbreak. We protested ourinnocence of any knowledge of the trouble. But appearances were againstus, so we had to leave, going direct to Cheyenne, Wyoming. Here wedisposed of a small band of horses our boss had along, and which we didnot wish to take back home with us. They were sold to the Swarn Brothersat a good price. We remained in Cheyenne until the 18th of July, when we left for Texas, arriving at the old Pali Dora range ranch on the 10th of August. We hadno more than got rested up before we were again called out on activeduty. The many large cattle owners of the panhandle country had gottogether and come to the conclusion that the wild mustang horses, large bands of which were running wild over the Arizona and Texasplains, would make good cattle horses, and to that end a plan ofcampaign was arranged, whereby they could be captured, and broken in andput to some use, instead of causing damage to the range, as at present. [Illustration: A Close Place in Old Mexico--Knocking a Man Over WithEvery Bullet from My Colt's I Cut for the Open Country] CHAPTER XII. THE BIG WILD MUSTANG HUNT. WE TIRE THEM OUT. THE INDIANS CAPTURE OURMESS WAGON AND COOK. OUR BILL OF FARE BUFFALO MEAT WITHOUT SALT. It was a bright clear morning in September as we were all gathered atthe old home ranch, prepared to start on the great mustang hunt. Therewas one of the best men from each of the big cattle ranges in thepanhandle and Arizona country, making twenty of the best range ridersever assembled together for a single purpose, while we were mounted onthe best and fastest horses the Texas and Arizona cattle country couldproduce, while a horse rustler had left four days before with twentymore equally as good horses, giving each of us two horses apiece. Wecarried with us four days' rations, consisting of dried beef, crackers, potatoes, coffee--we had no sugar. The mess wagon well stocked withprovisions for a two months' trip had also left four days before for aplace in the wild horse district, where we knew the mustangs were to befound. Many of the cattle men of Texas and Arizona were present to see us off, and the boss gave us a little talk on what was expected of us, and said, among other things, we were twenty of the best and gamest cow boys whoever roamed the western plains, and that he knew we would make good onhearing these words--we one and all resolved to do our best. And swinging into the saddle we emptied our guns as a parting salutationand started on a dead run across the plains towards the scene of ourduty. After a hard ride of ten days we sighted a band of aboutseventy-five mustangs. We at once proceeded to run them down. It wasdecided that twenty of us should surround the herd in a large circle, ten or fifteen miles across, which would leave a space of several milesbetween each rider, but not of a greater distance than he could easilycover when he saw the band coming his way or heard our signals. The horse rustler was to keep the extra horses at a place where theywould be safe and at the same time handy to the riders. Our planscompleted, each rider made preparations to start for his station. Buthere another difficulty arose. We had not yet seen anything of our cookand mess wagon. It had not arrived at the place agreed upon, although ithad had ample time to do so. Our provisions which we carried were quitelow, so after waiting as long as we could, and the mess wagon failing toshow up, we decided to start the hunt and take our chances on grub fromwhat we could knock over with our guns. Accordingly the boys all started out for their several stations. Afterwaiting a reasonable length of time to give them an opportunity to reachtheir positions, we made for the herd, which as near as we could judgecontained about seventy-five of the prettiest horses it was ever mypleasure to see. The magnificent stallion who happened to be on guardhad no sooner seen us than he gave the danger signal to the herd, whowere off like the wind, led by a beautiful snow white stallion. To getthem going was our only duty at present, and we well knew the importanceof saving our saddle horses for the more serious work before us. Therefore we only walked our horses, or went on a dog trot, keeping asharp lookout for the herd's return. The band of wild horses would run ten or fifteen miles across theprairie, where they would catch sight of the other boys, then off theywould go in another direction, only to repeat the performance, as theystruck the other side of the circle. In this way they would make fromfifty to sixty miles to our ten, and we were slowly working them down. We kept them going this way day and night, not giving them a moment'srest or time to eat. After keeping them on the go this way for ten dayswe were able to get within a mile of them and could see some of thestallions taking turns at leading the herd, while other stallions wouldbe in the rear fighting them on. In a few days more we were nearenough to begin shooting the stallions out of the herd. Then we couldhandle them a great deal better. At this time our want of grub began totell on us. Our cook and mess wagon had not showed up, so we had longsince given them up as lost. We believed they had been captured by theIndians and future events proved we were right. [Illustration: The Big Wild Mustang Hunt--We Were Roping and Riding Themin Fox Canyon] Our only food consisted of buffalo meat of which we were able to secureplenty, but buffalo meat for breakfast, dinner and supper every daywithout bread or salt is not the most palatable bill of fare, especiallywhen it is all we had day after day, without any prospect of a changeuntil we got home. But we were game and resolved to stay with our workuntil it was finished, especially as we only had twenty men and everyonewas badly needed in the work ahead of us, so we did not think we couldspare a man to return home after grub. So we swallowed our buffalo meatday after day and kept the horses moving. They were now pretty well worked down, and we proceeded to work themtoward a place where we could begin to rope them. There were now only afew stallions left in the herd as we had shot nearly all of them, andthe others were too tired to cause us any trouble. We had now been outof grub over three weeks except buffalo meat and such other game as wecould bring down with our guns. Our fears that the cook and mess wagonhad been captured by the Indians proved well founded, as we about thistime met an outfit who had seen the place where the cook was killed. They said the surroundings indicated that quite a large band hadsurprised the cook and driver, but that they had put up a brave fight asevidenced by the large number of empty rifle and revolver shellsscattered around. Our first impulse after hearing this was to start inpursuit of the red skins and get revenge, but calmer judgment showedthat such a course would be useless, because the Indians had a couple ofweeks start of us and we did not know what tribe had committed theoffense as there were so many Indians in that part of the country and inthe Indian territory, and besides our horses were in no shape to chaseIndians, so much to our regret our comrades had to go unrevenged atleast for the present, but we all swore to make the Indians pay dearly, especially the guilty ones, if it were possible to discover who theywere. We continued to work the mustangs back and forth, and in thirtydays from the time we started out we had about sixty head hemmed up inYellow Fox Canyon and were roping and riding them. They were not hard tohandle as they were so poor some of them could hardly walk. This was notto be wondered at, as we had kept them on the go for the past thirtydays, never once giving them a moment's rest day or night, and in thattime they had very little to eat and no sleep. After roping and ridingthem all we got them together and headed for home. Arriving at the ranch the mustangs were allowed to eat all they wantedand were roped and ridden until they were fairly well broken, when theywere turned out with the other ranch horses. They proved good saddlehorses, but as soon as they were turned out with the ranch horses theywould start for their old feeding grounds, leading the other horses withthem. We found it impossible to thoroughly domesticate them, so for thatreason we gave them up as a bad proposition, and did not attempt tocapture any more, though at that time thousands of wild mustangs were onthe plains of Texas, Arizona, Wyoming and in fact all over the West. They were large, fine and as pretty a lot of horses as one could wish tosee. They were seldom molested, though once in a while the Indians wouldmake a campaign against them and capture a few, but not often, as theywere so hard to capture. It was not worth the trouble, as it was almostimpossible to approach them nearer than two miles, and there was alwayssome stallions on the lookout while the others grazed over the plains, so it was out of the question to surprise them. At the first sign ofdanger the stallion sentinel would give his shrill neigh of warning andthe herd were off like the wind. We received unstinted praise from our employers for bringing to asuccessful conclusion the errand on which we were sent under such tryingcircumstances. But now that we were where grub was plentiful we lookedon our experience as nothing to make a fuss over. But we deeply regretted the loss of our cook and mess wagon, and weresolved that if we ever found the guilty parties to make it rather warmfor them. This we never did, neither did we ever hear more of the fateof the cook. Our work, so far as trips on the trail were concerned, wasover for this season, and we could count on a long rest until spring, asaside from range riding and feeding there was nothing doing around thehome ranch. But sometimes the range riding kept us on the go prettylively, especially during and after a big storm, which sometimesscattered the cattle all over the surrounding country, and it would takesome lively riding to get them all together again. Then the Indians andthe white cattle thieves would make raids on our herds, running them offin great numbers and stampeding the balance of the herd. This generally resulted in us chasing them sometimes for miles over theprairies, and we generally were successful in recovering our cattle andpunishing the cattle thieves in a manner that they did not soon forget. But then again sometimes they would stampede the herd in the night, andunder the cover of darkness and the excitement would manage to make offwith some of the best horses or the choicest cattle, and by the time wemissed them the thieves would have such a start that it was impossibleto overtake them, but if they were overtaken, vengeance was swift andsure. CHAPTER XIII. ON THE TRAIL WITH THREE THOUSAND HEAD OF TEXAS STEERS. RUMORS OF TROUBLEWITH THE INDIANS AT DEADWOOD. THE ROPING CONTEST. I WIN THE NAME OFDEADWOOD DICK. THE SHOOTING MATCH. THE CUSTER MASSACRE. THE VIEW OF THEBATTLE FIELD. GOVERNMENT SCOUTS. AT HOME AGAIN. In the spring of 1876 orders were received at the home ranch for threethousand head of three-year-old steers to be delivered near Deadwood, South Dakota. This being one of the largest orders we had ever receivedat one time, every man around the ranch was placed on his mettle toexecute the order in record time. Cow boys mounted on swift horses were dispatched to the farthest limitsof the ranch with orders to round up and run in all the three-year-oldson the place, and it was not long before the ranch corrals began to fillup with the long horns as they were driven by the several parties of cowboys; as fast as they came in we would cut out, under the bosses' orderssuch cattle as were to make up our herd. [Illustration: The Roping Contests at Deadwood, S. D. ] In the course of three days we had our herd ready for the trail and wemade our preparations to start on our long journey north. Our route laythrough New Mexico, Colorado and Wyoming, and as we had heard rumorsthat the Indians were on the war path and were kicking up something of arumpus in Wyoming, Indian Territory and Kansas, we expected troublebefore we again had the pleasure of sitting around our fire at the homeranch. Quite a large party was selected for this trip owing to the sizeof the herd and the possibility of trouble on the trail from theIndians. We, as usual, were all well armed and had as mounts the besthorses our ranch produced, and in taking the trail we were perfectlyconfident that we could take care of our herd and ourselves throughanything we were liable to meet. We had not been on the trail longbefore we met other outfits who told us that General Custer was outafter the Indians and that a big fight was expected when the Seventh U. S. Cavalry, General Custer's command, met the Crow tribe and otherIndians under the leadership of Sitting Bull, Rain-in-the-Face, OldChief Joseph, and other chiefs of lesser prominence, who had for a longtime been terrorizing the settlers of that section and defying theGovernment. [Illustration: I Rope, Throw, Saddle, Bridle and Mount My Mustang inNine Minutes] As we proceeded on our journey it became evident to us that we were onlya short distance behind the soldiers. When finally the Indians andsoldiers met in the memorable battle or rather massacre in the LittleBig Horn Basin on the Little Big Horn River in northern Wyoming, we wereonly two days behind them, or within 60 miles, but we did not know thatat the time or we would have gone to Custer's assistance. We did notknow of the fight or the outcome until several days after it was over. It was freely claimed at the time by cattle men who were in a positionto know and with whom I talked that if Reno had gone to Custer's aid ashe promised to do, Custer would not have lost his entire command and hislife. It was claimed Reno did not obey his orders, however that may be, it wasone of the most bloody massacres in the history of this country. We wenton our way to Deadwood with our herd, where we arrived on the 3rd ofJuly, 1876, eight days after the Custer massacre took place. The Custer Battle was June 25, '76, the battle commenced on Sundayafternoon and lasted about two hours. That was the last of GeneralCuster and his Seventh Cavalry. How I know this so well is because wehad orders from one of the Government scouts to go in camp, that if wewent any farther North we were liable to be captured by the Indians. We arrived in Deadwood in good condition without having had any troublewith the Indians on the way up. We turned our cattle over to their newowners at once, then proceeded to take in the town. The next morning, July 4th, the gamblers and mining men made up a purse of $200 for aroping contest between the cow boys that were then in town, and as itwas a holiday nearly all the cow boys for miles around were assembledthere that day. It did not take long to arrange the details for thecontest and contestants, six of them being colored cow boys, includingmyself. Our trail boss was chosen to pick out the mustangs from a herdof wild horses just off the range, and he picked out twelve of the mostwild and vicious horses that he could find. [Illustration: My First Indian Fight] The conditions of the contest were that each of us who were mounted wasto rope, throw, tie, bridle and saddle and mount the particular horsepicked for us in the shortest time possible. The man accomplishing thefeat in the quickest time to be declared the winner. It seems to me that the horse chosen for me was the most vicious of thelot. Everything being in readiness, the "45" cracked and we all sprangforward together, each of us making for our particular mustang. I roped, threw, tied, bridled, saddled and mounted my mustang in exactlynine minutes from the crack of the gun. The time of the next nearestcompetitor was twelve minutes and thirty seconds. This gave me therecord and championship of the West, which I held up to the time I quitthe business in 1890, and my record has never been beaten. It is worthyof passing remark that I never had a horse pitch with me so much as thatmustang, but I never stopped sticking my spurs in him and using my quirton his flanks until I proved his master. Right there the assembled crowdnamed me Deadwood Dick and proclaimed me champion roper of the westerncattle country. The roping contest over, a dispute arose over the shooting question withthe result that a contest was arranged for the afternoon, as therehappened to be some of the best shots with rifle and revolver in theWest present that day. Among them were Stormy Jim, who claimed thechampionship; Powder Horn Bill, who had the reputation of never missingwhat he shot at; also White Head, a half breed, who generally hit whathe shot at, and many other men who knew how to handle a rifle or45-colt. The range was measured off 100 and 250 yards for the rifle and 150 forthe Colt 45. At this distance a bulls eye about the size of an apple wasput up. Each man was to have 14 shots at each range with the rifle and12 shots with the Colts 45. I placed every one of my 14 shots with therifle in the bulls eye with ease, all shots being made from the hip; butwith the 45 Colts I missed it twice, only placing 10 shots in the smallcircle, Stormy Jim being my nearest competitor, only placing 8 bulletsin the bulls eye clear, the rest being quite close, while with the 45 heplaced 5 bullets in the charmed circle. This gave me the championship ofrifle and revolver shooting as well as the roping contest, and for thatday I was the hero of Deadwood, and the purse of $200 which I had won onthe roping contest went toward keeping things moving, and they did moveas only a large crowd of cattle men can move things. This lasted forseveral days when most of the cattle men had to return to theirrespective ranches, as it was the busy season, accordingly our outfitbegan to make preparations to return to Arizona. [Illustration: Indian Fight in Yellow Horse Canyon] In the meantime news had reached us of the Custer massacre, and theindignation and sorrow was universal, as General Custer was personallyknown to a large number of the cattle men of the West. But we could donothing now, as the Indians were out in such strong force. There wasnothing to do but let Uncle Sam revenge the loss of the General and hisbrave command, but it is safe to say not one of us would have hesitateda moment in taking the trail in pursuit of the blood thirsty red skinshad the opportunity offered. [Illustration: Crippled But Not Conquered--The Fight with Yellow Dog'sTribe] Everything now being in readiness with us we took the trail homewardbound, and left Deadwood in a blaze of glory. On our way home we visitedthe Custer battle field in the Little Big Horn Basin. There was ample evidence of the desperate and bloody fight that hadtaken place a few days before. We arrived home in Arizona in a shorttime without further incident, except that on the way back we met andtalked with many of the famous Government scouts of that region, amongthem Buffalo Bill (William F. Cody), Yellow Stone Kelley, and manyothers of that day, some of whom are now living, while others lost theirlives in the line of duty, and a finer or braver body of men neverlived than these scouts of the West. It was my pleasure to meet BuffaloBill often in the early 70s, and he was as fine a man as one could wishto meet, kind, generous, true and brave. [Illustration: The Roping Contest at Deadwood, S. D. ] Buffalo Bill got his name from the fact that in the early days he wasengaged in hunting buffalo for their hides and furnishing U. P. Railroadgraders with meat, hence the name Buffalo Bill. Buffalo Bill, Yellowstone Kelley, with many others were at this time serving underGen. C. C. Miles. The name of Deadwood Dick was given to me by the people of Deadwood, South Dakota, July 4, 1876, after I had proven myself worthy to carryit, and after I had defeated all comers in riding, roping, and shooting, and I have always carried the name with honor since that time. We arrived at the home ranch again on our return from the trip toDeadwood about the middle of September, it taking us a little over twomonths to make the return journey, as we stopped in Cheyenne for severaldays and at other places, where we always found a hearty welcome, especially so on this trip, as the news had preceded us, and I receivedenough attention to have given me the big head, but my head hadconstantly refused to get enlarged again ever since the time I sampledthe demijohn in the sweet corn patch at home. Arriving at home, we received a send off from our boss and our comradesof the home ranch, every man of whom on hearing the news turned loosehis voice and his artillery in a grand demonstration in my honor. But they said it was no surprise to them, as they had long known of myability with the rope, rifle and 45 Colt, but just the same it wasgratifying to know I had defeated the best men of the West, and broughtthe record home to the home ranch in Arizona. After a good rest weproceeded to ride the range again, getting our herds in good conditionfor the winter now at hand. CHAPTER XIV. RIDING THE RANGE. THE FIGHT WITH YELLOW DOG'S TRIBE. I AM CAPTURED ANDADOPTED BY THE INDIANS. MY ESCAPE. I RIDE A HUNDRED MILES IN TWELVEHOURS WITHOUT A SADDLE. MY INDIAN PONY. "YELLOW DOG CHIEF. " THE BOYSPRESENT ME WITH A NEW OUTFIT. IN THE SADDLE AND ON THE TRAIL AGAIN. It was a bright, clear fall day, October 4, 1876, that quite a largenumber of us boys started out over the range hunting strays which hadbeen lost for some time. We had scattered over the range and I wasriding along alone when all at once I heard the well known Indian warwhoop and noticed not far away a large party of Indians making straightfor me. They were all well mounted and they were in full war paint, which showed me that they were on the war path, and as I was alone andhad no wish to be scalped by them I decided to run for it. So I headedfor Yellow Horse Canyon and gave my horse the rein, but as I hadconsiderable objection to being chased by a lot of painted savageswithout some remonstrance, I turned in my saddle every once in a whileand gave them a shot by way of greeting, and I had the satisfaction ofseeing a painted brave tumble from his horse and go rolling in the dustevery time my rifle spoke, and the Indians were by no means idle allthis time, as their bullets were singing around me rather lively, one ofthem passing through my thigh, but it did not amount to much. ReachingYellow Horse Canyon, I had about decided to stop and make a stand whenone of their bullets caught me in the leg, passing clear through it andthen through my horse, killing him. Quickly falling behind him I usedhis dead body for a breast work and stood the Indians off for a longtime, as my aim was so deadly and they had lost so many that they werecareful to keep out of range. But finally my ammunition gave out, and the Indians were quick to findthis out, and they at once closed in on me, but I was by no meanssubdued, wounded as I was and almost out of my head, and I fought withmy empty gun until finally overpowered. When I came to my senses I wasin the Indians' camp. My wounds had been dressed with some kind of herbs, the wound in mybreast just over the heart was covered thickly with herbs and bound up. My nose had been nearly cut off, also one of my fingers had been nearlycut off. These wounds I received when I was fighting my captors with myempty gun. What caused them to spare my life I cannot tell, but it was Ithink partly because I had proved, myself a brave man, and all savagesadmire a brave man and when they captured a man whose fighting powerswere out of the ordinary they generally kept him if possible as he wasneeded in the tribe. Then again Yellow Dog's tribe was composed largely of half breeds, andthere was a large percentage of colored blood in the tribe, and as I wasa colored man they wanted to keep me, as they thought I was too good aman to die. Be that as it may, they dressed my wounds and gave me plentyto eat, but the only grub they had was buffalo meat which they cookedover a fire of buffalo chips, but of this I had all I wanted to eat. Forthe first two days after my capture they kept me tied hand and foot. Atthe end of that time they untied my feet, but kept my hands tied for acouple of days longer, when I was given my freedom, but was alwaysclosely watched by members of the tribe. Three days after my capture myears were pierced and I was adopted into the tribe. The operation ofpiercing my ears was quite painful, in the method used, as they had asmall bone secured from a deer's leg, a small thin bone, rounded at theend and as sharp as a needle. This they used to make the holes, thenstrings made from the tendons of a deer were inserted in place ofthread, of which the Indians had none. Then horn ear rings were placedin my ears and the same kind of salve made from herbs which they placedon my wounds was placed on my ears and they soon healed. [Illustration: I am Adopted by Yellow Dog's Tribe--The War Dance] The bullet holes in my leg and breast also healed in a surprisinglyshort time. That was good salve all right. As soon as I was well enoughI took part in the Indian dances. One kind or another was in progressall the time. The war dance and the medicine dance seemed the mostpopular. When in the war dance the savages danced around me in a circle, making gestures, chanting, with every now and then a blood curdlingyell, always keeping time to a sort of music provided by stretchingbuffalo skins tightly over a hoop. When I was well enough I joined the dances, and I think I soon made agood dancer. The medicine dance varies from the war dance only that inthe medicine dance the Indians danced around a boiling pot, the potbeing filled with roots and water and they dance around it while itboils. The medicine dance occurs about daylight. I very soon learned their ways and to understand them, though ourconversation was mostly carried on by means of signs. They soon gave meto understand that I was to marry the chief's daughter, promising me 100ponies to do so, and she was literally thrown in my arms; as for thelady she seemed perfectly willing if not anxious to become my bride. Shewas a beautiful woman, or rather girl; in fact all the squaws of thistribe were good looking, out of the ordinary, but I had other notionsjust then and did not want to get married under such circumstances, butfor prudence sake I seemed to enter into their plans, but at the sametime keeping a sharp lookout for a chance to escape. I noted where theIndians kept their horses at night, even picking out the handsome andfleet Indian pony which I meant to use should opportunity occur, and Iseemed to fall in with the Indians' plans and seemed to them socontented that they gave me more and more freedom and relaxed the strictwatch they had kept on me, and finally in about thirty days from thetime of my capture my opportunity arrived. [Illustration: My Escape--I Ride a Hundred Miles in Twelve Hours Withouta Saddle] My wounds were now nearly well, and gave me no trouble. It was a dark, cloudy night, and the Indians, grown careless in their fancied security, had relaxed their watchfulness. After they had all thrown themselves onthe ground and the quiet of the camp proclaimed them all asleep I got upand crawling on my hands and knees, using the greatest caution for fearof making a noise, I crawled about 250 yards to where the horses werepicketed, and going to the Indian pony I had already picked out Islipped the skin thong in his mouth which the Indians use for a bridle, one which I had secured and carried in my shirt for some time for thisparticular purpose, then springing to his back I made for the openprairie in the direction of the home ranch in Texas, one hundred milesaway. All that night I rode as fast as my horse could carry me and thenext morning, twelve hours after I left the Indians camp I was safe onthe home ranch again. And my joy was without bounds, and such areception as I received from the boys. They said they were just one daylate, and if it hadn't been for a fight they had with some of the sametribe, they would have been to my relief. As it was they did not expectto ever see me again alive. But that they know that if the Indians didnot kill me, and gave me only half a chance I would get away from them, but now that I was safe home again, nothing mattered much and nothingwas too good for me. It was a mystery to them how I managed to escape death with such woundsas I had received, the marks of which I will carry to my grave and it isas much a mystery to me as the bullet that struck me in the breast justover the heart passed clear through, coming out my back just below theshoulder: Likewise the bullet in my leg passed clear through, thenthrough my horse, killing him. Those Indians are certainly wonderful doctors, and then I am naturallytough as I carry the marks of fourteen bullet wounds on different partof my body, most any one of which would be sufficient to kill anordinary man, but I am not even crippled. It seems to me that if ever aman bore a charm I am the man, as I have had five horses shot from underme and killed, have fought Indians and Mexicans in all sorts ofsituations, and have been in more tight places than I can number. Yet Ihave always managed to escape with only the mark of a bullet or knife asa reminder. The fight with the Yellow Dog's tribe is probably theclosest call I ever had, and as close a call as I ever want. The fleet Indian pony which carried me to safety on that memorablehundred mile ride, I kept for about five years. I named him "The YellowDog Chief. " And he lived on the best the ranch afforded, until his deathwhich occurred in 1881, never having anything to do except an occasionalrace, as he could run like a deer. I thought too much of him to use himon the trail and he was the especial pet of every one on the home ranch, and for miles around. I heard afterwards that the Indians persued me that night for quite adistance, but I had too much the start and besides I had the fastesthorse the Indians owned. I have never since met any of my captors ofthat time. As they knew better than to venture in our neighborhoodagain. My wound healed nicely, thanks to the good attention the Indiansgave me. My captors took everything of value I had on me when captured. My rifle which I especially prized for old associations sake; also myforty fives, saddle and bridle, in fact my whole outfit leaving me onlythe few clothes I had on at the time. My comrades did not propose to let this bother me long, however, becausethey all chipped in and bought me a new outfit, including the best rifleand revolvers that could be secured, and I had my pick of the ranchhorses for another mount. During my short stay with the Indians Ilearned a great deal about them, their ways of living, sports, dances, and mode of warfare which proved of great benefit to me in after years. The oblong shields they carried were made from tanned buffalo skins andso tough were they made that an arrow would not pierce them although Ihave seen them shoot an arrow clean through a buffalo. Neither will abullet pierce them unless the ball hits the shield square on, otherwiseit glances off. All of them were exceedingly expert with the bow and arrow, and theyare proud of their skill and are always practicing in an effort to exceleach other. This rivalry extends even to the children who are seldomwithout their bows and arrows. They named me Buffalo Papoose, and we managed to make our wants known bymeans of signs. As I was not with them a sufficient length of time tolearn their language, I learned from them that I had killed five oftheir number and wounded three while they were chasing me and in thesubsequent fight with my empty gun. The wounded men were hit in manyplaces, but they were brought around all right, the same as I was. Aftermy escape and after I arrived home it was some time before I was againcalled to active duty, as the boys would not hear of me doing anythingresembling work, until I was thoroughly well and rested up. But I soonbegan to long for my saddle and the range. And when orders were received at the ranch for 2000 head of cattle, tobe delivered at Dodge City, Kansas, I insisted on taking the trailagain. It was not with any sense of pride or in bravado that I recounthere the fate of the men who have fallen at my hand. It is a terrible thing to kill a man no matter what the cause. But as Iam writing a true history of my life, I cannot leave these facts out. But every man who died at my hands was either seeking my life or died inopen warfare, when it was a case of killing of being killed. CHAPTER XV. ON A TRIP TO DODGE CITY, KAN. I ROPE ONE OF UNCLE SAM'S CANNON. CAPTUREDBY THE SOLDIERS. BAT MASTERSON TO MY RESCUE. LOST ON THE PRAIRIE. THEBUFFALO HUNTER CATER. MY HORSE GETS AWAY AND LEAVES ME ALONE ON THEPRAIRIE. THE BLIZZARD. FROZEN STIFF. In the spring of 1877, now fully recovered from the effects of the veryserious wounds I had received at the hands of the Indians and feeling myold self again, I joined the boys in their first trip of the season, with a herd of cattle for Dodge City. The trip was uneventful until wereached our destination. This was the first time I had been in DodgeCity since I had won the name of "DEADWOOD DICK", and many of the boys, who knew me when I first joined the cow boys there in 1869, were thereto greet me now. After our herd had been delivered to their new owners, we started out to properly celebrate the event, and for a space ofseveral days we kept the old town on the jump. And so when we finally started for home all of us had more or less ofthe bad whiskey of Dodge City under our belts and were feeling ratherspirited and ready for anything. I probably had more of the bad whiskey of Dodge City than any one andwas in consequence feeling very reckless, but we had about exhausted ourresources of amusement in the town, and so were looking for trouble onthe trail home. On our way back to Texas, our way led past old Fort Dodge. Seeing thesoldiers and the cannon in the fort, a bright idea struck me, but a foolone just the same. It was no less than a desire to rope one of thecannons. It seemed to me that it would be a good thing to rope a cannonand take it back to Texas with us to fight Indians with. The bad whiskey which I carried under my belt was responsible for thefool idea, and gave me the nerve to attempt to execute the idea. Gettingmy lariat rope ready I rode to a position just opposite the gate of thefort, which was standing open. Before the gate paced a sentry with hisgun on his shoulder and his white gloves showing up clean and whiteagainst the dusty grey surroundings. I waited until the sentry hadpassed the gate, then putting spurs to my horse I dashed straight forand through the gate into the yard. The surprised sentry called halt, but I paid no attention to him. Making for the cannon at full speed myrope left my hand and settled square over the cannon, then turning andputting spurs to my horse I tried to drag the cannon after me, butstrain as he might my horse was unable to budge it an inch. In themeantime the surprised sentry at the gate had given the alarm and now Iheard the bugle sound, boots and saddles, and glancing around I saw thesoldiers mounting to come after me, and finding I could not move thecannon, I rode close up to it and got my lariat off then made for thegate again at full speed. The guard jumped in front of me with his gunup, calling halt, but I went by him like a shot, expecting to hear thecrack of his musket, but for some reason he failed to fire on me, and Imade for the open prairie with the cavalry in hot pursuit. My horse could run like a wild deer, but he was no match for the big, strong, fresh horses of the soldiers and they soon had me. Relieving meof my arms they placed me in the guard house where the commandingofficer came to see me. He asked me who I was and what I was after atthe fort. I told him and then he asked me if I knew anyone in the city. I told him I knew Bat Masterson. He ordered two guards to take me to thecity to see Masterson. As soon as Masterson saw me he asked me what thetrouble was, and before I could answer, the guards told him I rode intothe fort and roped one of the cannons and tried to pull it out. Batasked me what I wanted with a cannon and what I intended doing with it. I told him I wanted to take it back to Texas with me to fight theIndians with; then they all laughed. Then Bat told them that I was allright, the only trouble being that I had too much bad whiskey under myshirt. They said I would have to set the drinks for the house. They cameto $15. 00, and when I started to pay for them, Bat said for me to keepmy money that he would pay for them himself, which he did. Bat said thatI was the only cowboy that he liked, and that his brother Jim alsothought very much of me. I was then let go and I joined the boys and wecontinued on our way home, where we arrived safely on the 1st of June, 1877. [Illustration: I Rope One of Uncle Sam's Cannon--Fort Dodge, Kan. ] We at once began preparing for the coming big round up. As usual thiskept us very busy during the months of July and August, and as wereceived no more orders for cattle this season, we did not have to takethe trail again, but after the round up was over, we were kept busy inrange riding, and the general all around work of the big cattle ranch. We had at this time on the ranch upwards of 30, 000 head of cattle, ourown cattle, not to mention the cattle belonging to the many otherinterests without the Pan Handle country, and as all these immense herdsused the range of the country, in common as there was no fences todivide the ranches, consequently the cattle belonging to the differentherds often got mixed up and large numbers of them strayed. At the round ups it was our duty to cut out and brand the young calves, take a census of our stock, and then after the round up was over wewould start out to look for possible strays. Over the range we wouldride through canyons and gorges, and every place where it was possiblefor cattle to stray, as it was important to get them with the main herdbefore winter set in, as if left out in small bunches there was dangerof them perishing in the frequent hard storms of the winter. While rangeriding or hunting for strays, we always carried with us on our saddlethe branding irons of our respective ranches, and whenever we ran acrossa calf that had not been branded we had to rope the calf, tie it, then afire was made of buffalo chips, the only fuel besides grass to be foundon the prairie. [Illustration: I am Captured by the Soldiers] The irons were heated and the calf was branded with the brand of thefinder, no matter who it personally belonged to. It now became theproperty of the finder. The lost cattle were then driven to the mainherd. After they were once gotten together it was our duty to keep themtogether during the winter and early spring. It was while out huntingstrays that I got lost, the first and only time I was ever lost in mylife, and for four days I had an experience that few men ever wentthrough and lived, as it was a close pull for me. I had been out for several days looking for lost cattle and becomingseparated from the other boys and being in a part of the countryunfamiliar to me. It was stormy when I started out from the home ranchand when I had ridden about a hundred miles from home it began to stormin earnest, rain, hail, sleet, and the clouds seemed to touch the earthand gather in their inpenetrable embrace every thing thereon. For a longtime I rode on in the direction of home, but as I could not see fiftyyards ahead it was a case of going it blind. After riding for many wearyhours through the storm I came across a little log cabin on the Palidoreriver. I rode up to within one hundred yards of it where I was motionedto stop by an old long haired man who stepped out of the cabin door witha long buffalo gun on his arm. It was with this he had motioned me tostop. I promptly pulled up and raised my hat, which, according to the customof the cowboy country, gave him to understand I was a cowboy from thewestern cow ranges. He then motioned me to come on. Riding up to thecabin he asked me to dismount and we shook hands. He said, when I saw you coming I said to myself that must be a lostcowboy from some of the western cow ranges. I told him I was lost allright, and I told him who I was and where from. Again we shook hands, hesaying as we did so, that we were friends until we met again, and hehoped forever. He then told me to picket out my horse and come in andhave some supper, which very welcome invitation I accepted. His cabin was constructed of rough hewn logs, somewhat after the fashionof a Spanish block house. One part of it was constructed under ground, asort of dug out, while the upper portion of the cabin proper wasprovided with many loop holes, commanding every direction. He later told me these loop holes had stood him in handy many a timewhen he had been attacked by Indians, in their efforts to capture him. On entering his cabin I was amazed to see the walls covered with allkinds of skins, horns, and antlers. Buffalo skins in great numberscovered the floor and bed, while the walls were completely hidden behindthe skins of every animal of that region, including large number ofrattle snakes skins and many of their rattles. His bed, which was in one corner of the dug out, was of skins, and tome, weary from my long ride through the storm, seemed to be the mostcomfortable place on the globe just then. He soon set before me abounteous supper, consisting of buffalo meat and corn dodgers, andseldom before have I enjoyed a meal as I did that one. During supper hetold me many of his experiences in the western country. His name wasCater, and he was one of the oldest buffalo hunters in that part ofTexas, having hunted and trapped over the wild country ever since theearly thirties, and during that time he had many a thrilling adventurewith Indians and wild animals. I stayed with him that night and slept soundly on a comfortable bed hemade for me. The next morning he gave me a good breakfast and I preparedto take my departure as the storm had somewhat moderated, and I wasanxious to get home, as the boys knowing I was out would be looking forme if I did not show up in a reasonable time. [Illustration: In My Fighting Clothes] My kind host told me to go directly northwest and I would strike theCalones flats, a place with which I was perfectly familiar. He said itwas about 75 miles from his place. Once there I would have no difficultyin finding my way home. Cater put me up a good lunch to last me on myway, and with many expressions of gratitude to him, I left him with hisskins and comfortable, though solitary life. All that day and part ofthe night I rode in the direction he told me, until about 11 o'clockwhen I became so tired I decided to go into camp and give my tired horsea rest and a chance to eat. Accordingly I dismounted and removed thesaddle and bridle from my horse I hobbled him and turned him loose tograze on the luxuriant grass, while I, tired out, laid down with my headon my saddle fully dressed as I was, not even removing my beltcontaining my 45 pistol from my waist, laying my Winchester close by. The rain had ceased to fall, but it was still cloudy and threatening. Itwas my intention to rest a few hours then continue on my way; and as Icould not see the stars on account of the clouds and as it was importantthat I keep my direction northwest in order to strike the Flats, I hadcarefully taken my direction before sundown, and now on moving my saddleI placed it on the ground pointing in the direction I was going when Istopped so that it would enable me to keep my direction when I againstarted out. I had been laying there for some time and my horse wasquietly grazing about 20 yards off, when I suddenly heard somethingsqueal. It sounded like a woman's voice. It frightened my horse and heran for me. I jumped to my feet with my Winchester in my hand. Thiscaused my horse to rear and wheel and I heard his hobbles break with asharp snap. Then I heard the sound of his galloping feet going acrossthe Pan Handle plains until the sound was lost in the distance. Then Islowly began to realize that I was left alone on the plains on foot, howmany miles from home I did not know. Remembering I had my guns allright, it was my impulse to go in pursuit of my horse as I thought Icould eventually catch him after he had got over his scare, but when Ithought of my 40 pound saddle, and I did not want to leave that, sosaying to myself that is the second saddle I ever owned, the otherhaving been taken by the Indians when I was captured, and this saddlewas part of the outfit presented to me by the boys, and so tired and ashungry as a hawk, I shouldered my saddle and started out in thedirection I was going when I went into camp, saying to myself as I didso, if my horse could pack me and my outfit day and night I can at leastpack my outfit. Keeping my direction as well as I could I started outover the prairie through the dark, walking all that night and all thenext day without anything to eat or drink until just about sundown andwhen I had begun to think I would have to spend another night on theprairie without food or drink, when I emerged from a little draw on toa raise on the prairie, then looking over on to a small flat I saw alarge herd of buffalo. These were the first I had seen since I becamelost and the sight of them put renewed life and hope in me as I was thennearly famished, and when I saw them I knew I had something to eat. Off to one side about 20 yards from the main herd and about 150 yardsfrom me was a young calf. Placing my Winchester to my shoulder I glancedalong the shining barrel, but my hands shook so much I lowered it again, not that I was afraid of missing it as I knew I was a dead shot at thatdistance, but my weakness caused by my long enforced fast and my greatthirst made my eyes dim and my hands shake in a way they had never donebefore, so waiting a few moments I again placed the gun to my shoulderand this time it spoke and the calf dropped where it had stood. Pickingup my outfit I went down to where my supper was laying. I took out myjack knife and commenced on one of his hind quarters. I began to skinand eat to my hearts content, but I was so very thirsty. I had heard ofpeople drinking blood to quench their thirst and that gave me an idea, so cutting the calf's throat with my knife I eagerly drank the freshwarm blood. It tasted very much like warm sweet milk. It quenched my thirst and mademe feel strong, when I had eaten all I could, I cut off two large chunksof the meat and tied them to my saddle, then again shouldering the wholething I started on my way feeling almost as satisfied as if I had myhorse with me. I was lost two days, and two nights, after my horse leftme and all that time I kept walking packing my 40 pounds saddle and myWinchester and two cattle pistols. On the second night about daylight the weather became more threateningand I saw in the distance a long column which looked like smoke. Itseemed to be coming towards me at the rate of a mile a minute. It didnot take it long to reach me, and when it did I struggled on for a fewyards but it was no use, tired as I was from packing my heavy outfit formore than 48 hours and my long tramp, I had not the strength to fightagainst the storm so I had to come alone. When I again came to myself Iwas covered up head and foot in the snow, in the camp of some of mycomrades from the ranch. It seemed from what I was told afterwards that the boys knowing I wasout in the storm and failing to show up, they had started out to lookfor me, they had gone in camp during the storm and when the blizzard hadpassed they noticed an object out on the prairie in the snow, with onehand frozen, clenched around my Winchester and the other around the hornof my saddle, and they had hard work to get my hands loose, they pickedme up and placed me on one of the horses and took me to camp where theystripped me of my clothes and wrapped me up in the snow, all the skincame off my nose and mouth and my hands and feet had been so badlyfrozen that the nails all came off. After I had got thawed out in themess wagon and took me home in 15 days I was again in the saddle readyfor business but I will never forget those few days I was lost and themarks of that storm I will carry with me always. CHAPTER XIV. THE OLD HAZE AND ELSWORTH TRAIL. OUR TRIP TO CHEYENNE. EX-SHERIFF PAT A. GARRET. THE DEATH OF "BILLY THE KID". THE LINCOLN COUNTY CATTLE WAR. Early the next spring 1878 we went on a short trip to Junction City, Kan. , with a small herd of horses for Hokin and Herst. We started outfrom the home ranch early in April, stringing the herd out along the oldHaze and Elsworth trail. Everything went well until we were several daysout and we had went in camp for the night. The herd had been rounded upand were grazing in the open prairie under the usual watch. And all thecowboys except the first watch had turned in for a good night's rest, when it began to storm finally developing into a genuine old fashionedTexas storm, with the usual result that the herd stampeded. The watch at once gave the alarm and we awoke to find everything inconfusion. It was a very dark night and under such circumstances it ishard to control a herd of horses in a stampede. In a few moments everyman was in the saddle, as we always kept our saddle horses picketed out, so they could not join the other horses. And it was our custom when onthe trail with a herd of horses on going into camp to leave our saddlehorses, saddled and bridled, merely loosing the cinches of the saddlesthough sometimes we removed the bridles, to enable them to graze better. So when the alarm was given in this instance, it did not take us long toget in the saddle and after the horses who were now going across theprairie as only frightened horses can go in a stampede. The storm continued with more or less fury all night and it was late thenext day before we got the herd rounded up and under any sort ofcontrol. The next morning we found that one of the boys, Frank Smith, had lost his horse and outfit during the night. While chasing the horsesover the prairie, his horse stepped in a prairie dog's hole and fell. Throwing his rider and snatching the rope out of Smith's hand, the horsemade off over the prairie carrying with him bridle, saddle and outfit, and we never saw or heard of him again. After getting our breakfast, wecontinued north, and all went well with us until we struck the Wakeenyriver, near Junction City, when in fording the stream. It was high waterand we were forced to swim our horses across. All went well with theherd and the boys were following when one of them came near beingdrowned, and was only saved by my quick rope. I had entered the river and my horse was swimming easily, when onglancing around I saw one of the boys, Loyd Hoedin by name, go under thewater. Both man and horse completely disappeared. They soon came up onlyto disappear again. I saw at once something was wrong so when they cameup the second time I threw my rope. It fell near Hoedin, who had thepresence of mind to grasp it, and hold on while I snaked both man andhorse out to safety. After reaching Junction City and turning the herdover to their new owners we started out to have the usual good time. This lasted for several days during which time we cleaned up pretty nearall the money there was in the Junction with our horses in a six hundredyard race, between ourselves and cow boys from different outfits whohappened to be in the city. Our horses without exception proved the fastest runners, accordingly wepocketed considerable coin, and in consequence we were feeling firstrate when we struck the trail homeward bound. We arrived at the homeranch all right in June. This was the last trip we were called to makethis season, and our time for the remainder of the year was taken upwith the general routine work of the large cattle ranch. Late the next season we took the trail en route to Cheyenne, Wyoming, with two thousand head of fine Texas steers for the Swan Brothers, 20miles northwest of Cheyenne. Nothing of unusual importance happened onthis trip aside from the regular incidents pertaining to driving such alarge herd of cattle on the trail. We had a few stampedes and lost afew cattle, arriving in Cheyenne we had a royal good time for a fewdays as usual before starting home. On arriving at the home ranch againwe found considerable excitement, owing to the war between the cattlemen and cattle rustlers and every man was needed at home and few therewere who did not take part in one way or another in the most bitter andfurious cattle war of history and I being one of the leading cowboys ofthe West, necessarily took an active part in the dispute and many werethe sharp clashes between the waring factions that I witnessed andfought in and was wounded many times in these engagements. For years thecattle rustlers had been invading the large cattle ranges belonging tothe large cattle kings of the West and running off and branding largenumbers of choice cattle and horses, this led to many a sharp fightbetween the cowboys and the rustlers, but of late these thieves hadbecome so bold and the losses of the cattle men had become so great thatthe latter determined to put a stop to it, and so open war was declared. On one side was the large ranchmen and cattle men and on the other theIndians, half breeds, Mexicans and white outlaws that made the cattlecountry their rendezvous. The cattle men had now organized with thegiven determination of either killing or running out of the country forgood these thieves, who had caused them so much loss. And during the warmany of them cashed in and the others for the most part left forpastures new, having been virtually whipped out of the country. It was adesperate and bloody war while it lasted. But it was satisfactory to the cattle men who could now rest easier inthe security of their herds and their grazing grounds. It was at thistime that I saw considerable of William H. Bonney alias "Billie thekid", the most noted desperado and all around bad man the world hasknown. The first time I met Billie the Kid was in Antonshico, New Mexico, in asaloon, when he asked me to drink with him, that was in 1877. Later hehired to Pete Galligan, the man in whose employ I was. Galligan hiredthe Kid to drive his buck board between the White Oaks, the nearesttown, and Galligan's ranch with provisions for the boys, and the Kidtold me himself that one these trips he would drive the team, on a deadrun, the whole distance of 30 miles to the Oaks in order to get therequick so he would have more time to stay around town before it was timeto start back, then when he would arrive home the team was nearly deadfrom exhaustion. He remained in the employ of Galligan for about elevenmonths, then he was hired by John Chisholm to rustle cattle for him. Chisholm agreed to pay the Kid so much per head for all the cattle theKid rustled. When the time came for a settlement, Chisholm failed tosettle right or to the Kid's satisfaction, then the Kid told Chisholm hewould give him one day to make up his mind to settle right, but beforethe Kid could see Chisholm again, Chisholm left the country going eastwhere his brother was. The Kid then swore vengeance, and said he wouldtake his revenge out of Chisholm's men, and he at once began killing allthe employ of John Chisholm. He would ride up to a bunch of cowboys andenquire if they worked for Chisholm. If they replied in the affirmative, he would shoot them dead on the spot, and few men were quicker with a 45or a deadly shot than "Billie the Kid". The next time I met the Kid wasin Holbrook, Arizona, just after a big round up. The Kid, Buck Cannon, and Billie Woods were together. I was on my way to Silver City, NewMexico, in the fall of 1880 when I met them, and as they were goingthere also, we rode on together The "Kid" showed me the little log cabinwhere he said he was born. I went in the cabin with him, and he showedme how it was arranged when he lived there, showing me where the bed satand the stove and table. He then pointed out the old postoffice which hesaid he had been in lots of times. He told me he was born and raised in Silver City, New Mexico, which isnear the Moggocilion Mountains, and at that time the Kid was badlywanted by the sheriffs of several counties for numerous murderscommitted by him mostly of John Chisholm's men in Texas and New Mexico. The Kid bid me good bye. He said he was going to the mountains as heknew them well, and once there he was all right as he could stand off aregiment of soldiers. The three of them departed together. I never sawhim again until the spring of 1881. I was in the city of Elmorgo, NewMexico, and saw him the morning he was forced to flee to the mountainsto escape arrest. We could see him up there behind the rocks. He waswell armed having with him two Winchesters and two 45 Colts revolversand plenty of ammunition, and although the officers wanted him badly, noone dared go up after him as it was certain death to come with range ofthe Kid's guns. Later on he escaped and the next time I saw him was inAntonshico, New Mexico. It was in June, and we had come up from Colonasafter some saddle horses, and I met and talked with him. The next time I saw him he was laying dead at Pete Maxwell's ranch inLincoln county, New Mexico, having been killed by Pat A. Garret at thattime sheriff of Lincoln county, New Mexico. We arrived in Lincoln countythe very night he was killed at Pete Maxwell's ranch and went into campa short distance from Maxwell's, and we saw the Kid a short time afterhe had been killed. The Kid had been arrested by Pat Garret and hisposse a short time before at Stinking Springs, New Mexico, along withTom Pickett, Billy Wilson and Dave Rudebough, after arresting these menwhich was only effected after a hard fight and after the Kid'sammunition had given out. Garret took the men heavily ironed to LosVegas. When it became known that Billy the Kid had been captured a mobformed for the purpose of lynching him. But Garret placed his prisonersin a box car over which himself and deputies stood guard until the trainpulled out which was nearly two hours. During that time the mob wasfurious to get at the men, but they well knew the temper of SheriffGarret so they kept their distance. The men were tried and convicted. The Kid and Rudbough were sentenced tobe hanged. Rudbough for having killed a jailer at Los Vegas in 1880. Thejudge on passing sentence on the Kid, said you are sentenced to behanged by the neck until you are dead-dead-dead. The Kid laughed in thejudge's face saying, and you can go to Hell, Hell, Hell. After the Kidhad been sentenced he was placed in jail at Los Vegas, ironed hand andfoot, and under heavy guard, but never lost confidence and was alwayslooking for a chance to escape. When the day of his execution was notmuch more than a week off, the Kid saw his chance, while eating hissupper both handcuffs had been fastened to one wrist so the Kid couldbetter feed himself. He was only guarded by one deputy named Bell. Theother deputy, Ollinger, had gone to supper across the street from thejail. Bell turned his head for a moment and the Kid noticing themovement quick as a flash brought the handcuffs down on Bell's head, stunning him. The Kid then snatched Bell's revolver, he shot the deputythrough the body. Bell staggered to the steps down which he fell andinto the yard below where he died. Ollinger hearing the shot rushedacross the street. As he entered the jail yard he looked up and saw theKid at a window. As he did so the Kid shot Ollinger dead with a shot gunwhich was loaded with buck shot. The Kid then broke the gun across thewindow sill, then going to the room where the weapons were kept the Kidpicked out what guns he wanted and broke the balance. Then he made thefirst person he met break the irons from his legs and bring him a horse. The Kid then took four revolvers and two Winchester rifles and rodeaway. Sheriff Garret was at White Oaks at the time and as soon he asheard of the escape he hurried home and organized a posse to recapturethe Kid, but the Kid was at liberty two months before he was finallyrounded up and killed at Pete Maxwell's ranch. At the time the Kidescaped at Los Vegas myself and a party of our boys had our horses atMenderhall and Hunter's livery stable, just a few doors from the jailand I was standing on the street talking to a friend when the Kid rodeby. From Los Vegas he went to the borders of Lincoln county where hisever ready revolver was always in evidence. Shortly after his escape heshot and killed William Mathews and a companion whom he met on theprairie without apparent cause, and several other murders wereattributed to him before he was finally located at Maxwell's ranch andkilled by Sheriff Garret. The Kid was only 22 years of age when his wild career was ended by thebullet from the sheriff's gun and it is safe to assert he had at leaseone murder to the credit of every year of his life. He was killed bySheriff Garret in a room of one of the old houses at Fort Sumner, knownat that time as Maxwell's ranch, July 12, 1881, about two months afterhis escape from the Lincoln county jail, and Sheriff Pat A. Garret, oneof the nervest men of that country of nervy men and the only man whoever pursued the Kid and lived to tell the tale, is at present at thehead of the Customs Service at El Paso, Texas, and to meet him and notehis pleasant smile and kindly disposition, one would not believe him theman who sent Billie the Kid to his last account. But behind the pleasanttwinkle in his eye and the warm hand clasp there is a head as cool and anerve as steady as ever held a 45. CHAPTER XVII. ANOTHER TRIP TO OLD MEXICO. I ROPE AN ENGINE. I FALL IN LOVE. MYCOURTSHIP. DEATH OF MY SWEETHEART. MY PROMISED WIFE. I MUST BEAR ACHARMED LIFE. THE ADVENT OF PROGRESS. THE LAST OF THE RANGE. On one of these memorable trips after cattle, and with cattle on thetrail, one that I will most likely remember, the longest was a trip toOld Mexico after a herd of horses. It was on this trip that I fell inlove, the first time in my life. During my wild career on the westernplains I had met many handsome women, and they often made much of me, but somehow I had never experienced the feeling called love, until I metmy charming sweetheart in Old Mexico. I had perhaps been too muchabsorbed in the wild life of the plains, in the horses, and cattle whichmade up my world, to have the time or inclination to seek or enjoy thecompany of the gentler sex. But now that I had met my fate, I suppose Ibecame as silly about it as any tenderfoot from the east could possiblybe, as evidence of how badly I was hit. While on the trail with the herdour route lay along a narrow gauge railroad, and I was feeling up in theair caused no doubt partly from the effects of love and partly from theeffects of Mexican whiskey, a generous measure I had under my belt, however I was feeling fine, so when the little engine came puffing alongin the distance I said to the boys I have roped nearly everything thatcould be roped, so now I am going to rope the engine. They tried topersuade me not to make the attempt, but I was in no mood to listen toreason or anything else, so when the engine came along I put my spurs tomy horse and when near enough I let fly my lariat. The rope settledgracefully around the smoke stack, and as usual my trained horse sethimself back for the shock, but the engine set both myself and my horsein the ditch, and might have continued to set us in places had notsomething given way, as it was the rope parted, but the boys saidafterwards that they thought they would have to send for a wreckingtrain to clean the track or rather the ditch. [Illustration: I Rope a Narrow Gauge Engine, my Lariat SettledGracefully Around the Smokestack and my Trained Horse Set Himself forthe Shock, but the Engine Set Both Myself and my Horse in the Ditch] Roping a live engine is by long odds worse than roping wild Buffalo onthe plains or Uncle Sam's cannon at the forts. This incident cleared theatmosphere somewhat, but my love was as strong as ever and I thanked mylucky start she did not see me as they dragged me out of the ditch. I first saw my sweetheart as we were driving the herd along the dustyroad, passing a small adobe house near the city of Old Mexico. I saw ahandsome young Spanish girl standing in the yard and I suppose I fell inlove with her at first sight, anyway I pretended to be very thirsty androde up and asked her for a drink. She gave it to me and I exchanged afew words with her before joining the boys and the herds. After that I saw her quite often during my stay in Old Mexico before weagain returned home. One day shortly before I was to leave for the NorthI went to see her and overheard a conversation between her and hermother, in which her mother said to her: "My daughter will you leaveyour mother for to go with the wild cowboy?" And she answered no motherI will not leave you to go with any wild cowboy. On hearing this I bidher goodbye and a long farewell, as I told her I did not expect to eversee her again. Then leaping to the back of my faithful horse I rode likemad across the Mexican plains, until I had somewhat cooled down, but itwas a hard blow to me, as I truly loved her. After that I joined theboys and returned up the trail with them. Six or seven months later wewere again in Old Mexico with a herd of cattle and went in camp somedistance out from the city, and as soon as she heard our outfit hadreturned she rode out to the camp and after looking around and notseeing me, she said to the camp boss, "Where is the wild cowboy that washere with you last time? Did he not come up the trail with you". Theboss told her I had come up the trail but that I had not been seen sincecrossing the last mountains as of course he knew whom she meant as mylittle love affair was pretty generally known among the boys. When theboss told her that I had not been seen since they had crossed the lastmountains, she hung her head and looked completely heart broken. I waslying in the mess wagon at the time an interested spectator of all thattook place, and seeing her looking so downhearted I could hardlyrestrain myself from jumping out of the wagon and taking her in my arms. After a time she slowly raised her head and looked long and wistfully upthe trail. Then turning to the camp boss again she said, "Camp boss tellme truly if Nat Love works with you and did he come on this trip withyou". The boss answered her as before that I had not been seen sincecrossing the last mountains, which was true as I had been riding in themess wagon. On hearing the boss' answer she took it as final and startedto ride away. [Illustration: The First Glimpse of My Spanish Sweetheart] I thought it high time to make my presence known, as with the sight ofher, all my old love returned, and I forgot every thing except that Iloved her. So I jumped out of the wagon exclaiming here I am, and in aminute we were locked in each others arms and I believe I kissed herbefore all the boys, but I didn't care, she was mine now. We becameengaged and were to be married in the fall and were to make our home inthe city of Mexico, but in the spring she took sick and died. Her deathbroke me all up and after I buried her I became very wild and reckless, not caring what happened to me and when you saw me in the saddle you sawme at home, and while I saw many women since I could never care for anyas I did for her. And I vainly tried to forget her and my sorrow in thewild life of the plains and every danger I could find courting death infights with Indians and Mexicans and dare devil riding on the range, butit seemed to me that I bore a charmed life. Horses were shot from underme, men were killed around me, but always I escaped with a triflingwound at the worst. As time passed I began to recover from mydisappointment and to take my old interest in the work of the ranch, andas my reputation had spread over the country I did not lack work, butwas kept on the go all the time, first with one large cattle owner, thenwith another. Most of my working being in the round ups and brandings, brand reading, and with large herds on the trail, as during my longexperience in the cattle country I had traveled every known trail, andover immense stretches of country where there was no sign of a trail, nothing but the wide expanse of prairie; bare except for the buffalograss, with here and there a lone tree or a giant cactus standing as alone sentinel in the wildest of long stretches of grazing land rollingaway in billows of hill and gully, like the waves of the ocean. LikewiseI could read, identify and place every brand or mark placed on a horseor steer between the Gulf of Mexico and the borders of Canada, on theNorth and from Missouri to California. Over this stretch of country Ihave often traveled with herds of horses or cattle or in searching forstrays or hunting the noble buffalo on his own native feeding grounds. The great buffalo slaughter commenced in the west in 1874, and in 1877they had become so scarce that it was a rare occasion when you cameacross a herd containing more than fifty animals where before you couldfind thousands in a herd. Many things were responsible for theslaughter, but the principal reason that they had now become so scarcewas that in 1875 and 1876 the Indians started to kill them in largenumbers for their skins. Thousands were killed by them, skinned and thecarcasses left as food for the wolves and vultures of the prairie. Manywere killed by the white hunters to furnish meat for the railroadgraders and the troups at the frontier forts. [Illustration: "Does the Wild Cow Boy Work With You?"] While the big cattle ranches were always kept well supplied with buffalomeat, on the stock of my rifle is one hundred and twenty-six notches, each one representing a fine buffalo that has fallen to my own hand, while some I have killed with the knife and 45 colts, I forgot to cut anotch for. Buffalo hunting, a sport for kings, thy time has passed. Where once they roamed by the thousands now rises the chimney and thespire, while across their once peaceful path now thunders the ironhorse, awakening the echoes far and near with bell and whistle, whereonce could only be heard the sharp crack of the rifle or the longdoleful yelp of the coyote. At the present time the only buffalo to befound are in the private parks of a few men who are preserving them forpleasure or profit. With the march of progress came the railroad and no longer were wecalled upon to follow the long horned steers or mustangs on the trail, while the immense cattle ranges, stretching away in the distance as faras the eye could see, now began to be dotted with cities and towns andthe cattle industry which once held a monopoly in the west, now had togive way to the industry of the farm and the mill. To us wild cowboys ofthe range, used to the wild and unrestricted life of the boundlessplains, the new order of things did not appeal, and many of us becamedisgusted and quit the wild life for the pursuits of our more civilizedbrother. I was among that number and in 1890 I bid farewell to the lifewhich I had followed for over twenty years. It was with genuine regret that I left the long horn Texas cattle andthe wild mustangs of the range, but the life had in a great measure lostits attractions and so I decided to quit it and try something else for awhile. During my life so far I had no chance to secure an education, except the education of the plains and the cattle business. In this Irecognize no superior being. Gifted with a splendid memory and quickobservation I learned and remembered things that others passed by andforgot, and I have yet to meet the man who can give me instruction inthe phases of a life in which I spent so long. After quitting the cowboylife I struck out for Denver. Here I met and married the present Mrs. Love, my second love. We were married August 22, 1889, and she is withme now a true and faithful partner, and says she is not one bit jealousof my first love, who lies buried in the city of Old Mexico. One year later, in 1890, I accepted a position in the Pullman service onthe Denver and Rio Grande Railroad, running between Denver and Salida, Colorado. The Pullman service was then in its infancy, so to speak, asthere was as much difference between the Pullman sleeping cars of thosedays and the present as there is between the ox team and theautomobile. [Illustration: My First Experience as a Pullman Porter] CHAPTER XVIII. THE PULLMAN SERVICE. LIFE ON THE RAIL. MY FIRST TRIP. A SLUMP IN TIPS. IBECOME DISGUSTED AND QUIT. A PERIOD OF HUSKING. MY NEXT TRIP ON THEPULLMAN. TIPS AND THE PEOPLE WHO GIVE THEM. After my marriage in Denver, I rented a small cottage which Icomfortably furnished and we, Mrs. Love and myself, started tohousekeeping in a modest way. Then I began to look around for a job, butto a man who was used to the excitement and continual action of therange and the cattle ranches, the civilized and quiet life of the cityis apt to prove stale and uninteresting. It was that way with me, andafter passing up several jobs offered to me I thought I would tryrailroading for awhile, probably for the same reason that prompted me toleave home twenty years before; I still wanted to see the world. Withthat idea in mind, I went to the Pullman offices in Denver, and aftermaking some inquiries I was directed to the office of SuperintendentRummels who was at that time superintendent of the Pullman service. A Mr. Wright was his assistant. I found Superintendent Rummels in hisoffice, and I asked him if he wanted to hire any more porters. He askedme if I had ever worked for the Pullman company. I told him no that Ihad been a cowboy ever since I was 16 years old. He then asked me if Ihad money enough to buy my pullman uniform. I asked him how much itwould cost and he said $22. 00. I told him yes, I had the price. He askedme if I knew any one in Denver. I told him yes and gave him the name ofMr. Sprangler who had my money in his bank. Supt. Rummels told me to geta letter from Mr. Sprangler and he would put me on. So I went and gotthe letter and with it the money to pay for my uniform, after having mymeasure taken and sending for my suit. I borrowed a uniform from one ofthe other porters and the second day after I called on thesuperintendent I was sent on the run between Denver and Salida. One ofthe old men put me on to my duties and showed me how to make up my carand the general run of things. On my first trip I found a kind friend in the Pullman conductor, a Mr. Keely, who helped me in many ways and I suppose I made many blunders asthe difference between a Pullman car and the back of a Texas mustang isvery great. However I managed to get around among the passengers in mycar, and attend to their needs in some sort of a way. My first trouble commenced when I succeeded in getting the shoes ofpassengers which had been given to me to polish, badly mixed up. Theshoes of a portly red faced man whose berth was in the forward end ofthe car, I placed by the berth of a tall and slim western yankee at theother end of the car, while a number 7 and a number 9 shoe were placeddecorously by the berth of a sour spinster from New York. This naturallycaused a good sized rumpus the next morning. And sundry blessings wereheaped on the head of yours truly. Nearly all the passengers were madand the tips were conspicuous by their absence. That made me mad andthoroughly disgusted with the job. On returning to Denver I again calledon Superintendent Rummels and told him that I had enough of the Pullmanservice, and would rather go back to the cattle and the range. Superintendent Rummels tried to persuade me to stay with it saying I haddone all right, and would improve with experience but I was thoroughlydisgusted and wanted no more of it, so I turned in my keys, got myuniform and walked out. So again I was without a job. After going around Denver for several days, it struck me that there wasmoney to be made selling fruit, vegetables, honey and chickens aroundthe town. Accordingly I purchased a horse and wagon and an assortedstock and started out on my new vocation. This proved profitable fromthe start and I made good money which caused me to stay with it fornearly a year, when my natural restfulness caused me to becomediscontented and to yearn for more excitement and something a littlefaster so I disposed of my stock, horse and wagon, and started out tolook for something else to do, but that something else was about as hardto find as the proverbial needle in the straw stack, at that particulartime. Whether it was fate or the talk of the other porters whom I met Ifinally concluded to give the Pullman service another try. Accordingly Icalled on Mr. J. M. Smith who was now district superintendent of thePullman service and asked him for a job. He asked me if I had been inthe company's service before and I told him yes. He asked me how longand I told him one trip, and I told him why I quit, and that the tipswere too slow for me. He asked me if I thought it was any better now, and I said I did not know whether it was any better or not but that Ithought I could do better. He told me the whole secret of success was in pleasing all mypassengers. I told him I thought it was all right about pleasing two orthree passengers but when it came to pleasing a whole car full ofpassengers, that was another matter. He said to try anyway. He thanassigned me to a car running on the narrow gauge line between Denver andAlamosa, Creed and Durango. This was the real beginning of my Pullmanservice. I ran on the Colorado roads under Superintendent Smith for a number ofyears and always found him courteous and obliging, always ready andwilling to help us with advice and counsel, but what proved a mystery tome for a long time was how the superintendent managed to find out thingsthat happened on my car when he was not present. Sometimes when I wentto report or met him he would question me about things that happened onmy run, such as pleasing the passengers and other things, which I didnot suppose he knew a thing about and inquiries among the other trainmenonly deepened the mystery. I would ask the Pullman conductor if he told the superintendent such andsuch a thing and he would say no. Then I would ask him how thesuperintendent knew about them as he was not on the train. He would sayhe did not know. This kept up until finally I made up my mind that ifthere ever was a clairvoyant the superintendent certainly was one. The fact that he was able to find out things that happened hundreds ofmiles away without any one telling him, kept me worked up for a longtime until I finally tumbled to the special agents who are employed totravel as common passengers and report how things are going to thesuperintendent. That explained the whole mystery, but it did not in anyway make me move easy in my mind, because if a special agent was alongone trip, there was no reason to think that one was not along everytrip. At least I made up my mind there was, and governed myselfaccordingly, but the increased attention given to my passengers as aresult caused an increase in the tips, that came my way. With theincrease in my earnings and the experience I was gaining I came to havea liking for the service, which is in no wise diminished at this time. Isoon learned the knack of pleasing the greater number of my passengers, and this reported to the superintendent by the special agents raised mein the official's favor with the result that I was given more extensiveand more profitable runs and soon became one of the most popular portersin Colorado. This brought with it increased responsibilities as well asincreased profits and favors enjoyed. When I started to work it was for $15. 00 per month this has beenincreased from time to time until at present owing to my long serviceand having gained a thorough knowledge of my business, I am often madeporter in charge. This position pays me as high as $40. 00 per month. Thedifference between a porter and a porter in charge is that a portergenerally has a car over which a Pullman conductor presides, which theporter in charge owing to his long service and his knowledge of thebusiness is placed in full charge of a car, making the services of aPullman conductor unnecessary. A porter in the employ of the Pullmancompany for ten years and giving good service for that time receivesfrom the company two suits of clothes per year, and other privileges notenjoyed by the beginner. A porter just beginning in the service has to purchase his own uniform, the cost of which is never less than $20. 00 for the summer suit or$22. 00 for the winter suit. After five years of good service a porteris entitled to wear one white stripe on his coat sleeve to which one isadded for every succeeding five years of good service. Naturally theporter that understands his business and gives his whole attention tothe passengers in his car and to his work, will make more money than theporter who has not the patience to try and please his passengers. I havehad porters complain to me about the small amount they were able to earnin the service and on questioning them I found it was wholly becausethey did not think it necessary to try and make friends of the people intheir car. I early recognized the fact that if I expected to succeed inthe Pullman service I must make all the friends I could on my runs, andthe cases are very rare where I have failed to receive a tip of somekind from my passengers, although as it happens sometimes I have peoplein my car who are not very well blessed with this world's goods, and whocan ill afford to spend money in tips. To such people I always give thesame attention and care, as if I was sure to receive a $10 tip, and theyrarely failed to give me a kind thank you, on leaving my car. In thecourse of our duties we naturally meet all manner of people, thebusiness man out for business or pleasure, the drummers who nearlyalways give us a tip; the wife going to join her sick husband or thehusband hurrying home to the bedside of his sick child; the invalid insearch of health, or the family going home to attend the funeral of aloved one; the young man going to be married, and the young couple ontheir honeymoon; the capitalist, the miner, the sportsman and the vastarmy of people that go to make up the traveling public, who like thesands of the desert are forever shifting around from place to place, andwith whom we porters are brought in closer contact perhaps than any oneelse on their travels. We must necessarily be good judges of humannature to be able to please the majority of the people who travel underour care. We nearly always receive a tip from those who ride with us forany distance. The size of the tip often depends on the mode of thepassenger giving it. Even those who ride with us only a short distanceoften give us a tip of more generous proportions than will the man whohas ridden with us several thousands of miles. The superintendenthimself when he rides in our car, we are sure to receive from him 25cents or 50 cents for a day or a day's ride. The smallest tip I have received from a passenger during my service was2 cents. This amount I received from a rather cranky individual, whowhen I went to brush him off handed me two copper cents and followedthem up with the remark that some of us porters needed calling down andsome needed knocking down. My opinion if what he needed caused me tosmile, wherein he wanted to know what I was smiling at. Needless to sayI did not feel like wasting any more breath on him so I bundled hisboxes and satchel out on the platform and left him to follow at hisleisure. The largest tips I ever received from a single traveler was $25. 00 givenme by one of the Rothschilds whom I brought from Chicago to Frisco, butthis has been largely surpassed several times in car tips or trips. TheKnights Templar one of whose cars I had charge of between Denver andBoston made, up a purse of $150. 00 and presented it to me with thecompliments of the passengers in recognition of the good service I hadrendered them. While in charge of the private car of General ManagerFisher in a trip through California and Mexico, Mr. Fisher made up apurse of $75. 00 for me, in recognition of my attentions to the membersof his party. But the man who gave me 5 cents received as much attentionfrom me as the man who gives me $5. 00. It is perhaps all he can affordand the manner in which he gives it often makes up for the smallness ofthe tip. CHAPTER XIX. THE PULLMAN SLEEPING CAR. LONG TRIPS ON THE RAIL. THE WRECK. ONE TOUCHOF NATURE MAKES THE WHOLE WORLD KIN. A FEW OF THE RAILROADS OVER WHICH IHAVE TRAVELED. THE INVALID AND THE CARE WE GIVE THEM. The modern Pullman sleeping car is a veritable palace on wheelsfurnished in the best materials, without regard to expense, comfort, convenience and the safety of the passengers being the main object. Tosay that the builders of the Pullman cars have succeeded in attainingthis object is but a mild expression. Fine carpets cover the floors, theseats and chairs are upholstered in the best and softest of material, while every convenience is provided for the use of the lucky mortal whois called across the continent on business or pleasure, and whosepleasure it is to travel and sleep in the Pullman sleeping car of thepresent day. The traveler of today when he has to go from Chicago to SanFrancisco, simply throws a few things in a grip, is driven to the Unionterminal station in Chicago, where he secures a through ticket and asleeping car berth. At the car steps he is met by the Pullman porter whorelieves him of his grip and assists him on the train if necessary. Fromthat time until four days later when he arrives in San Francisco, he hasno more care. If he wishes to write letters there is a handy writingtablet with stationery and everything needful. He can write his lettersand hand them to the porter to mail and continue his perusal of themorning paper. If he gets hungry he has but to step in the dining car, where he will find viands fit for a king. If he wants a shave or ahaircut, the barber is in the next car. If he wants to view the sceneryen route, the observation car is but a few steps away. When he getssleepy and wishes to retire he presses the electric button at his elbowand the porter will do the rest, but if he prefers to lay in hisluxurious bed and read, he has but to turn on the electric light at hisbedside and he can read as long as he pleases, and when he arrives atSan Francisco he will be cleanly shaven, nicely brushed, with his shoesfreshly shined, and on the outside of a good breakfast, ready to tackleat once the business or the pleasure that brought him across thecontinent. Or, if the traveler prefers, he may swing aboard themagnificently equipped and royally appointed Los Angeles Limited, one ofthe finest through trains that this mundane sphere can boast. Catch thistrain in Chicago, which you may do any day in the year, and it willcarry you with safety, speed and comfort over the fertile farms, meadowsand plains; through the City of the Saints on the second day; thenaround the Great Dead Sea of America, over the sage brush plains andgrazing ranges of southern Nevada, and into the Land of Sunshine andFlowers and the City of the Angels on the third day after leaving yourhome in Chicago. What a contrast to the mode of travel our grandfathers were forced toadopt, a decade ago, when the old ox team and the prairie schoonerwended its slow way over the mountains and plains, over trails in everyturn of which lurked danger and death. "Verily the sun do move. " Duringmy service with the Pullman company I have traveled from the Atlantic tothe Pacific and from the Gulf of Mexico to the borders of Canada, overnearly all the many different lines of railroad that makes the map ofNorth America look like a spider had been crawling over it in search ofa fly. I have visited all the principal cities and towns where the soundof the bell and the whistle is heard, and I have in a great measuresatisfied my desire to see the country. Among the great lines of railwayover which I have traveled are the Union Pacific, whose overlandlimited, the Atlantic Express and the Portland-Chicago Special, are theacme of quick, safe and comfortable travel. The overland limited iselectric lighted, steam heated and contains every known luxury andconvenience of travel. The Denver and Rio Grande Railroad is noted theworld over for its quick time, fine scenery, comfort and safety. TheSouthern Pacific, the Baltimore & Ohio Southwestern, the MissouriPacific between St. Louis and all points east all electric lightedtrains with observation, parlor, cafe dining cars and Pullman sleepingcars; the Chicago & Northwestern, whose through train service to Chicagoand the East from San Francisco, Los Angeles, Portland, Salt Lake, Ogdenand Denver is not excelled in any land; the Illinois Central Railroad, whose eight track entrance to Chicago from the south along the lakefront is one of the triumphs of Yankee railroading, and whose trainservice is elegant in the extreme. The Pennsylvania lines which willtake you from Chicago to New York in eighteen hours and make you feelthoroughly comfortable while doing it. The Louisville and NashvilleRailroad, whose lines reach every town and hamlet in the solid South. The Nickel Plate road, the direct line from Chicago to New York, Bostonand all points east, all trains of the Nickel Plate road arrive anddepart from the new LaSalle Street station, one of the finest railroadstations in the country. The Santa Fe, from whose trains you can viewsome of the finest scenery in the Rocky Mountains, including the GrandCanyon of Arizona, a mile deep, thirteen miles wide, two hundred andseventeen miles long and painted like a flower. The Lehigh ValleyRailroad to Chicago, New York and Philadelphia, from whose car windowsone may view the world-famous Niagara Falls. The Colorado & Southern, the Colorado road over which travel is one continuous delight. The SanPedro, Los Angeles and Salt Lake Railroad, one of the youngest but by nomeans the least of railroads, the road that lies as straight as the crowflies, linking together the City of the "Saints" and the City of the"Angels. " The snow-capped Rocky Mountains and the sun-kissed shores ofthe Pacific Ocean, the dead sea and the live sea; the railroad thatmakes it possible to have a sleigh ride with your second wife in theCity of the "Saints" on Sunday and pick flowers and eat oranges withyour first wife in the City of the "Angels" on Tuesday. Over this line Iam running at present, and while it has only been in operation a shorttime, yet the time and service equals and in some cases surpasses thetime and service of the great Trunk Lines of the east. We often makeninety miles an hour over the standard gauge roadbed, that equals any inthis country. The cars are all new, the engines are the latestup-to-date kind. The cars are built for comfort and convenience, thetrains are all electric lighted, steam heated and have every modernconvenience for the safety and comfort of the passengers. This road, incommon with some of the eastern roads employs chair car porters inaddition to the Pullman porters. On all trains from Salt Lake to LosAngeles there are three or four Pullman porters and one chair carporter. All trains have dining cars, which are in reality magnificent diningrooms, where three times a day the dainties of the season are preparedby a competent chef to satisfy the most discriminating inner man. Thefurnishings of these cars, the fine linen, the artistic glass, china andsilverware, are guaranteed to make you enjoy your meal, even if you havegot dyspepsia. Besides the dining car and the Pullman sleeping cars, there is attached to all overland trains on the Salt Lake route, athrough tourist sleeper, which differs from the Pullman sleeper only ina slight difference in the furnishings. The service is the same, but thecost of a berth in them between Salt Lake and Los Angeles is justone-half that of the standard sleeper. I have never run on a road wherebetter service, more courteous treatment or better time was made than onthe S. P. , L. A. & S. L. Railroad. In these latter years, when progress is the watchword of the railroadsin common with the other industries of the country, no expense or painsare spared by the railroad people to add to the comfort, enjoyments, safety and convenience of the traveling public, until now it is about assafe to travel as it is to stay at home, and not much if any moreexpensive. But in spite of all safeguards adopted by the railroads awreck occurs once in a while the same as accidents occur at home. The first wreck I was in the train struck a split switch with the resultthat the cars turned over and piled up in a ditch. That happened inColorado. We were forced to crawl out through the windows, like aprairie dog out of his hole. No one was killed but the passengers wereall pretty well shaken up and somewhat scared. As soon as the cars gotcomfortably piled up and the passengers were able to speak they allcommenced yelling for the porter. But at that particular moment theporter was busy rubbing his shins and assuring himself there was nothingto be scared about. The passengers at such times are apt to forget thatthe porter is as scared as they are, and has forgotten all about tipsand such commonplace matters as that, but after he gets his wits abouthim he loses no time in looking after his flock, and renderingassistance to such of his passengers as need it, and most of them doneed assistance of some kind if for no other reason than to be assuredthat they are not hurt. The Pullman porter of today must be a veryversatile sort of a person, he must have plenty of patience, be a goodjudge of human nature, quick, kind and observant. Many are the times agouty and crusty passenger has traveled in my car, who was in such a badhumor that it was next to impossible to please him, yet before he hadridden a hundred miles with me, I had him in good humor and laughingwith the rest of the passengers. "Laugh and the whole world laughs withyou. " It is by no means an uncommon thing for us porters to be called upon toturn nurse for sick or invalid passengers in our car, and often have Iwatched by the bedside of a sick passenger, feeding him, giving himmedicine, bathing him and in fact becoming for the time being a hospitalnurse, and many are the blessings I have received from my sickpassengers, both men and women, whose pain I have eased, and their lastmoments on earth I have cheered. And this, dear reader, we do in thename of humanity and not in the name of tips. CHAPTER XX. THE TOURIST SLEEPING CAR. THE CHAIR CAR. THE SAFEGUARDS OF MODERNRAILROADING. SEE AMERICA, THEN LET YOUR CHEST SWELL WITH PRIDE THAT YOUARE AN AMERICAN. The Pullman tourist sleeping car, which you can find on all throughtrains of the different railroads throughout the United States, are tothe traveler of moderate means what the Pullman car is to themillionaire traveler. They are designed for the comfort and convenienceof the traveling public to whom the expenditure of a dollar more or lessis a matter of moment, and who cannot afford or do not care for thesmall extra show and tinsel of the Pullman sleeping car, but whose onlydesire is to make their journey pleasant, comfortable and safe. Thisthey can do as well in the tourist as in the standard sleeping car. There is a difference in price that will amount to a tidy sum in a longtrip across the continent, but that fact does not always appeal to thetraveling public, as I have had the poorest of passengers in the palacecar and at other times a millionaire and his family would be mypassengers in the tourist cars. It seems to me a matter of fact and onewhich my long experience seems to verify, that the American travelerdoes not care so much about his comfort as his ability to get there, asthe average American traveler is always in a hurry and in nine cases outof ten, he is thinking more about the speed of the train than he isabout his immediate surroundings or the price he had paid for histicket. The railroads, knowing this, have made and are continuallymaking every effort to add to the speed and safety of their trains, buttraveling long distances is a tiresome matter at the best and for thatreason the railroads are continually making improvements with a view toadd to the comfort, convenience and pleasure of the traveler, and in ajourney such as one from Chicago to Los Angeles, for instance, there isno time to stop for meals and such trivial matters as a shave, as timeis money lost to most of the passengers and to the railroad companyalso. For that reason the sleeping car is provided that you may sleepwith as much comfort as if you were in your own home, the dining car isprovided to furnish you a good meal on the fly and at a price that allcan afford. The library and drawing room cars are provided, where youcan make yourself as comfortable as you can in your own house. Theporter will get your morning paper, furnish you with writing materialsor your morning high ball, and look after you like a hen after herbrood. But on all railroads there are rules governing the passengers as well asthe employees, the same as there are in all lines of business. Apassenger may not, for instance, smoke in the body of the Pullman car, but must retire to the drawing room or his stateroom. As an instance inpoint, I had J. J. Corbett for a passenger in my car between Ogden andChicago, a gentleman who was at that time in the height of his careerand naturally thought he owned the earth or a large part of it, at anyrate he came in the sleeper from the dining car, lit a cigar, proppedhis feet upon the opposite seat and prepared for a comfortable smoke. But it was against the rules to smoke in that part of the car, so Iapproached him and politely requested him not to smoke in that part ofthe car. He regarded me a few moments and with a sneer said, "So you areMr. Pullman, are you?" I told him I was not Mr. Pullman, but I was incharge of one of Mr. Pullman's cars, and for that reason I was arepresentative of Mr. Pullman, and that it was strictly against therules to smoke in that part of the car, and that if he wished to smokehe would have to go to the drawing room. He went, but the sleeping carconductor, who had watched the incident, told me I had better look outor Corbett would have my scalp. I told the conductor I was not scaredand that if Corbett hadn't gotten out I would have thrown him out, allof which I meant, but the conductor shook his head and said to look out. Sure enough the matter was reported to the superintendent, but thatofficial on hearing the facts in the matter said I had done perfectlyright, and what I was paid to do. It is necessary that all passengers as well as all employees shallobserve the rules of the company, for the benefit, safety and enjoymentof all the passengers and employees alike. All the railroad men I have met from the president down have all provedthemselves jolly good fellows, kind, considerate and always ready torender assistance and service to those in need, but at the same timethey are strict about the rules and discipline. Thoroughly understandingtheir business themselves, they insist on the beginner obeyinginstructions and the laws of the road, because on that depends the livesof hundreds of people, and the value of thousands of dollars worth ofproperty, and for the same reason they are expending thousands ofdollars annually in new appliances, inventions and equipment, that willadd to the saving of time or insure the safety of the traveler. Amongthe new inventions adopted by the modern railroads are the "Block"System, which makes collisions between two trains approaching each otheron the same track almost an impossibility if the engineer is awake andattentive to business. Under this system when the trains approach acertain distance of each other a bell is rung in the cab of eachlocomotive simultaneously, and will continue to ring until the danger isover. This with the powerful electric headlights now used, with whichthe roadbed is lit up for a distance of five miles, makes a head-oncollision almost impossible, while the air brakes, heavy rails, solidroadbed, doing away with the sharp curves and heavy grades, all add tothe safety of the passengers and the saving of many miles in travel andmany precious moments. It has always seemed strange to me that so manyAmericans rush off to Europe and foreign countries every year in searchof health and pleasure, or to climb the Alps in Switzerland, and to viewthe scenery of the old world, when our own North America, the new world, offers so many better opportunities to study Dame Nature in all herphases, and I always say to the traveling American, "See America. " Howmany of you have done so? Only those who have seen this grand countryof ours can justly appreciate the grandeur of our mountains and rivers, valley and plain, canyon and gorge, lakes and springs, cities and towns, the grand evidences of God's handiwork scattered all over this fair landover which waves the stars and stripes. Go to New York and view the tallbuildings, the Brooklyn bridge, the subway, study the works of art to befound there, both in statuary and painting, ponder on the vast volume ofcommerce carried on with the outside world. Note the many differentstyles of architecture displayed in the palace of the millionaire andthe house of the humble tradesman, view the magnificent Hudson river andthe country homes along its grassy, tree-lined shores, note the shipsfrom every clime riding at anchor in the East river. Then speculate onthe changes that have been wrought in the course of the short time sinceManhattan Island was purchased from the Indians by Pete Minuts for a fewblankets and beads amounting in value to $24. 00. Then board thePennsylvania Limited, whose trains are the acme of modern railroadingand go to Washington, the nation's capital city. Walk along Pennsylvaniaavenue and note its beauty. Visit the capitol and let your chest swellout with pride that you are an American. Visit the tomb of General Grantand the thousand and one magnificent statues scattered throughout thecity. Visit Annapolis and West Point, where the leaders of the nation'snavy and army are trained. Walk over the battlefields of Fredricksburg, Gettysburg and Lexington, and let your mind speculate on the events thatmade modern history. [Illustration: This is Where I Shine. Now I am Out for the Money] Note the majestic Potomac and the Washington monument. Take a short tripnorth and see the great Niagara Falls, listen to what they tell you intheir mighty roaring voice. Go to Pittsburg where the great steel worksare located, and see how the steel pen and the steel cannon are made. Goto Chicago, that western hive of commerce. See the Great Lakes, orbetter still take a cruise on them. Note the great lumber industry ofMichigan, and the traffic of the lakes. Go to Kansas City and Omaha andsee the transformation of the Texas steer into the corned beef you ateat your last picnic, or was it chipped beef? See the immense stockyards with their thousands of cattle, hogs and sheep, and think of thethousands of people that they feed. Cross the Missouri river and enteron the plains of the great and recently unknown west. Think of thepioneer who in 1849 traversed these once barren stretches of prairie, walking beside his slow-moving ox team, seeking the promised land, breaking a trail for the generations that were to come after him as youare coming now in a Pullman car. Think of the dangers that beset him onevery hand, then wonder at the nerve he had, then again let your chestswell with pride that you are an American, sprung from the same stockthat men were composed of in those days. Note the grandeur of the RockyMountains as they rise from the plains, their peaks snow-capped, glistening in clear blue sky, breathe the pure essence of life, drink ofthe crystal streams twinkling down their sides, then scorn the wine madeby man. Listen to the salute of the bells and the whistles as the trainsapproach and pass that strange monument of nature's handiwork, the Mountof the Holy Cross. Go to the Yellowstone National Park and revel in the wonders thereof, walk in the garden of the Gods and listen to the voice of the GiantGeyser as it sends forth its torrents of boiling water. Bathe in thelife-giving springs and mud baths. Note the fantastic forms of the rocksand trees, carved by the hand of nature, then go to Colorado Springs andclimb Pikes Peak and behold the world stretch out before you in valley, mountain and plain. Visit the mines of Leadville and Cripple Creek, thestore houses of a part of the nation's wealth. Visit Denver and see thestrides made in the improvement of the west in a short time. Board theDenver & Rio Grande train and note the magnificent scenery of mountain, canyons, gorges and the beautiful mountain lakes and streams, note theGrand Canyon of the Colorado, the royal gorge. Now note the great whiteexpanse of the great Salt Lake, as it lies glistening in the rays of thesetting sun, and think of the stories you have heard of it until theconductor brings you back to earth with the cry of "Ogden. " Note this bustling railroad center in the heart of the Rocky mountains, and acknowledge our country's greatness. Visit Salt Lake City, the "Cityof Zion, " the Canaan of the new world. See the beautiful city nestlingwithin the protection of the Warsatch and Oquirrh range of mountains. Walk its wide tree-lined streets, visit the tabernacle and hear thesweet strains of the world's greatest organs. See the Mormon temple. Visit Saltair and sport in the waves of the briny sea. Board the SanPedro, Los Angeles and Salt Lake westbound train and cross the end ofthis same lake, one of nature's wonders. Cross the desert of Nevada, which was only a short time ago a desertwaste, on and on until you smell the orange blossoms of sunnyCalifornia, and the train emerges from the mountains and brings intoview the grand Pacific Ocean. See the big trees of California, the sealsand the scenery of the Yosemite valley. Visit the orange groves and thevineyards, and partake of the orange and the grape. Visit CatalinaIsland in the Pacific Ocean, and try a couple of hours fishing in itswaters. Then take the Southern Pacific and return to New York by way ofArizona, New Mexico, Texas, New Orleans, Florida and other southernstates. Then again let your chest swell with pride that you are anAmerican. I think you will agree with me that this grand country of ours is thepeer of any in the world, and that volumes cannot begin to tell of thewonders of it. Then after taking such a trip you will say with me, "SeeAmerica. " I have seen a large part of America, and am still seeing it, but the life of a hundred years would be all too short to see ourcountry. America, I love thee, Sweet land of Liberty, home of the braveand the free. CHAPTER XXI. A FEW OF THE RAILROAD MEN UNDER WHOM I HAVE SERVED. GEORGE M. PULLMAN. THE TOWN OF PULLMAN, ILL. AMERICAN RAILROADS LEAD THE WORLD. A FEWFIGURES. Among the large number of railroad men I have served under and workedwith during the fifteen years I have been on the road it gives mepleasure to recall the names of a few with whom I was more intimatelyacquainted and to whom I am indebted for many favors given andcourtesies extended, and the pleasant duty devolves on me to mention thealways courteous, obliging and most competent head of the Pullmandepartment in Denver, Mr. Runnells, and his assistant, Mr. Wright, whosent me out on my first run in 1890. Next comes the well known name ofDistrict Superintendent J. M. Smith, who one year later sent me out onthe run that marked the beginning of my Pullman service. To Mr. Smithmore than to any other railroad man I am indebted for advice, counseland countless favors shown me while I was in the service in thedepartment over which he presided so long. I always found him courteousand obliging and never too busy to listen or to give a kind word ofadvice or counsel to all who approached him on company business or onthe private affairs of the employees of the road. I had charge of a carfor several years in his territory and many a time I have had him for apassenger and at such times he seemed more like an old friend than hedid like the superintendent of the Pullman service. I next transferred to the Ogden division. Here I met and came to knowvery well Superintendent Baker and his assistant, Johnnie Searce, and tothese two gentlemen I am also indebted for many favors shown me, as theytried in every way possible to make my employment pleasant andprofitable while I was in their territory. I was sent out on runs thatcovered the greater portions of the United States, and while on some ofmy longer runs I often started from and returned to stations indifferent districts under different superintendents, but I always lookedon Ogden as my home station and Superintendent Baker as my chief untilanother superintendent was given charge of the district and Itransferred to Salt Lake and started to run on Senator Clark's new road, the S. P. , L. A. & S. L. Road, between Salt Lake and Los Angeles, underthe superintendency of Mr. Twining and his assistant, Mr. Cotten, andthese gentlemen also during the time I have been with them have shown meevery favor and consideration, which goes far towards making my work apleasure. In this connection also I mention the names of Jim Donohue, traveling engineer; W. H. Smith, trainmaster, and P. Randoff Morris andJos. Jones, special agents, all jolly railroad men from A to Izard. During my fifteen years' service I have met and served under manydifferent superintendents and to mention the names of them all, wouldrequire a separate volume, but I will always hold them in kindlyremembrance as they all have without exception been kindness itself tome. Another old friend I have recently met on the steel road is William H. Blood, at present one of the popular conductors on the San Pedro, LosAngeles & Salt Lake Railroad. In the early seventies "Billy" was one ofthe best cowboys ranging over the western cattle country. He was with meon many of the old trails and in many a tight place, and like myself healways came out right side up with care and none the worse for wear. E. W. Gillett, at present general passenger agent of the Salt Lake road, and one of the best known and most popular railroad men of the west, isanother friend of the old days it is my pleasure to meet often now. Ifirst met him under the following circumstances. I think it was in theyear 1874 along in the fall, I had been up the trail with some cattleand was returning through Wyoming en route to Arizona. I had been ridinghard all day and as it began to get dark I sighted a small station onthe main line of the Union Pacific, and I concluded to give it apassing call out of curiosity. As I drew near I noticed severalrough-looking customers hanging around in a suspicious manner, and I atonce concluded that they were robbers there for the purpose of holdingup the station. Events immediately following proved that I was right. They had not noticed me and they proceeded to hold up the agent in truewestern style, but that they had caught a tartar was evidenced by therattle of the agent's artillery. Of course it was out of the questionfor me to miss such fun, so not waiting for an invitation I lost no timein getting my own forty-fives in active operation, and in less time thanit takes to tell it what was left of those greasers were making tracksfor the nearest state line, while a red-headed youngster with a smoking45 in his fist was shaking hands with me and trying to say somethingabout my saving his life. I took a shine to him at once on account ofhis pluck and our friendship thus begun has lasted through the yearsuntil now time and fate have thrown us both together on the same line ofrailroad. The railroad men as a class are the most jovial set of men one couldfind in any profession, well educated, broad minded, and alwaysconsiderate of others and at the same time they know their businessthoroughly, as they have to serve many years as apprentices, so tospeak, in railroading, before they are given places of trust andresponsibility, and the man who has reached the position of president orgeneral manager of a railroad system, has learned pretty much all thereis to be learned about the iron horse and the steel road, and they usethat knowledge in providing for the safety and comfort of the millionsof lives that are annually intrusted to their keeping. The general manager is responsible not only for the lives of thetraveling public, but of the army or railroad employees under him and heis supposed to know everything, and must always be prepared to do theright thing in the right place at the right time, and as in many caseslife and death depend on it, he must know how. [Illustration: The Close of My Railroad Career] A college education does not make a railroad manager, although it mayhelp to do so. He in a great measure gets his education in the school ofexperience, and in some cases it is a hard school, and the most exactingof all schools, but at the same time it is a school in which one canlearn anything under the sun, and learn it well, and in these days ofthe twentieth century's activity and progress, it is the man who knowshow to do things that makes the world move. And after boiling everythingdown there is left in the pot two undisputable facts. They are that therailroad men cause the world to move by knowing how to do things, theother is that the railroad men move the people who live in the world, thus they move things all around. And they are continually on the movethemselves, which goes to prove that they are different from many otherpeople inasmuch as they practice what they preach. And from these men ofall classes from the president down I have received courtesies and thekindest of consideration, and these pleasant associations are pleasantmemories to me and will always remain so. It was my pleasure to meet and to chat with George M. Pullman, thefather of the sleeping car, several times, and I found him to be a fineman, broad-minded in every sense of the word, always approachable andwith always a kind word for every one of the large army of his employeesthat he met on his travels, and he always tried to meet them all. It wasalso my pleasure to meet his two boys who are veritable chips of the oldblock. One of the legends connected with the western mining history is thatearly in the 60s George M. Pullman was a poor prospector and had secureda lease on a piece of mining ground in Colorado, and that he formed theidea of the sleeping car from the tiers of bunks in the miners' lodginghouse, "bunk houses" they are called. However that may be Mr. Pullmanhas been the recipient of many a blessing from the weary traveler, andthe idea, whatever it was, that led him to invent the sleeping car thathas proved such a comfort to the traveler of today, deserves to go downin history as the greatest idea that ever came from the place whereideas come from. It has been my pleasure to visit all the large shops of the Pullmancompany, including the town of Pullman, Ill. , which is a good-sizedcity, named after Mr. Pullman, and was owned by him principally, and thelarge number of men employed in his shops there. The town contains finechurches and public buildings, a splendid library and reading rooms andamusement halls. And while I was there I failed to see a single saloon. It seems such places are tabooed there. The shops are the finest in thiscountry, containing all the modern machinery of the finest kind and themen employed there are all past masters of their trades. Here are builtall the finest sleeping cars and many of the finest special cars andrailway cars seen on the railroads of this country. In addition there isalso a very large amount of repairing done. As soon as anything goeswrong with a Pullman car it is at once sent into the shops for repair, and soon comes out in apple pie order. You may see the Pullman cars allover this country where there is a steel road, and other countries havetheir eyes on the mof late, and in the near future it will be possibleto sleep in a Pullman car whether you are traveling in England, France, Sweden or China. They are a good thing and are sure to be pushed orrather pulled along. In 1893 I went to Mr. Pullman and told him I was thinking of getting theporters of the Pullman Car Company to club together and contribute fiftycents per month apiece for the purpose of investing the proceeds inland, in view of eventually owning what we would call "The Porters'Home. " Mr. Pullman told me he thought that a good idea, and said if wesucceeded in buying one thousand acres of land, he would erect us abuilding on it, and signed a statement to that effect. I then went to work and communicated with all the divisions of thePullman Company, presenting this proposition to the porters of thesedifferent districts, but only succeeded in getting about twenty-fivesubscribers, the rest of them refusing to go into such a proposition, some of them saying all I wanted was to get the money and make away withit. Inasmuch as this amount was to be sent to the main Pullman officein Chicago and I was to be there each month to see this money deposited. Others refused to go into it upon the ground that they were liable to bedischarged from the Pullman service at any time, and many other variousexcuses were offered. There were many of the Pullman conductors, however, who promised to contribute from one to five dollars toward thisenterprise when we were ready to purchase the land. My object was to have a Home and Hospital, with adjoining farming land, for the benefit of old and disabled porters who were not able to performtheir duties as Pullman car porters. Had this been accomplished at thattime, we would by now have had a large farm and a house and hospitalconnected therewith, and all the porters who are now unable to workwould have had a good home and be cared for the rest of their lives. Ihope to live long enough to yet see this plan become a reality. At present the American railway leads the world. In no other countrydoes the traveler find so much comfort, so many conveniences, so muchpleasure, safety and speed as does the dweller in this robust youngcountry belonging to our Uncle Samuel. At the present time there are inthe United States upwards of two hundred and sixty thousand miles ofrailroad open and in operation, not to mention several thousand milesnow building and projected. This immense mileage is divided between overone thousand different roads, while in 1851 there were only 149different railroads with a total mileage of 9000 miles. The railroadstoday have a capital back of them amounting to over $14, 000, 000, 000, andthey pay their employees wages that foot up over $7, 000, 000 annually, while their earnings amount to the tidy sum of $2, 500, 000, 000 in thesame length of time. They carry somewhat more than 800, 000, 000passengers every twelve months, and 2, 200, 000, 000 tons of freight. Thesefigures do not include the several million tons of trunks, sachels, grips, hat boxes and carpet bags that the average traveler considers itnecessary to load him or herself down with on starting on a journey ofany distance, and which comes in such large quantities sometimes as tomake life a burden for us porters. Read these figures again, dear reader, they are a conservative estimateof the business transacted by the railroads of this fair land of ours. You can count a million, can you count a billion? Immense, isn't it? Itseems to show that the people of this country are great travelers, forever on the move, yet they tell us this is a country of homes andthat the average American loves his home and home life above all things. These figures seem to show there are a few people who havn't any home orif they have they are looking for one they like better, which, like thewill of the wisp, evades them always, but they continue to shift around, always hopeful, never satisfied, and they will continue to shift arounduntil Gabriel blows on his little tin horn. But this class of people make but a small percentage of the travelingpublic. Business in this latter day of strife and competition makes longjourneys necessary, and as the business of the world grows apace and thecountries of the earth crowd closer together in the struggle for thealmighty dollar, there will be need of more railroads to make the globesmaller and to cut off the hours and minutes of precious time that meansmoney to the man of today. And as a man makes and saves money so will hespend it for the pleasure of himself and family, and as he must travelto find pleasure there must be railroads to carry him, and hence thesefigures I write now will look insignificant beside the magnificent totalthat will be put before the reader of that day, because if they increasein the next century as they have in the past, walking will be out offashion and every body will ride and I hope sleep in a Pullman sleepingcar. [Illustration: With Wm. Blood, My Old Cowboy Friend, and Other Friendsat the Close of My Railroad Career] CHAPTER XXII. A FEW REMINISCENCES OF THE RANGE. SOME MEN I HAVE MET. BUFFALO BILL. THEJAMES BROTHERS. YELLOWSTONE KELLEY. THE MURDER OF BUCK CANNON BY BILLWOODS. THE SUICIDE OF JACK ZIMICK. It has now been many years since I quit the range, and as my mindwanders back over those years as it often does, memories both pleasantand sad pass in review and it is but fitting that I record a few of themas a final to the history of my life which has been so full of action, which is but natural as the men of those days were men of action. Theyhad to be, and probably their actions were not all good, that I freelyadmit, but while that is so, it is equally so that their actions werenot all bad, far from it. And in the history of the frontier there isrecorded countless heroic deeds performed, deeds and actions thatrequired an iron nerve, self denial in all that these words imply, thesacrificing of one life to save the life of a stranger or a friend. Deeds that stamped the men of the western plains as men worthy to becalled men, and while not many of them would shine particularly in thepolite society of today or among the 400 of Gotham, yet they did shinebig and bright in the positions and at a time when men lived and diedfor a principle, and in the line of duty. A man who went to the far westor who claimed it as his home in the early days found there a life fardifferent from that led by the dude of Fifth Avenue. There a man's workwas to be done, and a man's life to be lived, and when death was to bemet, he met it like a man. It was among such men and surroundings that Ispent so many years of my life and there I met men some of whom arefamous now, while others never lived long enough to reach the pinnacleof fame, but their memory is held no less sacred by the men who knewthem well. Some men I met in the cattle country are now known to the world as thebaddest of bad men, yet I have seen these men perform deeds of valor, self sacrifice and kindness that would cause the deeds recorded asperformed by gentlemen in "ye olden time when knighthood was in flower"to look insignificant in comparison, and yet these men lay no claim tothe title of gentlemen. They were just plain men. It was my pleasure to meet often during the early seventies the man whois now famous in the old world and the new world, Buffalo Bill (WilliamF. Cody), cowboy, ranger, hunter, scout and showman, a man who carriedhis life in his hands day and night in the wild country where dutycalled, and has often bluffed the grim reaper Death to a standstill, andis living now, hale, hearty and famous. Others who are equally famous but in another way are the James brothers, Jesse and Frank. I met them often in the old days on the range, andbecame very well acquainted with them and many others of their band. Their names are recorded in history as the most famous robbers of thenew world, but to us cowboys of the cattle country who knew them well, they were true men, brave, kind, generous and considerate, and whilethey were robbers and bandits, yet what they took from the rich theygave to the poor. The James brothers band stole thousands of dollars;yet Jesse was a poor man when he fell a victim to the bullet of acowardly, traitorous assassin, and Frank James is a poor man today. Whatthen did they do with the thousands they stole? The answer is simple, they gave it away to those who were in need. That is why they had somany friends and the officers of the law found it so hard to capturethem. And if they were robbers, by what name are we to call some of the greattrusts, corporations and brokers, who have for years been robbing thepeople of this country, some of them, I am glad to say, are now behindprison bars, still others are even now piling up the dollars that theyhave been and are still stealing from the American people, and who onaccount of these same dollars are looked up to, respected and arehonored members of society, and the only difference between them andthe James brothers is that the James brothers stole from the rich andgave to the poor, while these respected members of society steal fromthe poor to make the rich richer, and which of them think you reader, will get the benefit of the judgment when the final day arrives and allmen appear before the great white throne in final judgment? Jessie James was a true man, a loving son and husband, true to his word, true to his principles and true to his comrads and his friends. I hadthe pleasure of meeting Frank James quite recently on the road while hewas en route to the coast with his theatrical company and enjoyed apleasant chat with him. He knew me and recalled many incidents of theold days and happenings in "no man's land. " Quite a different sort of man was Yellowstone Kelley government scout, hunter and trapper. He was one of the men who helped to make frontierhistory and open up the pathless wilds to the march of civilization. Hewas in the employ of the government as a scout and guide when I firstmet him, and thereafter during our many wanderings over the country, Iwith my cattle, he with Uncle Sam's soldiers or on a lone scout, weoften bumped up against each other, and these meetings are among mytreasured memories. He was a man who knew the country better than heknew his own mother, absolutely fearless, kind and generous to a fault. He was the sort of a man that once you meet, him you could never forgethim, and us boys who knew him well considered him the chief of all thegovernment scouts of that day. I also had the pleasure of meeting KitCarson in Arizona and nearly all the government scouts, hunters andtrappers of the western country, and they can all be described in onesentence, they were men whom it was a pleasure and an honor to know. "Billie the Kid" was another sort of a man and there has never beenanother man like him and I don't think there ever will be again. Writersclaim that he was a man all bad. This I doubt as I knew him well and Ihave known him to do deeds of kindness. He had many traits that go tomake a good man, but fate and circumstances were against the kid, yet Iknow he always remembered a kindness done him and he never forgave anenemy. I have rode by his side many a long mile, and it is hard tobelieve he was as bad as he is pictured to be, but the facts are againsthim, and when his career was ended by the bullet from Sheriff Garrett'scolt, the world was better off, likewise were some men who stood inmortal fear of the kid, and I suppose they had good reason to be afraidas the kid always kept his word. During my employment with the Duval outfit and Pete Gallingan I oftenmade trips on the trail with herds of cattle and horses belonging toother ranch owners, and on these trips many incidents occurred, amusingand sad. The following incident happened in the fall of 1878, when Iwent up the trail with the half circle box brand outfit, belonging toArthur Gorman and company. We had a small herd of horses to take to Dodge City, where we arrivedafter an uneventful trip, and after disposing of the horses we startedout to do the town as usual. But in this we met an unexpected snag. Ourbookkeeper, Jack Zimick, got into a poker game and lost all the money hehad to pay the cowboys off with, which amounted to about two thousanddollars, and also about the same amount of the boss' money. The boys hadabout one and a half years' wages coming to them, and consequently theywere in a rather bad humor when they heard this bit of news. They atonce got after Zimick so hard that he took me and went to Kinsely, Kas. , where Mr. Gorman was. Arriving there he went to the Smith saloon to geta room, as Smith ran a rooming house over his saloon, and it was thecustom for all the cattle men to make it their headquarters when in thecity. Here he met Mr. Gorman, and we were sitting around the room andZimick had only told Mr. Gorman a few things, when all of a suddenZimick drew his 45 colt revolver remarking as he did so, "Here is thelast of Jack Zimick. " He placed the gun to his head and before we couldreach him he pulled the trigger, and his brains were scattered all overthe room. They arrested Mr. Gorman and myself and held up for a short time untilthings could be explained. Mr. Gorman was very much overcome by the act, as Jack was one of his best men, and had been with him a long time. Mr. Gorman had the body sent to Zimick's friends in Boston, and hepersonally paid off all the boys, taking the money out of his own pocketto do so, but when the boys heard of Jack's rash deed they said theywould rather have lost every dollar they had, rather than have had Jackkill himself, as he was a favorite among all the cowboys, especially soamong those in Mr. Gorman's employ. Zimick had been in the employ ofGorman and company for over ten years and he was Mr. Gorman's right handman, and this was the first time he ever went wrong. Jack did not havethe nerve to face his comrades again, and so I suppose he concluded thathis colt 45 was the only friend he had to help him out of it. In May 1882, I was in Durango, Colorado, and chanced to be in a saloonon Main street where a lot of us boys were together, among them beingBuck Cannon and Bill Woods. The drinks had been circulating aroundpretty freely when Cannon and Woods got into a dispute over Cannon'sniece, to whom Woods had been paying attention, much against that younglady's wish. After some hot words between the men, Woods drew his 45colt revolver, remarking as he did so, "I will kill you, " and in raisingit his finger must have slipped, as his gun went off and the bullet hita glass of beer in the hand of a man who was in the act of raising it tohis lips, scattering the broken glass all over the room, then passingthrough the ceiling of the saloon. In an instant Woods threw threebullets into Cannon, remarking as he did so, "I will kill you, for yourniece is my heart's delight and I will die for her. " Buck Cannon's dyingwords were, "Boys, don't let a good man die with his boots on. " Along in the spring of 1879 we sent to Dodge City, Kansas, with a herdof cattle for the market and after they were disposed of, we boys turnedour attention to the search of amusement. Some of the boys made for thenearest saloon and card table, but I heard there was to be a dance atBill Smith's dance hall and in company with some of the other boysdecided to attend. There was always quite a large number of cowboys inDodge City at this time of the year, so we were not surprised to findthe dance hall crowded on our arrival there. Smith's place occupied alarge, low frame building down by the railroad tracks on the south. Wefound many old acquaintances there, among them being Kiowa Bill, acolored cattle man and ranch owner of Kansas, whose ranch was on Kiowacreek. I had met him several times but this was the first time I hadseen him in a couple of years, but as he was dancing with a young lady Icould not get to speak with him at once. So I looked up a wall flowerand proceeded to enjoy myself. We had not been dancing long when Ibecame aware of a commotion over near the bar, and all eyes were turnedin that direction. I soon ascertained the cause of the commotion to be adispute between Kiowa Bill and Bill Smith, the proprietor of the place, who was behind the bar. Kiowa Bill, after finishing the dance with hisfair partner, took her to the bar to treat her. Smith, who was tendingbar refused to serve her saying she had enough already. Kiowa Bill toldSmith he (Kiowa Bill) was paying for what she wanted to drink and thathe wanted her to get what she wanted. Smith said no, she could not haveanything more to drink as she had too much already. At this Kiowa Billreached over the bar and struck Smith over the head with a whiskeybottle, partly stunning him, but he recovered in an instant and grabbedhis 45 Colt, Kiowa Bill doing the same and both guns spoke as one. Smithfell dead behind the bar with a bullet through his heart. Kiowa Billrolled against the bar and slowly sank to the floor and was dead when wereached him. The next day they were hauled to the cemetery, laying side by side inthe same wagon, and were buried side by side in the same grave. KiowaBill had made his will a short time before and it was found on his bodywhen he was killed. I had known Kiowa Bill for several years and was present at a shootingscrape he had two years before, down in Texas, near the Arizona line. Atone of the big round ups there, in 1877, myself and quite a crowd of theother boys were in camp eating our dinner when Kiowa Bill rode up. Hehad been looking after his own cattle as he owned over two thousand headhimself. One of the boys in our party who did not like Bill, there beinga feud between them for sometime, on noticing Bill approaching, remarked, "If that fellow comes here I will rope him. " True to his wordas Bill rode up, the cowboy threw his lariat. Kiowa Bill, seeing themovement, threw the rope off at the same time springing down on theopposite side of his horse. [Illustration: With the General Securities Company] The cowboy, enraged at his failure to rope Bill, shouted, "I will fightyou from the point of a jack knife, to the point of a 45, " at the sametime reaching for his 45 which was in the holster on his saddle, whichwas lying on the ground a short distance away. At that Kiowa Bill fired, striking the cowboy in the neck, breaking it. Bill then sprang in thesaddle and put spurs to his horse in an effort to get away. Several of the cowboys commenced shooting after Bill who returned thefire. One of the cowboys, squatting down and holding his 45 with bothhands, in an effort to get a better aim on Bill, received a bullet inthe leg from Bill's revolver that knocked him over backwards, and causedhim to turn a couple of somersaults. Bill got away and went to New York. He was later arrested in St. Louis and brought back. At his trial hewent free as it was shown that he killed the cowboy in self-defense. Andhis appearance at the dance was the first time I had seen him since thescrape in Texas. Kiowa Bill was of a peaceful disposition and always refrained frombothering with others, but if others bothered with him they were liableto get killed as Kiowa Bill allowed no one to monkey with him. Such waslife on the western ranges when I rode them, and such were my comradesand surroundings; humor and tragedy. In the midst of life we were indeath, but above all shown the universal manhood. The wild and freelife. The boundless plains. The countless thousands of long horn steers, the wild fleet footed mustangs. The buffalo and other game, the Indians, the delight of living, and the fights against death that caused everynerve to tingle, and the every day communion with men, whose minds wereas broad as the plains they roamed, and whose creed was every man forhimself and every friend for each other, and with each other till theend. Another friend of the old times is Chas. R. Campbell, superintendent ofthe Kelso mines. Chats with these good whole-souled people of the cattlerange bring back reminiscences of the past that would fill volumes butspace and time in these days of hustle and bustle are but dreams and theworld is full of them now. I am at the present time connected with the General Securities Companyin Los Angeles. Mr. A. A. C. Ames is president; Mr. James O. Butler, vice-president; Mr. Jacob E. Meyer, secretary, and Mr. Geo. W. Bishop, treasurer. These gentlemen are always extremely kind to me and theappreciation I feel for the kindnesses shown me will be fully rewarded. As I stop to ponder over the days of old so full of adventure andexcitement, health and happiness, love and sorrow, isn't it a wonderthat some of us are alive to tell the tale. One moment we are rejoicingthat we are alive; the next we are so near the jaws of death that itseems it would be almost a miracle that our lives be saved. Life today on the cattle range is almost another epoch. Laws have beenenacted in New Mexico and Arizona which forbid all the old-time sportsand the cowboy is almost a being of the past. But, I, Nat Love, now inmy 54th year, hale hearty and happy, will ever cherish a fond and lovingfeeling for the old days on the range, its exciting adventures, goodhorses, good and bad men, long venturesome rides, Indian fights and lastbut foremost the friends I have made and friends I have gained. FINIS * * * * * +----------------------------------------------------------------+|Transcriber's note: The image source for this ebook was a modern||facsimile edition. |+----------------------------------------------------------------+