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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/39777-h.zip b/39777-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c44d66e --- /dev/null +++ b/39777-h.zip diff --git a/39777-h/39777-h.htm b/39777-h/39777-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..277dc17 --- /dev/null +++ b/39777-h/39777-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3982 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Cowboy Life on The Sidetrack, by Frank Benton. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} +.p6 {margin-top: 6em;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 1em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-bottom: + 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Cowboy Life on the Sidetrack, by Frank Benton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Cowboy Life on the Sidetrack + Being an Extremely Humorous & Sarcastic Story of the Trials + & Tribulations Endured by a Party of Stockmen Making a + Shipment from the West to the East. + +Author: Frank Benton + +Illustrator: E. A. Filleau + +Release Date: May 24, 2012 [EBook #39777] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COWBOY LIFE ON THE SIDETRACK *** + + + + +Produced by Annie R. McGuire. This book was produced from +scanned images of public domain material from the Internet +Archive. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 406px;"> +<img src="images/ill_001.jpg" width="406" height="600" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>Cowboy Life on</h2> + +<h2>The Sidetrack</h2> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p class="center">Being an Extremely Humorous and Sarcastic</p> + +<p class="center">Story of the Trials and Tribulations</p> + +<p class="center">Endured by a Party of Stockmen</p> + +<p class="center">Making a Shipment from the</p> + +<p class="center">West to the East.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<h3>By FRANK BENTON,</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Cheyenne, Wyo</span>.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<h3>ILLUSTRATED BY E. A. FILLEAU,</h3> + +<p class="center">KANSAS CITY, MO.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<h4>DENVER, COLO.:</h4> + +<h4>THE WESTERN STORIES SYNDICATE.</h4> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h4><a name="Copyright_1903" id="Copyright_1903">Copyright, 1903,</a></h4> + +<h4>By FRANK BENTON.</h4> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p class="center">Press of</p> + +<p class="center">Hudson-Kimberly Publishing Company</p> + +<p class="center">Kansas City, Mo.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>DEDICATION.</h2> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">For justice no shipper e'er asked in vain</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">From George H. Crosby or C. J. Lane.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">We go to them, as to our dad,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">When on their road our run is bad,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">And when we think the freight too large</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">Ask them to rebate the overcharge.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">No matter which road you give your freight,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">To both these friends, this book I dedicate.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 34em;">F. B.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 319px;"> +<img src="images/ill_002.jpg" width="319" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption"><i>The Author Waiting for the Train to Start.</i></span> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">Chapter I.—The Start</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">Chapter II.—Chuckwagon's Dream</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">Chapter III.—Grazing the Sheep</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">Chapter IV.—Letters from Home Brought by Immigrants</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">Chapter V.—Eatumup Jake's Life Story</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">Chapter VI.—The Schoolmarm's Saddle Horse</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">Chapter VII.—Selling Cattle on the Range</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">Chapter VIII.—True Snake Stories</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">Chapter IX.—Chuckwagon's Death</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">Chapter X.—Disappearance of the Sheepmen</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">Chapter XI.—Our Arrival in Cheyenne</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">Chapter XII.—The Post-Hole Digger's Ghost</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">Chapter XIII.—Grafting</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">Chapter XIV.—The File</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">Chapter XV.—The Cattle Stampede</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">Chapter XVI.—Catching a Maverick</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">Chapter XVII.—Stealing Crazy Head's War Ponies</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">Chapter XVIII.—The Cattle Queen's Ghost</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">Chapter XIX.—Packsaddle Jack's Death</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">Chapter XX.—A Cowboy Enoch Arden</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">Chapter XXI.—Grand Island</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">Chapter XXII.—"Sarer"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">Chapter XXIII.—Arrival at South Omaha Transfer</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">Chapter XXIV.—The Final Roundup</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>PREFACE.</h2> + +<p>To the readers of this little booklet: I wish to say that while some +things in the story seem over-drawn, yet I have endeavored to write it +entirely from a cowboy standpoint.</p> + +<p>To the sheepmen of the West: I want to say that I couldn't have written +this story true to the cowboys' character without making a great many +reflections on sheepmen, and I want to tender my apologies in advance +for anything they may consider offensive, as some of my old-time and +dearest friends in the West are among the large sheep owners. But I have +been a cowboy and worked with the cowboys for thirty-two years, and have +written the things set down here just as they came from the cowboys' +lips on a stock train as we were waiting on sidetracks. The names of the +cowboys used are the actual nicknames of cowpunchers whom I worked with +on Wyoming ranges twenty years ago, and will be recognized by lots of +old-timers.</p> + +<p>The statement has been frequently made by newspapers that this volume +was written as a roast on the Union Pacific railroad. I wish to correct +that impression by saying that I selected that road for the groundwork +of this story to give them a good advertisement free in requital for the +many courtesies extended to me in times past by the officials of the +road, for whom I have the warmest friendship.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 34em;">THE AUTHOR.</span><br /> +</p><hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a></h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">The Start</span>.</h3> + +<p>I met a man from Utah the other day by the name of Joe Smith, and he +gave me quite an interesting history of his shipping some cattle to +market over the great Overland route from Utah to South Omaha. I shall +tell it in his own language. He said:</p> + +<p>I don't want to misstate anything, and I don't want to exaggerate +anything, but will tell you the plain facts.</p> + +<p>When I and my neighbors, old Chuckwagon, Packsaddle Jack, Eatumup Jake +and Dillbery Ike got into the ranch with a drive of cattle we found that +three railroad live stock agents, two representatives of the union +stockyards and five commission house drummers had been staying at the +ranch for a week waiting to get our shipment. Each one took each of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> us +aside and gave us a dirty private as to what they would do for us. Every +one of the commission house drummers said their house was second last +month in number of cars of live stock in their market and they were +looking for them to be first this month; said their salesmen always beat +the other firms 10 cents a hundred on even splits, and their yardmen +always got the best fill on the cattle. We went off by ourselves to talk +it over and make up our minds which firm to ship to. Packsaddle Jack<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +said it was remarkable that they all told the same story, said it was +confusing as nary one of them had mentioned a point but what all the +rest had coppered the same bet. Dillbery Ike gave it as his opinion that +they were the bummest lot of liars he ever see. Old Chuckwagon and +Eatumup Jake now compared notes and discovered that all the drummers +were out of whiskey, but each drummer claimed the other dead beats had +drank his up. Old Chuckwagon took a blue down-hearted fit of melancholy +on seeing they was all out of whiskey and wouldn't decide on any of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +them. Eatumup Jake just chewed a piece of dried rawhide and wouldn't +talk. Packsaddle Jack and me finally decided to bill the cattle to +ourselves till we got some further light on the subject.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/ill_003.jpg" width="600" height="363" alt="" /> +<span class="caption"><i>Scott Davis Leaving to Order the Cars, and to Grease and Sand Them.</i></span> +</div> + +<p>As the great Overland agent agreed that his road would run us all the +way to market at the rate of forty miles an hour and the other live +stock agents couldn't promise only thirty-five miles an hour, we gave +the shipment to the Overland. The Overland agent went right into town to +have the cars greased and sanded ready to start. We followed in with the +cattle. It took us about seven days to drive the cattle in, and when we +got there the cars were coming—but hadn't arrived. We waited around +nine days, grazing the steers on sage brush in daytime and penning them +nights till they got so thin we had about concluded to drive back and +keep them for another year, when the cars came. It seemed the railroad +had got them pretty near out to us once, but had run short of tonnage +cars, so just had to haul them back and forth several times over one +division to make up their tonnage for the trains. This was very annoying +to the railroad men as well as ourselves, but they had their orders to +not let any California fruit spoil on the road and to haul their +tonnage, so just had to use these stock cars. It seems Harriman and Hill +and J. P. Morgan and all the other boys who own the western railroads +are very particular about every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> train hauling its full tonnage, and I +heard there was places they had a lot of scrap iron close to the track, +so if the train was short a ton or so they could load it on, haul it to +some place where there was some freight to take the place of it, and +then unload it for trains going the other way that were short on +tonnage.</p> + +<p>Finally we got the cattle loaded and our contract signed. Got a basket +of grub, as we were informed there would be no time to get meals on the +road. It is to this basket of grub that we all owe our lives to-day, so +I will give a partial description of the contents. First, we had four +dozen bottles of beer; next, eight quarts of old rye whiskey; next, two +corkscrews, a hard boiled egg, a sandwich without any meat in it and a +bottle of mustard, as Dillbery Ike said he always wanted mustard. +Eatumup Jake was for getting a can of tomatoes, but old Chuckwagon said +he never had been empty of canned tomatoes in twenty years and wanted +one chance to get them out his system.</p> + +<p>Well, we got on the way-car, were hitched on to the cattle train and off +at last for the first sidetrack, which was a quarter of a mile from the +stockyards.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> The conductor said we would start right away soon as he got +his orders, so Chuckwagon proposed we open the lunch, which meeting with +direct approval from the entire party, we proceeded to consume a large +section of it, and then went to sleep. When we woke up the sun was +sinking in the east, at least I maintained it was east, but Packsaddle +Jack said it was in the north. Anyway we argued till it sunk, and never +did agree. But we found we were on the same old sidetrack, and as our +lunch was about gone we made up a jackpot and sent Dillbery Ike after +more lunch. Packsaddle Jack went up and interviewed the agent in the +meantime, as he was the only one left in the party who was on speaking +terms with that functionary, and found out they were holding us there +for the arrival of eight cars of sheep that was expected to come by +trail from Idaho. These sheep belong to Rambolet Bill and old Cottswool +Canvasback, and these two gentlemen had seen a cloud of dust ten miles +away about noon and insisted on having the train held, as they were sure +the sheep were coming, which finally proved to be correct. So when they +got them loaded, about 11 o'clock that night, we quit quarrelling with +the agent, stopped making threats against<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> the railroad superintendent, +got Dillbery Ike to put on his coat (he had kept if off all evening to +whip the railroad agent who was to blame undoubtedly for all this +delay), and finally started, with rising spirits. But as we got up to +the depot where the conductor was waiting with his final papers, the +head brakeman reported a cow was down up near the engine, and we all +walked up there and found that one of Dillbery Ike's critters had become +so weak and emaciated that it had succumbed right in the start. We +prodded her, and hollered and yelled, and Chuckwagon twisted her tail +clear off before we discovered she was stiff and cold in death and +consequently couldn't respond to our suggestions. Dillbery asked the +advice of a hobo (who was giving us pointers how to get her up before we +discovered her dead condition) about suing the railroad company for her. +The hobo agreed to act as witness and swear to anything after Dillbery +gave him a nip out of his bottle; and after we found out what a good +fellow the hobo was, how much he knew about shipping cattle and that he +wanted to go east, we concluded to put his name on the contract and make +him one of the party. We asked his name and he said 'twas most always +John Doe, but we nicknamed him Jackdo for short.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<p>We all went back to the way-car and started up to the switch and back on +to a sidetrack, as No. 1 was expected to arrive pretty soon, as she was +four hours late, and was liable to come any time after she got four +hours late.</p> + +<p>After taking some lunch we lay down on the seats and went to sleep, +Jackdo, Rambolet Bill and Cottswool Canvasback on one side of the car, +and Dillbery Ike, Chuckwagon, Packsaddle Jack, Eatumup Jake and myself +on the other side. It was rather crowded on our side of the car, but +none of us liked the perfume that Jackdo and the two sheepmen used. +About the time we got to sleep the brakeman came in, woke us all up so +he could get into the coal and kindling which is under the seat in a +way-car. It was warm weather, but the train crews always build roaring +fires in hot weather on stock trains, and he was only following the +usual custom. We got our places again and dropped off to sleep. The +conductor came in, woke us all up to punch our contracts. We went to +sleep again; the conductor came around, roused us all up to know where +we wanted our stock fed. Jackdo now gave us a great deal of advice about +where to feed and how much, but Dillbery said the cattle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> had got used +to going without feed so long that it wasn't worth while to waste time +feeding them now. Jackdo said all the stockmen fed plenty of hay to +their stock all the way to Omaha, but never let them have any water till +they got there, as they would get a big fill that way. We finally went +to sleep again. The conductor and brakeman took turns jumping down out +of their high airy cab on top of the car (where they keep a window open) +to build up the fire and see that all the doors and windows below were +tightly closed so the stockmen couldn't get no air, but hot air. +However, we had been getting hot air from the railroad live stock agents +and commission house drummers for some time and slept on till old +Chuckwagon begun to snore and woke us up again. It seemed he was having +a fearful nightmare, and we had all we could do to keep him from jumping +off the train till we got him fairly awake. But after we had each given +him a drink from our private bottles he gave several long, shuddering, +shivering sighs and told us his dream.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a></h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Chuckwagon's Dream</span>.</h3> + +<p>He said he dreamed he was in a deep narrow canyon, and it seemed to be a +very hot day, and he thought he walked in the broiling hot sun for miles +and miles, his mouth and throat parched with thirst and his eyes almost +bursting from their sockets with the heat, when all at once he heard the +low mutterings of thunder and he knew there was a storm approaching. The +thunder kept growing louder and louder, and he looked around for some +shelter and discovered a narrow crevice in the rocks, and just as the +storm broke he entered this crevice. He hadn't no more than got inside +when he saw a wild animal approaching the same place of refuge. It was +bigger than any two grizzly bears he ever saw in his life, but was black +with white stripes down its back, had a large bushy tail, and he knew he +was up against the biggest skunk the world had ever known, and trembling +with horror he crept farther and farther back into the crevice till he +was stopped by a stream of red mo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>lten fire that seemed to be flowing +across his path in the mountain. He was about to retreat, but as he +turned to retrace his steps the immense Jumbo skunk was coming in the +crevice backwards, with its enormous tail reared over its back, and +while the crevice seemed only just large enough for him, yet this great +animal had a way of flattening himself out that, while he was a great +deal taller than before, yet did he keep forcing himself gradually back +towards poor Chuck. Chuckwagon said he knew that if the skunk was +disturbed he would discharge that terrible effluvia that is known the +world over, yet the heat from the molten stream of fire was so great +that it burned his face and he was obliged to keep it turned towards the +skunk. Finally the animal had backed so far that the top of Chuckwagon's +head was just under the root of the skunk's tail. Then something +commenced to annoy the animal in front, and it started to back a little +farther. It was then he gave that despairing, blood-curdling, +soul-freezing yell that woke us up, and he said he could still smell +that awful effluvia even now that he was awake; but we told him it was +just the heat of the car and the perfume that Jackdo and the two +sheepmen had.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> + +<p>We now discovered that the train was in motion. We were in doubt a long +time, but after marking fence posts, setting up a line of sticks and +testing it by all the known devices, we became convinced that it was +really a fact, and when there was no longer any doubt left in our minds +we fell on each other's necks and sobbed for joy. We tapped four fresh +bottles in succession to celebrate the event and shook one another's +hands repeatedly. But, alas! in the midst of our rejoicing we came to a +sidetrack.</p> + +<p>It seems to be one of the rules of railroading to never pass a sidetrack +with a stock train till they find out whether that particular train will +fit that sidetrack. This sidetrack was 2,125 feet and 223 inches long +and our train just fit it like it had been made a purpose. If our train +had been three feet longer it would have been too long for this +sidetrack, and we had a long heated argument whether the train had been +made for this sidetrack or the sidetrack designed for this special +train; but, anyway, I never saw a better fit, and it shows what +mechanical heads railroad men have got. We became attached to this +sidetrack, and for a long time had the sole use of it. We held it +against all comers, trains of empty cars going west, gravel cars and +even handcars, but fina<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>lly had to leave it, and it was with feelings of +sadness and regret that we at last had to bid it good-bye. Although we +had many sidetracks afterwards, yet as this one was the first we had +entirely to ourselves we hated to give it up and our eyelashes were wet +with unshed tears as we blew the last kisses from our finger tips when +it slowly faded from our sight around a narrow bend in the roadbed. How +long it remained true to us we never knew, probably not long, as it was +a lonely spot and undoubtedly was occupied by another stock train as +soon as we were out of sight.</p> + +<p>While at this sidetrack we took a stroll over the hills one day and +found a sage hen's nest with the old hen setting. Dillbery Ike slipped +up, grasped her by the tail and in her struggle to free herself she lost +all her tail feathers and got away. Dillbery tied a string around the +tail feathers and took them along. This, as it turned out afterwards, +was very fortunate, as we were able by the feathers to settle a dispute +that might have led to serious consequences, which happened in this way: +Some time after the sage hen episode, while we were waiting on a +sidetrack one day for a gravel train going west, and having had nothing +to eat for a long time but mustard on ice, we had become very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> much +discouraged and had even tried to buy Cottswool Canvasback's coat to +make soup of, when Jackdo discovered a flock of half-grown young sage +chickens feeding along past the train, and immediately we were all out, +filled our hats with rocks and commenced to knock them over. We managed +to kill the most of them along with the old mother bird, and made the +startling discovery that she had lost her tail feathers. We showed her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +to the division superintendent, who came along in his private car just +then and stopped to explain some of the delays on our run, and told him +the story of Dillbery pulling out her tail when she was setting. The +superintendent argued it couldn't be the same hen, but when Dillbery got +the bunch of tail feathers they just fitted in the holes in the poor old +bird's rump and that settled the dispute. There was another little +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>incident occurred afterwards that shows the world isn't so large after +all. One day while we were waiting on a sidetrack a mud turtle came +strolling by, and as Jackdo had suggested turtle soup for old +Chuckwagon, who, by the way, had been feeling bad ever since the night +he had the skunk dream, not being able to keep anything on his stomach, +we captured the turtle and on examining a peculiar mark on the back of +its shell discovered it was Dillbery Ike's brand that he had playfully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +burnt into the animal the day before we left the ranch with the cattle.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a></h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Grazing the Sheep</span></h3> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 256px;"> +<img src="images/ill_004.jpg" width="256" height="400" alt="" /> +<span class="caption"><i>Rambolet Bill, Cottswool Canvasback and Jackdo Watching +the Sheep Graze.</i></span> +</div> + +<p>It's not generally known that when sheep get extremely hungry they eat +the wool off one another, but nevertheless this is a fact, and Cottswool +Canvasback and Rambolet Bill's sheep had long ere this devoured all the +wool off each other's backs, but we had had a couple good warm showers +of rain and the wool had started up again and was high enough for pretty +fair grazing, so the two sheepmen were middlin' easy, as they had a +receipt for cooking jackrabbits so they wouldn't shrink in the cooking. +They claimed that Manager Gleason of the Warren Live Stock Company had +invented this receipt. However, lambing season had come on and Cottswool +and Rambolet were kept pretty busy as double deck cars was very cramped +quarters to lamb in. Rambolet wanted to unload the sheep, and when they +got through lambing to drive them to Laramie City and catch the train +again, but Cottswool Canvasback said they would have to pay the same +tariff for the cars and insisted on the railroad company earning their +money.</p> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Jackdo Sings "Home, Sweet Home</span>."</h4> + +<p>I remember a pathetic little incident that occurred about this time. +When we were waiting on a sidetrack one evening I suggested to Jackdo +that he sing us a song to while away the time, and he started in singing +"Home, Sweet Home," in a choked-by-cinders sort of voice, and he hadn't +been singing long before I discovered old Chuckwagon and Dillbery Ike +lying face downward on the seats sobbing like their hearts would break. +Chuck and Dillbery didn't have much of a home, as they batched in little +dobe shacks away out on the edge of the plains; but that old song, even +if sung by a hoot owl, would make a stockman weep when he is on a stock +train and has got about half-way to market. However, it didn't seem to +affect Eatumup Jake much, and yet Jake had married a big, buxom, +red-headed Mormon girl about six weeks before we started to ship. While +Jake looked like he was in delicate health when we left home, yet he had +grown strong and hearty on the trip in spite of the privations and +sufferings we had to go through, and was pretty near always whistling in +a lively way "The Girl I Left Behind Me."</p> + +<p>We now arrived at a town. It was about tw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>o o'clock in the morning and +the conductor roused us up to tell us we would have to change way-cars, +as they didn't go any farther. We asked him which way to go when we got +off, and he said go anyway we wanted to. We asked him where our car was +that we would go out on, and he said, "Damfino." So we started out to +hunt it. This was a division station, there were hundreds of cars in +every direction and they had put us off a mile from the depot. We begged +piteously from everyone we met to tell us where the way-car was that +went out on the stock train. We carried our luggage back and forth, fell +over switch frogs in the darkness and skinned our shins, fell over one +another trying to keep out the way of switch engines, ran ourselves out +of breath after brakemen, conductors, engineers and car oilers, but +everyone of them gave us the same stereotyped answer, "Damfino." At last +we started out to hunt up the stock again, but just as we found it they +started to switching. However, we climbed on the sides of the cars and +hung on, all but poor old Chuckwagon, who had been sorter under the +weather and wasn't quite quick enough. But he chased manfully after us +till we came to a switch, when we dashed past him going the other way. +We hollered to him to follow the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> train, which he did, but only to find +us going the other way again. And thus we kept on. How long this would +have lasted I don't know, for old Chuck was game to the death and had +throwed away his coat, vest, hat and boots and was bound to catch them +stock cars, and the switchman and engineer was bound he shouldn't. But +finally the engine had to stop for coal and water, and they shoved us in +on a sidetrack, went off to bed and left us there till 10 o'clock the +next day. But I never shall forget the anguish and horror we endured for +fear we wouldn't find that way-car and they would pull the stock out and +leave us there. Packsaddle Jack gave it as his opinion that the railroad +people had plotted to do that, but we frustrated their designs by +getting on the stock cars and staying with them. We all believed +Packsaddle Jack was right, but since that time I've talked with a good +many cattlemen and found out that's the way they treat everybody.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a></h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Letters from Home Brought by Immigrants</span>.</h3> + +<p>We arrived at Hawlins, Wyoming, one bright sunny morning and planned to +get a square meal there and kinder clean up and take a shave. But this +was a sheep town and full of sheepmen and the odor of sheep was so +strong we just stopped long enough to fill our bottles and then +sauntered on ahead of our train, expecting to get on when it overtook +us. Well, we sauntered and sauntered, looking back from every hill, but +no train, and finally when we were tired from walking in the heat and +dust we found a shade tree, and, laying down, went to sleep. How long we +slept I don't know, but when we awoke it was night. In the darkness we +had hard work finding our way back to the railroad track, and for a +while were undecided which way to go, but finally took the wrong +direction, and after plodding along in the dark for several miles we +came on top a high hill and saw the lights of the town below us that we +left that morning. We now held a council as to who should go down to +town to get our bottles filled. Jackdo offered to go, but we had already +discovered we couldn't trust him on that ki<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>nd of errand, as the bottles +would be just as empty when he got back as when he started, so finally +we sent Eatumup Jake and told him to inquire if our train was still +there or had gone sneaking by us when we were asleep. Jake returned +about midnight with the refreshments and the information that the train +was on ahead. So we started after it, exchanging ideas along the route +as to how far we would have to walk before we came to a sidetrack, as we +didn't doubt for a moment we would find the stock on the first siding it +could get in on. This was one of the pleasantest nights we had on our +whole trip, with good fresh air (we made the sheepmen and Jackdo walk +about three miles ahead of us and the wind was blowing in their +direction) and nothing to worry us. We talked of home and speculated as +to how many calves the boys at home had branded for us on their annual +roundups since we left.</p> + +<p>Finally Chuckwagon stopped and sniffed a time or two and said he was +satisfied the sheepmen and Jackdo must have found the train. After we +walked a mile further we came to the sheepmen and Jackdo setting down at +a sidetrack, but the stock train was not there. We were much puzzled at +this, but afte<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>r a great deal of argument Eatumup Jake, who had studied +Arithmetic some, proposed to measure the sidetrack. He suggested as the +only possible solution to the train not being there that probably the +track was too short for the train. The trouble now was to get some +proper thing to measure with. Finally we took Eatumup Jake's pants which +he had removed for the purpose, they being thirty-four inches inseam. By +taking the end of each leg they measured sixty-eight inches, or five +feet eight inches, to a measurement. Every time we made a measurement +Dillbery put a pebble in his pocket for feet and Chuckwagon put one in +his for inches. When we got through we made a light out of some sticks +and counted the pebbles. Dillbery had 292 and Chuckwagon 287. They both +insisted they had made no mistake, so we had to measure it all over +again. There had come up a little flurry of snow in the meantime, which +happens frequently at that altitude, and Eatumup Jake wanted them to +divide the difference between 287 and 292, but as one had inches and the +other feet, Eatumup Jake couldn't make the proper division in his head +and we had nothing to figure with. So we measured again and counted and +found they each had 287. As this would only equal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> forty-one stock cars, +and as there was forty-three cars of stock, five cars of California +fruit, three cars merchandise, nine tonnage cars and the way-car, we +knew our train couldn't possibly get in on this sidetrack. So Jake put +on his pants and we started on again, perfectly satisfied now that we +had solved what seemed at first a great mystery.</p> + +<p>After walking several miles it became daylight and we discovered a man +and woman with a mule team and wagon, going the same way we were. As +they didn't seem to have much of a load and asked us to ride we +concluded to ride. However, as we couldn't all ride in the wagon at once +and as the wagon road wasn't always in sight of the track, we had Jackdo +and the two sheepmen walk along the track, and if they found the train +they were to holler and wave something to us so we would know.</p> + +<p>Eatumup Jake had been kinder grumpy ever since he had to stand the +snowstorm without any pants on while we done the measuring, but now he +was to hear some good news which brought such overwhelming joy to him +as, indeed, it did to all of us, as our joys and sorrows were one on +this trip. It will be remembered that Eatumup Jake had married a buxom +Mormon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> girl about six weeks before we started with the cattle, and now +it turned out that these people, who were on their way from the Two +Wallys to Arkansas, had come by Jake's place in Utah and Jake's wife had +not only sent a letter by this couple to him, but the letter contained +the news that he was the father of twin boys. Jake's pride and joy knew +no bounds, and for a time he talked about going back and taking a look +at the twins and then catching up to us again. But we argued this would +bring bad luck, and anyway there were immigrants on the way from Oregon +to Arkansas all the time, and Jake's wife said all our folks in Utah had +agreed to send us letters every time anyone came by with a team going +east.</p> + +<p>We now came in sight of our stock train as it was slowly climbing a +grade, but we were loath to give up our new-found friends, the +immigrants, and it wasn't till they had drove several miles ahead of the +stock train that we finally bid them a reluctant good-bye and sauntered +on back to meet the special. This is the first time I've used the word +special, but all stock trains are known as specials because they make +special time with them.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<p>After we got on the train and had taken the prod pole, and drove the +sheepmen and Jackdo out and made them ride on top, we emptied a bottle +or so and Eatumup Jake got very hilarious and sang "The Little Black +Bull Came Running Down the Mountain," while we all joined in the chorus. +And finally when old Chuckwagon, Packsaddle Jack and Dillbery Ike had +gone to sleep on the floor of the car, Eatumup Jake got me by the button +hole and told me the story of his life in the following words. He talked +in a thick, slushy, slobbery voice, something like the mud and water +squirts through the holes in your overshoes on a sloppy day, but this +was on account of a great deal of whiskey and the fact that he had taken +a slight cold the night before standing in the snowstorm while we used +his pants to measure the sidetrack.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a></h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Eatumup Jake's Life Story</span>.</h3> + +<p>He said his father was a poor Methodist preacher in a little country +place in western Kansas where he was born. Said they lived there many +years because they was so durn poor they couldn't get away. His father's +salary was paid promptly every month in contributions and consisted of +one sack of cornmeal, one sack of potatoes, two gallons sorghum +molasses, four old crowing hens, seven jack rabbits, one quart choke +cherry jelly and one load of dried buffalo chips for fuel. He said his +father was one of the most patient beggars he ever saw, that he took up +collections at all times and on all occasions, morning, noon and +night—week days and Sundays he passed the hat. He had seventeen +different kinds of foreign missions to beg for. He had twenty-one +different kinds of home missions to beg for, and while it was the +poorest community he ever saw, most people too poor to have any tea or +coffee, or overshoes for winter or shoes in summer, yet his father +begged so persistently that he got worlds of flannels for the heathens +in Africa, any amount of bibles for the starving children in New York +City and all kinds of religious literature for the reconcentrados in +India.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<p>Finally his mother died of nothing on the stomach, his father and a +woman missionary went to Chicago, his nine brothers and sisters was +bound out and adopted by different people, and he, the oldest child, was +taken in charge by a professional bone picker, and although he was only +10 years old at the time, yet he picked up bones on Kansas prairies +summer and winter for two years till a bunch of cowpunchers came along +and took him away from the bone picker. He said he never had anything +much to eat till he got into this cow camp, and just eat roast veal, +baking powder biscuits, plum duff and California canned goods till all +the cowboys stopped eating to look at him, and one of them asked his +name, and when he said Jacob, they immediately nicknamed him Eatumup +Jake.</p> + +<p>He said he never had seen any of his folks since all this happened, but +one night he had a dream, just as plain as day. He thought he was in a +big city and a one-legged man with blue glasses was following him, and +when he stopped the man said: "Jacob, I'm your father," and he asked him +how he lost his leg, what he was wearing blue glasses for (a placard +saying he was blind), and why he held out a tincup, and his father said: +"I aint lost any leg, it's tied up in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>side my pants leg, and I'm wearing +glasses so people can't see my eyes." And he said his father told him +that his training as a Methodist preacher had peculiarly fitted him for +a professional beggar.</p> + +<p>When Eatumup Jake finished telling his story he fell to weeping and wept +very bitterly for a long time, and when I tried to comfort him by +telling him a man wasn't to blame for what his folks done, he said no, +but cowmen were to blame when they fell so durn low as to spend the best +part of their lives on a special stock train associating with a hobo and +two sheepmen.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a></h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<h3><span class="smcap">The Schoolmarm's Saddle Horse</span>.</h3> + +<p>One day while waiting on a sidetrack old Chuckwagon got to telling about +the new school-marm in their neighborhood. He said he reckoned she was +as high educated as anybody ever got. He said she didn't sabe cowpuncher +talk much, but she used some mighty high-sounding words. Why, he said, +she called a watergap a wateryawn; a shindig, a dawnce; Injuns, +Naborigines; cowboys, cow servants, and Bill Allen's hired girl, where +she boards, a domestic. The first night she came to Bill Allen's she +heard them a talking about cowpunchers, and she asked old Bill if he +wouldn't show her a real live cowpuncher: said there weren't any +cowpunchers in Boston, where she came from, and old Bill said he'd have +one over from the nearest cow ranch next day.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 258px;"> +<img src="images/ill_005.jpg" width="258" height="400" alt="" /> +<span class="caption"><i>George H. Crosby, General Freight-Agent D. & M.</i></span> +</div> + +<p>So next morning he comes over to my ranch and tells me to rig out in fur +snaps, put on my buckskin shirt and big Mexican hat with tassels on it, +with red silk handkerchief around my neck, and he would take me over and +introduce me to the new school-marm. So I rigged all up proper, and when +we got over to Bill Allen's place, old Bill told his wife to go to the +school-marm's room and tell her he had a genuine cowpuncher out there and +for her to come out and see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a><br /><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a><br /><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> him. She told Mrs. Allen she was busy +just then, but tell Mr. Allen to take the cowpuncher to the barn and +give him some hay and she would be out directly.</p> + +<p>Now, he'd been wondering ever since, old Chuck said, what on earth she +reckoned a cowpuncher was. Still she was mighty green about some things, +'cause when they had a little party at old Bill Allen's all the girls +got to telling about the breed of their saddle hosses, and some said +their hoss was a Hamiltonian, and some said their hoss was thoroughbred, +and some was Blackhawk Morgan. The school-marm said she had a gentleman +friend in Boston who had a very fine saddle hoss of the stallion breed, +and when the boys giggled and the gals began to look red, she says as +innocent as a lamb. "There is such a breed of hosses, ain't they?" "Of +course," she says, "I know it's a rare breed and perhaps you folks out +here never saw any of that breed." She says, "They are great hosses to +whinney. Why, my friend's hoss kept whinneying all the time." When she +got to describing that hoss's habits, course all us boys begun to back +up and git out the room. I reckon she was from an Irish family, 'cause +she insisted Mrs. Flanagan was right when she called the station a +daypo.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + +<p>But I reckon she could just knock the hind sights off anybody when it +came to singing. I never did know just whether it was a song or not she +sung, 'cause none of us could understand it. She said it was Italian, +and of course there wasn't any of us understood any Dago talk. But she +would just commence away down in a kind of low growl, like a sleeping +foxhound when he is dreaming of a bear fight, and keep growling a little +louder and little louder, and directly begin to give some short barks, +and then it would sound like a herd of wild cattle bawling round a dead +carcass; then like a lot of hungry coyotes howling of a clear frosty +night, and finally wind up like hundreds of wild geese flying high and +going south for winter. She said her voice had been cultivated and I +reckon it had. You could tell it had been laid off in mighty even rows, +the weeds all pulled out and the dirt throwed up close to the hills. But +somehow I'd a heap rather hear a little blue-eyed girl I know up in the +mountains in Idaho sing "The Suwanee River," and "Coming Through the +Rye," 'cause I can understand that. But I guess them Boston girls are +all right at home. I reckon they are used to them there.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a></h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Selling Cattle on the Range</span>.</h3> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then old Packsaddle Jack got to telling about Senator Dorsey, of Star +Route fame, selling a little herd of cattle he had in northern New +Mexico. He said the Senator had got hold of some eyeglass Englishmen, +and representing to them that he had a large herd of cattle in northern +New Mexico, finally made a sale at $25 a head all round for the cattle. +The Englishmen, however, insisted on counting the herd and wouldn't take +the Senator's books for them. Dorsey finally agreed to this, but said +the cattle would have to be gathered first. The Senator then went to his +foreman, Jack Hill, and asked Jack if he knew of a place where they +could drive the cattle around a hill where they wouldn't have to travel +too far getting around and have a good place to count them on one side. +Jack selected a little round mountain with a canyon on one side of it, +where he stationed the Englishmen and their bookkeepers and Senator +Dorsey. The Senator had about 1,000 cattle, and Jack and the cowboys +separated them into two bunches out in the hills, a couple of miles from +the party of Englishmen and out of sight. Keeping the two herds about a +mile apart, they now drove the first herd into the canyon, which ran +ar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>ound the edge of the bluff, and on the bank of the canyon sat the +Senator with the Englishmen, and they counted the cattle as the herd +strung along by them. The herd was hardly out of sight before the second +bunch came stringing along. Two or three cowboys, though, had met the +first herd, and, getting behind them, galloped them around back of the +mountain and had them coming down the canyon past the Englishmen again, +and they were counted the second time. And they were hardly out of sight +before the second division was around the mountain and coming along to +be tallied some more. And thus the good work went on all day long, the +Senator and the Englishmen only having a few minutes to snatch a bite to +eat and tap fresh bottles.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 257px;"> +<img src="images/ill_006.jpg" width="257" height="400" alt="" /> +<span class="caption"><i>Counting "'Old Buck."</i></span> +</div> + +<p>The foreman told the English party at noon that they was holding an +enormous herd back in the hills yet from which they were cutting off +these small bunches of 500 and bringing them along to be tallied. But +along about 3 o'clock in the afternoon the cattle began to get thirsty +and footsore. Every critter had traveled thirty miles that day, and lots +of them began to drop out and lay down. In one of the herds was an old +yellow steer. He was bobtailed, lophorned an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>d had a game leg, and for +the fifteenth time he limped by the crowd that was counting. Milord +screwed his eyeglass a little tighter into his eye, and says, "There is +more bloody, blarsted, lophorned, bobtailed, yellow, crippled brutes +than anything else, don't you know." Milord's dogrobber speaks up, and +says, "But, me lord, there's no hanimal like 'im hin the hither 'erd."</p> + +<p>The Senator overheard this interesting conversation, and taking the +foreman aside, told him when they got that herd on the other side of the +mountain again to cut out that old yellow reprobate, and not let him +come by again. So Jack cut him out and run him off aways in the +mountains. But old yellow had got trained to going around that mountain, +and the herd wasn't any more than tallied again till here come old Buck, +as the cowboys called him, limping along behind down the canyon, the +Englishmen staring at him with open mouths, and Senator Dorsey looking +at old Jack Hill in a reproachful, grieved kind of way. The cowboys ran +old Buck off still farther next time, but half an hour afterwards he +appeared over a little rise and slowly limped by again.</p> + +<p>The Senator now announced that there was only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> one herd more to count +and signaled to Jack to ride around and stop the cowboys from bringing +the bunches around any more, which they done. But as the party broke up +and started for the ranch, old Buck came by again, looking like he was +in a trance, and painfully limped down the canyon. That night the +cowboys said the Senator was groaning in his sleep in a frightful way, +and when one of them woke him up and asked if he was sick, he told them, +while big drops of cold sweat was dropping off his face, that he'd had a +terrible nightmare. He thought he was yoked up with a yellow, bobtailed, +lophorned, lame steer and was being dragged by the animal through a +canyon and around a mountain day after day in a hot, broiling sun, while +crowds of witless Englishmen and jibbering cowboys were looking on. He +insisted on saddling up and going back through the moonlight to the +mountain and see if old Buck was still there. When they arrived, after +waiting awhile, they heard something coming down the canyon, and in the +bright moonlight they could see old Buck painfully limping along, +stopping now and then to rest.</p> + +<p>A cowboy reported finding old Buck dead on his well-worn trail a week +afterwards. But no one ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> rides that way moonlight nights now, as so +many cowboys have a tradition that old Buck's ghost still limps down the +canyon moonlight nights.</p> + +<h4>OLD BUCK'S GHOST.</h4> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Down in New Mexico, where the plains are brown and sere,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">There is a ghostly story of a yellow spectral steer.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">His spirit wanders always when the moon is shining bright;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">One horn is lopping downwards, the other sticks upright.</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">On three legs he comes limping, as the fourth is sore and lame;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">His left eye is quite sightless, but still this steer is game.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Many times he was bought and counted by a dude with a monocle in his eye;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">The steer kept limping round a mountain to be counted by that guy.</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">When footsore, weary, gasping, he laid him down at last,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">His good eye quit its winking; counting was a matter of the past;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">But his spirit keeps a tramping 'round that mountain trail,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And that's the cause, says Packsaddle, that I have told this tale.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a></h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">True Snake Stories</span>.</h3> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> +<p>Then we all got to telling true snake stories. Eatumup Jake said down on +the Republican River in western Kansas the rattle-snakes were awful +thick when the country was first settled. He said they had their dens in +the Chalk Bluffs along the Republican and Solomon rivers; said these +bluffs were full of them. It was nothing for the first settlers in that +country to get together of a Sunday afternoon in the fall of the year +and kill 15,000 rattle-snakes at one bluff as they lay on the shelves of +rock that projected out from its face. He said the snake dens were two +or three miles apart, all the way along the river for a hundred miles, +and when somebody would start in to killing them at one place, why all +the snakes at that den would start in to rattling. Then the snakes at +the dens on each side of where they was killing them would wake up and +hear their neighbors' rattle, and then they'd get mad and begin to +rattle and that would wake up the snake dens beyond them and start them +to rattling. And in an hour's time all the snakes for a hundred miles +along that country would be rattling. When these two hundred million +snakes all got to rattling at once you could hear them one hundred miles +away and all the settlers in eastern Kansas would go into their cyclone +cellars. But after the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> Populists got so thick in Kansas, if they did +hear the snakes get to rattling, they just thought five or six Populists +got together and was talking politics.</p> + +<p>Then Packsaddle Jack told about a bull-snake family he used to know in +southern Kansas. He said the whole family had yellow bodies beautifully +marked below the waist, but from their waist up, including their necks +and heads, was a shiny coal black. The old man bull-snake would beller +just like a bull when he was stirred up. The old lady bull-snake had +sort of an alto voice and the younger master and misses bull-snakes went +from soprano and tenor down to a hiss. He said this family of +bull-snakes were very proud of their clothes, as there weren't any other +bull-snakes dressed like them, all the other bull-snakes being just a +plain yellow. And old Mrs. Bull-snake used to talk about her ancestors +on her father's side, and she called the scrubby willow under which they +had their den the family tree, and talked about the family tree half her +time. She never allowed her daughters to associate with any of the +common young bull-snakes, but kept them coiled up around home under the +family tree till they got very delicate, being in the shade all the +time. All t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>he snakes in the country looked up to this family of +half-black bull-snakes and they were known by the name of Half-Blacks. +All the old female bull-snakes in the country around there, if they had +just a distant speaking acquaintance with Mrs. Half-Black, always spoke +of her as "my dear intimate friend Mrs. Half-Black." Old Papa Half-Black +set around all swelled up with unwary toads he'd swallowed when they +came under the family tree for shade, and while he didn't say much about +his ancestry and family tree, yet he was mighty proud and dignified. +Sometimes he would slip off from his illustrious family, and going over +the hill where there was a little sand blow-out and something to drink, +he'd meet some of the Miss Common Bull-snakes, and then he would unbend +a good deal from his dignity and treat them with great familiarity, and +after having a few drinks call them his sweethearts and get them to sing +"The Good Old Summer Time," and he would join in the chorus with his +heavy bass voice, and they would all be very gay. Of course, he never +told old Mrs. Half-Black about these meetings, cause she wouldn't +understand them.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<p>But with all their glory this aristocratic family of half-black +bull-snakes came to an untimely end. One day there came along a couple +of mangy Kansas hogs and rooted the whole family out and eat them up as +fast as they came to them; rooted up the family tree also.</p> + +<p>We all cheered Packsaddle Jack's bull-snake story.</p> + +<p>We now all got to telling stories about fellows we knowed who had died +from mad skunk bites, said skunks creeping up on them in the night when +they were sleeping outdoors. When we got to the end of our mad skunk +stories we turned our attention to tales of friends of ours who had died +from rattlesnake bites. It seemed each of us had dozens of dead friends +who had met their doom by crawling into a roundup bed at night without +shaking the blankets only to find a couple of rattle-snakes coiled up +inside. The more we told the stories the more snake-bite antidote we +imbibed, till we got so full of the antidote it's safe to say that it +would have been sure death for any poisonous reptile to have bitten any +man in the crowd. Some of us wept a good deal over the memory of our +dead friends and other things, and all together this was about the most +enjoyable half <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>day of our journey.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a></h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Chuckwagon's Death</span>.</h3> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p><p>I now come to a point in my story that is fraught with such grief and +sorrow that I would gladly pass over if I could, but my story wouldn't +be complete without this sad chapter.</p> + +<p>We were slowly climbing Sherman Hill, some of us pushing on the train, +some using pinch bars—as we always did where there was a hard +pull—when all of a sudden the engine broke down and the train started +slowly back down the hill. While the train didn't go very fast on +account that the wheels hadn't been greased since we started, as the +company was economizing on oil, and the train stopped when it got to the +bottom of the hill, yet it was so discouraging and heart-sickening to +poor old Chuckwagon that he died almost immediately after this took +place.</p> + +<p>He had been gradually growing weaker lately, not being able to keep +anything on his stomach except a little Limburger cheese since the night +he had the skunk dream. He always imagined this dream to be a warning, +and had low sinking spells at times, specially when the two sheepmen and +Jackdo were all three in the car in at once, and at such times we were +obliged to take a prod pole and drive Jackdo and the two sheepmen out +the car and make them ride on top till Chuck revived. We made some +smelling salts out of asafœtida and Limburger cheese for him t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>o use +when he had these fainting spells, as he frequently did when the car got +warm and Jackdo and the sheepmen were there. We also found the +decomposed body of a dog lying beside the track one day, and gathering +it up in a gunnysack would hang it round Chuck's neck at night when the +sheepmen and Jackdo had to ride inside, and in that way he would get a +little sleep. But if he happened to be out of reach of any of these +remedies when one of the sheepmen come near him he immediately began to +strike at the end of his nose and mutter something about glue factories.</p> + +<p>Poor old Chuckwagon! In my mind I can still see his rugged, tear-stained +face as he would piteously hold out his hands for his sack of decomposed +dog when one of the sheepmen or Jackdo came in the way-car.</p> + +<p>All I know of Chuckwagon's life before he come West was what he told me +on this trip. He said as a boy he had worked cleaning sewers in Chicago +and after that was watchman for glue factories till he come West, but +with all this training had never got hardened enough to stand the smell +of Jackdo, Cottswool Canvasba<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>ck and Rambolet Bill in a way-car.</p> + +<p>He died like a hero. When we see he was going, Packsaddle Jack took a +prod pole and drove Jackdo and the sheepmen down the track a ways so +Chuck could breathe some purer air. Then we gave him a whiff of +decomposed dog, propped him up against an old railroad tie and took his +post-mortem statement in writing as to cause of his death. We let some +cattlemen who had formed themselves into a committee for the public +safety up in the New Fork country, in Wyoming, have his statement. We +now went to the nearest town, got the best coffin we could and after +selecting a place right under a big cliff, we buried old Chuck and piled +up a lot of rock at the grave so we could come back and get him and give +him a good decent burial on his own ranch. We didn't have much funeral +services, but Dillbery Ike made a talk which just filled all our ideas +exactly, and here is what he said:</p> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Dillbery Ike's Tribute to Chuckwagon</span>.</h4> + +<p>Chuck was a good man. While he never joined church and drunk a heap of +whiskey, bucked faro and monte, cussed mighty hard at times, yet he +always paid his debts. Never killed other people's beef and didn'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>t take +mavericks till they was plum weaned from the cows. He believed mighty +strong in ghosts and God Almighty; believed in angels, 'cause he loved a +little, blonde, blue-eyed girl away up in the mountains in Idaho. He had +a strong belief in heaven, but a heap stronger one in hell, 'cause he +said there must be some place to keep the sheepmen by themselves in the +other world. He never had a father or mother and no bringing up, but +lived a better life 'cording to what he knowed than some people who +knowed more. He always gave his big-jawed cattle to Injuns to eat, place +of hauling the meat to town and peddling it out to white folks. He'd +been known to even cut stove wood for married men when their wives were +off visiting, and once he gave all the tobacco and cigarette papers he +had to a sick Digger Injun and went without for a week himself. He +always let the tenderfoot visitor at the ranch fish all the strips of +bacon out the beans and pretended to be looking the other way, and when +old Widow Mulligan, who ran a little milk ranch, died of fever and left +four little red-headed kids he took them all home and took care of them, +told them bear stories till they all went to sleep nights in his bed, +washed them, fed them and never said a cross word, and even when they +drowned his pet cat in the well, let out his pigs, turned the old cow in +his garden and stoned all his young Ply<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>mouth Rock chickens to death, he +just said, "Poor little fellars, they hain't got no mother now," and he +guessed they didn't mean any harm, and took care of them till a relative +came and took them away.</p> + +<p>We figured all these things up and made up our minds that no fair-minded +God would send a great, big-hearted, innocent cowman, who never harmed +anybody in his life, to a place like hell was supposed to be. Even if +God couldn't let him into heaven on 'count of his wearing his pants in +his boots, eating with his knife at the table place of his fork, +drinking his coffee out his saucer and other ignorant ways, yet He might +give him a pretty decent place away out where there wasn't any sheepmen, +and if He didn't have somebody handy to keep old Chuck company just let +him have a deck or two of cards to play solitaire with and Chuck +wouldn't mind.</p> + +<p>Old Chuckwagon was mighty fond of white-faced cattle, and just as he +breathed his last he sorter roused up and stretched out his arms, with +his eyes as bright as 'lectric lamps, and said: "Boys, I see another +country, just lots of big grass, with running streams of water, big +herds of white-face cattle, and they are all mavericks, not a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> brand on +'em, and not a sheep-wagon in sight." And them was his last words.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">He lay on the sidetrack, poor honest Chuckwagon,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">The pallor of death creeping fast o'er his brow;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Said he to the cowboys, "My rope is a dragging,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">I'm going o'er the divide and going right now.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"I've often faced death with the bronks and the cattle,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">And meeting him now doesn't take so much sand.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">For sooner or later with death all must grapple,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">And all that we need is to show a straight brand.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"I would like one more glimpse at the side of the mountain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">Before I saddle up for Eternity's divide;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">The ranch house, the meadow, the spring like a fountain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">But, alas for poor Chuck, my feet are hogtied."</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Down his bronzed hardy cheeks the warm tears were stealing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">At the memory of his cow ranch, so pleasant and bright.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">A smile like an angel played over each feature,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">And the soul of the cowboy rode out of sight.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a></h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">The Disappearance of the Sheepmen</span>.</h3> + +<p>After we buried Chuckwagon we walked across a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>bend in the road and +caught up with the stock train and strolled on ahead with sad hearts and +silent lips till we arrived at the top of Sherman Hill. We prepared to +wait for the arrival of the stock train, so selecting a site on the +south side of Ames monument, we built a snow hut by rolling up huge +snowballs and piling them up one on top of the other for walls to a +height of about seven and one-half feet, leaving a space for our room of +about twelve feet square inside, and gradually drawing them together at +the top for a roof, and making a big snowball for the door. After it was +all finished we let the sheepmen and Jackdo go over across the canyon +about two miles and build another hut for themselves. We moved our +luggage (which we had carried to lighten up the train) inside, and after +closing the door with the big snowball, we ate a hearty supper of boiled +rawhide, and spreading down a sheet of mist, we rolled up in a blanket +of fog and went to sleep.</p> + +<p>We hadn't no more than got to sleep before a lightning rod agent by the +name of Woods came along and put up lightning rods all over our snow hut +and woke us up to sign $350 worth of notes for the rods. This matter +attended to, we went to sleep again and the lightning rod agent went +over across the canyon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> to the sheepmen's hut and put rods on it. This +man Woods was a good fellar, got people to sign notes by the wholesale, +but never did anything so low as to collect them, just turned them over +to a lawyer and let him attend to that. He was always broke and borrowed +your last "five" in a way that endeared him to you for life. He never +bothered with paying for anything, always said, "Just put it down, or +charge it," in such a lofty way that everyone in hearing would begin to +hunt for pencils right off. He put lightning rods on everything, even to +prairie dogs' houses and ant heaps, took anybody's note with any kind of +signature.</p> + +<p>Cottswool Canvasback, Rambolet Bill and Jackdo couldn't write, but he +had Rambolet Bill make his mark to the note and then Cottswool +Canvasback and Jackdo witnessed it by affixing their mark; then he had +Cottswool Canvasback sign his mark as security and Rambolet Bill and +Jackdo witness the signature with their marks; then had Jackdo sign his +mark as security and Rambolet and Cottswool witness it with their marks.</p> + +<p>We had put out a signal flag on our snow hut so the trainmen would know +where to find us when they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> came along with the stock. When we awoke +next morning and went outdoors a strange sight greeted our astonished +vision. There had come a <a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a>chinook wind in the night and melted the snow +off up to within one hundred feet of our altitude. As Jackdo and the two +sheepmen had built their snow residence about 150 feet lower altitude on +the other side of the canyon, their house had melted down over their +heads, and as they were nowhere in sight it was safe to presume they had +been carried away in the ruins. We had quite an argument now, whether we +should try to find them or not. Dillbery Ike maintained they was human +beings and as such was entitled to our looking for them. Packsaddle Jack +said he didn't know for sure whether sheepmen were humans or not. He +guessed it was a mighty broad word and covered a heap of things. Eatumup +Jake said he reckoned they would turn up all right, that sheepmen didn't +die very easy, that he knowed them to pack off more lead than an +antelope would and still live; he guessed being washed off the side of +the mountain wouldn't kill them. He said we'd better wait till the +trainmen came along and then report the matter to them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>, as the sheepmen +would want damages off the railroad or somebody and we'd better not hunt +them up too quick as it might jeopardize their case. We all agreed there +was some difference in sheepmen, and that Rambolet Bill and Cottswool +Canvasback certainly belonged to the better class, and we all fell to +telling stories of the generous, open-handed things that sheepmen of our +acquaintance had done.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 254px;"> +<img src="images/ill_007.jpg" width="254" height="400" alt="" /> +<span class="caption"><i>C. J. Lane, General Freight Agent and Pass Distributer +to Live Stock Shippers.</i></span> +</div> + +<p>Packsaddle Jack said he knowed a sheepman once by the name of Black +Face, who was so good-hearted that he paid $20 towards one of his +herder's doctor bill when he lost both feet by their being frozen in the +great Wyoming blizzard in '94. The herder stayed with the sheep for +seventy-two hours in the Bad Lands and saved all the 3,000 head except +seven, that got over the bank of the creek into ice and water and +drowned. The herder having got all but these seven head out and getting +his feet wet they froze so hard that Black Face said his feet was +rattling together like rocks when he found him still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> herding the sheep. +Of course, the sheep might have all perished in the storm if the herder +didn't stay with them, and of course, the herder didn't have anything to +eat the entire three days in the storm, as he was miles from any +habitation and that way saved Black Face 30 cents in grub. But we all +agreed that while Black Face would feel the greatest anguish at the loss +of the seven sheep and giving up the $20, yet the satisfaction of doing +a generous deed and the pride he would experience when it was mentioned +in the item column of the local county paper would partially alleviate +that anguish.</p> + +<p>Eatumup Jake said he knew a sheepman by the name of Hatchet Face from +Connecticut, who had sheep ranches out there in Utah, and he was so +kind-hearted that when one of his herders kept his sheep in a widow +neighbor's field till they ate up everything in sight, even her lawn and +flower garden, he apologized to the widow when she returned from nursing +a poor family through a spell of sickness, and told her he would pay her +something, and while he never did pay her anything, yet he always seemed +sorry, while a lot of sheepmen would have laid awake nights to have +studied a way how to eat out the widow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> again. Eatumup Jake said old +Hatchet Face, when he prayed in church Sundays (he being a strict +Presbyterian), he always prayed for the poor and widows and orphans, and +that showed he had a good heart, to use what influence he had with God +Almighty and get Him to do something for widows and orphans and poor +people.</p> + +<p>Dillbery Ike said he knew a sheepman by the name of Shearclose, and +while he never gave his hired help any meat to eat except old +broken-mouthed ewes in the winter and dead lambs in the spring and +summer, and herded his sheep around homesteaders' little ranches till +their milk cows mighty near starved to death, yet old Shearclose gave $5 +for a ticket to a charity ball once when a list of the names of all the +people who bought tickets was printed in the county paper.</p> + +<p>After we summed all these things up, our hearts got so warm thinking of +these acts of generosity by sheepmen that we concluded to make a hunt +for Rambolet Bill, Cottswool Canvasback and Jackdo. We now discussed a +great many plans how to rescue them. While we were arguing the stock +train came, and when we told the conductor, he immediately had the agent +wire General Freight Agent C. J. Lane at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a><br /><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a><br /><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> Omaha the following message:</p> + +<p>"Two prominent sheepmen swept away by freshet while camping ahead of +special stock train No. 79531. Please wire instructions how to find +them."</p> + +<p>Lane immediately wired back not to find them, and if there was any trace +left of them to obliterate it at once.</p> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Jackdo's Story of His Escape</span>.</h4> + +<p>We now sauntered down Sherman Hill ahead of the train to Cheyenne, +expecting to get some help there to find Rambolet Bill and Cottswool +Canvasback, and was much surprised to discover Jackdo asleep riding on +the trucks of a car in a special that went by, and on waking him up he +told us the following story of his escape:</p> + +<p>He said when the flood came he got astride a big snowball and making a +compass out of a piece of lightning rod he pointed it for the north star +so as to not lose his bearings and started for Cheyenne. He said it was +a wild ride, that he passed cattle and horses, forests and ranches in +quick succession and his snowball was almost worn out when he got below +the altitude of the chinook wind and struck a country of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> ice and snow +again. But it was impossible to stop, he had acquired such a momentum +going down the mountain that he slid through nine miles of cactus and +prickly pears without having changed the sitting position he started in. +However, after his snowball wore out, he just held up his feet and kept +on till he struck a special stock train going East, and after knocking +two of the cars off the rails and breaking the bumpers of a half-dozen +more, he checked up enough to crawl on a brake beam and go to sleep. He +knew nothing of Rambolet Bill and Cottswool Canvasback.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a></h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Our Arrival in Cheyenne</span>.</h3> + +<p>We arrived in Cheyenne, and after reporting to the dispatcher what time +our special stock train would arrive, we exposed Jackdo to the gentle +breeze, which is always on tap in Cheyenne, and it blew all the cactus +slivers out of his anatomy that he had accumulated in his nine miles +slide in just thirteen seconds. We then started out to see the town. We +asked an expressman on the corner of Main Street—he was the only live +human being in sight—what was the main features of Cheyenne. He said +Tom Horn and Senator Warren. We asked him what they was noted for, and +he said that Tom Horn was noted for killing people that took things that +didn't belong to them and then blowing his horn about it afterwards, and +Senator Warren was noted for building wire fences on government Land and +taki<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>ng everything in sight.</p> + +<p>Not seeing anyone on the streets, we asked him if it was Sunday, and he +said every day was Sunday in Cheyenne except when they had a political +rally, and then it was a durn Democratic funeral from sun to sun, +burying the Democratic party over and over again, they rehearsed them +same old services. Whenever people saw the politicians on the streets +with clean shirts on they knew the Democratic party was going to have +another funeral. The folks in Cheyenne was always going to church, or +else burying the Democratic party. We asked him what the prevailing +religion of the town was, and he said, "High-priced wool."</p> + +<p>Just then Senator W—— came along, and hearing of the disappearance of +two sheepmen, and it being near election time, he immediately had all +the troops called out, got together a vast army of United States deputy +marshals and wired the president of the Overland, who immediately +chartered a special train loaded with detectives, and two cars loaded +with blood-hounds in charge of a lawyer by the name of Ashby from +Lincoln; one car loaded wit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>h automobiles, two cars loaded with bottled +goods and other useful supplies and two pianos with pianola attachments, +seven trunks full of mechanical music in air-tight bottles, and one +steam calliope near the engine on a flat car. The Governor of Wyoming +met the special train at Cheyenne, and after issuing a proclamation +offering a large reward for the sheepmen dead or alive, joined the U. P. +president in his car. They now started the steam calliope, and the +Governor playing one of the pianola-attachment pianos, the U. P. +president playing the other. The state chairman of the Republican party +sang the old familiar hymn, "Ninety and Nine Were Safely Laid in the +Shelter of the Fold," and Senator W—— made a speech something like +this:</p> + +<p>He said: "Fellow sheepmen and what few other citizens there are in +Wyoming: What's the matter with the sheep business? Have we deteriorated +in the eyes of the world in the last two thousand years? Who writes +poetry of the sheep and sheepherder of the present time? What artist +puts priceless paintings on canvass of the sheep business to-day? Why, +fellow sheepmen, in ancient times all the poetry that was written was of +the shepherd and his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>flock, and in every palace, in the most conspicuous +place, was a picture of a tall shepherd with venerable beard and flowing +locks, with his serape thrown carelessly over his shoulder, a long +shepherd's crook in his hand, leading his sheep over the hill into some +fresher pasture. And when the people saw the original of this painting +in ye ancient time appearing over the hill in the sunset glow, they +cried: 'Lo, behold the shepherd cometh.' Now what do they say? This is +what you hear: 'Well, look at that lousy sheepherding scoundrel coming +over the divide with his sheep. Boys, get your black masks and the wagon +spokes.'</p> + +<p>"Now," he says, "wouldn't that Ram you? What would our party have +amounted to in Wyoming if I hadn't Bucked everything in sight? I've +Lambed the stuffing out of the Democrats and Pulled Wool over the eyes +of the would-be party leaders till we have Pretty Good Grazing and Fair +We(a)thers.</p> + +<p>"In a few days we will be called on to decide a great question at the +polls, whether Billy Bryan will build your house out of cold, clammy, +frosty silver bricks, or whether we will have houses built out of all +wool. You must make a choice between the two. If you vote for me, it +means a good, warm woolen house, good woolen underclothes, good woolen +overclothes."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<p>Judge Carey tried to say something about a gold plank, but everybody +frowned at him so that he slunk off in the crowd and shortly afterwards +was seen in a back alley having a heart-to-heart talk with two +bow-legged cowpunchers who, while they did not know much about any kind +of gold, let alone a big gold standard, knew anything was better than +all this talk about sheep and wool.</p> + +<p>Senator W—— kept talking as long as he could keep the Governor and the +U. P. president making music. He said everybody who voted right could +sit on his right hand with the sheep, otherwise they would have to +associate with the goats on his left that was herded by Billy Bryan. +Some of the crowd grumbled about associating with either one, but the +Senator said there was no choice if they stayed in Wyoming.</p> + +<p>A carriage now dashed up, all emblazoned with a coat-of-arms, which +consisted of a panel of barbed wire fence with a rampant sheep leaning +against it. The Senator entered this carriage, rolled away and the crowd +followed him.</p> + +<p>Although there had been no effort made to find<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> the sheepmen, yet +apparently the object of the railroad expedition had been accomplished, +and they were about to return when they discovered that three of the +highest-priced detectives were missing. They were found almost +immediately on the trail of the man who could tell why a life-long +Democrat in Wyoming, as soon as he starts in the sheep business, gets a +public office in place of a life-long Republican who didn't own any +sheep. The detectives were called off the trail and the president of +the great Overland began his return. We heard afterwards that Captain +Ashby claimed that two of the most valuable blood-hounds escaped from +the hound car and he demanded that the U. P. pay him $700 for the dogs. +He claimed that if they struck the trail of anything they would follow +it to the death. A couple of mangy fox-hounds were found dead in an +alley back of one of the Cheyenne hotels the next morning after the +president's train left, and as it was known that one of the hotel cooks +had been down to the train, these were supposed to be the dogs, and the +claim was allowed. What caused their death was a matter of conjecture. +There was quite a pile of hotel grub laying near the dogs. The hotel +boarders differed in opinion. Some said the dogs died of indigestion and +some said of starvation.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</a></h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">The Post-Hole Digger's Ghost</span>.</h3> + +<p>The skeletons of Rambolet Bill and Cottswool Canvasback were found a +long time after this all happened by one of the Warren Live Stock +Company's fence riders. This fence commences in northeastern Colorado +near the 27th degree of longitude west from Washington, and extends west +over hills and valleys, plains and mountains, through all kinds of +latitudes, longitudes and vicissitudes. There is a legend in regard to +the building of this fence that is told in whispers when the fire burns +low of a night in western homes. It runs something like this:</p> + +<p>Years ago Senator Warren, Manager Gleason and some other Massachusetts +Yankees started in the sheep business in southern Wyoming and northern +Colorado, and as the country was large they thought it would be a good +thing to fence in a few hund<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>red thousand acres of government land and +save the grass so fenced in case of hard winters and other things and +graze their sheep in this enclosure only when there was no more grass +around the little homesteads taken here and there by settlers. So hiring +a young German from the Old Country, who couldn't speak a word of +English, to dig the post-holes, they got him a brand-new shovel, a +post-bar about eight feet long, the famous receipt for cooking +jackrabbits, and started him digging near the 27th degree of longitude +west from Washington. Pointing toward the setting sun in the west, they +went off and left him. The German was never seen alive again, but he +left a never-ending line of post-holes behind him. The Warren Live Stock +Company, it is said, put on a great many men setting the posts in these +holes and stringing barbed wire on them, and although they kept ever +increasing the force that built the fence, yet they never caught up with +the German, and time after time the post-setters would come to the top +of a high hill or a range of mountains and thought they would come in +sight of the German, only to see a long line of post-holes stretching +away over hill and valley towards the setting sun.</p> + +<p>After a while the Mormons along<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> the line of Utah and Wyoming complained +of seeing a ghost about the time they drove their cows home of an +evening. They said it was a German with grizzled locks and flowing +beard, with a large meerschaum pipe in his mouth and a shovel in one +hand from which the blade was worn down to the handle and a post-bar no +bigger than a drag tooth in the other hand. He was always looking toward +the setting sun, shading his eyes with his hand and muttering these +words: "Das sinkende Sonne, ich fange sie nicht."</p> + +<p>But when they approached close to him, or spoke to him, he immediately +vanished. When the ghost wasn't disturbed it seemed to be digging holes. +It would go through the motions of digging a hole in the ground, then +rising up, take thirteen steps in a westerly direction, look back to see +if the line was straight, dig another hole, and go on. Sometimes the +ghost seemed to be studying a well-worn piece of paper, which was +undoubtedly the receipt for cooking jackrabbits, and would mutter in +German, "O wohene, O wohene ist er gegangen, mit Schwanz so kurz und Ohr +so lang? O wohene ist mein Hase gegangen?"</p> + +<p>After awhile the ghost began to appear in western Utah and still later +on in Nevada, always digging a never-ending imaginary line of +post-h<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>oles. No one never knew where the actual post-holes left off and +the imaginary ones commenced.</p> + +<p>As the Routt County cattlemen in western Colorado never allowed any +sheepmen to encroach on their range, and they always killed all the +sheep and sheepmen who dared to intrude, of course, the Warren Live +Stock had to stop building fence west and turn north before they got +there.</p> + +<p>When the ghastly skeletons of Rambolet Bill and Cottswool Canvasback +were found lying by this fence, their bones picked clean by coyotes and +vultures, a small book was picked up near them which proved to be a +diary of their adventures and last hours of suffering. It will be +remembered that Rambolet Bill and Cottswool Canvasback couldn't write, +but they had drawn pictures in the book, and when we had gotten another +sheepman who couldn't write to examine them he read them just like +print. The first picture was a mountain with a lot of marks, which was +interpreted as the flood, and two men drawn crosswise laying down was +the sheepmen being washed away. The next picture was a wire fence with +two men clinging to it. He said that was when they washed into the +fence. The next w<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>as another fence picture showing two men walking along +it. There was about fifty pictures after this one, but they always had a +section of a wire fence in them. Several pictures in the front part of +the book showed the two men eating jackrabbits, but later on some of the +pictures showed them chasing a prairie dog, or trying to slip up on one, +indicating that they couldn't find any more jackrabbits. There was +pictures of them chewing bits of their clothes to get the sheep grease +out of them. Then there was pictures of them pointing to their mouths +and stomachs, finally in the last picture they were in the act of eating +a piece of paper with some writing on it, which was probably the receipt +for cooking jackrabbits. They probably had walked hundreds of miles +along this fence before they finally succumbed, and as it was a country +where they had herded large bands of sheep the grass had become so +exterminated that no jackrabbits could live there, and consequently +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>Rambolet Bill and Cottswool Canvasback had gradually starved to death.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Two guileless sheepmen lay sleeping on the side of a barren hill,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">One's name was Cottswool Canvasback, the other was Rambolet Bill.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">They were dreaming, sweetly dreaming, the fore part of the night</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Of grazing their sheep on a homesteader's claim when he was out of sight.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">But hark! to the wind that's rising; 'tis coming fast and warm;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Little recked the sleepers that it would do them harm;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">But the roar was growing louder, as the pine trees bent and shook,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">And the birds were screaming loudly, "Beware of the warm chinook."</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">When that hot blast struck their hut, built out of walls of snow,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">That house turned into a river in a way that wasn't slow;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Washed off these dreaming sheepmen in the middle of the night.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">As the waters swept the dreamers away, what must have been their fright,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Till tangled up in Warren's fence that's built o'er mountain and vale,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">They followed it the rest of their lives, winding o'er hill and dale.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">When found by the annual fence rider, they long since had been dead,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Their bones picked clean by coyotes, with vultures hovering o'erhead.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</a></h2> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Grafting</span>.</h4> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 190px;"> +<img src="images/ill_008.jpg" width="190" height="400" alt="" /> +<span class="caption"><i>Dillbery Ike as a Shipper.</i></span> +</div> + +<p>One night while we were in Cheyenne we were going from the dispatcher's +office down to our way car, which was, as usual, about one mile from the +depot. The railroad company had quite a number of police on duty in the +yards to watch for strikers, there having been a machinists' strike on +for a long time. No strikers had ever come around the railroad yards +nights or even interfered with any one at any time, but a lot of fellows +who wanted soft jobs as watchmen made the officials of the road think +the strikers were going to do something, and these night watch men had, +it seems, been looking for a long time for some weak tramp to beat to +death and then claim the tramp was working in the interest of the +strikers and was about to injure railroad property when those awful +sleuths caught him in the act and put his light out. Thus they c<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>ould get +a fresh hold on their jobs. However, they had been unable to catch a +tramp, and as they had to get somebody in order to hold their jobs, they +cornered Dillbery Ike, who had loitered behind the rest, and one of the +valiant watchmen swiping him over the head with a six-shooter, scalped +him as clean as a Sioux Injun would have done it with a scalping knife. +Hearing Dillbery Ike's cries for help, we went to his rescue, and none +too soon, as the watchman was still beating him. When we had got a +doctor for Dillbery, of course the first thing he asked for was +Dillbery's scalp, so he could sew it on again. But although we made a +long search for the scalp, we only found a few bloody hairs, and +undoubtedly some hungry canine prowling around had ate it up. However, +the railroad company, after some parleying, agreed to pay for having a +new one grafted on, and as grafting is the long suit of the Cheyenne +doctors, there was a general scramble for the job. 'Twas finally agreed +to divide the job amongst them, or rather divide the space and the +money. The doctors immediately advertised for contributions of pieces of +scalp to graft on Dillbery's head, but no one responding they offered to +buy some sections of scalp, and this ad was respo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a><br /><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a><br /><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>nded to in a mysterious +way by a midnight visitor at each of their offices, with a small piece +of very close shaven fresh scalp, which the visitor (who was a woman in +each case and so muffled up that her features couldn't be seen) claimed +she had cut off Billy's or Johnny's or Jimmy's head after putting them +under the influence of ether.</p> + +<p>Each of the four doctors paid her $25 and hiked off to plaster the piece +of hide on Dillbery Ike's cranium. The scalped place had been carefully +laid off by a civil engineer, so each of the four doctors knew his +corner in the block, and without any courtesies to one another they each +trimmed down his $25 piece of hide to fit his corner and then fastened +it on. The grafting took at once and in a few days was healed over +nicely, despite the fact it turned out that the woman had taken a +different piece of scalp off from different pet animals which she kept. +One was a pet pig, another a pet goat, another a pet sheep and the +fourth a pet dog of the Newfoundland breed. When the hair, wool and +bristles all began to make a luxuriant growth on Dillbery's new scalp, +he seemed to be more or less affected by the dispositions of each animal +from which a part of the wonderful scalp was removed, and when the +different colored hair, wool and b<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>ristles had grown to a good length the +effect of this unique head covering was very striking to strangers. +However, Dillbery Ike was justly proud of it, as the doctors had charged +the Union Pacific $1,200 for this variegated scalp. Of course, no other +cowpuncher could boast of such a valuable head covering.</p> + +<p>There was one little white bare spot in the center which was above +timber line, as it were, where the doctors, making these four corners, +had each been a little shy of material, and here was a little open, or +park, on the top of his head in which sheep ticks, hog lice, dog fleas +and goat vermin could have a common ground to assemble and sun +themselves in.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</a></h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">The File</span>.</h3> + +<p>After learning the fate of the two sheepmen we prepared to leave +Cheyenne and catch up with our stock train, which we figured would take +us a day or so. We interviewed the dispatcher, superintendent and +station agent at Cheyenne, asking each one of them to wire down the road +and see if they could locate the special. Every one of them wired and +the next day about noon the agent got word the stock was at Egbert. That +evening the superintendent got a message that they was between Egbert +and Pine Bluffs. About midnight the dispatcher got a message that they +were hourly expected in Pine Bluffs, so we started on to overtake them.</p> + +<p>We had noticed with a great deal of anxiety that the wrinkles had +commenced to accumulate on our cattle's horns, as a new wrinkle grows +each year after an animal is two years old, and we had been advised by +several cattlemen who h<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>ad been in the habit of taking their cattle by +rail to market in place of driving them, to procure files and rasps and +remove these wrinkles before we got to Omaha. So we secured a lot of +rasps and files at Cheyenne and had Jackdo carry them for us, and when +we caught up with the train we went to work to take off the sign of old +age which had come on our stock since shipping them, as the Nebraska +corn-raisers only want young stock to feed. When we first loaded our +cattle we were informed that they were a little bit too fat for the +killers, but, of course, the next day, they was about four pounds too +thin for the killers, but too fat for the feeders. However, by this time +they were nothing but petrified skeletons, and Dillbery Ike wanted to +leave the wrinkles on their horns and sell the entire outfit for +antiques. But the more we discussed it, the more we made up our minds +that as this railroad done a large business hauling stock, the antique +cattle market must be overstocked. So we finally concluded to take off +the wrinkles that had grown since we started and sell the cattle on +their merits. We arranged to run two day shifts and one night shift of +six hours each and to commence up next the engine and work back. So +getti<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>ng in the first car we climbed astride the critters' necks and +commenced to file. Day after day, night after night, we kept at this +wearisome task, and when our files and rasps became worn we sent Jackdo +(who wouldn't work, but who didn't mind tramping) to the nearest town to +get fresh files and rasps. Sometimes we became discouraged when we saw +the wrinkles starting again that we had removed to commence with, and +our eyes filled with bitter tears when we thought how much better it +would have been to have trailed our cattle through, or even sold them +to some Nebraska sucker and taken his draft on a commission house. +Dillbery Ike, who had some education, made up a song for us to sing +while we were at work, called "The Song of the File," and one of us +would sing a verse and then all join in the chorus, and this song helped +us a great deal. Here it is:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p><p> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Oh! we are a bunch of cattlemen.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Going to market with our stock again,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And, as we ship over a road that's bum,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">The days they go and the days they come.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Chorus.</i></p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Cheer up, brave hearts, and list to the file</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">As the wrinkles keep dropping below in a pile;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Never fear, my boys, we have plenty of time</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">To remove old age that's known by the wrinkle sign.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And as time goes by the wrinkles grow</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">On the horns of the cattle in a train that's slow;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">For every year after the second a cow that's born</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Another wrinkle grows upon each horn.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">While we have a job that isn't so soft,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">A-trying to rasp these wrinkles off,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">To make their horns look smooth and bright,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">We file all day and we file all night.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And as we file, we whistle and sing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Trying to make it a jolly thing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">To remove the wrinkles that are sure to grow</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">On the horns of cattle with a road that's slow.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Astride their necks, we sit and file,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And through our tears, we try to smile.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Cheer up, brave hearts, cheer up, we say again,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">As we camp along with the bum stock train.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.</a></h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">The Cattle Stampede</span>.</h3> + +<p>The boys all got to talking about stampedes one night while we were +waiting on a sidetrack, and I related to them an experience of my own.</p> + +<p>A number of years ago, I bought some 15,000 steers in southern Arizona, +and shipping them to Denver, Colorado, divided them up into herds of +about 3,500 head in each herd and started to trail these herds north to +Wyoming. About 4,000 head of these steers were from 1 to 10 years old +and were known as outlaws in the country where they were raised. These +steers were almost as wild as elk; very tall, thin, raw-boned, +high-headed, with enormous horns and long tails, and as there was great +danger of their stampeding at any time, I put all of them in a herd by +themselves and went with that herd myself. I worried about these steers +night and day, and talked to my men incessantly about how to handle them +and what to do if the cattle stampeded. There is only one thing to do in +case of a stampede of a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>herd of wild range steers, and that is for every +cowboy to get in the lead of them with a good horse and keep in the lead +without trying to stop them, but gradually turn them and get them to +running in a circle, or "milling," as it is commonly known among +cowboys. Cattle on the trail never stampede but one way, and that is +back the way they come from. If you can succeed in turning them in some +other direction, you can gradually bring them to a stop. These +long-legged range steers can run almost as fast as the swiftest horse.</p> + +<p>So we kept our best and swiftest horses saddled all night, ready to +spring onto in case the herd ever got started. We were driving in a +northerly direction all the time, and every night took the herd fully a +mile north of the mess wagon camp before we bedded them down. I had +fourteen men in the outfit, half of them old-time cowboys and the other +half would-be cowboys; several of them what we used to call tenderfeet.</p> + +<p>Amongst the green hands at trailing cattle was the nephew of my eastern +partner, a college-bred boy, with blonde, curly hair and a face as merry +as a girl's at a May day picnic. The boys all called him Curley. He was +as lovable a lad as I ever met, but positively refused to take this +enormous herd of old outlaw, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>long-horned steers as a serious +proposition.</p> + +<p>We had always four men on night herd at a time, each gang standing night +guard three hours, when they were relieved by another four men. The +first gang was 8 to 11 o'clock in the evening; the next 11 till 2 and +the last guard stood from 2 till daylight, and then started the herd +traveling north again. I kept two old cow hands and two green ones on +each guard, and had been nine days on the trail; had traveled about a +hundred miles without any mishap. We had bright moonlight nights. The +grass was fine, being about the first of June, and I was beginning to +feel a little easier, when one night we were camped on a high rolling +prairie near the Wyoming line.</p> + +<p>Curley and three other men had just went on guard at 2 o'clock in the +morning. The moon was shining bright as day. Everything was as still as +could be, the old long-horned outlaws all lying down sleeping, probably +dreaming of the cactus-covered hillsides in their old home in Arizona. +Curley was on the north side of the herd and rolling a cigarette. He +forgot my oft-repeated injunction not to light a parlor match around the +herd in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>the night, but scratched one on his saddle horn. When that match +popped, there was a roar like an earthquake and the herd was gone in the +wink of an eyelid; just two minutes from the time Curley scratched his +match, that wild, crazy avalanche of cattle was running over that camp +outfit, two and three deep. But at that first roar, I was out of my +blankets, running for my hoss and hollering, "Come on, boys!" with a +rising inflection on "boys." The old hands knew what was coming and were +on their hosses soon as I was, but the tenderfeet stampeded their own +hosses trying to get onto them, and their hosses all got away except +two, and when their riders finally got on them, they took across the +hills as fast as they could go out the way of that horde of oncoming +wild-eyed demons. The men who lost their hosses crawled under the front +end of the big heavy roundup wagon, and for a wonder the herd didn't +overturn the wagon, although lots of them broke their horns on it and +some broke their legs. When I lit in the saddle, and looked around, five +of my cowboys was lined up side of me, their hosses jumping and +snorting, for them old cow hosses scented the danger and I only had time +to say, "Keep cool; hold your hosses' heads high, boys, and kee<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a><br /><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a><br /><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>p two +hundred yards ahead of the cattle for at least five miles. If your hoss +gives out try to get off to one side," and then that earthquake (as one +of the tenderfeet called it when he first woke up) was at our heels, and +we were riding for our own lives as well as to stop the cattle, because +if a hoss stumbled or stepped in a badger hole there wouldn't be even a +semblance of his rider left after those thousands of hoofs had got +through pounding him. I was riding a Blackhawk Morgan hoss with +wonderful speed and endurance and very sure footed, which was the main +thing, and I allowed the herd to get up in a hundred yards of me, and +seeing the country was comparatively smooth ahead of me, I turned in my +saddle and looked back at the cattle.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 256px;"> +<img src="images/ill_009.jpg" width="256" height="400" alt="" /> +<span class="caption"><i>The Stampede.</i></span> +</div> + +<p>I had been in stampedes before, but nothing like this. The cattle were +running their best, all the cripples and drags in the lead, their sore +feet forgotten. Every steer had his long tail in the air, and those +4,000 waving tails made me think of a sudden whirlwind in a forest of +young timber. Once in a while I could see a little ripple in the sea of +shining backs, and I knew a steer had stumbled and gone down and his +fellows had tramped him into mincemeat as they went over him. They were +constantly breaking one another's big horns<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> as they clashed and crowded +together, and I could hear their horns striking and breaking above the +roar of the thousands of hoofs on the hard ground.</p> + +<p>As my eyes moved over the herd and to one side, I caught sight of a +rider on a grey hoss, using whip and spur, trying to get ahead of the +cattle, and I knew at a glance it was Curley, as none of the other boys +had a grey hoss that night. I could see he was slowly forging ahead and +getting nearer the lead of the cattle all the time.</p> + +<p>We had gone about ten or twelve miles and had left the smooth, rolling +prairie behind us and were thundering down the divide on to the broken +country along Crow Creek. Now, cattle on a stampede all follow the +leaders, and after I and my half dozen cowboys had ridden in the lead of +that herd for twelve or fifteen miles, gradually letting the cattle get +close to us, but none by us, why we were the leaders, and when we began +to strike that rough ground, my cowboys gradually veered to the left, so +as to lead the herd away from the creek and onto the divide again. But +Curley was on the left side of the herd. None of the other boys had +noticed him, and when the herd began to swerve to t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>he left, it put him +on the inside of a quarter moon of rushing, roaring cattle. I hollered +and screamed to my men, but in that awful roar could hardly hear my own +voice, let alone make my men hear me, and just then we went down into a +steep gulch and up the other side. I saw the hind end of the herd sweep +across from their course of the quarter circle towards the leaders, saw +the grey hoss and Curley go over the bank of the gulch out of sight +amidst hordes of struggling animals. But as I looked back at the cattle +swarming up the other bank I looked in vain for that grey hoss and his +curly-haired rider. Sick at heart, I thought of what was lying in the +bottom of that gulch in place of the sunny-haired boy my partner had +sent out to me, and I wished that eighty thousand dollars worth of +hides, horns and hoofs that was still thundering on behind was back in +the cactus forests of Arizona.</p> + +<p>As the herd swung out on the divide they split in two, part of them +turning to the left, making a circle of about two miles, myself and two +cowboys heading this part of the herd and keeping them running in a +smaller circle all the time till they stopped. The other part of the +herd kept on for about five miles further, then they split in two, and +the cowboys divided and finally got both bu<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>nches stopped; not, however, +till one bunch had gone about ten miles beyond where I had got the first +herd quieted.</p> + +<p>It was now broad daylight, and I started back to the gulch where poor +Curley had disappeared. When I came in sight of the gulch, I saw his +dead hoss, trampled into an unrecognizable mass, lying in the bottom of +the gulch, but could see nothing of Curley. While gazing up and down +the gulch which was overhung with rocks in places, I heard someone +whistling a tune, and looking in that direction, saw Curley with his +back to me, perched on a rock whistling as merry as a bird.</p> + +<p>He told me that as his hoss tumbled over the rocky bank, he fell off +into a crevice, and crawling back under the rocks, he watched the +procession go over him.</p> + +<p>We were three days getting the cattle back to where they had started and +two hundred of them were dead or had to be shot, and hundreds had their +horns broken off and hanging by slivers. It had cost in dead cattle and +damage to the living at least $10,000. But I was so glad to get that +curly-headed scamp back alive and unhurt I never said a word to him.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.</a></h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Catching a Maverick</span>.</h3> + +<p>One day while waiting for a gravel train going west, we all got to +talking about catching mavericks. Eatumup Jake said he'd always been too +honest to go out on the range and hunt mavericks; Dillbery Ike said he +was too, but he wasn't so durned honest as to let a maverick chase him +out of his own corral, and they asked me what I thought about branding +mavericks. I told them that I thought it was a bad practice to hunt +mavericks all the time, but whenever a maverick came around hunting me +up, I generally built a fire and put a branding iron in to heat. But I +told them I would always remember one maverick I had an adventure with, +and after they had all promised me not to ever tell the story to any +one, I told them the following:</p> + +<p>One hot day in the spring of '84 I started across the hills from my +ranch to town, fifteen miles away. I generally had a good riata on my +saddle, but this day, for some reason, I didn't take anything but a +piece of rope fi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>fteen feet long. I didn't expect to meet any mavericks, +as it was just after the spring roundup and there wasn't a chance in a +hundred of seeing one. My way was across a high, broken country, without +a house or a ranch the entire distance. There was bunches of cattle and +horses everywhere eating the luxuriant grass, drinking out of the clear +running streams of mountain water or lying down too full to eat or drink +any more. I was riding one of my best hosses, as everybody did when they +went to town; had my high-heeled boots blacked till you could see your +face in them; was wearing a brand-new $12 Stetson hat that was made to +order; had on a pair of new California pants—they were sort of a +lavender color with checks an inch square, and I was more than proud of +them. I had on a white silk shirt and a blue silk handkerchief round my +neck, a red silk vest with black polka dots on it, but didn't have any +coat to match this brilliant costume, so was in my shirt sleeves.</p> + +<p>I rode along, setting kind of side ways, my hat cocked over my ear, +a-looking down at myself from time to time, and I was about the most +self-satisfied cowpuncher ever was, didn't envy a saloon-keeper in the +territory, and saloon-keepers had as much influence in Wyomi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>ng them days +as a sheepman does now, and that's saying all you can say, when it's +known that the sheepmen to-day in Wyoming fill almost every office, +elective and appointive.</p> + +<p>Well I had got about half way to town and was a studying 'bout a girl I +bid good-bye to in the East fifteen years before, and sort a-wishing she +could see me now, when all of a sudden I looked up and right there, not +fifty feet away, was a big, fat, black bull maverick. He was about a +year and a half old and would weigh 800 pounds. He was wild as an elk +and had given a loud snuff on seeing me, which had called my attention +to him. I immediately commenced making that short piece of rope into a +lasso. There wasn't much more than enough for the loop. But I knew old +Bill, the hoss I was riding, could catch him on any kind of ground, so +throwed the spurs in and went sailing over the breaks and coolies after +that wild bull maverick. I soon caught up with him, but found it almost +impossible to throw the loop over his head with such a short rope, as he +dodged to one side or the other every time I got in reach. However, I +finally got it over his horns just as he went o<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>ver a bank, but before I +could take any <a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a>dallys, he jerked the rope out of my hands and was gone +with it.</p> + +<p>Now I had got to pick up the rope, and as it only dragged five or six +feet behind him, I would have to ride by him and grab the rope near his +head as I went by: but he was still on the dodge, and I made several +passes at it and missed. The bull was getting mad by this time, and +lowering his head and elevating his tail he soon had me on the dodge. +Whenever I wasn't chasing the bull, he was chasing me. Thus we had it up +one gulch and down another. Many times I grabbed the rope only to have +it jerked out of my fingers, but finally got a wrap around my saddle +horn and a knot tied. It never had occurred to me I couldn't throw him +with that short rope till I was tied hard and fast to him and riding +down the gulch at break-neck speed with that black bull a close second.</p> + +<p>We had been chasing each other now for over an hour and my hoss was +getting tired, but Mr. Bull seemed to be fresher than ever. I had lost +my new Stetson hat early in the game, and, as we had soused through a +good <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>many alkali mud-holes, I was spattered from head to foot with mud. +My white silk shirt and lavender-colored pants were a total wreck. But +something had got to be done, and watching the bull till he was veering +a little to the left of my hoss I made a quick turn to the right, and +stopping right quick, turned Mr. Bull over on his back. Before he could +get up I was off and on top of him, had his tail between his hind legs, +my knees in his flank, and, as every cowpuncher knows, I could hold him +down. My hoss was pulling on the rope same as any well-trained cow hoss +would, keeping the bull's head stretched out, and there wasn't the least +possible show of him getting up; but as I didn't have any short foot +ropes to tie his feet with, I just had to set in his flank and keep +tight hold of his tail. Billy, my hoss, had got hot and excited during +the race and kept surging on the rope more than was necessary. I kept +saying, "Whoa, Bill," but directly he give an extra hard pull, the rope +broke right at the bull's head, and despite my nice talk, Billy turned +his back to me and started across the hills for home. In vain I +hollered, "Whoa, Bill; come, Billy," he never looked around but once, +and that was just as he disappeared over the hill. He sort a-looked back +for a moment, as much a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>s to say, "Well you wanted that darn little black +bull so bad, now you got him stay with him," and that's what I had to +do. He was twice as hard to hold now without any rope on his head, but I +knew if he ever got up, he would gore me to death, as there wasn't a +tree or rock to get behind.</p> + +<p>It was about noon. The hot sun was pouring down on my bare head and I +was choking with thirst. No one ever traveled that way but me. Miles +away to any habitation, there I would have to stay in that stooping +position, holding on to that little black bull's tail. I was young and +strong, but my back began to ache, my hand would cramp clasping that +bull's tail so tightly, but still I held on somehow, for I knew certain +death awaited me if I let go. A bunch of cattle came along and circled +around me with wide-eyed astonishment, then trotted off; a couple of +antelope came running over the hill, and catching sight of me in that +ridiculous position, their curiosity overcame their timidity and they +kept getting nearer and nearer, till only a few rods away, the old buck +antelope stopped and snuffed very loudly and stamped with his fore feet, +but, not being able to get any response out of the black bull and me, +finally left. Then a silly jackrabbit came hopp<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a><br /><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a><br /><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>ing up on three legs, and +after standing up several times on his hind legs as high as possible and +pulling his whiskers some, he shook his big ears as much as to say, +"It's beyond me," and he, too, left.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 254px;"> +<img src="images/ill_010.jpg" width="254" height="400" alt="" /> +<span class="caption"><i>Catching a Maverick.</i></span> +</div> + +<p>Just then the bull took a new fit of struggling and I heard the loud +buzz of a rattlesnake behind me. I almost dropped my holt on the bull's +tail then, but I had acquired the habit of holding on to it by this +time, so glanced over my shoulder to see how far the snake was from me. +I discovered he was only about ten feet behind me, coiled up and mad +about something. He was about four and a half feet long and big around +as my wrist, and didn't seem to have any notion of going around, but +just laid there coiled up, and every time the bull or me moved, would +begin to rattle and draw his head back and forth, run out his tongue and +act disagreeable. Several times he started to uncoil and crawl in my +direction, but I stirred up the bull to floundering around and bluffed +the snake out of coming any closer. Still he seemed to like our company, +and finally went to sleep; but every time I and the bull got to +threshing around, he would drowsily sound<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> his rattle, as much as to say, +"I am still here; don't crowd me any." It was now about two o'clock in +the afternoon. I felt a kind of a goneness in my stomach, but my thirst +was something awful, and in my mind's eye I could see the boys in town +setting in the card-room of the saloon around the poker tables behind +stacks of red, white and blue chips, drinking Scotch highballs, while I +was out on that high mesa dying of thirst and holding down a little +black bull maverick with nothing for company but that old fat +rattlesnake who insisted on staying there to see how the bull and I come +out.</p> + +<p>I hoped against hope that when old Billy arrived at the ranch some one +would start back with him to hunt me up, but I remembered that most +everybody at the ranch had gone up in the mountains trout fishing and +wouldn't be back till night, and then I wondered which would live the +longest, me or the bull, and I thought about slipping away from him +while he was quiet; but the moment I would loosen up on his tail he +would commence threshing around trying to get up, still I kept fooling +with him. I'd loosen up on his tail, and then when he tried to get up, +throw him back; so pretty soon he didn't pay any attention when I +loosened up, and I thought I would try a sneak. However, in order to +make him think I still h<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>ad hold of his tail, I tied the end of it into a +hard knot.</p> + +<p>I looked around for his snakeship, as I had got to sneak back towards +him, but he was sound asleep, and as the bull was pretty quiet, I sized +up the country back of me and spied a gulch with steep broken banks +about one hundred and fifty yards away, and made up my mind that that +was the place to get to. So slipping by the snake I made the star run +of my life for that gulch.</p> + +<p>I had run about fifty feet when that bull first realized some of his +company was missing, and jumping to his feet looked around and caught +sight of me, and giving a snuff that I can hear in my dreams to this +day, he was after me. Talk about running. I remember a jackrabbit jumped +up in front of me, but I hollered to him to get out of the way. The bull +caught up before I quite got to the gulch, but hesitated for a moment +where to put his horns, and sort a-throwed his head up and down for a +time or two, like he was practicing—kind a-getting a swing like +throwing a hammer. When he got his neck to working good, biff! he took +me and I went sailing through the air, but when I come down it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> was on +the bank of the gulch, and before he could pick me up again I was over +and under that bank. It was about fifteen feet to the bottom and +straight up and down, but there was a little shelf of hard dirt on the +side, and I caught on there and was safe. He had gone clear over me into +the gulch, but was up and bawling and jawing around in a minute. +However, he couldn't get up to me, so looked around, found a trail +leading out of the gulch, and went up on top, then come around and +looked down at me. He was mad clear through; went and hunted up the old +rattlesnake, and after pawing and bellowing around him, charged him and +got bit on the nose. Then he saw my Stetson hat, and giving a roar, went +after it, and putting his horn through it, went off across the hills mad +clear through, full of snake poison, with my Stetson hat on one horn, +and that was the last I saw of the little black bull.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.</a></h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Stealing Crazy Head's War Ponies</span>.</h3> + +<p>We all got to talking about looking over your shoulder, and the boys +asked me if I had ever had to look over my shoulder, and I related to +them the following incident in my career on the plains:</p> + +<p>In the year 1880-81 the first cattle herds were driven to northern +Wyoming and turned loose along Tongue River, Powder River and the Little +Horn, and while the Injuns in southern Montana at that time were not +very hostile, yet they kept stealing our hosses and butchering the +cattlemen's cattle and committing all kinds of petty crimes, and once in +a while when they found a white man riding alone in the hills didn't +scruple to murder him. But stealing hosses wa<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>s their long suit. Now, I +only had four hosses at that time, and was working out by the month for +a cow outfit at $50 a month and board. I thought everything of these +four hosses, as they was the sum total of my possessions except about +$500 I had due me in wages. And when these hosses was missing one day +and a hunter reported seeing a band of Injuns prowling around, I was +pretty well worked up. A good many of the settlers in northern Wyoming +at that time had had their hosses stolen by the Injuns, but when they +found them in the Injuns' possession were unable to get them, as the +Injuns refused to give them up and would drive the white men out of +their camp. I had always made a loud talk when these men related their +experiences, that if ever any Injuns stole my hosses and I found them +in their possession I'd take them hosses and no Injun would drive me a +step in any direction. So when a freighter reported seeing some Injuns +on the Little Horn River, going north with my hosses, the cowboys all +said now was the time for me to make good all my loud talk about taking +my hosses away from the Injuns if they stole them.</p> + +<p>I had considerable trouble to get anyone to go with me, but <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>finally +persuaded a boy by the name of King, who was about 17 years old at the +time, and getting three hosses from the outfit I worked for, which was +the PK cattle outfit, we packed one of the hosses with bed and grub, and +riding the other two we struck out north down the Little Horn River. +After traveling along the river for several days we crossed and went +over on the Big Horn River, and keeping up this river to the Big Horn +Mountains, came across about two hundred Injuns camped at the base of +the mountains. As soon as we got in sight of their cayuses we saw two of +my hosses running with theirs. When we rode into their camp they +appeared friendly enough till they found out we wanted these two hosses. +I could talk the Injun language, and after making one of the petty +chiefs of their band a few little presents, King and I went out to catch +our two hosses, but they had been running with the Injuns' cayuses so +long we couldn't get near them. Finally we tried to drive them away from +the Injuns' cayuses, but about twenty Injuns had come up to us and told +us to let the hosses alone and go away. They had their guns, and while +they didn't point their guns at me, they kept sticking them against +King's breast and threatening to shoot if he didn't go at on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>ce. I now +offered to pay them if they would catch the two hosses. Every Injun +wanted from four to twenty dollars apiece. As there were about twenty +Injuns it amounted to about $300. The Injuns rounded up all their +cayuses, and getting them in a safe corral, caught my two hosses.</p> + +<p>I now instructed King to take the saddle off the hoss he was riding and +tie the hoss to the pack-hoss, and I also done this with the one I was +riding. We then turned them loose and the three animals immediately +started south towards Wyoming. I then told King to saddle one of the +hosses that the Injuns had caught for us, but pay no attention to the +Injun who was holding it. I saddled the other animal; two Injuns each +had a rope on the hoss's neck. When we got them saddled and bridled, I +told King to get on his, and I got on mine. The Injuns were standing all +around us as well as the squaws and papooses, but they had all laid down +their guns. I pulled my Winchester out of the saddle scabbard and +throwing a shell in the barrel, I told King to pull his six-shooter and +cut the Injun's rope that was on his hoss's neck. He said: "The Injuns +will shoot me if I do." I said: "I will shoot you right now if you +don't.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>" Although he was very much excited, he managed to pull his knife +out of his belt and cut the Injun's rope, and immediately started off +after the pack-hoss and saddle hosses on a dead run. The Injuns all set +up a howl, and the squaws began bringing the guns out of the teepees. +But I kept throwing my Winchester down on first one and then another. +The Injuns kept up an awful din hollering to one another, all the squaws +yelling to kill the masacheta (white man). But I could hear the chief's +voice above them all, telling them not to shoot me. The two Injuns +holding the hoss having dropped their ropes, I suddenly threw the ropes +off my hoss's neck and reaching down grabbed a papoose, five or six +years old, and throwing it up in the saddle with me, galloped away. I +knew they wouldn't shoot at me as long as I held to that papoose. But +it was like holding on to a full-grown wildcat. I was carrying my +Winchester in one hand, guiding my hoss with the same hand and trying to +hold on to that little biting, scratching, hair-pulling, shrieking +papoose with the other. My hoss was bounding over rocks and sage brush. +But he was a magnificent animal and in less time than it takes to tell I +was out of gunshot, and then I dropped that shrieking little Injun devil +on a sage bush and galloped off in the gathering darkness.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> + +<p>I soon caught up with King. We traveled all night and the next day. +Putting him on the trail to Wyoming with all the hosses but the one I +was riding, I turned north again to find the other two hosses. That day +I met a Piegan Injun that I was acquainted with, and he told me old +Crazy Head's band was camped on the Yellowstone River, and that they had +my other two hosses and tried to sell them to him.</p> + +<p>I rode into Fort Custer and told my story to Jim Dunleavy, the post +scout and interpreter, and wanted him to introduce me to the post +commander and get me a permit to be on the reservation. But the post +commander refused to see me and sent word for me to get off the +reservation, or he would put me in the guard house. But I struck out +through the hills north, and that afternoon came in sight of Crazy +Head's camp. I found an Injun boy herding a large bunch of cayuses about +a mile from camp, with my two hosses in the bunch. I rode into the herd +and had my hosses roped and tied together before the Injun had recovered +from his surprise, and started back south.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> +<p>But now a new idea took possession of me. Why not steal some Indian +cayuses and get even? There was a stage line running through the +reservation them days, and I knew the stock tender at the stage ranch, +fifteen miles from Fort Custer, at the Fort Custer battle-ground. So +waiting till dark I went there, and getting something to eat and leaving +the two hosses, I started back to Crazy Head's camp. It was a bright, +moonlight night and I found the Injuns' cayuses grazing in the same +place. Looking around cautiously I discovered two fine-looking, coal +black cayuses grazing by themselves about two hundred yards from the +main bunch. Slipping up close to them I threw my rawhide rope over one +of them, and, as he was perfectly gentle, started to lead him to a +little patch of timber, intending to hobble him and come back and get +his mate. But as soon as I started to lead him off, his mate followed +him, so I just kept going till I got to the stage station, twenty miles +from there, about 3 o'clock in the morning. Getting a bite to eat from +the old stock tender and showing him the two cayuses I had stole, he +told me he knew the cayuses and that they were old Crazy Head's war +ponies.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> +<p>I had been in the saddle now for twenty-four hours without any rest, but +dare not stop a moment, for I knew the Injuns and troops both would be +after me as soon as Crazy Head missed his ponies. So necking the two to +my other two hosses I started for Wyoming, ninety miles away. The Little +Horn River was very high, swimming a hoss from bank to bank, and the +stage hadn't been able to get through for some time. The recent rains +made the ground soft, and I knew the Injuns would have no trouble +tracking me. But they wouldn't miss the ponies till 6 o'clock in the +morning, so I would have twenty miles the start and certainly three +hours of time. But there was the danger of meeting other Injuns who +would know Crazy Head's ponies, and I might meet some scouting soldiers +and have to give an account of myself, not having any permit. I didn't +mind swimming the Little Horn River, if I hadn't the hosses to drive, +but it's hard work for a hoss to swim in a swift current where the waves +out about the middle are running big and high, as they do in mountain +streams, and drive some loose hosses. But I made the hosses all plunge +in and started for the other shore, two hundred yards away. They all +swam like ducks at first crossing, but I woul<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>d have to swim the river +seven times if I kept the valley, and knew I would lose time if I went +through the hills. So I kept on in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a><br /><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> a tireless lope, mile after mile, and +all the time looking back over my shoulder.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 259px;"> +<img src="images/ill_011.jpg" width="259" height="400" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">"<i>Looking Over My Shoulder.</i>"</span> +</div> + +<p>Now I knew the Injuns couldn't be in twenty miles of me, but +nevertheless I kept looking over my shoulder to make sure, and I looked +ahead, and every moving bush along the stream looked like a soldier or +an Injun, and every jackrabbit that jumped up side the road, every sage +hen that flew out the grass and startled my hosses nearly made me jump +out of my skin. Everything that moved in the distance looked like old +Crazy Head to me. Talk about looking over your shoulder, boys; why, my +neck got in the shape of a corkscrew. Then I came to another crossing of +the river. I never stopped to look at the high rolling black waters, but +plunged my hosses in and struck out for the other side. I again made it +in safety, and stopping just long enough to tighten my saddle cinches, +took another look over my shoulder and hit that lope again and made up +my mind I wouldn't be caught. But supposing I was caught, what kind of a +story could I tell? And so I tried to figure out a defe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>nse for being +found with them two black hosses. I couldn't think of anything or any +story but what looked fishy and showed I was a thief, and it seemed as +if every one else would know it. I remember after I became an officer of +the law, several years after this event happened, I caught a poor devil +skinning a beef one day that didn't belong to him, and as I rode up on +him and told him to turn the beef over so I could see the brand, he +dropped his skinning knife and looking up at me with guilt and terror in +his face, he says, "You know how it is yourself." And I said, "Yes, +Bill, I know how it is. I was a thief once, but the people are paying me +now to uphold the law. Besides I stole Injun hosses and you are stealing +white men's beef." And then at the memory of my ride on the Little Horn +that day I looked over my shoulder again, and when I looked back for +Bill he was gone, and somehow I was kind of glad, for I had a fellow +feeling for him.</p> + +<p>But to return to my story. When I had swum the Little Horn the fourth +time I was forty miles on my journey, and while the iron grey Oregon +hoss I was riding seemed as fresh as ever, the black Indian ponies +seemed to be getting tired. When I struck the n<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>ext ford on the river I +was fifty miles on the way and it was only 9 o'clock. I was feeling +pretty good. But this time when we got out about the middle of the river +where the waves were high and rolling, one of the Injun ponies stopped +swimming and commenced to float down stream with his nose in the water +and dragging the one he was necked to with him. I started after them and +by a good deal of urging got my hoss alongside, and throwing my rope on +them finally towed them ashore. The pony laid in the shallow water at +the shore for a long time, and I thought he was dead, but he finally +came to and got up. But he was full of water and pretty groggy.</p> + +<p>I found the other two, and getting them together again started on, but +knew I would have to take to the hills now when I came to the river +again, which I did, and hadn't rode over five miles in the hills +skirting the river till, coming up on a high divide and looking down in +the valley of the river, I saw a camp of five or six hundred Injuns; but +they didn't see me, and I kept on till I came to Owl Creek, which +empties into the Little Horn, and it was bank full of cream-colored, +muddy water. The banks were steep and I couldn't guess at the depth of +t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>he water, which was of the consistency of gumbo soup. However, I drove +the hosses into it, first having untied them from one another, as the +buffalo trail going down into it was very narrow. As each hoss plunged +in he went completely out of sight, and I couldn't guess how far he went +under water. But they all clambered up on the other bank, and I see I +had got to follow them, so plunged in. As my hoss jumped off that high +bank, I grabbed my nose and under that yellow water we went. It seemed +like we never would find the bottom, but finally did, and came back to +the surface and scrambled up the bank. My fine buckskin shirt and +leggings made but a sorry appearance. My six-shooter and holster were +full of yellow mud the same as my Winchester, and it took me an hour to +clean my guns and get that yellow mud off my hat and clothes. But I had +no more streams to cross, except Tongue River, which is in Wyoming, and +I crossed it a little after dark and got to my own ranch at 9 o'clock +that evening, having ridden the same hoss one hundred and six miles +since 3 o'clock that morning.</p> + +<p>That grey hoss is still living and is 30 years old now, and is well +known by all the old-timers in northern Wyoming. I laid down and slept +for twenty hou<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>rs, and when I reported at the roundup with my four hosses +and the two Injun ponies besides, I got a hearty handshake all around. +The boys made up a pot of a hundred dollars and gave it to me for the +Injun ponies, and then played a game of freeze-out to see who should +have them.</p> + +<p>I've never had the least inclination to look over my shoulder since.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">The Cattle Queen's Ghost</span>.</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">When darkness overshadows a lone cow ranch, wild and drear,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">One's nerves they get a-trembling in a way that seems so queer;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">When you <i>feel</i> the spirits round you, 'tis idle then to boast</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">You don't believe those stories you've heard about the ghosts.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>One dark, rainy evening while we were waiting on a sidetrack the boys +insisted I should tell them some adventure of mine. So after +considerable urging I told them an actual experience I had, that has +always convinced me that murdered people's ghosts come back and haunt +the place they were murdered in.</p> + +<p>Twenty years ago Jerry Wilson was known as the cattle king of the Platte +River. His cattle roamed for hundreds of miles up and down the main +river and all its tributaries, and, as the cowboys used to say, no one +man could count them even if they was strung out, cause he couldn't +count high enough.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> + +<p>Jerry had a beautiful wife and two lovely children, a boy and a girl, +and for years he and his family had no settled place to live, but went +around amongst his different ranches, staying awhile at each one, the +children being kept in school in Chicago, except in the summer time when +they came West to stay on some cattle ranch with their parents. Finally +Jerry Wilson bought a new ranch up in the south part of South Dakota, on +Battle Creek, and stocking it up with registered cattle and fine horses, +built a fine house, furnished it very expensively and settled on this +ranch for their home. He built magnificent barns that were the talk of +the whole country, and spent a small fortune in building up and +beautifying this ranch. But one day Jerry was riding his horse after a +cow on a hard run. The horse stepped in a badger hole and fell on top of +him, crushing in his ribs and otherwise injuring him so he only lived +long enough to be carried to the house and bid his wife and children +good-bye before he died.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilson mourned for Jerry a long time, but the care of her two +children and the increasin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>g cattle herds occupied her mind and time to +such an extent that her grief had settled into a quiet sadness, when a +young man from New York City, who had been discarded from home by his +family for his profligate excesses, came to Battle Creek, and stopping +at Mrs. Wilson's ranch was (as is the custom at all cattle ranches in +the West) made welcome to stay as long as he wanted to. At this time +Jerry Wilson had been dead seven years. His daughter, who was the oldest +of the two children, had married a prominent lawyer of Chicago. The son +was in school in the same city, and Mrs. Wilson made her home at the +Battle Creek ranch. She had successfully carried on all her cattle +enterprises and was known all over the West as the Cattle Queen. She was +about 40 years old at this time, still a beautiful woman and had +received many offers of marriage, but had rejected them all till this +graceless and unprincipled scoundrel from New York, whose name was +Clayton Allen, came to the ranch. Mrs. Wilson had arrived at the age +where a great many women begin to hanker for a young man's society and +attention, and was soon violently in love with Clayton Allen; and he, +seeing a chance to get hold of large sums of money to gamble and go on +sprees with, and kno<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>wing he could never hope to get any more from his +family, laid siege to the Cattle Queen's heart and herds with all the +wiles he was capable of.</p> + +<p>To make the story short, Mrs. Wilson married this worse than scamp and +learned too late to regret her mistake. He persuaded her first to sell +all her great cattle herds and ranches and invest all the money in +bonds, which she did, keeping only the ranch and blooded cattle on +Battle Creek. He now persuaded her to go to New York City with him, and +soon as they arrived he joined his old gang of profligates and spent his +nights with gay men and women, only coming to see her when his money was +exhausted, and then only long enough to get more money. In vain she +plead with him. Finally, in sorrow and grief, not having seen him for +several days, she took the train for the West and returned alone to her +old Battle Creek home.</p> + +<p>She had been home about a month, staying in her room alone most of the +time, weeping and crying, when one stormy, black night Clayton Allen +returned about 10 o'clock. He immediately went to his wife's rooms. The +servants heard loud talking and angry words between them for some time, +and apparently he was demanding <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>money and she was refusing to give him +any. There was a large hall that ran through the center of the house, +dividing the building its entire length. The servants had their rooms +and the dining-room was on the west side of this hall, and the Cattle +Queen had her parlors and sleeping apartments on the other side. About +11 o'clock the servants heard their mistress walking up and down this +hall, crying and moaning, but on opening their door that led into the +hall found she had gone back into her rooms, but Clayton Allen came in +the hall just then and asked the housekeeper to bring a bottle of wine, +as her mistress was ill and wanted some. The wine was brought, and +Clayton Allen taking it out of her hand at the door closed the door in +her face, telling her if she was wanted he would call her. Thirty +minutes later the housekeeper heard her mistress scream for help in the +hall, and rushing in found her lying on the floor in violent spasms, and +picking her up carried her to the bed, only to see her die the next +moment. The death-stricken woman only spoke once as she was being +carried to the bed. She whispered in the housekeeper's ear, "Mr. Allen +has poisoned me."</p> + +<p>All of the Cattle Queen's money <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>and bonds were kept in a portable safe +and where she kept the keys hidden no one knew. But at the funeral the +lawyer from Chicago, who, it will be remembered, married Jerry Wilson's +daughter, appeared on the scene, and after a consultation with the +housekeeper and cowboys at the ranch, Clayton Allen disappeared, in fact +the cowboys kidnapped him and kept him guarded in an old dugout for +several days, and when they let him go the lawyer had returned to +Chicago. The safe disappeared at the same time the lawyer left. So +Clayton Allen never got the enormous fortune that was in the safe, but +he got an administrator appointed, and the administrator sold the herd +of fine cattle at the Battle Creek ranch to me, as also the use of the +ranch for one year, and the hay.</p> + +<p>I tried to get some cowboys living in that part of the country to take +care of the ranch and cattle, but all of them promptly refused, saying +they wouldn't stay there for any amount of money. Then I sent some of my +men from my Wyoming ranch, where I was living at the time, but in a week +they came back, looking shamefaced and sulky, but refusing to stay at +the Battle Creek ranch. After I questioned them pretty sharply, they +said they didn't believe much <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>in ghosts, but the Cattle Queen's ghost +was too much for them. They said from 10:30 o'clock in the evening till +after midnight she tramped up and down the hall in the house, crying, +screaming and groaning. They said the doors leading from the hall to the +Cattle Queen's rooms kept opening and shutting, and they could hear her +talking and expostulating with someone and walking back and forth from +the hall to her rooms. I had an old man working for me at the time who +was almost totally deaf, so I sent him and my own son, Georgie, who was +a manly, brave little fellow of 12 years, to the ranch. I had a talk +with George before they started and told him all about it. I said some +one was trying to buy the ranch cheap and was making these disturbances +in order to give the ranch the name of being haunted. But in a week I +got a letter from my boy, saying there might not be any such things as +ghosts, but there was certainly some kind of carrying on in the hall of +that old house every night, and wanting me to come up. So taking my gun +and dog, I went up there to lay the ghost. My dog was one of the largest +specimens of the big blue Dane breed and wasn't afraid of anything. And +I said to myself, "Now I will nail these parties and convince my son +while he is young that there isn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> any such things as ghosts."</p> + +<p>When I arrived at the ranch I found Deaf Bill, as we called him, and my +little boy had taken up their quarters in the housekeeper's room, which +was in the extreme western portion of the house, which was built without +any upstairs, all the rooms being on the ground floor. I went into the +hall of the house and found that the doors at each end of the hall were +locked from the inside, the keys being in the locks. I next went into +the parlors and sleeping apartment used by the Cattle Queen in her +lifetime and where she met her tragic death, and found the curtains all +down and the windows closed with catch locks and screens outside of the +windows. Everything was apparently in the same condition as when the +rooms were fastened up after her death. Her books, and pictures, and +paintings, and wardrobe, and easy chairs were all there, just as if she +might have stepped out expecting to be back at any moment.</p> + +<p>I raised a window in her bedroom with some difficulty, as I wanted to +air the room a little, for I had made up my mind to sleep in that bed +that night in those haunted rooms and convince superstitious people that +I at least wasn't afraid of ghosts. I tr<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>ied to get my little boy to +sleep in there with me, but with pale cheeks and staring eyes and +chattering teeth he begged so hard that I didn't insist on it. I have +always been thankful that I didn't oblige him to stay with me that +dreadful night.</p> + +<p>When I retired, about 8:30 that evening, with my dog and gun into the +haunted rooms I was very tired from my long drive from the railroad, and +setting the lamp on a stand at the head of the bed and putting my +six-shooter under my pillow I called my dog to the side of the bed and +laying down with my clothes on, pulled some blankets over me, blew out +the light and immediately went to sleep.</p> + +<p>How long I slept I know not, but was awakened by my dog who was whining +and licking my face. When I first woke up I didn't remember for a moment +where I was, but the next moment heard a long-drawn sigh across the room +from me and could hear somebody walking on the carpet. I bounded up and +had just lit the lamp when I heard someone open the door from the parlor +into the hall, and the next moment heard an agonizing cry for help in +the hall. I now grabbed the lamp and my six-shooter and running thro<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a><br /><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a><br /><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>ugh +the two parlors opened the hall door suddenly, just after hearing the +second cry for help, and found that the hall was absolutely empty, the +doors at each end still being locked, and the door that led into the +servants' part of the house was also locked from my side of the hall, as +I had locked it when I went through to go to bed.</p> + +<p>I went back into the two parlors and sleeping apartments and searched +them thoroughly, even the wardrobes and clothes closets; tried all the +windows, but there was no trace of any living person's presence. I then +noticed my dog. He had crawled under the bed and was lying there whining +in the most abject terror. I dragged him out and kicked him a couple +of times and told him to "watch them." But apparently he'd had all the +ghost business he cared about, for he lay at my feet trembling and +whining. Disgusted with him, I laid down again, thinking I would blow +out the light, but be ready with my six-shooter and some matches and +catch whoever it was prowling around that house, trying to hoodoo the +place.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 255px;"> +<img src="images/ill_012.jpg" width="255" height="400" alt="" /> +<span class="caption"><i>The Cattle Queen's Ghost.</i></span> +</div> + +<p>I hadn't any more than laid down and blown out the light before my dog +was trying to get out of the wi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>ndow back of my bed and whining +piteously, and then I heard a woman crying in the same room with me and +coming slowly towards my bed. I began to get nervous, but scratched a +match and in the flickering light saw that the room was absolutely +empty. But as the match went out I heard someone run through the parlor, +open and shut the door into the hall, and then heard a long despairing +cry for help in a woman's voice. I plucked up the little courage I had +left, ran to the hall door, opened it, and, lighting a match, gazed up +and down that empty hall, seeing nothing or nobody. But as the match +flickered and went out there came a breath of cold air right in my face, +and then out of that black darkness, seemingly right at my shoulder, +arose that awful blood-curdling cry for help again, and as my blood +froze in my veins my dog answered the cry with one of those long, +despairing, drawn-out, mournful howls that dogs always give as a +premonition of death in the family. I tottered back to the bed and +vainly tried to light a match, but was too nervous; then hearing that +light footstep and that rustling presence coming from the hall through +the parlors again towards the bed, I dropped the match and pulling a lot +of blankets and bed covers over my head, I huddled down in a heap and +lay there tr<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>embling with fright and horror till the next morning, when I +heard my boy pounding on the outside of the window and calling me to +breakfast.</p> + +<p>No money would have induced me to have stayed another night on that +ranch, and getting an offer next day for the cattle, I sold them. Five +years afterwards I saw a man who had come by The Cattle Queen's ranch +and he said nobody lived there. The house and barns were all out of +repair; the fields overgrown with weeds and an air of desolation to the +whole premises. The administrator had finally sold the property for a +song to an easterner and he moved his family up there in the day time. +He had to go back to town that night for another load of his goods, and +when he returned to the ranch the next day, he found his wife roaming +around the fields a raving maniac, and she is still in the asylum in +South Dakota. They say the Cattle Queen's ghost still keeps entire +possession, and will till her murderer is punished for his crimes.</p> +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.</a></h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Packsaddle Jack's Death</span>.</h3> + +<p>Packsaddle Jack had got tired of filing off wrinkles one night, and, not +being sleepy, walked on ahead of the special till he came to a +sidetrack. Lying down there on the embankment he went to sleep and +caught a violent cold, from which he never recovered. It settled into a +bad cough, and the wrinkle dust seemed to aggravate it. Still he +insisted on taking his regular shift in spite of our remonstrances, and +the harder he coughed the harder he'd file. As the motion of filing and +coughing is almost the same, he seemed to make better time coughing when +he was filing, and vice versa, but finally he became so weak that he +couldn't leave the way-car any more, and we knew it would be a question +of a very few days till old Packsaddle would be swimming his bronk +acro<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>ss the River Styx. He became very quiet and thoughtful those +days—seemed to do a heap of studying—and one bright, sunny afternoon +he called me over to his corner of the way-car and told me he had a +dream the night before and it made such an impression on him he wanted +to tell it to me.</p> + +<p>He said in the start of his dream he seemed to be there on the way-car +planning how much he could possibly get out of what cattle was left when +he got to Omaha, when it seemed all of a sudden there was a mighty +well-dressed cowpuncher riding a big paint hoss and leading another all +saddled and bridled came right up to him and says: "Packsaddle, come +with me." He said the stranger had on a big Stetson hat, a mighty nice +embroidered blue shirt, with red silk necktie and white fur snaps, +high-heeled boots, and a pearl-handled .45 six-shooter. He was riding +Frazier's famous Pueblo saddle, had a split-eared bridle and was rigged +out every way that was proper. Said he asked the stranger where he +wanted him to go, and the stranger told him they was going to a country +where there was no sheep or sheepmen; where the grass grew every year; +where the cattle was always fat; where they drove their cattle to market +place of shipping them; where hard <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>winters, horn flies, heel flies and +mange was unknown. He said the stranger made such a square talk he +finally made up his mind to go with him, although he had some doubts, +not knowing the fellar. So getting on the led hoss, he was kind of +surprised to find the stirrups just his length and the saddle just +fitted him.</p> + +<p>He said they started off kind a slow at first, in a little jog trot, but +directly got to loping, and finally, after crossing a lot of +mean-looking country, they came to a big river and his guide told him +they had got to swim their horses across it as there was no bridge. The +stranger said lots of smart men had tried to build a bridge across this +river, and some people had deluded themselves into thinking they knew of +a bridge that they could get across on, but always when it came to +crossing they couldn't exactly locate their bridge and had to plunge in +with the crowd. Packsaddle said it was a mighty ugly-looking stream. It +was wide and deep and looked like it was rising. The water was black as +ink and the waves out toward the middle was rolling mountain high. Still +there appeared to be people all along the shore, a-plunging i<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>n and +starting for the other side. There was a large crowd scattered along and +most of them didn't seem to see the river till they fell off backwards +into it. They would be laughing and cutting up, with their backs to the +river and all of a sudden get too close; a little piece of bank would +crumble off, and with a despairing cry they disappeared beneath the +black waters and was seen no more. Some apparently mighty rich people +dashed up with carriages and servants, and taking a sack of gold in each +hand would offer that to the river, thinking probably they wouldn't have +to cross if they offered it some gold. But of all the people who came to +the river, only a very few ever turned back, although most of them +seemed to want to. He noticed a few that looked like farmers' wives who +came up, and soon as they saw the river a smile of content came on their +faces and they slid into the boiling water as naturally as though it was +wash-day. There was a class of men, too, who came up with a determined +look on their countenances, and without the slightest hesitation plunged +into the awful stream and struck out for the other side. These men all +had cowboy hats on, and when Packsaddle asked his guide who they were, +he said they were cowmen who had been shipping their cattle to the Omaha +market, and their cattle <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>had starved to death on the stock-yard transfer +waiting to be unloaded.</p> + +<p>Some there was that looked like pettifogging lawyers and cheap +politicians, who, when they arrived at the river, flourished a handful +of annual passes over different lines, looking for a pass over the +river, but not getting it, turned back and wouldn't cross, and the guide +told Packsaddle that he guessed this class of people never did cross, as +they seemed to get thicker every year.</p> + +<p>Packsaddle said at first he kind of hated to cross the river, as his +guide said none ever returned, and he couldn't see the other bank very +plainly, and was in some doubt as to what kind of a country was on the +other side, although there was hundreds of big, fat, red-faced looking +men, dressed in black, standing along the shore where he was, telling +everybody what kind of a country was on the other side. They differed a +great deal in their description of it, but that was probably on account +of what different people wanted. All these black-robed, fat-looking +rascals got money out of the crowds and seemed to be doing a thriving +business by fixing up people to cross and giving them encouragement. +Most all of them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> was selling some kind of a patented life-preserver to +wear across the river, and each one shouted out the merits of his +life-preserver till their noise drowned the roar of the river, and they +tried to get lots of people to cross the river that hadn't got anywhere +near the bank, just to sell them a life-preserver.</p> + +<p>Packsaddle had noticed all these things as they waited on the bank a +moment, and then, he said, they plunged their hosses in and started +swimming for the other side. The other bank, he said, was sorter +obscured by a mist or fog, and he didn't see it till most there, but saw +worlds of all kinds of people struggling in the black water of the +river. Packsaddle said his hoss swam high in the water, never wetting +the seat of his saddle, and he felt just like he was getting home from +the general roundup. When they struck the bank there was a bunch of +cowboys helped his hoss up the bank, gave him a hearty handshake all +around and made him welcome every way. When he turned around to thank +his guide that gentleman had vanished, and the cowboys told him his +guide was a regular escort across the river for cowmen an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>d cowboys; that +most everybody had to get across the best way they could, but cowmen and +cowboys always had a good hoss to ride and a guide; that one reason for +this was that they was most always mighty good to a hoss and thought a +heap of them. They said, though, that there was a lot of boats with +cushioned seats, and mighty comfortable, that brought over the poor old +widder women and farmers' wives and orphan children that had been abused +and starved till they just had to cross the river to get away.</p> + +<p>Packsaddle said it looked like a mighty good country, lots of fat +cattle, the finest hosses he ever see, lots of cowboys laying under the +mess-wagon bucking monte and everybody winning, while the roundup cooks +had pots and bakeovens steaming with roast veal, baking powder biscuits +and cherry roll. He said the boss of one of these outfits hired him on +the spot, and giving him a string of fat hosses to ride, he picked out a +black pinto with watch eyes and saddled him. Soon as he got on this hoss +it started to buck and he said he dreamed that hoss throwed him so high +that he saw he was coming down on the other side of the river and it +disgusted him so he woke up.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 260px;"> +<img src="images/ill_013.jpg" width="260" height="400" alt="" /> +<span class="caption"><i>Packsaddle Jack.</i></span> +</div> + +<p>Packsaddle was very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a><br /><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a><br /><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> weak when he got through telling his dream, and +after taking a drink of water he told me he thought we was all making a +mistake trying to make money raising cattle. He'd heard about some place +in the East where they just issued stock, place of raising it, and that +certainly must be the place to go. He'd heard of two or three men, +probably stockmen, who get together in New York City, issued just +millions of stock in one day, and he was satisfied that was one thing +made our stock so cheap. For himself, he said, he liked that country he +saw in his dream and thought he'd go there pretty soon.</p> + +<p>While we were talking the head brakeman came in and said there was a cow +dead in the car next the engine. Packsaddle gave a gasp or two, and +when I bent down over him he whispered he would go and round her up; and +when I looked at him again he was dead.</p> + +<p>Poor old Packsaddle! His early life had been embittered by the discovery +that a married woman (whom he was in the habit of visiting in the +absence of her husband down in Texas where he was raised) was untrue to +him, and on meeting his rival at the lady's house when her husband had +gone to mill with a gr<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>ist of corn, he promptly filled his rival's +anatomy full of lead and came away in such a hurry that he had to borrow +a jack-mule and packsaddle from a man that was prospecting, and rode +this packsaddle to Wyoming, and thus acquired the euphonious name of +Packsaddle Jack. Although he was cheerful at times, yet the memory of +this woman's perfidy to him cast a gloom of melancholy over his after +life which was never entirely dispelled. He never whined when he lost +his money bucking monte, always had a good supply of tobacco and +cigarette papers of his own and never failed to pass them around. While +he didn't have much love for women or Injuns, he loved a good hoss and +twice owed his life to his hoss when he had a brush with Cheyenne Injuns +in early days in northern Wyoming.</p> + +<p>In a burst of confidence a few days before his death he told me he had +endured the worst kind of hardships all his life. Winter and summer he +had lived on the plains and in the mountains without shelter, by open +campfires, lots of times without much to eat; had been hunted and shot +at for days and nights by Cheyenne Injuns and never met with the +privations and discomforts he had on this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> trip. And as for slowness, he +said he hired out one time in Texas when he was a boy, to help drive 900 +tame ducks across the swamps of Louisiana to New Orleans to market; said +the trail was so narrow that only one duck at a time could walk in it +and sometimes no trail at all, just high grass and swamp brush, and yet +they beat the time of a cattle special <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>away yonder.</p> + +<h4>THE SPIRIT OF PACKSADDLE FOLLOWS THE DEAD COW.</h4> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">A stock train was waiting on a sidetrack one day</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">For gravel trains going some other way;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And as they waited the cattle grew old,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">The stockmen grew haggard, the weather turned cold.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Their stomachs were empty, they were starving in fact,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">While the stock train was waiting on its lonely sidetrack.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">The reports said the markets were lower each day,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">While the cattle grew thinner, the stockmen grew grey.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">An old, grizzled cattleman spoke up at last,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Said he to the cowboys, "The time it is past,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">To make mon out of cattle or get any dough,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">This going to market by rail is a little too slow.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"The railroad companies' tariffs get higher each year,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Their passes get fewer, till I very much fear</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">That ahead of our stock train we will have to walk</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And wait for the cattle train to get up our stock.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"Let us up and be doing and build a big merger trust,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And sell stock to suckers and let them go bust,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">And for every steer issue millions of shares,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Let other people worry how to get railroad fares.</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"We will issue bonds and certificates and thus raise our stock;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">In place of breeding Shorthorns we will make a swift talk;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Have our shares all printed in red, green and gold,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Sell them in the stock market to the young and the old.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"And thus live by our cuteness and work of our brains</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">In place of starving on special stock trains.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">We will have servants and waiters, the best in the land;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Governors and princes will give us the glad hand."</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Just then the front brakeman stuck in his head,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">Saying in the car next the engine an old cow was dead.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">The old cowman gave a gasp and his spirit started to ride</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">To round up that old cow that in the front car had just died.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.</a></h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">A Cowboy Enoch Arden</span>.</h3> + +<p>Just after leaving North Platte, a train of immigrants on their way from +Oregon to Arkansas with mule teams went by us, and we found they had a +letter for us from Eatumup Jake, who had returned to Utah long ere this +to look after his domestic matters. One of the reasons why he abandoned +us was to return and look after the education of the twin boys. However, +the main reason was that so many reports had come to us from travelers +in wagons and sheepherders trailing sheep east, who had come through our +neighborhood in Utah, who said that all our friends had given us up for +dead, and Eatumup Jake's wife, after putting on mourning for a proper +season, had begun to receive the attentions of a widower, who was part +Gentile bishop and part Mormon elder.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> +<p>As Jake was in a hurry when he started back home, he bought him a cheap +mustang in place of accepting the transportation which was urged on him +by all the principal officers of the railroad. He wrote us that when he +arrived on his ranch, his wife was out in the hayfield putting up the +third crop of alfalfa. She was driving a bull rake, hauling it into the +stack, while one of the twins was driving the mower and the other twin +was doing the stacking. The half-breed Mormon-Gentile bishop was +standing round with a cotton umbrella over his head, giving orders. +Jake's wife didn't know him at first, he had changed so, but the bishop +tumbled to him at once and started to leave. However, Jake overtook him +and persuaded the bishop to turn aside into a little patch of timber +with him, and Jake getting the loan of the umbrella in the painful +interview that followed, he left most of the steel ribs of the umbrella +sticking in the anatomy of the bishop, and then let the house dog, with +the help of the twin boys armed with their pitchforks, assist the bishop +clear off the ranch. This was so much better than the old style of Enoch +Arden business that Dillbery Ike made up a little rhyme about it after +we got Jake's letter, and here it is:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p><p> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">In Utah a cattleman got married in the glow of summer time,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Married a buxom Mormon girl, warm heart and manner kind.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">And as the autumnal sun began to tinge things red,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">He rounded up his cattle herd and to his bride he said:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">"Come hither, dear, and kiss me and sit upon my lap,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">For I am going a lengthy journey with my cows and steers that's fat.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">I'm going on the Overland with a special, long stock train."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">His bride, she wept and trembled and said, "I'll ne'er see you again.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">O Jake, my darling husband, give up this wrong design,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">If you must go east with cattle, then try some other line,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">For I have heard the stockmen talking and this is what they say,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">That if you drive your stock to market, that then there's no delay.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">But if you get a special train, the railroad has a knack</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Of letting you do your running when your train is on a sidetrack.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Some stockmen they have starved to death, and others grow so old</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">That none knew them on their return, so frequent I've been told."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">But Jake was young and hearty and his mind was full of zeal</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">To load his beef on a special and eastward take a spiel.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">So he started with his steers and cows in the golden autumn time.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Some neighbors also loaded theirs; the cattle were fat and fine.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">But they run the stock on the Overland, so slow and awful bum</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">That stockmen get old and care-worn, staying with a special run.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Their wives get weary waiting for hubby's coming home</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">And flirt with the nearest preacher who drops in when they're alone.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Jake's wife was no exception, and, as time went by, she said,</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 15em;">"If Jake was alive I know he'd come back; he surely must be dead."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">The good woman put on mourning and mourned for quite a time,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">But when thus she'd done her duty, she suddenly ceased to pine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">And when a Gentile-Mormon preacher dropped in one night to tea</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">She put on her new dress of gingham and was chipper as she could be;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Had him eating her pies and jellies that she knew how to make,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Had him sit in the easy rocker, without ever a thought of Jake.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">And when the twins got drowsy, she packed them off to bed,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Sat and played checkers with the bishop, just as though poor Jake was dead.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">When she jumped in the preacher's king-row, and had eight men to his five,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">She cared not (she was so excited) whether Jake was dead or alive.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">But at four o'clock next morning, she roused from sleep with a scream;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">She'd seen Jake pushing behind a stock train in this early morning dream.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">And that evening when the lusty preacher came hanging around again,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">He got but a scanty welcome, for she thought of the special train.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">For a time she was silent and thoughtful, the dream an impression had made,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">She could still see Jake pushing the special, as it slowly climbed the grade.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Now we know how the brave-hearted Jake with the stock train had to stay,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">How he camped by her side night times as on a sidetrack she lay.</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 15em;">We know how he pushed so manfully whene'er she climbed a hill,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">In fact every one pushed, even the sheepmen, Cottswool and Rambolet Bill;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">How hunger and famine o'ertook them as slowly they crawled along,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Their hearts almost broke with home-longing when Jackdo sung a home song.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Eyes filled with tears that were unbidden, hearts o'erflowing with pain—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">No pen can paint their sorrow as they stayed with this special stock train.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">The passing of poor old Chuckwagon, who slowly starved to death,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">On account of the smell of the sheepmen, he couldn't get his breath;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Their camping ahead of the special after they had buried Chuck,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">The washing away of the sheepmen, who surely were out of luck.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">They lived in snow huts on the mountain that's known as Sherman Hill,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Where the last was seen of the sheepmen, Cottswool and Rambolet Bill;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Their arrival at the Windy City that's known as the dead Shyann,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Some things about Burt and Warren and mayhap another man.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">And now with their party diminished by old age, privation and death,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">They still kept plodding on eastward, what of the party was left</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Till Jake talking with wandering sheepmen, who had trailed by his cabin home.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Heard of the scandalous preacher, who came when his wife was alone;</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 15em;">Heard of the nightly playing of checkers when the twins were safely in bed,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">About his wife all the neighbors were talking, her claiming that Jake was dead.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Finally through very home-sickness, he started to take the back track,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">And because he was in such a hurry, he rode all the way horse-back.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Arriving in sight of his meadows, a-waving fresh and green,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">The alfalfa growing the highest that Jake had ever seen;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Two red-headed boys the hay were pitching; their mother was hauling it in.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">There was only one blot on the landscape that made Jake feel like sin.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">'Twas our Gentile-Mormon bishop in the shade of his old umbreller.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">With his long-tailed coat and eye glasses, he looked like Foxy Quiller.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">When Jake got close to the bishop he booted him out the field,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">The house dog and twins, with their hayforks, finished making the elder spiel.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Then Jake gathered his family around him, work was laid by for the day,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">They told all their joys and their sorrows, so I've finished my lay.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Moral.</i></p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">The old-fashioned Enoch Arden story was a tale well told;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">I can't approach or rival it, nor make a claim so bold.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">But the ending of my cowboy Enoch Arden I really like the best,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">For he fired the interloper out the modern Arden nest.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI.</a></h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Grand Island</span>.</h3> + +<p>Before we arrived at Grand Island we learned from Jackdo that most +cowmen unloaded their cattle there and drove them back and forth through +the stockyards awhile in order to accumulate a large amount of mud on +them. This Grand Island mud is very adhesive and once steers is +thoroughly immersed in it the mud sticks to them for weeks and helps +very materially in their weight. A shipper told him that before he +stopped at Grand Island he used to wonder what cattlemen meant by +filling their cattle at Grand Island, but now he knew it was filling +their hair full of mud. Sometimes he said the mud was a little too +thick, kind of chunky and fell off, and sometimes it had too much water +in it and drained off, more or less. But when it was mixed just right it +would settle into their hair like concrete cement. It's quite dark in +color, fortunately, and if they've had a rain it is easy to get pens +where you can immerse your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a><br /><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a><br /><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> cattle all over and thus make them the color +of the Galloways, which is the most fashionable color for cattle in the +market.</p> + +<p>He said there was cases where cattlemen had got a good fill on Grand +Island mud and sold their cattle weighed up there to feeders who put +them on full feed for six months and they weighed less in the market +than to start with, because the feeders had curried the mud off them. +Sometimes he said after people left Grand Island with their cattle and +before the mud got well set, there would come a hard rain on them and +the mud washed off in streaks and gave the cattle kind of a zebra +appearance. Especially was this true where the cattle had originally +been white. He said we would be expected to order some hay and pay for +it and get the mud for nothing. It was just like a boot-jack saloon, +where you bought a high-priced peppermint drop and got a pint of whiskey +throwed in.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 259px;"> +<img src="images/ill_014.jpg" width="259" height="400" alt="" /> +<span class="caption"><i>Joe Kerr Loading Sheep for South St. Joe.</i></span> +</div> + +<p>'Twas here at Grand Island that we met Joe Kerr again. We had met him in +Utah before we shipped, and he had tried very hard to get us to ship our +cattle to the coming live stock market of the United Sta<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>tes at St. Joe. +Kerr travels in the interest of the St. Joe stockyards, and while in the +fullness of our youth and conceit when we first loaded our stock we +wouldn't have taken a suggestion from Teddy Roosevelt, yet we had grown +older and had lost some of our self-confidence; in fact, I've often +thought since these experiences that the old proverb, "He who ships his +range cattle to market place of selling them at home leaves hope +behind," would apply to most range shipments.</p> + +<p>Now it seems Joe Kerr had kept posted as to our movements right along +through friends of his who were in the sheep business and who had +trailed their herds past our train at different times on their trip +East to sell their sheep for feeders, and Kerr had made such nice +calculations by casting horoscopes and looking up the signs of the +zodiac that he knew to a month when we would arrive in Grand Island, and +was waiting there to persuade us to ship our stock to St. Joe in place +of Omaha. He was right on the spot to help us unload them; knew all the +pens where the mud was the deepest, even helped us smear the mud into +their hair on the few spots that was missed, when we were swimming them +through the mud bat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>ter. Joe had loads of statistics for sheepmen, +cattlemen, horsemen and hogmen that would convince any man that wasn't +too suspicious that St. Joe was the best market. He had beautiful +colored maps of the yards, showing the clear limpid waters of the +Missouri River, flowing along at the foot of the bluffs; the waters +swarming with steamboats and smaller craft; the city of St. Joe covering +the bluffs and river bottoms for miles, and just down the river at the +lower end of this great city was stockyards and packing plants laid out +like some great city park and hundreds of acres, all paved with brick, +laid into walks and floors for the pens with perfect precision, and all +divided in different compartments for all kinds of live stock; +everything arranged so sheep could be unloaded one place, hogs another +place, cattle another, so as to admit of no delay in unloading when +stock arrived. He told us that their yards were kept so clean that +ladies could walk all over them in rainy weather without soiling their +costumes. Said no Sheenies were skinning people in their yards. He made +such a square talk we finally agreed to split the shipment and let part +of the train go to St. Joe, and sent Jackdo along to take care of the +cattle.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII.</a></h2> + +<h3>"<span class="smcap">Sarer</span>."</h3> + +<p>The rainy season had now set in in good earnest all through Nebraska, +and while the natives have typhoid fever and malaria to a more or less +extent, yet most of them live through it, but people from the dry +mountain regions that have been used to pure air and water all their +lives fare worse from these fevers ten times over than the natives, and +Dillbery Ike fell a victim right in the start. One evening soon after +we left Grand Island I noticed his face was flushed very red, and he +complained of a dull headache, but as he had the headache a good deal +ever since the railroad police had scalped him at Cheyenne in mistake +for a striker, I didn't think so much of his headache. But when I come +to look at his tongue and feel his pulse I found every indication of +high fever. In a few hours he was out of his mind and talked of shady +mountain sides, babbling brooks and clear mountain springs of water, and +he talked <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>of his hosses and cattle, his cow ranch and alfalfa meadows, +but most of all he talked of "Sarer."</p> + +<p>Now Dillbery had only one romance in his life that we knew of, and that +happened in this way: Several decades previous to our story the few +families living in the vicinity of Dillbery's ranch in Utah had got +together and built an adobe school-house, and voting a special tax on +the piece of railroad track that run through their part of the country +had raised enough money to pay for the school-house and hire a +school-teacher. At first each of the three married women in the +neighborhood wanted to teach the school. Then each of them offered to +take turns about teaching it so they could divide the money, but their +husbands, who was the directors, wanted a school-marm, so as to have a +little young female blood diffused through the atmosphere in that part +of the country, and after advertising for a school teacher, the New +England brand preferred, got hundreds of answers very shortly. So +putting their heads together they selected one that had a kind of crab +apple perfume attached to the application, and was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>worded in such way as +to give the reader a notion of pleading blue eyes, with a wealth of +golden brown hair and heaving bosom, not too young to teach school nor +too old to be romantic and sympathetic, and closed a deal with her to +come West and teach their school. She had signed her name Sarah Jessica +Virginia Smythe, but was always known as Miss Sarer. When she was about +to arrive at the railroad station, thirty miles away, all the married +men wanted to go and meet her. All of them had particular business in at +the station that day, but none of their wives would stand for it. They +said that Dillbery Ike was a bachelor and the proper one to get her.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/ill_015.jpg" width="250" height="400" alt="" /> +<span class="caption"><i>The Arrival of Miss "Sarer."</i></span> +</div> + +<p>Now Dillbery Ike was a long, gangling, bashful, backward plainsman, +never had a sweetheart and was considered perfectly harmless around +women by every one who knew him. The old married men finally agreed to +let Dillbery meet the school-marm, but not till each had went through a +stormy scene with his wife, in which that good woman had threatened to +tear the blanket right in two in the middle with such forcible language +that you could almost hear it ripping. Dillbery had got shaved, had his +hair cut, put on his best black suit he had bought from a Sheeny, the +pants being a trifle of six or eight inches too short for him at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a><br /><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a><br /><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> the top +and bottom both, his coat rather large in the waist, but short at the +wrists like the pants; and hitching his mules to his spring wagon, he +started bright and early to the station of Kelton, Utah. He arrived +about noon, him and his mules white with alkali dust, and finding that +the train was twenty-three hours late, stayed at the section house till +next day, there being no hotel in Kelton. When the train came along next +day about noon, a large, portly lady of uncertain age, with her +frizzed-up hair turning grey, her hands full of wraps, lunch baskets, +sofa pillows, telescope grips, umbrellers, band-boxes and bird cages, +climbed off the train, and the baggageman put off a large horse-hide +trunk, from which most of the hair had been worn off, or perhaps +scalped off in the troublous times when Washington was crossing the +Delaware. When she got this old, bald-headed looking trunk and a couple +of shoe boxes with rope handles (that were probably full of Century +Magazines) piled up with her other baggage, the newsboy said it looked +like an Irish eviction.</p> + +<p>When Dillbery saw this old man-hunter and all her luggage, his heart +failed him, and he went to the saloon three times to liquor up before he +got sand en<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>ough to talk to her. Of course, Dillbery expected to marry +her, no matter what she was like, as the whole neighborhood where he +lived had planned it ever since the school-marm was talked of, and he +couldn't expect to disappoint the neighbors and still continue to live +there. Still she wasn't exactly what he had figured in his mind after +reading a great many novels about the rosy-cheeked, small-waisted, +dainty-feet, lily-white hands, wondrous brown hair, blue-eyed New +England darlings, with pretty sailor hats and tailor-made suits, who +come West to teach our schools and incidentally marry the most expert +roping, best broncho-busting, chief cowpuncher. And now here was this +dropsical-looking old girl, with fat, pudgy-looking hands and feet like +a couple of poisoned pups, with all this colonial luggage.</p> + +<p>However, Dillbery was obliged to take charge of her and her traps, as he +called them, and when he was finally ready to start, had got everything +on the spring wagon, even to the bird cages, and after getting a final +drink with the boys and filling a bottle to take along, he loaded the +old girl in and whipping up his mules, disappeared in a cloud of alkali +dust.</p> + +<p>Dillbery sat on his end of the seat, frightened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> out of his wits, and +Sarah Jessica Virginia Smythe sat on the other end, but, of course, sat +on all the vacant seat left by Dillbery, 'cause she couldn't help it, +she was built that way, and was even more afraid of Dillbery than he was +of her. Although she had always been hunting a man, yet she was in a +wild country and a stranger; not a house in sight and night coming on, +was with a savage-looking man, who was, undoubtedly, very drunk, and +acting very strangely to say the least. As time went on Dillbery got +dryer and dryer, and studied a good deal how to get a drink out of his +bottle without letting Sarah see him. Finally he concluded he could make +some excuse that the load was slipping; he might get around back of the +wagon to fix it, and under cover of the darkness quietly get a drink +out of his bottle. So when they were crossing a canyon in an unusually +lonely spot, he stopped the mules and muttering something about the +load, he started to get out, but Sarah thought her hour had come, and +throwing her arms (which were like pillow bolsters) around Dillbery's +neck, began to scream and piteously beg him not to do her any wrong. The +more Dillbery Ike tried to explain, the more Sarah Jessica cried, +screamed and sobbed, till finally<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> with a despairing sigh, like unto the +collapse of a big balloon, she fainted clear away on his breast, pinning +him over the back of the seat, his spinal column slowly but surely being +sawed in two over the sharp edge. The horror of poor old Dillbery, when +he realized that death from a broken back was only a question of her not +coming out of the dead faint, which she seemed to have gotten an +allopathic dose of, cannot be described.</p> + +<p>When some time had elapsed and she showed no signs of animation, he made +a great struggle to get from under her; but it was a vain attempt, he +was nailed down as completely as a piece of canvas under a paving block. +And when it came over him that he was doomed to this ignominious death, +when he fully realized what people would think about him when they found +him in this compromising position, and the cowboys would facetiously all +agree that he looked like a Texas dogie steer hanging dead on a wire +fence after a Wyoming blizzard; when he felt that peculiar, loud buzzing +in his ears that is a premonition of death, he made one final desperate +struggle, and spitting out a lot of grey hair, hair pins and pieces of +switch, which had accumulated in his mouth, he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>screamed with all the +strength of his lungs in one long despairing cry, the one word "Sarer."</p> + +<p>Now in Dillbery Ike's delirium and raging fever on the stock train, he +kept continually giving tongue in a long, blood-curdling, soul-freezing, +despairing cry to that one word "Sarer." Night and day we had to listen +to that heart-broken cry. Finally, when the fever was at its highest +stage I consulted the conductor of our special about getting a doctor +and he advised me to go back to the last town we had passed through, +where there was a good physician and get him. He said that we would have +plenty of time, as there was a lonely sidetrack just ahead of the train. +So walking back about ten miles to this town, I secured the services of +a doctor, and getting a livery rig we soon caught up with the special. +When the doctor had examined Dillbery's tongue and pulse and had put his +ear to Dillbery's heart while he was giving one of his despairing cries +for "Sarer," he wrote a prescription in some kind of foreign language +which he interpreted to us, as he said he had written it down as a mere +form to show that he could write in a foreign language. He said our +friend was very sick and the one thing that would save his life<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> was to +get "Sarer" for him. Now, of course, that was an impossibility, but he +said all we needed was an imitation "Sarer," something that looked like +her and was about her size and form, so after explaining to him what +"Sarer" was like, he drove back to town, and when he caught up to us +again, brought into the car a wonderful dummy made out of a large sack +of bran with a head tied on it composed mainly of a sack of hair, such +as plasterers use to mix mortar with. He had a large, but not too large, +Mother Hubbard dress on this wonderful dummy, and the whole well +perfumed with Florida water. When we laid this imitation "Sarer" in the +emaciated arms of poor old Dillbery, his eyes grew moist for a moment, +and straining it to his breast he gave a contented sigh or two, +whispered "Sarer, Sarer," and dropped off into a healthy slumber, and +the doctor said he would live.</p> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Eats Up "Sarer</span>."</h4> + +<p>Dillbery slept for a long time, and awoke somewhat refreshed, but +somewhat under the influence of his animal scalp, and no one being in +the car, the spirit of the goat probably overtook him, as he devoured +the head of the dummy "Sarer," which will be remembered consisted of +plastering hair. Then the s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>pirit of the sheep and the pig coming over +him, he devoured the sack of bran, and laying down in front the stove +like a Newfoundland dog, he went to sleep. Thus I found him on my return +to the car. But, alas! his stomach was too weak to digest all the stuff +he had consumed and in a few hours he was in a raging fever and calling +for "Sarer" again. But, of course, he had devoured "Sarer," and we had +nothing to fix up in the place of the dummy. And while it was +heart-rending to hear his sobbing cry for "Sarer" growing weaker and +weaker as the night wore on, yet we could only listen and hope. About 4 +o'clock in the morning his cries stopped and he seemed to be sleeping +for a few minutes, and then opened his eyes and took my hand and in a +weak but rational voice told me the story of his boyhood in the +following words:</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 252px;"> +<img src="images/ill_016.jpg" width="252" height="400" alt="" /> +<span class="caption"><i>Dillbery Ike's Darling Mother Under Arrest.</i></span> +</div> + +<p>He said he was born in the mountains in Virginia. He was the only child, +so far as he knew, of a moonshiner's daughter. His mother was not an +unhappy woman, he said, when she had plenty of snuff and moonshine +whisky; in fact, was quite gay at times. No one, not even his mother, +knew exactly who his father was. Some people said it was a revenue +officer and some said it was the member of Cong<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>ress from that district, +but most people thought it was a live stock agent of one of the western +railroads. However this may be, he thrived on corn pone, dewberries, +wild honey, and sow bosom, and as soon as he got old enough helped his +mother cut wood and haul it to town in a two-wheeled hickory cart drawn +by a steer. They lived with his grandfather, who was quite a prominent +man in that part of Virginia and who was finally killed by revenue +officers. His mother was sent to the pen for selling moonshine whiskey +and he was taken charge of by a family who immigrated to Utah. He said +the last time he saw his darling mother 'twas at their old home in the +mountains in Virginia. The steer was hitched to the cart one beautiful +spring morning. The sun's rays was just kissing the mountain tops, when +two revenue officers had appeared at their home, and after a lively +scrap with his mother they had succeeded in arresting her. Not though +till she had thoroughly furrowed their cheeks with her finger nails and +plenteously helped herself to sundry handfuls of their hair, after which +she had peacefully seated herself in the cart and was placidly chewing a +snuff stick in each corner of her mouth, when the steer and cart +disappeared around a bend in the mountain ro<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a><br /><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a><br /><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>ad, and fate had decreed he +should never see her again.</p> + +<p>The family that took charge of him were neighbor moonshiners and had a +day or so after this took place traded off their Virginia estate for a +team of antique mules and a linch-pin wagon, and storing a goodly supply +of moonshine whiskey, apple jack, corn meal and bacon in the wagon, +loaded the family, consisting of nine children, himself included, in the +wagon, and immigrated for Utah. He said as long as he was with these +people he was treated like one of the family, but as they immigrated +back to Virginia the next year they left him in Utah with a poor family +and he was hungry many times, and was always telling the children he +associated with how big the dewberries grew where he came from, so the +other children nicknamed him Dewberry, which was finally changed to +Dillbery and that name had stuck to him ever since.</p> + +<p>After finishing the story of his boyhood, Dillbery lay quiet for a short +time and then motioning me to bend down close to him he whispered to me +not to bury him in Nebraska where, he said, the only way a man could +hope to be resurrected was in the shape of a yellow ear of corn, to be +fed to a yellow steer, followed by a yellow hog and the hog meat eaten +by a yellow-whiskered malarial Populist, and so on. After I promised to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>see that he was buried on his ranch in Utah, he asked me to sing that +old cowboy song, "Oh! give me a home where the buffalo roams, a place +where the rattlesnake plays."</p> + +<h4>THE PASSING OF DILLBERY IKE.</h4> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 17em;">'Twas a dismal night on a way-car, the rain pattering on the roof o'erhead,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">The man who has told this story was alone with the silent dead.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">The voice that had been calling for Sarah was hushed and stilled at last,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">He had finished telling the story of his childhood's checkered past.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">No more would he ride the ranges, no more the mavericks brand,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">Nor subdue the bucking broncho, in that far western land;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">Never again to meet the school-marms, when they came traveling West</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">Under the guise of school teaching, to get in a bachelor's nest.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">Dillbery folded his hands gently, as he quietly went to sleep,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">In the death that knows no waking, for which no shipper could weep;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">While some of his life had been stormy, of hardships he'd had his share,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">Pen cannot paint a cattleman's troubles, nor picture his heart sick care.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">When he's got his cattle on a special, and getting a special run,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">Death for him hasn't a single terror, he longs for it to come;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">And so with poor old Dillbery, when his weary eyes closed in death,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">Blotted out his sorrows and troubles, all blown away with his last breath.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">He had gone to meet his grandfather, and get some of his latest brew,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">For who shall say that old moonshiner had quit distilling some mountain dew;</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 17em;">For all say the other world is better, we'll get what we like over there,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">While of our joys here we are stinted, in the hereafter we get double share.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">His eyes grew bright with a vision that he saw on the other side,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">He got a glimpse of a right good cow country, just before he started to ride;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">And his eyes lit up with a gladness, his face o'erspread with hope,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">As without a trace of sadness, his spirit rode away in a lope.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII.</a></h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Arrival at the Transfer Track of South Omaha</span>.</h3> + +<p>One dark, dismal, rainy morning, a little before daylight, I arrived +with the remnant of our stock train on the stockyards transfer at South +Omaha. The conductor and brakeman ordered me out of the way-car. So +picking up my belongings I got out in the mud and rain and looked around +for some shelter. There was a lot of railroad tracks and switches, but +no houses or hotels, or anyone to inquire from, as I had learnt by +experience that conductors, brakemen and switchmen never give any +information to stockmen in a dark, rainy night.</p> + +<p>So after wandering up and down the tracks for a ways, and not being able +to find out which way the town lay I got on top of the stock cars, and +huddling down in my rain-soaked rags I prepared to wait till daylight. +The rain was very cold, and after a bit turned to snow and chilled me to +the bone. But I was afraid to leave the stock cars, as I had never <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>been +there before and was sure to get lost if I left the stock, as the town +is quite a ways from the transfer. I thought of Dillbery Ike, Packsaddle +Jack and old Chuckwagon in the other world, and wondered why I should be +left shivering in this awful storm, suffering the pangs of hunger and +cold, while doubtless they had more fire than they really needed. No +matter what their condition was in the other world, it was bound to be +better than mine. Even the sheepmen's condition in the other world +couldn't be much worse, though some claim there is a hell set apart +a-purpose for sheepmen on the other side.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 255px;"> +<img src="images/ill_017.jpg" width="255" height="400" alt="" /> +<span class="caption"><i>The Arrival of the Survivor at the Transfer.</i></span> +</div> + +<p>My clothes were all worn out long ago; my beard had grown down to my +knees and the hair on my head having never been cut since we started, +now reached to my waist, and, of course, it and my beard was some +protection from the storm. But I realized that if I stayed where I was +it would only be a short time till I should meet my comrades who had +gone before, and I thought it would be proper to make some preparations +for the other world. I never had prayed or went to church much, 'cause a +cowman don't have any chance to attend to these, as there is always +either some calves to brand Sundays, or else some of the ne<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>ighbors +coming visiting. But I remembered a passage of scripture I had heard +when a boy, and it came back to me now and kept ringing in my ears: +"Forgive thine enemy." I never had an enemy in my whole life that I knew +of, without it was this blamed railroad, and while I wasn't sure they +was enemies, yet they had dealt me more misery than anyone, except it +might be this stockyards company that was keeping me and my stock out on +this transfer, starving and freezing in the storm after me and my steers +had all got to be Rip Van Winkles getting that far on the road. I +studied over the matter and could see it would be too great a job to +forgive them both at the same time, and, of course, couldn't tell how +much forgiveness the stockyards company would have to have, as I hadn't +got through with them yet. There might be so much against them before +they got my cattle unloaded that it would be impossible to forgive it.</p> + +<p>It was very lucky, as it turned out afterwards, that I had this +forethought, because, as I take it, forgiveness only comes from the +heart no matter what your lips say, and your heart is the blamedest +thing to control in forgiveness, as well as love, and when that +stockyards company finally got around to bring my cattle in and unload +t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>hem, I reckon it would have been impossible for any mortal man with the +least spark of vitality left in his veins to have forgiven them. They +have tried over and over to explain it to me by saying that when they +built the transfer tracks and unloading chutes, their receipts only run +about 1,500 to 2,000 cattle a day, with about the same number of hogs +and about 200 sheep. And, now in the fall of the year, their receipts of +cattle run up to 7,000 to 12,000 a day, with the same number of hogs and +20,000 to 25,000 of sheep, and they are trying to handle them with the +same facilities they had to start with. So they are pretty near always +so far behind in unloading stock in the busy season that it takes all +the slack business season to finish unloading the stock that +accumulated during the rush.</p> + +<p>Having made up my mind to put off forgiving the stockyards company till +some future date, I turned all my attention to forgiving the railroad +company. I had noticed a good many religious people when some one had +done them an injury and they couldn't get at them any other way they +would pray for them. And while they generally asked the Lord to forgive +them, yet they always told their side<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a><br /><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a><br /><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> of the story in such a way that if +the Lord was anyways easily prejudiced, he would be pretty tolerable +slow about handing out any unsought-for clemency to their enemies, as +they always started in by telling of all the mean things their enemies +had ever done in order to remind the Lord what a big contract it was. +After studying the matter over I thought this would be the proper way to +pray for the railroad company. But after I got started telling the Lord +what mean things they had done, I see 'twas no use to try to finish +unless I'd hand the matter down to future generations, as one life +wouldn't be long enough to get fairly started in.</p> + +<h4><span class="smcap">The Inferno of the Transfer</span>.</h4> + +<p>All night long I had heard voices on all sides of me and apparently the +owners of them were in the direst distress. Some were praying +undoubtedly, but the most were cursing. A few were crying and moaning +with the cold and I thought for a long time I must have got into an +inferno of lost souls, and added to my sufferings in the storm in which +I had come close to death was the terror of listening to these +distressing cries, and I longed for daylight to appear so these horrors +would be explained.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p> +<p>Daylight began to appear while I was thinking about these things, and I +could see other stock trains near me, and on every train I could see one +or more miserable wretches like myself huddled down on top of a car in +the snow and cold rain, and the only sign of life you could detect was +when they took spells of shivering. One of them was pretty close, and I +hailed him once or twice, and finally he roused up enough to answer me; +but the poor, shivering wretch was so numb with the cold he didn't sense +much of anything, and when I asked him why all the shippers stayed out +all night with their cattle, place of going into town, he said lots of +times cattle were so tired when they got to Omaha and they were so long +about getting them to the chutes, that there was more danger of their +getting down after they got to the transfer and getting tramped to death +than before. Then he said lots of stockmen who tried to get to town from +the transfer in the night and had got killed, and some got their legs +cut off by trains that were all the time switching on the transfer +tracks. He said if the Humane Society took half the pains to protect the +shippers that they did the stock being shipped he thought it would be +better. He <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>said a shipper was a human being even if he did look like a +orangoutang just dragged out of a Chicago sewer when he got through to +Omaha with a shipment of livestock. I thought maybe he was getting +personal, so told him he didn't look so fine himself; that I thought +anyone who resembled a jackass in a Wyoming blizzard hadn't any call to +make reflections on other people's looks. Just then the switch engine +coupled onto his train and hauled him and his stock off to the unloading +chutes, and I was kinda glad he was gone, as I had conceived a dislike +to him anyway. I can't bear anyone who makes disagreeable reflections +and comparisons on one's personal appearance when one isn't looking +their best, especially a person who ain't got anything to brag of +themselves.</p> + +<h4><span class="smcap">The Farmer's Prayer</span>.</h4> + +<p>I looked on the other side of me and saw another stock train with a +group of four or five stockmen on top the cars. They were huddled down +together in the snow and wet, and I thought at first one of them was +making a speech, but soon discovered he was praying. It turned out one +of their number was dying from ill health and the exposure of the night +before, th<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>ey having been there all night waiting for the switch engine +to haul them to the chutes. They were a bunch of Nebraska farmers who +had bought some feeders in Omaha sometime previous, shipped them out to +their farms a couple hundred miles west, fed up their corn crop and was +bringing the cattle back. The man that was praying seemed to be a son +and partner of the dying man, and was telling the Lord the whole +transaction from a to izard. Whether he was doing this to relieve his +own feelings, or whether he thought the Lord would size his father up as +an honest man in place of a sucker, it's hard to tell. Anyway, you could +tell by his prayer that him and his dying father had got the worst of +the deal all the way through. What I heard of his prayer run something +like this:</p> + +<p>"O Lord, Thou knowest how Thy humble servants have been the victims of +designing and unscrupulous men. Thou knowest, Lord, how a hooked-nosed +Sheeny first induced Thy poor servants to buy of him a lot of +crooked-backed, narrow-hipped, long-tailed, high-on-the-rump, +ewe-necked, dehorned, Southern steers, and how they had kept them off of +water for seven days, waiting for a sale, and then let them drink till +their stomachs was like unto bass drums, when they weighed them up to +Thy deceived servants,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> and then, O Lord, Thy wretched servants, not +having any money to pay for them, we had to go to a grasping commission +man and, O Lord, Thou knowest how he did charge us usury cent for cent +and all kinds of percent, how he figured up interest on the cost of the +steers, then figured interest on that interest, then figured interest on +the interest that he had figured on the interest, then figured a +commission for buying them, then another commission for selling them, +then figured the interest on the commission, then figured the interest +on the interest that he had figured on the commission; and, how when we +had got these steers home, two of them were dead, three were cripples, +five were lump jaws, and how their feet were so large, and they had such +wise, old-fashioned countenances, we were behooved to look into their +mouths to determine by their teeth how old they were, and Thy astonished +servants discovered that in place of two year-olds, as was represented, +they were a great many times two years old; and how many times when we +had a little fat on their ribs, they saw someone afoot, and becoming +frightened, ran round and round the feed lots till they were poorer than +ever, and some there was that escaping over the fence were never seen by +Thy servants any more, they having disappeared over the hills and in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>adjacent corn fields; and Thou knowest how we were always sober, +law-abiding citizens till we were inveigled into buying these imitation +steers, and since that time have lived in a constant round of +excitement, terror and riot."</p> + +<p>The switch engine now coupled on to the dying man's stock train and +pulled it away to the chutes, so I didn't hear the last of the prayer. +Probably his commission man heard it after he got through explaining why +the steers didn't bring any more money.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV.</a></h2> + +<h3>THE FINAL ROUNDUP.</h3> +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">Two railroad men of mighty brain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">The steadfast friends of true cowmen;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">No matter which the first you name,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">We all love George Crosby and Charlie Lane.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">And if in this story, they should see</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">Some mentioned evil, for which a remedy</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">That's in their power and can be used,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">They'll fix it so the shipper is less abused.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">Of all things needed, and it's a crying shame,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">Is some kind of toilet room on each stock train;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">In regard to fires, let the shippers agree,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">Whether they'll be froze or roasted into eternity.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">Have a call-boy escort with lantern bright,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">When at division stations we come in darkest night;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">To save our anxiety, fear and doubt,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">Put us on the right way-car that's going out.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">To the stockyards company a suggestion could be made,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">If they expect to keep and gain more trade;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">When our cattle are delivered on their transfer track,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">Try and unload them, or else we'll ship them back.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">If one or two of these evils should be wiped away</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">By these suggestions in this humble lay,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">Then will I rejoice and forget the days of toil</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 24em;">When I composed this work and burnt the midnight oil.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>The Denver Union Stock Yard Co., Denver, Colo.</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/ill_018.jpg" width="600" height="321" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2>Greatest Stocker, Feeder and Fat Stock Market in the West.</h2> + +<h3>Capacity—15,000 Cattle; 10,000 Hogs; 30,000 Sheep; 5,000 Horses.</h3> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="6" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left">G. W. BALLENTINE, V.-Pres. and Gen. Mgr. **</td><td align="left">J. W. HURD, Asst. Treasurer. **</td><td align="left">H. PETRIE, Superintendent.</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left">Elijah Bosserman, President.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">M. H. Mark, Vice-President.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">F. J. Duff, Secretary and Treas.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A. Bosserman, Cashier.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Elijah Bosserman, Cattle Salesman.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Link Bosserman, Cattle Salesman.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">F. J. Duff, Hog Salesman.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">M. H. Mark, Sheep Salesman.</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<h1>====The====</h1> + +<h1><span class="u">Denver Live Stock</span></h1> + +<h1><span class="u">Commission Co.</span></h1> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/ill_019.jpg" width="300" height="173" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h4>Telephone 818. P. O. Box 818.</h4> + +<h3>Union Stock Yards, Denver, Colo.</h3> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p class="center">Market Reports Furnished Promptly by Mail or Wire on</p> + +<p class="center">Application. Money Loaned to Parties Owning</p> + +<p class="center">Stock. Correspondence Solicited.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<h3>Incorporated $20,000.</h3> + +<p class="center">Reference: ANY BANK IN DENVER.</p> + +<h4>DENVER, COLO.</h4> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left">F. W. FLATO, Jr., Prest.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">I. M. HUMPHREY, Vice-Prest.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">JAMES C. DAHLMAN, Sec'y.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">J. S. HORN, Treas.</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<h1>...The...</h1> + +<h1>Flato Commission</h1> + +<h1>Company</h1> + +<h2><span class="u">LIVE STOCK SALESMEN AND BROKERS.</span></h2> + +<h4>South Omaha, Nebraska; Chicago, Illinois; South St.</h4> + +<h4>Joseph, Missouri; North Fort Worth, Texas.</h4> + +<p class="center">========</p> + +<h2>Capital $250,000.00</h2> + +<p class="center">========</p> + +<p class="center">Prompt and Careful Attention Given all Consignments. Pleased</p> + +<p class="center">to Furnish Information by Correspondence or Otherwise</p> + +<p class="center">to any Person Interested.</p> + +<h4>DIRECTORS:</h4> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left">F. W. Flato Jr.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">I. M. Humphrey.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">R. R. Russell.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Ed. H. Reid.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">L. L. Russell.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">James C. Dahlman.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">J. S. Horn.</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> For the benefit of our readers who do not know what a +chinook wind is, I will explain that it is a hot, violent coast wind +which blows at certain periods of the year at certain altitudes in the +West.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Wrapping rope around the saddle horn.</p></div></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Cowboy Life on the Sidetrack, by Frank Benton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COWBOY LIFE ON THE SIDETRACK *** + +***** This file should be named 39777-h.htm or 39777-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/7/7/39777/ + +Produced by Annie R. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Cowboy Life on the Sidetrack + Being an Extremely Humorous & Sarcastic Story of the Trials + & Tribulations Endured by a Party of Stockmen Making a + Shipment from the West to the East. + +Author: Frank Benton + +Illustrator: E. A. Filleau + +Release Date: May 24, 2012 [EBook #39777] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COWBOY LIFE ON THE SIDETRACK *** + + + + +Produced by Annie R. McGuire. This book was produced from +scanned images of public domain material from the Internet +Archive. + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: Book Cover] + + + + +Cowboy Life on +The Sidetrack + + * * * * * + +Being an Extremely Humorous and Sarcastic +Story of the Trials and Tribulations +Endured by a Party of Stockmen +Making a Shipment from the +West to the East. + + * * * * * + +By FRANK BENTON, +CHEYENNE, WYO. + + * * * * * + +ILLUSTRATED BY E. A. FILLEAU, +KANSAS CITY, MO. + + * * * * * + +DENVER, COLO.: +THE WESTERN STORIES SYNDICATE. + + + + +Copyright, 1903, +By FRANK BENTON. + + * * * * * + +Press of +Hudson-Kimberly Publishing Company +Kansas City, Mo. + + + + +DEDICATION. + + * * * * * + + For justice no shipper e'er asked in vain + From George H. Crosby or C. J. Lane. + We go to them, as to our dad, + When on their road our run is bad, + And when we think the freight too large + Ask them to rebate the overcharge. + No matter which road you give your freight, + To both these friends, this book I dedicate. + + F. B. + + + + +[Illustration: _The Author Waiting for the Train to Start._] + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + PAGE + Chapter I.--The Start 11 + Chapter II.--Chuckwagon's Dream 21 + Chapter III.--Grazing the Sheep 29 + Chapter IV.--Letters from Home Brought by Immigrants 33 + Chapter V.--Eatumup Jake's Life Story 39 + Chapter VI.--The Schoolmarm's Saddle Horse 42 + Chapter VII.--Selling Cattle on the Range 48 + Chapter VIII.--True Snake Stories 56 + Chapter IX.--Chuckwagon's Death 61 + Chapter X.--Disappearance of the Sheepmen 67 + Chapter XI.--Our Arrival in Cheyenne 77 + Chapter XII.--The Post-Hole Digger's Ghost 83 + Chapter XIII.--Grafting 89 + Chapter XIV.--The File 95 + Chapter XV.--The Cattle Stampede 99 + Chapter XVI.--Catching a Maverick 109 + Chapter XVII.--Stealing Crazy Head's War Ponies 121 + Chapter XVIII.--The Cattle Queen's Ghost 136 + Chapter XIX.--Packsaddle Jack's Death 150 + Chapter XX.--A Cowboy Enoch Arden 164 + Chapter XXI.--Grand Island 170 + Chapter XXII.--"Sarer" 176 + Chapter XXIII.--Arrival at South Omaha Transfer 195 + Chapter XXIV.--The Final Roundup 207 + + + + +PREFACE. + + +To the readers of this little booklet: I wish to say that while some +things in the story seem over-drawn, yet I have endeavored to write it +entirely from a cowboy standpoint. + +To the sheepmen of the West: I want to say that I couldn't have written +this story true to the cowboys' character without making a great many +reflections on sheepmen, and I want to tender my apologies in advance +for anything they may consider offensive, as some of my old-time and +dearest friends in the West are among the large sheep owners. But I have +been a cowboy and worked with the cowboys for thirty-two years, and have +written the things set down here just as they came from the cowboys' +lips on a stock train as we were waiting on sidetracks. The names of the +cowboys used are the actual nicknames of cowpunchers whom I worked with +on Wyoming ranges twenty years ago, and will be recognized by lots of +old-timers. + +The statement has been frequently made by newspapers that this volume +was written as a roast on the Union Pacific railroad. I wish to correct +that impression by saying that I selected that road for the groundwork +of this story to give them a good advertisement free in requital for the +many courtesies extended to me in times past by the officials of the +road, for whom I have the warmest friendship. + + THE AUTHOR. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE START. + + +I met a man from Utah the other day by the name of Joe Smith, and he +gave me quite an interesting history of his shipping some cattle to +market over the great Overland route from Utah to South Omaha. I shall +tell it in his own language. He said: + +I don't want to misstate anything, and I don't want to exaggerate +anything, but will tell you the plain facts. + +When I and my neighbors, old Chuckwagon, Packsaddle Jack, Eatumup Jake +and Dillbery Ike got into the ranch with a drive of cattle we found that +three railroad live stock agents, two representatives of the union +stockyards and five commission house drummers had been staying at the +ranch for a week waiting to get our shipment. Each one took each of us +aside and gave us a dirty private as to what they would do for us. Every +one of the commission house drummers said their house was second last +month in number of cars of live stock in their market and they were +looking for them to be first this month; said their salesmen always beat +the other firms 10 cents a hundred on even splits, and their yardmen +always got the best fill on the cattle. We went off by ourselves to talk +it over and make up our minds which firm to ship to. Packsaddle Jack +said it was remarkable that they all told the same story, said it was +confusing as nary one of them had mentioned a point but what all the +rest had coppered the same bet. Dillbery Ike gave it as his opinion that +they were the bummest lot of liars he ever see. Old Chuckwagon and +Eatumup Jake now compared notes and discovered that all the drummers +were out of whiskey, but each drummer claimed the other dead beats had +drank his up. Old Chuckwagon took a blue down-hearted fit of melancholy +on seeing they was all out of whiskey and wouldn't decide on any of +them. Eatumup Jake just chewed a piece of dried rawhide and wouldn't +talk. Packsaddle Jack and me finally decided to bill the cattle to +ourselves till we got some further light on the subject. + +[Illustration: _Scott Davis Leaving to Order the Cars, and to Grease and +Sand Them._] + +As the great Overland agent agreed that his road would run us all the +way to market at the rate of forty miles an hour and the other live +stock agents couldn't promise only thirty-five miles an hour, we gave +the shipment to the Overland. The Overland agent went right into town to +have the cars greased and sanded ready to start. We followed in with the +cattle. It took us about seven days to drive the cattle in, and when we +got there the cars were coming--but hadn't arrived. We waited around +nine days, grazing the steers on sage brush in daytime and penning them +nights till they got so thin we had about concluded to drive back and +keep them for another year, when the cars came. It seemed the railroad +had got them pretty near out to us once, but had run short of tonnage +cars, so just had to haul them back and forth several times over one +division to make up their tonnage for the trains. This was very annoying +to the railroad men as well as ourselves, but they had their orders to +not let any California fruit spoil on the road and to haul their +tonnage, so just had to use these stock cars. It seems Harriman and Hill +and J. P. Morgan and all the other boys who own the western railroads +are very particular about every train hauling its full tonnage, and I +heard there was places they had a lot of scrap iron close to the track, +so if the train was short a ton or so they could load it on, haul it to +some place where there was some freight to take the place of it, and +then unload it for trains going the other way that were short on +tonnage. + +Finally we got the cattle loaded and our contract signed. Got a basket +of grub, as we were informed there would be no time to get meals on the +road. It is to this basket of grub that we all owe our lives to-day, so +I will give a partial description of the contents. First, we had four +dozen bottles of beer; next, eight quarts of old rye whiskey; next, two +corkscrews, a hard boiled egg, a sandwich without any meat in it and a +bottle of mustard, as Dillbery Ike said he always wanted mustard. +Eatumup Jake was for getting a can of tomatoes, but old Chuckwagon said +he never had been empty of canned tomatoes in twenty years and wanted +one chance to get them out his system. + +Well, we got on the way-car, were hitched on to the cattle train and off +at last for the first sidetrack, which was a quarter of a mile from the +stockyards. The conductor said we would start right away soon as he got +his orders, so Chuckwagon proposed we open the lunch, which meeting with +direct approval from the entire party, we proceeded to consume a large +section of it, and then went to sleep. When we woke up the sun was +sinking in the east, at least I maintained it was east, but Packsaddle +Jack said it was in the north. Anyway we argued till it sunk, and never +did agree. But we found we were on the same old sidetrack, and as our +lunch was about gone we made up a jackpot and sent Dillbery Ike after +more lunch. Packsaddle Jack went up and interviewed the agent in the +meantime, as he was the only one left in the party who was on speaking +terms with that functionary, and found out they were holding us there +for the arrival of eight cars of sheep that was expected to come by +trail from Idaho. These sheep belong to Rambolet Bill and old Cottswool +Canvasback, and these two gentlemen had seen a cloud of dust ten miles +away about noon and insisted on having the train held, as they were sure +the sheep were coming, which finally proved to be correct. So when they +got them loaded, about 11 o'clock that night, we quit quarrelling with +the agent, stopped making threats against the railroad superintendent, +got Dillbery Ike to put on his coat (he had kept if off all evening to +whip the railroad agent who was to blame undoubtedly for all this +delay), and finally started, with rising spirits. But as we got up to +the depot where the conductor was waiting with his final papers, the +head brakeman reported a cow was down up near the engine, and we all +walked up there and found that one of Dillbery Ike's critters had become +so weak and emaciated that it had succumbed right in the start. We +prodded her, and hollered and yelled, and Chuckwagon twisted her tail +clear off before we discovered she was stiff and cold in death and +consequently couldn't respond to our suggestions. Dillbery asked the +advice of a hobo (who was giving us pointers how to get her up before we +discovered her dead condition) about suing the railroad company for her. +The hobo agreed to act as witness and swear to anything after Dillbery +gave him a nip out of his bottle; and after we found out what a good +fellow the hobo was, how much he knew about shipping cattle and that he +wanted to go east, we concluded to put his name on the contract and make +him one of the party. We asked his name and he said 'twas most always +John Doe, but we nicknamed him Jackdo for short. + +We all went back to the way-car and started up to the switch and back on +to a sidetrack, as No. 1 was expected to arrive pretty soon, as she was +four hours late, and was liable to come any time after she got four +hours late. + +After taking some lunch we lay down on the seats and went to sleep, +Jackdo, Rambolet Bill and Cottswool Canvasback on one side of the car, +and Dillbery Ike, Chuckwagon, Packsaddle Jack, Eatumup Jake and myself +on the other side. It was rather crowded on our side of the car, but +none of us liked the perfume that Jackdo and the two sheepmen used. +About the time we got to sleep the brakeman came in, woke us all up so +he could get into the coal and kindling which is under the seat in a +way-car. It was warm weather, but the train crews always build roaring +fires in hot weather on stock trains, and he was only following the +usual custom. We got our places again and dropped off to sleep. The +conductor came in, woke us all up to punch our contracts. We went to +sleep again; the conductor came around, roused us all up to know where +we wanted our stock fed. Jackdo now gave us a great deal of advice about +where to feed and how much, but Dillbery said the cattle had got used +to going without feed so long that it wasn't worth while to waste time +feeding them now. Jackdo said all the stockmen fed plenty of hay to +their stock all the way to Omaha, but never let them have any water till +they got there, as they would get a big fill that way. We finally went +to sleep again. The conductor and brakeman took turns jumping down out +of their high airy cab on top of the car (where they keep a window open) +to build up the fire and see that all the doors and windows below were +tightly closed so the stockmen couldn't get no air, but hot air. +However, we had been getting hot air from the railroad live stock agents +and commission house drummers for some time and slept on till old +Chuckwagon begun to snore and woke us up again. It seemed he was having +a fearful nightmare, and we had all we could do to keep him from jumping +off the train till we got him fairly awake. But after we had each given +him a drink from our private bottles he gave several long, shuddering, +shivering sighs and told us his dream. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +CHUCKWAGON'S DREAM. + + +He said he dreamed he was in a deep narrow canyon, and it seemed to be a +very hot day, and he thought he walked in the broiling hot sun for miles +and miles, his mouth and throat parched with thirst and his eyes almost +bursting from their sockets with the heat, when all at once he heard the +low mutterings of thunder and he knew there was a storm approaching. The +thunder kept growing louder and louder, and he looked around for some +shelter and discovered a narrow crevice in the rocks, and just as the +storm broke he entered this crevice. He hadn't no more than got inside +when he saw a wild animal approaching the same place of refuge. It was +bigger than any two grizzly bears he ever saw in his life, but was black +with white stripes down its back, had a large bushy tail, and he knew he +was up against the biggest skunk the world had ever known, and trembling +with horror he crept farther and farther back into the crevice till he +was stopped by a stream of red molten fire that seemed to be flowing +across his path in the mountain. He was about to retreat, but as he +turned to retrace his steps the immense Jumbo skunk was coming in the +crevice backwards, with its enormous tail reared over its back, and +while the crevice seemed only just large enough for him, yet this great +animal had a way of flattening himself out that, while he was a great +deal taller than before, yet did he keep forcing himself gradually back +towards poor Chuck. Chuckwagon said he knew that if the skunk was +disturbed he would discharge that terrible effluvia that is known the +world over, yet the heat from the molten stream of fire was so great +that it burned his face and he was obliged to keep it turned towards the +skunk. Finally the animal had backed so far that the top of Chuckwagon's +head was just under the root of the skunk's tail. Then something +commenced to annoy the animal in front, and it started to back a little +farther. It was then he gave that despairing, blood-curdling, +soul-freezing yell that woke us up, and he said he could still smell +that awful effluvia even now that he was awake; but we told him it was +just the heat of the car and the perfume that Jackdo and the two +sheepmen had. + +We now discovered that the train was in motion. We were in doubt a long +time, but after marking fence posts, setting up a line of sticks and +testing it by all the known devices, we became convinced that it was +really a fact, and when there was no longer any doubt left in our minds +we fell on each other's necks and sobbed for joy. We tapped four fresh +bottles in succession to celebrate the event and shook one another's +hands repeatedly. But, alas! in the midst of our rejoicing we came to a +sidetrack. + +It seems to be one of the rules of railroading to never pass a sidetrack +with a stock train till they find out whether that particular train will +fit that sidetrack. This sidetrack was 2,125 feet and 223 inches long +and our train just fit it like it had been made a purpose. If our train +had been three feet longer it would have been too long for this +sidetrack, and we had a long heated argument whether the train had been +made for this sidetrack or the sidetrack designed for this special +train; but, anyway, I never saw a better fit, and it shows what +mechanical heads railroad men have got. We became attached to this +sidetrack, and for a long time had the sole use of it. We held it +against all comers, trains of empty cars going west, gravel cars and +even handcars, but finally had to leave it, and it was with feelings of +sadness and regret that we at last had to bid it good-bye. Although we +had many sidetracks afterwards, yet as this one was the first we had +entirely to ourselves we hated to give it up and our eyelashes were wet +with unshed tears as we blew the last kisses from our finger tips when +it slowly faded from our sight around a narrow bend in the roadbed. How +long it remained true to us we never knew, probably not long, as it was +a lonely spot and undoubtedly was occupied by another stock train as +soon as we were out of sight. + +While at this sidetrack we took a stroll over the hills one day and +found a sage hen's nest with the old hen setting. Dillbery Ike slipped +up, grasped her by the tail and in her struggle to free herself she lost +all her tail feathers and got away. Dillbery tied a string around the +tail feathers and took them along. This, as it turned out afterwards, +was very fortunate, as we were able by the feathers to settle a dispute +that might have led to serious consequences, which happened in this way: +Some time after the sage hen episode, while we were waiting on a +sidetrack one day for a gravel train going west, and having had nothing +to eat for a long time but mustard on ice, we had become very much +discouraged and had even tried to buy Cottswool Canvasback's coat to +make soup of, when Jackdo discovered a flock of half-grown young sage +chickens feeding along past the train, and immediately we were all out, +filled our hats with rocks and commenced to knock them over. We managed +to kill the most of them along with the old mother bird, and made the +startling discovery that she had lost her tail feathers. We showed her +to the division superintendent, who came along in his private car just +then and stopped to explain some of the delays on our run, and told him +the story of Dillbery pulling out her tail when she was setting. The +superintendent argued it couldn't be the same hen, but when Dillbery got +the bunch of tail feathers they just fitted in the holes in the poor old +bird's rump and that settled the dispute. There was another little +incident occurred afterwards that shows the world isn't so large after +all. One day while we were waiting on a sidetrack a mud turtle came +strolling by, and as Jackdo had suggested turtle soup for old +Chuckwagon, who, by the way, had been feeling bad ever since the night +he had the skunk dream, not being able to keep anything on his stomach, +we captured the turtle and on examining a peculiar mark on the back of +its shell discovered it was Dillbery Ike's brand that he had playfully +burnt into the animal the day before we left the ranch with the cattle. + +[Illustration: _Rambolet Bill, Cottswool Canvasback and Jackdo Watching +the Sheep Graze._] + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +GRAZING THE SHEEP. + + +It's not generally known that when sheep get extremely hungry they eat +the wool off one another, but nevertheless this is a fact, and Cottswool +Canvasback and Rambolet Bill's sheep had long ere this devoured all the +wool off each other's backs, but we had had a couple good warm showers +of rain and the wool had started up again and was high enough for pretty +fair grazing, so the two sheepmen were middlin' easy, as they had a +receipt for cooking jackrabbits so they wouldn't shrink in the cooking. +They claimed that Manager Gleason of the Warren Live Stock Company had +invented this receipt. However, lambing season had come on and Cottswool +and Rambolet were kept pretty busy as double deck cars was very cramped +quarters to lamb in. Rambolet wanted to unload the sheep, and when they +got through lambing to drive them to Laramie City and catch the train +again, but Cottswool Canvasback said they would have to pay the same +tariff for the cars and insisted on the railroad company earning their +money. + + +JACKDO SINGS "HOME, SWEET HOME." + +I remember a pathetic little incident that occurred about this time. +When we were waiting on a sidetrack one evening I suggested to Jackdo +that he sing us a song to while away the time, and he started in singing +"Home, Sweet Home," in a choked-by-cinders sort of voice, and he hadn't +been singing long before I discovered old Chuckwagon and Dillbery Ike +lying face downward on the seats sobbing like their hearts would break. +Chuck and Dillbery didn't have much of a home, as they batched in little +dobe shacks away out on the edge of the plains; but that old song, even +if sung by a hoot owl, would make a stockman weep when he is on a stock +train and has got about half-way to market. However, it didn't seem to +affect Eatumup Jake much, and yet Jake had married a big, buxom, +red-headed Mormon girl about six weeks before we started to ship. While +Jake looked like he was in delicate health when we left home, yet he had +grown strong and hearty on the trip in spite of the privations and +sufferings we had to go through, and was pretty near always whistling in +a lively way "The Girl I Left Behind Me." + +We now arrived at a town. It was about two o'clock in the morning and +the conductor roused us up to tell us we would have to change way-cars, +as they didn't go any farther. We asked him which way to go when we got +off, and he said go anyway we wanted to. We asked him where our car was +that we would go out on, and he said, "Damfino." So we started out to +hunt it. This was a division station, there were hundreds of cars in +every direction and they had put us off a mile from the depot. We begged +piteously from everyone we met to tell us where the way-car was that +went out on the stock train. We carried our luggage back and forth, fell +over switch frogs in the darkness and skinned our shins, fell over one +another trying to keep out the way of switch engines, ran ourselves out +of breath after brakemen, conductors, engineers and car oilers, but +everyone of them gave us the same stereotyped answer, "Damfino." At last +we started out to hunt up the stock again, but just as we found it they +started to switching. However, we climbed on the sides of the cars and +hung on, all but poor old Chuckwagon, who had been sorter under the +weather and wasn't quite quick enough. But he chased manfully after us +till we came to a switch, when we dashed past him going the other way. +We hollered to him to follow the train, which he did, but only to find +us going the other way again. And thus we kept on. How long this would +have lasted I don't know, for old Chuck was game to the death and had +throwed away his coat, vest, hat and boots and was bound to catch them +stock cars, and the switchman and engineer was bound he shouldn't. But +finally the engine had to stop for coal and water, and they shoved us in +on a sidetrack, went off to bed and left us there till 10 o'clock the +next day. But I never shall forget the anguish and horror we endured for +fear we wouldn't find that way-car and they would pull the stock out and +leave us there. Packsaddle Jack gave it as his opinion that the railroad +people had plotted to do that, but we frustrated their designs by +getting on the stock cars and staying with them. We all believed +Packsaddle Jack was right, but since that time I've talked with a good +many cattlemen and found out that's the way they treat everybody. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +LETTERS FROM HOME BROUGHT BY IMMIGRANTS. + + +We arrived at Hawlins, Wyoming, one bright sunny morning and planned to +get a square meal there and kinder clean up and take a shave. But this +was a sheep town and full of sheepmen and the odor of sheep was so +strong we just stopped long enough to fill our bottles and then +sauntered on ahead of our train, expecting to get on when it overtook +us. Well, we sauntered and sauntered, looking back from every hill, but +no train, and finally when we were tired from walking in the heat and +dust we found a shade tree, and, laying down, went to sleep. How long we +slept I don't know, but when we awoke it was night. In the darkness we +had hard work finding our way back to the railroad track, and for a +while were undecided which way to go, but finally took the wrong +direction, and after plodding along in the dark for several miles we +came on top a high hill and saw the lights of the town below us that we +left that morning. We now held a council as to who should go down to +town to get our bottles filled. Jackdo offered to go, but we had already +discovered we couldn't trust him on that kind of errand, as the bottles +would be just as empty when he got back as when he started, so finally +we sent Eatumup Jake and told him to inquire if our train was still +there or had gone sneaking by us when we were asleep. Jake returned +about midnight with the refreshments and the information that the train +was on ahead. So we started after it, exchanging ideas along the route +as to how far we would have to walk before we came to a sidetrack, as we +didn't doubt for a moment we would find the stock on the first siding it +could get in on. This was one of the pleasantest nights we had on our +whole trip, with good fresh air (we made the sheepmen and Jackdo walk +about three miles ahead of us and the wind was blowing in their +direction) and nothing to worry us. We talked of home and speculated as +to how many calves the boys at home had branded for us on their annual +roundups since we left. + +Finally Chuckwagon stopped and sniffed a time or two and said he was +satisfied the sheepmen and Jackdo must have found the train. After we +walked a mile further we came to the sheepmen and Jackdo setting down at +a sidetrack, but the stock train was not there. We were much puzzled at +this, but after a great deal of argument Eatumup Jake, who had studied +Arithmetic some, proposed to measure the sidetrack. He suggested as the +only possible solution to the train not being there that probably the +track was too short for the train. The trouble now was to get some +proper thing to measure with. Finally we took Eatumup Jake's pants which +he had removed for the purpose, they being thirty-four inches inseam. By +taking the end of each leg they measured sixty-eight inches, or five +feet eight inches, to a measurement. Every time we made a measurement +Dillbery put a pebble in his pocket for feet and Chuckwagon put one in +his for inches. When we got through we made a light out of some sticks +and counted the pebbles. Dillbery had 292 and Chuckwagon 287. They both +insisted they had made no mistake, so we had to measure it all over +again. There had come up a little flurry of snow in the meantime, which +happens frequently at that altitude, and Eatumup Jake wanted them to +divide the difference between 287 and 292, but as one had inches and the +other feet, Eatumup Jake couldn't make the proper division in his head +and we had nothing to figure with. So we measured again and counted and +found they each had 287. As this would only equal forty-one stock cars, +and as there was forty-three cars of stock, five cars of California +fruit, three cars merchandise, nine tonnage cars and the way-car, we +knew our train couldn't possibly get in on this sidetrack. So Jake put +on his pants and we started on again, perfectly satisfied now that we +had solved what seemed at first a great mystery. + +After walking several miles it became daylight and we discovered a man +and woman with a mule team and wagon, going the same way we were. As +they didn't seem to have much of a load and asked us to ride we +concluded to ride. However, as we couldn't all ride in the wagon at once +and as the wagon road wasn't always in sight of the track, we had Jackdo +and the two sheepmen walk along the track, and if they found the train +they were to holler and wave something to us so we would know. + +Eatumup Jake had been kinder grumpy ever since he had to stand the +snowstorm without any pants on while we done the measuring, but now he +was to hear some good news which brought such overwhelming joy to him +as, indeed, it did to all of us, as our joys and sorrows were one on +this trip. It will be remembered that Eatumup Jake had married a buxom +Mormon girl about six weeks before we started with the cattle, and now +it turned out that these people, who were on their way from the Two +Wallys to Arkansas, had come by Jake's place in Utah and Jake's wife had +not only sent a letter by this couple to him, but the letter contained +the news that he was the father of twin boys. Jake's pride and joy knew +no bounds, and for a time he talked about going back and taking a look +at the twins and then catching up to us again. But we argued this would +bring bad luck, and anyway there were immigrants on the way from Oregon +to Arkansas all the time, and Jake's wife said all our folks in Utah had +agreed to send us letters every time anyone came by with a team going +east. + +We now came in sight of our stock train as it was slowly climbing a +grade, but we were loath to give up our new-found friends, the +immigrants, and it wasn't till they had drove several miles ahead of the +stock train that we finally bid them a reluctant good-bye and sauntered +on back to meet the special. This is the first time I've used the word +special, but all stock trains are known as specials because they make +special time with them. + +After we got on the train and had taken the prod pole, and drove the +sheepmen and Jackdo out and made them ride on top, we emptied a bottle +or so and Eatumup Jake got very hilarious and sang "The Little Black +Bull Came Running Down the Mountain," while we all joined in the chorus. +And finally when old Chuckwagon, Packsaddle Jack and Dillbery Ike had +gone to sleep on the floor of the car, Eatumup Jake got me by the button +hole and told me the story of his life in the following words. He talked +in a thick, slushy, slobbery voice, something like the mud and water +squirts through the holes in your overshoes on a sloppy day, but this +was on account of a great deal of whiskey and the fact that he had taken +a slight cold the night before standing in the snowstorm while we used +his pants to measure the sidetrack. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +EATUMUP JAKE'S LIFE STORY. + + +He said his father was a poor Methodist preacher in a little country +place in western Kansas where he was born. Said they lived there many +years because they was so durn poor they couldn't get away. His father's +salary was paid promptly every month in contributions and consisted of +one sack of cornmeal, one sack of potatoes, two gallons sorghum +molasses, four old crowing hens, seven jack rabbits, one quart choke +cherry jelly and one load of dried buffalo chips for fuel. He said his +father was one of the most patient beggars he ever saw, that he took up +collections at all times and on all occasions, morning, noon and +night--week days and Sundays he passed the hat. He had seventeen +different kinds of foreign missions to beg for. He had twenty-one +different kinds of home missions to beg for, and while it was the +poorest community he ever saw, most people too poor to have any tea or +coffee, or overshoes for winter or shoes in summer, yet his father +begged so persistently that he got worlds of flannels for the heathens +in Africa, any amount of bibles for the starving children in New York +City and all kinds of religious literature for the reconcentrados in +India. + +Finally his mother died of nothing on the stomach, his father and a +woman missionary went to Chicago, his nine brothers and sisters was +bound out and adopted by different people, and he, the oldest child, was +taken in charge by a professional bone picker, and although he was only +10 years old at the time, yet he picked up bones on Kansas prairies +summer and winter for two years till a bunch of cowpunchers came along +and took him away from the bone picker. He said he never had anything +much to eat till he got into this cow camp, and just eat roast veal, +baking powder biscuits, plum duff and California canned goods till all +the cowboys stopped eating to look at him, and one of them asked his +name, and when he said Jacob, they immediately nicknamed him Eatumup +Jake. + +He said he never had seen any of his folks since all this happened, but +one night he had a dream, just as plain as day. He thought he was in a +big city and a one-legged man with blue glasses was following him, and +when he stopped the man said: "Jacob, I'm your father," and he asked him +how he lost his leg, what he was wearing blue glasses for (a placard +saying he was blind), and why he held out a tincup, and his father said: +"I aint lost any leg, it's tied up inside my pants leg, and I'm wearing +glasses so people can't see my eyes." And he said his father told him +that his training as a Methodist preacher had peculiarly fitted him for +a professional beggar. + +When Eatumup Jake finished telling his story he fell to weeping and wept +very bitterly for a long time, and when I tried to comfort him by +telling him a man wasn't to blame for what his folks done, he said no, +but cowmen were to blame when they fell so durn low as to spend the best +part of their lives on a special stock train associating with a hobo and +two sheepmen. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE SCHOOLMARM'S SADDLE HORSE. + + +One day while waiting on a sidetrack old Chuckwagon got to telling about +the new school-marm in their neighborhood. He said he reckoned she was +as high educated as anybody ever got. He said she didn't sabe cowpuncher +talk much, but she used some mighty high-sounding words. Why, he said, +she called a watergap a wateryawn; a shindig, a dawnce; Injuns, +Naborigines; cowboys, cow servants, and Bill Allen's hired girl, where +she boards, a domestic. The first night she came to Bill Allen's she +heard them a talking about cowpunchers, and she asked old Bill if he +wouldn't show her a real live cowpuncher: said there weren't any +cowpunchers in Boston, where she came from, and old Bill said he'd have +one over from the nearest cow ranch next day. + +[Illustration: _George H. Crosby, General Freight-Agent D. & M._] + +So next morning he comes over to my ranch and tells me to rig out in fur +snaps, put on my buckskin shirt and big Mexican hat with tassels on it, +with red silk handkerchief around my neck, and he would take me over and +introduce me to the new school-marm. So I rigged all up proper, and when +we got over to Bill Allen's place, old Bill told his wife to go to the +school-marm's room and tell her he had a genuine cowpuncher out there and +for her to come out and see him. She told Mrs. Allen she was busy +just then, but tell Mr. Allen to take the cowpuncher to the barn and +give him some hay and she would be out directly. + +Now, he'd been wondering ever since, old Chuck said, what on earth she +reckoned a cowpuncher was. Still she was mighty green about some things, +'cause when they had a little party at old Bill Allen's all the girls +got to telling about the breed of their saddle hosses, and some said +their hoss was a Hamiltonian, and some said their hoss was thoroughbred, +and some was Blackhawk Morgan. The school-marm said she had a gentleman +friend in Boston who had a very fine saddle hoss of the stallion breed, +and when the boys giggled and the gals began to look red, she says as +innocent as a lamb. "There is such a breed of hosses, ain't they?" "Of +course," she says, "I know it's a rare breed and perhaps you folks out +here never saw any of that breed." She says, "They are great hosses to +whinney. Why, my friend's hoss kept whinneying all the time." When she +got to describing that hoss's habits, course all us boys begun to back +up and git out the room. I reckon she was from an Irish family, 'cause +she insisted Mrs. Flanagan was right when she called the station a +daypo. + +But I reckon she could just knock the hind sights off anybody when it +came to singing. I never did know just whether it was a song or not she +sung, 'cause none of us could understand it. She said it was Italian, +and of course there wasn't any of us understood any Dago talk. But she +would just commence away down in a kind of low growl, like a sleeping +foxhound when he is dreaming of a bear fight, and keep growling a little +louder and little louder, and directly begin to give some short barks, +and then it would sound like a herd of wild cattle bawling round a dead +carcass; then like a lot of hungry coyotes howling of a clear frosty +night, and finally wind up like hundreds of wild geese flying high and +going south for winter. She said her voice had been cultivated and I +reckon it had. You could tell it had been laid off in mighty even rows, +the weeds all pulled out and the dirt throwed up close to the hills. But +somehow I'd a heap rather hear a little blue-eyed girl I know up in the +mountains in Idaho sing "The Suwanee River," and "Coming Through the +Rye," 'cause I can understand that. But I guess them Boston girls are +all right at home. I reckon they are used to them there. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +SELLING CATTLE ON THE RANGE. + + +Then old Packsaddle Jack got to telling about Senator Dorsey, of Star +Route fame, selling a little herd of cattle he had in northern New +Mexico. He said the Senator had got hold of some eyeglass Englishmen, +and representing to them that he had a large herd of cattle in northern +New Mexico, finally made a sale at $25 a head all round for the cattle. +The Englishmen, however, insisted on counting the herd and wouldn't take +the Senator's books for them. Dorsey finally agreed to this, but said +the cattle would have to be gathered first. The Senator then went to his +foreman, Jack Hill, and asked Jack if he knew of a place where they +could drive the cattle around a hill where they wouldn't have to travel +too far getting around and have a good place to count them on one side. +Jack selected a little round mountain with a canyon on one side of it, +where he stationed the Englishmen and their bookkeepers and Senator +Dorsey. The Senator had about 1,000 cattle, and Jack and the cowboys +separated them into two bunches out in the hills, a couple of miles from +the party of Englishmen and out of sight. Keeping the two herds about a +mile apart, they now drove the first herd into the canyon, which ran +around the edge of the bluff, and on the bank of the canyon sat the +Senator with the Englishmen, and they counted the cattle as the herd +strung along by them. The herd was hardly out of sight before the second +bunch came stringing along. Two or three cowboys, though, had met the +first herd, and, getting behind them, galloped them around back of the +mountain and had them coming down the canyon past the Englishmen again, +and they were counted the second time. And they were hardly out of sight +before the second division was around the mountain and coming along to +be tallied some more. And thus the good work went on all day long, the +Senator and the Englishmen only having a few minutes to snatch a bite to +eat and tap fresh bottles. + +The foreman told the English party at noon that they was holding an +enormous herd back in the hills yet from which they were cutting off +these small bunches of 500 and bringing them along to be tallied. But +along about 3 o'clock in the afternoon the cattle began to get thirsty +and footsore. Every critter had traveled thirty miles that day, and lots +of them began to drop out and lay down. In one of the herds was an old +yellow steer. He was bobtailed, lophorned and had a game leg, and for +the fifteenth time he limped by the crowd that was counting. Milord +screwed his eyeglass a little tighter into his eye, and says, "There is +more bloody, blarsted, lophorned, bobtailed, yellow, crippled brutes +than anything else, don't you know." Milord's dogrobber speaks up, and +says, "But, me lord, there's no hanimal like 'im hin the hither 'erd." + +The Senator overheard this interesting conversation, and taking the +foreman aside, told him when they got that herd on the other side of the +mountain again to cut out that old yellow reprobate, and not let him +come by again. So Jack cut him out and run him off aways in the +mountains. But old yellow had got trained to going around that mountain, +and the herd wasn't any more than tallied again till here come old Buck, +as the cowboys called him, limping along behind down the canyon, the +Englishmen staring at him with open mouths, and Senator Dorsey looking +at old Jack Hill in a reproachful, grieved kind of way. The cowboys ran +old Buck off still farther next time, but half an hour afterwards he +appeared over a little rise and slowly limped by again. + +The Senator now announced that there was only one herd more to count +and signaled to Jack to ride around and stop the cowboys from bringing +the bunches around any more, which they done. But as the party broke up +and started for the ranch, old Buck came by again, looking like he was +in a trance, and painfully limped down the canyon. That night the +cowboys said the Senator was groaning in his sleep in a frightful way, +and when one of them woke him up and asked if he was sick, he told them, +while big drops of cold sweat was dropping off his face, that he'd had a +terrible nightmare. He thought he was yoked up with a yellow, bobtailed, +lophorned, lame steer and was being dragged by the animal through a +canyon and around a mountain day after day in a hot, broiling sun, while +crowds of witless Englishmen and jibbering cowboys were looking on. He +insisted on saddling up and going back through the moonlight to the +mountain and see if old Buck was still there. When they arrived, after +waiting awhile, they heard something coming down the canyon, and in the +bright moonlight they could see old Buck painfully limping along, +stopping now and then to rest. + +A cowboy reported finding old Buck dead on his well-worn trail a week +afterwards. But no one ever rides that way moonlight nights now, as so +many cowboys have a tradition that old Buck's ghost still limps down the +canyon moonlight nights. + +[Illustration: _Counting "'Old Buck."_] + + +OLD BUCK'S GHOST. + + Down in New Mexico, where the plains are brown and sere, + There is a ghostly story of a yellow spectral steer. + His spirit wanders always when the moon is shining bright; + One horn is lopping downwards, the other sticks upright. + + On three legs he comes limping, as the fourth is sore and lame; + His left eye is quite sightless, but still this steer is game. + Many times he was bought and counted by a dude with a monocle in his eye; + The steer kept limping round a mountain to be counted by that guy. + + When footsore, weary, gasping, he laid him down at last, + His good eye quit its winking; counting was a matter of the past; + But his spirit keeps a tramping 'round that mountain trail, + And that's the cause, says Packsaddle, that I have told this tale. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +TRUE SNAKE STORIES. + + +Then we all got to telling true snake stories. Eatumup Jake said down on +the Republican River in western Kansas the rattle-snakes were awful +thick when the country was first settled. He said they had their dens in +the Chalk Bluffs along the Republican and Solomon rivers; said these +bluffs were full of them. It was nothing for the first settlers in that +country to get together of a Sunday afternoon in the fall of the year +and kill 15,000 rattle-snakes at one bluff as they lay on the shelves of +rock that projected out from its face. He said the snake dens were two +or three miles apart, all the way along the river for a hundred miles, +and when somebody would start in to killing them at one place, why all +the snakes at that den would start in to rattling. Then the snakes at +the dens on each side of where they was killing them would wake up and +hear their neighbors' rattle, and then they'd get mad and begin to +rattle and that would wake up the snake dens beyond them and start them +to rattling. And in an hour's time all the snakes for a hundred miles +along that country would be rattling. When these two hundred million +snakes all got to rattling at once you could hear them one hundred miles +away and all the settlers in eastern Kansas would go into their cyclone +cellars. But after the Populists got so thick in Kansas, if they did +hear the snakes get to rattling, they just thought five or six Populists +got together and was talking politics. + +Then Packsaddle Jack told about a bull-snake family he used to know in +southern Kansas. He said the whole family had yellow bodies beautifully +marked below the waist, but from their waist up, including their necks +and heads, was a shiny coal black. The old man bull-snake would beller +just like a bull when he was stirred up. The old lady bull-snake had +sort of an alto voice and the younger master and misses bull-snakes went +from soprano and tenor down to a hiss. He said this family of +bull-snakes were very proud of their clothes, as there weren't any other +bull-snakes dressed like them, all the other bull-snakes being just a +plain yellow. And old Mrs. Bull-snake used to talk about her ancestors +on her father's side, and she called the scrubby willow under which they +had their den the family tree, and talked about the family tree half her +time. She never allowed her daughters to associate with any of the +common young bull-snakes, but kept them coiled up around home under the +family tree till they got very delicate, being in the shade all the +time. All the snakes in the country looked up to this family of +half-black bull-snakes and they were known by the name of Half-Blacks. +All the old female bull-snakes in the country around there, if they had +just a distant speaking acquaintance with Mrs. Half-Black, always spoke +of her as "my dear intimate friend Mrs. Half-Black." Old Papa Half-Black +set around all swelled up with unwary toads he'd swallowed when they +came under the family tree for shade, and while he didn't say much about +his ancestry and family tree, yet he was mighty proud and dignified. +Sometimes he would slip off from his illustrious family, and going over +the hill where there was a little sand blow-out and something to drink, +he'd meet some of the Miss Common Bull-snakes, and then he would unbend +a good deal from his dignity and treat them with great familiarity, and +after having a few drinks call them his sweethearts and get them to sing +"The Good Old Summer Time," and he would join in the chorus with his +heavy bass voice, and they would all be very gay. Of course, he never +told old Mrs. Half-Black about these meetings, cause she wouldn't +understand them. + +But with all their glory this aristocratic family of half-black +bull-snakes came to an untimely end. One day there came along a couple +of mangy Kansas hogs and rooted the whole family out and eat them up as +fast as they came to them; rooted up the family tree also. + +We all cheered Packsaddle Jack's bull-snake story. + +We now all got to telling stories about fellows we knowed who had died +from mad skunk bites, said skunks creeping up on them in the night when +they were sleeping outdoors. When we got to the end of our mad skunk +stories we turned our attention to tales of friends of ours who had died +from rattlesnake bites. It seemed each of us had dozens of dead friends +who had met their doom by crawling into a roundup bed at night without +shaking the blankets only to find a couple of rattle-snakes coiled up +inside. The more we told the stories the more snake-bite antidote we +imbibed, till we got so full of the antidote it's safe to say that it +would have been sure death for any poisonous reptile to have bitten any +man in the crowd. Some of us wept a good deal over the memory of our +dead friends and other things, and all together this was about the most +enjoyable half day of our journey. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +CHUCKWAGON'S DEATH. + + +I now come to a point in my story that is fraught with such grief and +sorrow that I would gladly pass over if I could, but my story wouldn't +be complete without this sad chapter. + +We were slowly climbing Sherman Hill, some of us pushing on the train, +some using pinch bars--as we always did where there was a hard +pull--when all of a sudden the engine broke down and the train started +slowly back down the hill. While the train didn't go very fast on +account that the wheels hadn't been greased since we started, as the +company was economizing on oil, and the train stopped when it got to the +bottom of the hill, yet it was so discouraging and heart-sickening to +poor old Chuckwagon that he died almost immediately after this took +place. + +He had been gradually growing weaker lately, not being able to keep +anything on his stomach except a little Limburger cheese since the night +he had the skunk dream. He always imagined this dream to be a warning, +and had low sinking spells at times, specially when the two sheepmen and +Jackdo were all three in the car in at once, and at such times we were +obliged to take a prod pole and drive Jackdo and the two sheepmen out +the car and make them ride on top till Chuck revived. We made some +smelling salts out of asafoetida and Limburger cheese for him to use +when he had these fainting spells, as he frequently did when the car got +warm and Jackdo and the sheepmen were there. We also found the +decomposed body of a dog lying beside the track one day, and gathering +it up in a gunnysack would hang it round Chuck's neck at night when the +sheepmen and Jackdo had to ride inside, and in that way he would get a +little sleep. But if he happened to be out of reach of any of these +remedies when one of the sheepmen come near him he immediately began to +strike at the end of his nose and mutter something about glue factories. + +Poor old Chuckwagon! In my mind I can still see his rugged, tear-stained +face as he would piteously hold out his hands for his sack of decomposed +dog when one of the sheepmen or Jackdo came in the way-car. + +All I know of Chuckwagon's life before he come West was what he told me +on this trip. He said as a boy he had worked cleaning sewers in Chicago +and after that was watchman for glue factories till he come West, but +with all this training had never got hardened enough to stand the smell +of Jackdo, Cottswool Canvasback and Rambolet Bill in a way-car. + +He died like a hero. When we see he was going, Packsaddle Jack took a +prod pole and drove Jackdo and the sheepmen down the track a ways so +Chuck could breathe some purer air. Then we gave him a whiff of +decomposed dog, propped him up against an old railroad tie and took his +post-mortem statement in writing as to cause of his death. We let some +cattlemen who had formed themselves into a committee for the public +safety up in the New Fork country, in Wyoming, have his statement. We +now went to the nearest town, got the best coffin we could and after +selecting a place right under a big cliff, we buried old Chuck and piled +up a lot of rock at the grave so we could come back and get him and give +him a good decent burial on his own ranch. We didn't have much funeral +services, but Dillbery Ike made a talk which just filled all our ideas +exactly, and here is what he said: + + +DILLBERY IKE'S TRIBUTE TO CHUCKWAGON. + +Chuck was a good man. While he never joined church and drunk a heap of +whiskey, bucked faro and monte, cussed mighty hard at times, yet he +always paid his debts. Never killed other people's beef and didn't take +mavericks till they was plum weaned from the cows. He believed mighty +strong in ghosts and God Almighty; believed in angels, 'cause he loved a +little, blonde, blue-eyed girl away up in the mountains in Idaho. He had +a strong belief in heaven, but a heap stronger one in hell, 'cause he +said there must be some place to keep the sheepmen by themselves in the +other world. He never had a father or mother and no bringing up, but +lived a better life 'cording to what he knowed than some people who +knowed more. He always gave his big-jawed cattle to Injuns to eat, place +of hauling the meat to town and peddling it out to white folks. He'd +been known to even cut stove wood for married men when their wives were +off visiting, and once he gave all the tobacco and cigarette papers he +had to a sick Digger Injun and went without for a week himself. He +always let the tenderfoot visitor at the ranch fish all the strips of +bacon out the beans and pretended to be looking the other way, and when +old Widow Mulligan, who ran a little milk ranch, died of fever and left +four little red-headed kids he took them all home and took care of them, +told them bear stories till they all went to sleep nights in his bed, +washed them, fed them and never said a cross word, and even when they +drowned his pet cat in the well, let out his pigs, turned the old cow in +his garden and stoned all his young Plymouth Rock chickens to death, he +just said, "Poor little fellars, they hain't got no mother now," and he +guessed they didn't mean any harm, and took care of them till a relative +came and took them away. + +We figured all these things up and made up our minds that no fair-minded +God would send a great, big-hearted, innocent cowman, who never harmed +anybody in his life, to a place like hell was supposed to be. Even if +God couldn't let him into heaven on 'count of his wearing his pants in +his boots, eating with his knife at the table place of his fork, +drinking his coffee out his saucer and other ignorant ways, yet He might +give him a pretty decent place away out where there wasn't any sheepmen, +and if He didn't have somebody handy to keep old Chuck company just let +him have a deck or two of cards to play solitaire with and Chuck +wouldn't mind. + +Old Chuckwagon was mighty fond of white-faced cattle, and just as he +breathed his last he sorter roused up and stretched out his arms, with +his eyes as bright as 'lectric lamps, and said: "Boys, I see another +country, just lots of big grass, with running streams of water, big +herds of white-face cattle, and they are all mavericks, not a brand on +'em, and not a sheep-wagon in sight." And them was his last words. + + He lay on the sidetrack, poor honest Chuckwagon, + The pallor of death creeping fast o'er his brow; + Said he to the cowboys, "My rope is a dragging, + I'm going o'er the divide and going right now. + + "I've often faced death with the bronks and the cattle, + And meeting him now doesn't take so much sand. + For sooner or later with death all must grapple, + And all that we need is to show a straight brand. + + "I would like one more glimpse at the side of the mountain, + Before I saddle up for Eternity's divide; + The ranch house, the meadow, the spring like a fountain, + But, alas for poor Chuck, my feet are hogtied." + + Down his bronzed hardy cheeks the warm tears were stealing, + At the memory of his cow ranch, so pleasant and bright. + A smile like an angel played over each feature, + And the soul of the cowboy rode out of sight. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE SHEEPMEN. + + +After we buried Chuckwagon we walked across a bend in the road and +caught up with the stock train and strolled on ahead with sad hearts and +silent lips till we arrived at the top of Sherman Hill. We prepared to +wait for the arrival of the stock train, so selecting a site on the +south side of Ames monument, we built a snow hut by rolling up huge +snowballs and piling them up one on top of the other for walls to a +height of about seven and one-half feet, leaving a space for our room of +about twelve feet square inside, and gradually drawing them together at +the top for a roof, and making a big snowball for the door. After it was +all finished we let the sheepmen and Jackdo go over across the canyon +about two miles and build another hut for themselves. We moved our +luggage (which we had carried to lighten up the train) inside, and after +closing the door with the big snowball, we ate a hearty supper of boiled +rawhide, and spreading down a sheet of mist, we rolled up in a blanket +of fog and went to sleep. + +We hadn't no more than got to sleep before a lightning rod agent by the +name of Woods came along and put up lightning rods all over our snow hut +and woke us up to sign $350 worth of notes for the rods. This matter +attended to, we went to sleep again and the lightning rod agent went +over across the canyon to the sheepmen's hut and put rods on it. This +man Woods was a good fellar, got people to sign notes by the wholesale, +but never did anything so low as to collect them, just turned them over +to a lawyer and let him attend to that. He was always broke and borrowed +your last "five" in a way that endeared him to you for life. He never +bothered with paying for anything, always said, "Just put it down, or +charge it," in such a lofty way that everyone in hearing would begin to +hunt for pencils right off. He put lightning rods on everything, even to +prairie dogs' houses and ant heaps, took anybody's note with any kind of +signature. + +Cottswool Canvasback, Rambolet Bill and Jackdo couldn't write, but he +had Rambolet Bill make his mark to the note and then Cottswool +Canvasback and Jackdo witnessed it by affixing their mark; then he had +Cottswool Canvasback sign his mark as security and Rambolet Bill and +Jackdo witness the signature with their marks; then had Jackdo sign his +mark as security and Rambolet and Cottswool witness it with their marks. + +We had put out a signal flag on our snow hut so the trainmen would know +where to find us when they came along with the stock. When we awoke +next morning and went outdoors a strange sight greeted our astonished +vision. There had come a [1]chinook wind in the night and melted the snow +off up to within one hundred feet of our altitude. As Jackdo and the two +sheepmen had built their snow residence about 150 feet lower altitude on +the other side of the canyon, their house had melted down over their +heads, and as they were nowhere in sight it was safe to presume they had +been carried away in the ruins. We had quite an argument now, whether we +should try to find them or not. Dillbery Ike maintained they was human +beings and as such was entitled to our looking for them. Packsaddle Jack +said he didn't know for sure whether sheepmen were humans or not. He +guessed it was a mighty broad word and covered a heap of things. Eatumup +Jake said he reckoned they would turn up all right, that sheepmen didn't +die very easy, that he knowed them to pack off more lead than an +antelope would and still live; he guessed being washed off the side of +the mountain wouldn't kill them. He said we'd better wait till the +trainmen came along and then report the matter to them, as the sheepmen +would want damages off the railroad or somebody and we'd better not hunt +them up too quick as it might jeopardize their case. We all agreed there +was some difference in sheepmen, and that Rambolet Bill and Cottswool +Canvasback certainly belonged to the better class, and we all fell to +telling stories of the generous, open-handed things that sheepmen of our +acquaintance had done. + +Packsaddle Jack said he knowed a sheepman once by the name of Black +Face, who was so good-hearted that he paid $20 towards one of his +herder's doctor bill when he lost both feet by their being frozen in the +great Wyoming blizzard in '94. The herder stayed with the sheep for +seventy-two hours in the Bad Lands and saved all the 3,000 head except +seven, that got over the bank of the creek into ice and water and +drowned. The herder having got all but these seven head out and getting +his feet wet they froze so hard that Black Face said his feet was +rattling together like rocks when he found him still herding the sheep. +Of course, the sheep might have all perished in the storm if the herder +didn't stay with them, and of course, the herder didn't have anything to +eat the entire three days in the storm, as he was miles from any +habitation and that way saved Black Face 30 cents in grub. But we all +agreed that while Black Face would feel the greatest anguish at the loss +of the seven sheep and giving up the $20, yet the satisfaction of doing +a generous deed and the pride he would experience when it was mentioned +in the item column of the local county paper would partially alleviate +that anguish. + +Eatumup Jake said he knew a sheepman by the name of Hatchet Face from +Connecticut, who had sheep ranches out there in Utah, and he was so +kind-hearted that when one of his herders kept his sheep in a widow +neighbor's field till they ate up everything in sight, even her lawn and +flower garden, he apologized to the widow when she returned from nursing +a poor family through a spell of sickness, and told her he would pay her +something, and while he never did pay her anything, yet he always seemed +sorry, while a lot of sheepmen would have laid awake nights to have +studied a way how to eat out the widow again. Eatumup Jake said old +Hatchet Face, when he prayed in church Sundays (he being a strict +Presbyterian), he always prayed for the poor and widows and orphans, and +that showed he had a good heart, to use what influence he had with God +Almighty and get Him to do something for widows and orphans and poor +people. + +Dillbery Ike said he knew a sheepman by the name of Shearclose, and +while he never gave his hired help any meat to eat except old +broken-mouthed ewes in the winter and dead lambs in the spring and +summer, and herded his sheep around homesteaders' little ranches till +their milk cows mighty near starved to death, yet old Shearclose gave $5 +for a ticket to a charity ball once when a list of the names of all the +people who bought tickets was printed in the county paper. + +[Illustration: _C. J. Lane, General Freight Agent and Pass Distributer +to Live Stock Shippers._] + +After we summed all these things up, our hearts got so warm thinking of +these acts of generosity by sheepmen that we concluded to make a hunt +for Rambolet Bill, Cottswool Canvasback and Jackdo. We now discussed a +great many plans how to rescue them. While we were arguing the stock +train came, and when we told the conductor, he immediately had the agent +wire General Freight Agent C. J. Lane at Omaha the following message: + +"Two prominent sheepmen swept away by freshet while camping ahead of +special stock train No. 79531. Please wire instructions how to find +them." + +Lane immediately wired back not to find them, and if there was any trace +left of them to obliterate it at once. + + +JACKDO'S STORY OF HIS ESCAPE. + +We now sauntered down Sherman Hill ahead of the train to Cheyenne, +expecting to get some help there to find Rambolet Bill and Cottswool +Canvasback, and was much surprised to discover Jackdo asleep riding on +the trucks of a car in a special that went by, and on waking him up he +told us the following story of his escape: + +He said when the flood came he got astride a big snowball and making a +compass out of a piece of lightning rod he pointed it for the north star +so as to not lose his bearings and started for Cheyenne. He said it was +a wild ride, that he passed cattle and horses, forests and ranches in +quick succession and his snowball was almost worn out when he got below +the altitude of the chinook wind and struck a country of ice and snow +again. But it was impossible to stop, he had acquired such a momentum +going down the mountain that he slid through nine miles of cactus and +prickly pears without having changed the sitting position he started in. +However, after his snowball wore out, he just held up his feet and kept +on till he struck a special stock train going East, and after knocking +two of the cars off the rails and breaking the bumpers of a half-dozen +more, he checked up enough to crawl on a brake beam and go to sleep. He +knew nothing of Rambolet Bill and Cottswool Canvasback. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] For the benefit of our readers who do not know what a chinook wind +is, I will explain that it is a hot, violent coast wind which blows at +certain periods of the year at certain altitudes in the West. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +OUR ARRIVAL IN CHEYENNE. + + +We arrived in Cheyenne, and after reporting to the dispatcher what time +our special stock train would arrive, we exposed Jackdo to the gentle +breeze, which is always on tap in Cheyenne, and it blew all the cactus +slivers out of his anatomy that he had accumulated in his nine miles +slide in just thirteen seconds. We then started out to see the town. We +asked an expressman on the corner of Main Street--he was the only live +human being in sight--what was the main features of Cheyenne. He said +Tom Horn and Senator Warren. We asked him what they was noted for, and +he said that Tom Horn was noted for killing people that took things that +didn't belong to them and then blowing his horn about it afterwards, and +Senator Warren was noted for building wire fences on government Land and +taking everything in sight. + +Not seeing anyone on the streets, we asked him if it was Sunday, and he +said every day was Sunday in Cheyenne except when they had a political +rally, and then it was a durn Democratic funeral from sun to sun, +burying the Democratic party over and over again, they rehearsed them +same old services. Whenever people saw the politicians on the streets +with clean shirts on they knew the Democratic party was going to have +another funeral. The folks in Cheyenne was always going to church, or +else burying the Democratic party. We asked him what the prevailing +religion of the town was, and he said, "High-priced wool." + +Just then Senator W---- came along, and hearing of the disappearance of +two sheepmen, and it being near election time, he immediately had all +the troops called out, got together a vast army of United States deputy +marshals and wired the president of the Overland, who immediately +chartered a special train loaded with detectives, and two cars loaded +with blood-hounds in charge of a lawyer by the name of Ashby from +Lincoln; one car loaded with automobiles, two cars loaded with bottled +goods and other useful supplies and two pianos with pianola attachments, +seven trunks full of mechanical music in air-tight bottles, and one +steam calliope near the engine on a flat car. The Governor of Wyoming +met the special train at Cheyenne, and after issuing a proclamation +offering a large reward for the sheepmen dead or alive, joined the U. P. +president in his car. They now started the steam calliope, and the +Governor playing one of the pianola-attachment pianos, the U. P. +president playing the other. The state chairman of the Republican party +sang the old familiar hymn, "Ninety and Nine Were Safely Laid in the +Shelter of the Fold," and Senator W---- made a speech something like +this: + +He said: "Fellow sheepmen and what few other citizens there are in +Wyoming: What's the matter with the sheep business? Have we deteriorated +in the eyes of the world in the last two thousand years? Who writes +poetry of the sheep and sheepherder of the present time? What artist +puts priceless paintings on canvass of the sheep business to-day? Why, +fellow sheepmen, in ancient times all the poetry that was written was of +the shepherd and his flock, and in every palace, in the most conspicuous +place, was a picture of a tall shepherd with venerable beard and flowing +locks, with his serape thrown carelessly over his shoulder, a long +shepherd's crook in his hand, leading his sheep over the hill into some +fresher pasture. And when the people saw the original of this painting +in ye ancient time appearing over the hill in the sunset glow, they +cried: 'Lo, behold the shepherd cometh.' Now what do they say? This is +what you hear: 'Well, look at that lousy sheepherding scoundrel coming +over the divide with his sheep. Boys, get your black masks and the wagon +spokes.' + +"Now," he says, "wouldn't that Ram you? What would our party have +amounted to in Wyoming if I hadn't Bucked everything in sight? I've +Lambed the stuffing out of the Democrats and Pulled Wool over the eyes +of the would-be party leaders till we have Pretty Good Grazing and Fair +We(a)thers. + +"In a few days we will be called on to decide a great question at the +polls, whether Billy Bryan will build your house out of cold, clammy, +frosty silver bricks, or whether we will have houses built out of all +wool. You must make a choice between the two. If you vote for me, it +means a good, warm woolen house, good woolen underclothes, good woolen +overclothes." + +Judge Carey tried to say something about a gold plank, but everybody +frowned at him so that he slunk off in the crowd and shortly afterwards +was seen in a back alley having a heart-to-heart talk with two +bow-legged cowpunchers who, while they did not know much about any kind +of gold, let alone a big gold standard, knew anything was better than +all this talk about sheep and wool. + +Senator W---- kept talking as long as he could keep the Governor and the +U. P. president making music. He said everybody who voted right could +sit on his right hand with the sheep, otherwise they would have to +associate with the goats on his left that was herded by Billy Bryan. +Some of the crowd grumbled about associating with either one, but the +Senator said there was no choice if they stayed in Wyoming. + +A carriage now dashed up, all emblazoned with a coat-of-arms, which +consisted of a panel of barbed wire fence with a rampant sheep leaning +against it. The Senator entered this carriage, rolled away and the crowd +followed him. + +Although there had been no effort made to find the sheepmen, yet +apparently the object of the railroad expedition had been accomplished, +and they were about to return when they discovered that three of the +highest-priced detectives were missing. They were found almost +immediately on the trail of the man who could tell why a life-long +Democrat in Wyoming, as soon as he starts in the sheep business, gets a +public office in place of a life-long Republican who didn't own any +sheep. The detectives were called off the trail and the president of +the great Overland began his return. We heard afterwards that Captain +Ashby claimed that two of the most valuable blood-hounds escaped from +the hound car and he demanded that the U. P. pay him $700 for the dogs. +He claimed that if they struck the trail of anything they would follow +it to the death. A couple of mangy fox-hounds were found dead in an +alley back of one of the Cheyenne hotels the next morning after the +president's train left, and as it was known that one of the hotel cooks +had been down to the train, these were supposed to be the dogs, and the +claim was allowed. What caused their death was a matter of conjecture. +There was quite a pile of hotel grub laying near the dogs. The hotel +boarders differed in opinion. Some said the dogs died of indigestion and +some said of starvation. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE POST-HOLE DIGGER'S GHOST. + + +The skeletons of Rambolet Bill and Cottswool Canvasback were found a +long time after this all happened by one of the Warren Live Stock +Company's fence riders. This fence commences in northeastern Colorado +near the 27th degree of longitude west from Washington, and extends west +over hills and valleys, plains and mountains, through all kinds of +latitudes, longitudes and vicissitudes. There is a legend in regard to +the building of this fence that is told in whispers when the fire burns +low of a night in western homes. It runs something like this: + +Years ago Senator Warren, Manager Gleason and some other Massachusetts +Yankees started in the sheep business in southern Wyoming and northern +Colorado, and as the country was large they thought it would be a good +thing to fence in a few hundred thousand acres of government land and +save the grass so fenced in case of hard winters and other things and +graze their sheep in this enclosure only when there was no more grass +around the little homesteads taken here and there by settlers. So hiring +a young German from the Old Country, who couldn't speak a word of +English, to dig the post-holes, they got him a brand-new shovel, a +post-bar about eight feet long, the famous receipt for cooking +jackrabbits, and started him digging near the 27th degree of longitude +west from Washington. Pointing toward the setting sun in the west, they +went off and left him. The German was never seen alive again, but he +left a never-ending line of post-holes behind him. The Warren Live Stock +Company, it is said, put on a great many men setting the posts in these +holes and stringing barbed wire on them, and although they kept ever +increasing the force that built the fence, yet they never caught up with +the German, and time after time the post-setters would come to the top +of a high hill or a range of mountains and thought they would come in +sight of the German, only to see a long line of post-holes stretching +away over hill and valley towards the setting sun. + +After a while the Mormons along the line of Utah and Wyoming complained +of seeing a ghost about the time they drove their cows home of an +evening. They said it was a German with grizzled locks and flowing +beard, with a large meerschaum pipe in his mouth and a shovel in one +hand from which the blade was worn down to the handle and a post-bar no +bigger than a drag tooth in the other hand. He was always looking toward +the setting sun, shading his eyes with his hand and muttering these +words: "Das sinkende Sonne, ich fange sie nicht." + +But when they approached close to him, or spoke to him, he immediately +vanished. When the ghost wasn't disturbed it seemed to be digging holes. +It would go through the motions of digging a hole in the ground, then +rising up, take thirteen steps in a westerly direction, look back to see +if the line was straight, dig another hole, and go on. Sometimes the +ghost seemed to be studying a well-worn piece of paper, which was +undoubtedly the receipt for cooking jackrabbits, and would mutter in +German, "O wohene, O wohene ist er gegangen, mit Schwanz so kurz und Ohr +so lang? O wohene ist mein Hase gegangen?" + +After awhile the ghost began to appear in western Utah and still later +on in Nevada, always digging a never-ending imaginary line of +post-holes. No one never knew where the actual post-holes left off and +the imaginary ones commenced. + +As the Routt County cattlemen in western Colorado never allowed any +sheepmen to encroach on their range, and they always killed all the +sheep and sheepmen who dared to intrude, of course, the Warren Live +Stock had to stop building fence west and turn north before they got +there. + +When the ghastly skeletons of Rambolet Bill and Cottswool Canvasback +were found lying by this fence, their bones picked clean by coyotes and +vultures, a small book was picked up near them which proved to be a +diary of their adventures and last hours of suffering. It will be +remembered that Rambolet Bill and Cottswool Canvasback couldn't write, +but they had drawn pictures in the book, and when we had gotten another +sheepman who couldn't write to examine them he read them just like +print. The first picture was a mountain with a lot of marks, which was +interpreted as the flood, and two men drawn crosswise laying down was +the sheepmen being washed away. The next picture was a wire fence with +two men clinging to it. He said that was when they washed into the +fence. The next was another fence picture showing two men walking along +it. There was about fifty pictures after this one, but they always had a +section of a wire fence in them. Several pictures in the front part of +the book showed the two men eating jackrabbits, but later on some of the +pictures showed them chasing a prairie dog, or trying to slip up on one, +indicating that they couldn't find any more jackrabbits. There was +pictures of them chewing bits of their clothes to get the sheep grease +out of them. Then there was pictures of them pointing to their mouths +and stomachs, finally in the last picture they were in the act of eating +a piece of paper with some writing on it, which was probably the receipt +for cooking jackrabbits. They probably had walked hundreds of miles +along this fence before they finally succumbed, and as it was a country +where they had herded large bands of sheep the grass had become so +exterminated that no jackrabbits could live there, and consequently +Rambolet Bill and Cottswool Canvasback had gradually starved to death. + + Two guileless sheepmen lay sleeping on the side of a barren hill, + One's name was Cottswool Canvasback, the other was Rambolet Bill. + They were dreaming, sweetly dreaming, the fore part of the night + Of grazing their sheep on a homesteader's claim when he was out of sight. + + But hark! to the wind that's rising; 'tis coming fast and warm; + Little recked the sleepers that it would do them harm; + But the roar was growing louder, as the pine trees bent and shook, + And the birds were screaming loudly, "Beware of the warm chinook." + + When that hot blast struck their hut, built out of walls of snow, + That house turned into a river in a way that wasn't slow; + Washed off these dreaming sheepmen in the middle of the night. + As the waters swept the dreamers away, what must have been their fright, + + Till tangled up in Warren's fence that's built o'er mountain and vale, + They followed it the rest of their lives, winding o'er hill and dale. + When found by the annual fence rider, they long since had been dead, + Their bones picked clean by coyotes, with vultures hovering o'erhead. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +GRAFTING. + + +One night while we were in Cheyenne we were going from the dispatcher's +office down to our way car, which was, as usual, about one mile from the +depot. The railroad company had quite a number of police on duty in the +yards to watch for strikers, there having been a machinists' strike on +for a long time. No strikers had ever come around the railroad yards +nights or even interfered with any one at any time, but a lot of fellows +who wanted soft jobs as watchmen made the officials of the road think +the strikers were going to do something, and these night watch men had, +it seems, been looking for a long time for some weak tramp to beat to +death and then claim the tramp was working in the interest of the +strikers and was about to injure railroad property when those awful +sleuths caught him in the act and put his light out. Thus they could get +a fresh hold on their jobs. However, they had been unable to catch a +tramp, and as they had to get somebody in order to hold their jobs, they +cornered Dillbery Ike, who had loitered behind the rest, and one of the +valiant watchmen swiping him over the head with a six-shooter, scalped +him as clean as a Sioux Injun would have done it with a scalping knife. +Hearing Dillbery Ike's cries for help, we went to his rescue, and none +too soon, as the watchman was still beating him. When we had got a +doctor for Dillbery, of course the first thing he asked for was +Dillbery's scalp, so he could sew it on again. But although we made a +long search for the scalp, we only found a few bloody hairs, and +undoubtedly some hungry canine prowling around had ate it up. However, +the railroad company, after some parleying, agreed to pay for having a +new one grafted on, and as grafting is the long suit of the Cheyenne +doctors, there was a general scramble for the job. 'Twas finally agreed +to divide the job amongst them, or rather divide the space and the +money. The doctors immediately advertised for contributions of pieces of +scalp to graft on Dillbery's head, but no one responding they offered to +buy some sections of scalp, and this ad was responded to in a mysterious +way by a midnight visitor at each of their offices, with a small piece +of very close shaven fresh scalp, which the visitor (who was a woman in +each case and so muffled up that her features couldn't be seen) claimed +she had cut off Billy's or Johnny's or Jimmy's head after putting them +under the influence of ether. + +[Illustration: _Dillbery Ike as a Shipper._] + +Each of the four doctors paid her $25 and hiked off to plaster the piece +of hide on Dillbery Ike's cranium. The scalped place had been carefully +laid off by a civil engineer, so each of the four doctors knew his +corner in the block, and without any courtesies to one another they each +trimmed down his $25 piece of hide to fit his corner and then fastened +it on. The grafting took at once and in a few days was healed over +nicely, despite the fact it turned out that the woman had taken a +different piece of scalp off from different pet animals which she kept. +One was a pet pig, another a pet goat, another a pet sheep and the +fourth a pet dog of the Newfoundland breed. When the hair, wool and +bristles all began to make a luxuriant growth on Dillbery's new scalp, +he seemed to be more or less affected by the dispositions of each animal +from which a part of the wonderful scalp was removed, and when the +different colored hair, wool and bristles had grown to a good length the +effect of this unique head covering was very striking to strangers. +However, Dillbery Ike was justly proud of it, as the doctors had charged +the Union Pacific $1,200 for this variegated scalp. Of course, no other +cowpuncher could boast of such a valuable head covering. + +There was one little white bare spot in the center which was above +timber line, as it were, where the doctors, making these four corners, +had each been a little shy of material, and here was a little open, or +park, on the top of his head in which sheep ticks, hog lice, dog fleas +and goat vermin could have a common ground to assemble and sun +themselves in. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE FILE. + + +After learning the fate of the two sheepmen we prepared to leave +Cheyenne and catch up with our stock train, which we figured would take +us a day or so. We interviewed the dispatcher, superintendent and +station agent at Cheyenne, asking each one of them to wire down the road +and see if they could locate the special. Every one of them wired and +the next day about noon the agent got word the stock was at Egbert. That +evening the superintendent got a message that they was between Egbert +and Pine Bluffs. About midnight the dispatcher got a message that they +were hourly expected in Pine Bluffs, so we started on to overtake them. + +We had noticed with a great deal of anxiety that the wrinkles had +commenced to accumulate on our cattle's horns, as a new wrinkle grows +each year after an animal is two years old, and we had been advised by +several cattlemen who had been in the habit of taking their cattle by +rail to market in place of driving them, to procure files and rasps and +remove these wrinkles before we got to Omaha. So we secured a lot of +rasps and files at Cheyenne and had Jackdo carry them for us, and when +we caught up with the train we went to work to take off the sign of old +age which had come on our stock since shipping them, as the Nebraska +corn-raisers only want young stock to feed. When we first loaded our +cattle we were informed that they were a little bit too fat for the +killers, but, of course, the next day, they was about four pounds too +thin for the killers, but too fat for the feeders. However, by this time +they were nothing but petrified skeletons, and Dillbery Ike wanted to +leave the wrinkles on their horns and sell the entire outfit for +antiques. But the more we discussed it, the more we made up our minds +that as this railroad done a large business hauling stock, the antique +cattle market must be overstocked. So we finally concluded to take off +the wrinkles that had grown since we started and sell the cattle on +their merits. We arranged to run two day shifts and one night shift of +six hours each and to commence up next the engine and work back. So +getting in the first car we climbed astride the critters' necks and +commenced to file. Day after day, night after night, we kept at this +wearisome task, and when our files and rasps became worn we sent Jackdo +(who wouldn't work, but who didn't mind tramping) to the nearest town to +get fresh files and rasps. Sometimes we became discouraged when we saw +the wrinkles starting again that we had removed to commence with, and +our eyes filled with bitter tears when we thought how much better it +would have been to have trailed our cattle through, or even sold them +to some Nebraska sucker and taken his draft on a commission house. +Dillbery Ike, who had some education, made up a song for us to sing +while we were at work, called "The Song of the File," and one of us +would sing a verse and then all join in the chorus, and this song helped +us a great deal. Here it is: + + Oh! we are a bunch of cattlemen. + Going to market with our stock again, + And, as we ship over a road that's bum, + The days they go and the days they come. + +_Chorus._ + + Cheer up, brave hearts, and list to the file + As the wrinkles keep dropping below in a pile; + Never fear, my boys, we have plenty of time + To remove old age that's known by the wrinkle sign. + + And as time goes by the wrinkles grow + On the horns of the cattle in a train that's slow; + For every year after the second a cow that's born + Another wrinkle grows upon each horn. + + While we have a job that isn't so soft, + A-trying to rasp these wrinkles off, + To make their horns look smooth and bright, + We file all day and we file all night. + + And as we file, we whistle and sing, + Trying to make it a jolly thing, + To remove the wrinkles that are sure to grow + On the horns of cattle with a road that's slow. + + Astride their necks, we sit and file, + And through our tears, we try to smile. + Cheer up, brave hearts, cheer up, we say again, + As we camp along with the bum stock train. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE CATTLE STAMPEDE. + + +The boys all got to talking about stampedes one night while we were +waiting on a sidetrack, and I related to them an experience of my own. + +A number of years ago, I bought some 15,000 steers in southern Arizona, +and shipping them to Denver, Colorado, divided them up into herds of +about 3,500 head in each herd and started to trail these herds north to +Wyoming. About 4,000 head of these steers were from 1 to 10 years old +and were known as outlaws in the country where they were raised. These +steers were almost as wild as elk; very tall, thin, raw-boned, +high-headed, with enormous horns and long tails, and as there was great +danger of their stampeding at any time, I put all of them in a herd by +themselves and went with that herd myself. I worried about these steers +night and day, and talked to my men incessantly about how to handle them +and what to do if the cattle stampeded. There is only one thing to do in +case of a stampede of a herd of wild range steers, and that is for every +cowboy to get in the lead of them with a good horse and keep in the lead +without trying to stop them, but gradually turn them and get them to +running in a circle, or "milling," as it is commonly known among +cowboys. Cattle on the trail never stampede but one way, and that is +back the way they come from. If you can succeed in turning them in some +other direction, you can gradually bring them to a stop. These +long-legged range steers can run almost as fast as the swiftest horse. + +So we kept our best and swiftest horses saddled all night, ready to +spring onto in case the herd ever got started. We were driving in a +northerly direction all the time, and every night took the herd fully a +mile north of the mess wagon camp before we bedded them down. I had +fourteen men in the outfit, half of them old-time cowboys and the other +half would-be cowboys; several of them what we used to call tenderfeet. + +Amongst the green hands at trailing cattle was the nephew of my eastern +partner, a college-bred boy, with blonde, curly hair and a face as merry +as a girl's at a May day picnic. The boys all called him Curley. He was +as lovable a lad as I ever met, but positively refused to take this +enormous herd of old outlaw, long-horned steers as a serious +proposition. + +We had always four men on night herd at a time, each gang standing night +guard three hours, when they were relieved by another four men. The +first gang was 8 to 11 o'clock in the evening; the next 11 till 2 and +the last guard stood from 2 till daylight, and then started the herd +traveling north again. I kept two old cow hands and two green ones on +each guard, and had been nine days on the trail; had traveled about a +hundred miles without any mishap. We had bright moonlight nights. The +grass was fine, being about the first of June, and I was beginning to +feel a little easier, when one night we were camped on a high rolling +prairie near the Wyoming line. + +Curley and three other men had just went on guard at 2 o'clock in the +morning. The moon was shining bright as day. Everything was as still as +could be, the old long-horned outlaws all lying down sleeping, probably +dreaming of the cactus-covered hillsides in their old home in Arizona. +Curley was on the north side of the herd and rolling a cigarette. He +forgot my oft-repeated injunction not to light a parlor match around the +herd in the night, but scratched one on his saddle horn. When that match +popped, there was a roar like an earthquake and the herd was gone in the +wink of an eyelid; just two minutes from the time Curley scratched his +match, that wild, crazy avalanche of cattle was running over that camp +outfit, two and three deep. But at that first roar, I was out of my +blankets, running for my hoss and hollering, "Come on, boys!" with a +rising inflection on "boys." The old hands knew what was coming and were +on their hosses soon as I was, but the tenderfeet stampeded their own +hosses trying to get onto them, and their hosses all got away except +two, and when their riders finally got on them, they took across the +hills as fast as they could go out the way of that horde of oncoming +wild-eyed demons. The men who lost their hosses crawled under the front +end of the big heavy roundup wagon, and for a wonder the herd didn't +overturn the wagon, although lots of them broke their horns on it and +some broke their legs. When I lit in the saddle, and looked around, five +of my cowboys was lined up side of me, their hosses jumping and +snorting, for them old cow hosses scented the danger and I only had time +to say, "Keep cool; hold your hosses' heads high, boys, and keep two +hundred yards ahead of the cattle for at least five miles. If your hoss +gives out try to get off to one side," and then that earthquake (as one +of the tenderfeet called it when he first woke up) was at our heels, and +we were riding for our own lives as well as to stop the cattle, because +if a hoss stumbled or stepped in a badger hole there wouldn't be even a +semblance of his rider left after those thousands of hoofs had got +through pounding him. I was riding a Blackhawk Morgan hoss with +wonderful speed and endurance and very sure footed, which was the main +thing, and I allowed the herd to get up in a hundred yards of me, and +seeing the country was comparatively smooth ahead of me, I turned in my +saddle and looked back at the cattle. + +[Illustration: _The Stampede._] + +I had been in stampedes before, but nothing like this. The cattle were +running their best, all the cripples and drags in the lead, their sore +feet forgotten. Every steer had his long tail in the air, and those +4,000 waving tails made me think of a sudden whirlwind in a forest of +young timber. Once in a while I could see a little ripple in the sea of +shining backs, and I knew a steer had stumbled and gone down and his +fellows had tramped him into mincemeat as they went over him. They were +constantly breaking one another's big horns as they clashed and crowded +together, and I could hear their horns striking and breaking above the +roar of the thousands of hoofs on the hard ground. + +As my eyes moved over the herd and to one side, I caught sight of a +rider on a grey hoss, using whip and spur, trying to get ahead of the +cattle, and I knew at a glance it was Curley, as none of the other boys +had a grey hoss that night. I could see he was slowly forging ahead and +getting nearer the lead of the cattle all the time. + +We had gone about ten or twelve miles and had left the smooth, rolling +prairie behind us and were thundering down the divide on to the broken +country along Crow Creek. Now, cattle on a stampede all follow the +leaders, and after I and my half dozen cowboys had ridden in the lead of +that herd for twelve or fifteen miles, gradually letting the cattle get +close to us, but none by us, why we were the leaders, and when we began +to strike that rough ground, my cowboys gradually veered to the left, so +as to lead the herd away from the creek and onto the divide again. But +Curley was on the left side of the herd. None of the other boys had +noticed him, and when the herd began to swerve to the left, it put him +on the inside of a quarter moon of rushing, roaring cattle. I hollered +and screamed to my men, but in that awful roar could hardly hear my own +voice, let alone make my men hear me, and just then we went down into a +steep gulch and up the other side. I saw the hind end of the herd sweep +across from their course of the quarter circle towards the leaders, saw +the grey hoss and Curley go over the bank of the gulch out of sight +amidst hordes of struggling animals. But as I looked back at the cattle +swarming up the other bank I looked in vain for that grey hoss and his +curly-haired rider. Sick at heart, I thought of what was lying in the +bottom of that gulch in place of the sunny-haired boy my partner had +sent out to me, and I wished that eighty thousand dollars worth of +hides, horns and hoofs that was still thundering on behind was back in +the cactus forests of Arizona. + +As the herd swung out on the divide they split in two, part of them +turning to the left, making a circle of about two miles, myself and two +cowboys heading this part of the herd and keeping them running in a +smaller circle all the time till they stopped. The other part of the +herd kept on for about five miles further, then they split in two, and +the cowboys divided and finally got both bunches stopped; not, however, +till one bunch had gone about ten miles beyond where I had got the first +herd quieted. + +It was now broad daylight, and I started back to the gulch where poor +Curley had disappeared. When I came in sight of the gulch, I saw his +dead hoss, trampled into an unrecognizable mass, lying in the bottom of +the gulch, but could see nothing of Curley. While gazing up and down +the gulch which was overhung with rocks in places, I heard someone +whistling a tune, and looking in that direction, saw Curley with his +back to me, perched on a rock whistling as merry as a bird. + +He told me that as his hoss tumbled over the rocky bank, he fell off +into a crevice, and crawling back under the rocks, he watched the +procession go over him. + +We were three days getting the cattle back to where they had started and +two hundred of them were dead or had to be shot, and hundreds had their +horns broken off and hanging by slivers. It had cost in dead cattle and +damage to the living at least $10,000. But I was so glad to get that +curly-headed scamp back alive and unhurt I never said a word to him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +CATCHING A MAVERICK. + + +One day while waiting for a gravel train going west, we all got to +talking about catching mavericks. Eatumup Jake said he'd always been too +honest to go out on the range and hunt mavericks; Dillbery Ike said he +was too, but he wasn't so durned honest as to let a maverick chase him +out of his own corral, and they asked me what I thought about branding +mavericks. I told them that I thought it was a bad practice to hunt +mavericks all the time, but whenever a maverick came around hunting me +up, I generally built a fire and put a branding iron in to heat. But I +told them I would always remember one maverick I had an adventure with, +and after they had all promised me not to ever tell the story to any +one, I told them the following: + +One hot day in the spring of '84 I started across the hills from my +ranch to town, fifteen miles away. I generally had a good riata on my +saddle, but this day, for some reason, I didn't take anything but a +piece of rope fifteen feet long. I didn't expect to meet any mavericks, +as it was just after the spring roundup and there wasn't a chance in a +hundred of seeing one. My way was across a high, broken country, without +a house or a ranch the entire distance. There was bunches of cattle and +horses everywhere eating the luxuriant grass, drinking out of the clear +running streams of mountain water or lying down too full to eat or drink +any more. I was riding one of my best hosses, as everybody did when they +went to town; had my high-heeled boots blacked till you could see your +face in them; was wearing a brand-new $12 Stetson hat that was made to +order; had on a pair of new California pants--they were sort of a +lavender color with checks an inch square, and I was more than proud of +them. I had on a white silk shirt and a blue silk handkerchief round my +neck, a red silk vest with black polka dots on it, but didn't have any +coat to match this brilliant costume, so was in my shirt sleeves. + +I rode along, setting kind of side ways, my hat cocked over my ear, +a-looking down at myself from time to time, and I was about the most +self-satisfied cowpuncher ever was, didn't envy a saloon-keeper in the +territory, and saloon-keepers had as much influence in Wyoming them days +as a sheepman does now, and that's saying all you can say, when it's +known that the sheepmen to-day in Wyoming fill almost every office, +elective and appointive. + +Well I had got about half way to town and was a studying 'bout a girl I +bid good-bye to in the East fifteen years before, and sort a-wishing she +could see me now, when all of a sudden I looked up and right there, not +fifty feet away, was a big, fat, black bull maverick. He was about a +year and a half old and would weigh 800 pounds. He was wild as an elk +and had given a loud snuff on seeing me, which had called my attention +to him. I immediately commenced making that short piece of rope into a +lasso. There wasn't much more than enough for the loop. But I knew old +Bill, the hoss I was riding, could catch him on any kind of ground, so +throwed the spurs in and went sailing over the breaks and coolies after +that wild bull maverick. I soon caught up with him, but found it almost +impossible to throw the loop over his head with such a short rope, as he +dodged to one side or the other every time I got in reach. However, I +finally got it over his horns just as he went over a bank, but before I +could take any [2]dallys, he jerked the rope out of my hands and was gone +with it. + +Now I had got to pick up the rope, and as it only dragged five or six +feet behind him, I would have to ride by him and grab the rope near his +head as I went by: but he was still on the dodge, and I made several +passes at it and missed. The bull was getting mad by this time, and +lowering his head and elevating his tail he soon had me on the dodge. +Whenever I wasn't chasing the bull, he was chasing me. Thus we had it up +one gulch and down another. Many times I grabbed the rope only to have +it jerked out of my fingers, but finally got a wrap around my saddle +horn and a knot tied. It never had occurred to me I couldn't throw him +with that short rope till I was tied hard and fast to him and riding +down the gulch at break-neck speed with that black bull a close second. + +We had been chasing each other now for over an hour and my hoss was +getting tired, but Mr. Bull seemed to be fresher than ever. I had lost +my new Stetson hat early in the game, and, as we had soused through a +good many alkali mud-holes, I was spattered from head to foot with mud. +My white silk shirt and lavender-colored pants were a total wreck. But +something had got to be done, and watching the bull till he was veering +a little to the left of my hoss I made a quick turn to the right, and +stopping right quick, turned Mr. Bull over on his back. Before he could +get up I was off and on top of him, had his tail between his hind legs, +my knees in his flank, and, as every cowpuncher knows, I could hold him +down. My hoss was pulling on the rope same as any well-trained cow hoss +would, keeping the bull's head stretched out, and there wasn't the least +possible show of him getting up; but as I didn't have any short foot +ropes to tie his feet with, I just had to set in his flank and keep +tight hold of his tail. Billy, my hoss, had got hot and excited during +the race and kept surging on the rope more than was necessary. I kept +saying, "Whoa, Bill," but directly he give an extra hard pull, the rope +broke right at the bull's head, and despite my nice talk, Billy turned +his back to me and started across the hills for home. In vain I +hollered, "Whoa, Bill; come, Billy," he never looked around but once, +and that was just as he disappeared over the hill. He sort a-looked back +for a moment, as much as to say, "Well you wanted that darn little black +bull so bad, now you got him stay with him," and that's what I had to +do. He was twice as hard to hold now without any rope on his head, but I +knew if he ever got up, he would gore me to death, as there wasn't a +tree or rock to get behind. + +It was about noon. The hot sun was pouring down on my bare head and I +was choking with thirst. No one ever traveled that way but me. Miles +away to any habitation, there I would have to stay in that stooping +position, holding on to that little black bull's tail. I was young and +strong, but my back began to ache, my hand would cramp clasping that +bull's tail so tightly, but still I held on somehow, for I knew certain +death awaited me if I let go. A bunch of cattle came along and circled +around me with wide-eyed astonishment, then trotted off; a couple of +antelope came running over the hill, and catching sight of me in that +ridiculous position, their curiosity overcame their timidity and they +kept getting nearer and nearer, till only a few rods away, the old buck +antelope stopped and snuffed very loudly and stamped with his fore feet, +but, not being able to get any response out of the black bull and me, +finally left. Then a silly jackrabbit came hopping up on three legs, and +after standing up several times on his hind legs as high as possible and +pulling his whiskers some, he shook his big ears as much as to say, +"It's beyond me," and he, too, left. + +[Illustration: _Catching a Maverick._] + +Just then the bull took a new fit of struggling and I heard the loud +buzz of a rattlesnake behind me. I almost dropped my holt on the bull's +tail then, but I had acquired the habit of holding on to it by this +time, so glanced over my shoulder to see how far the snake was from me. +I discovered he was only about ten feet behind me, coiled up and mad +about something. He was about four and a half feet long and big around +as my wrist, and didn't seem to have any notion of going around, but +just laid there coiled up, and every time the bull or me moved, would +begin to rattle and draw his head back and forth, run out his tongue and +act disagreeable. Several times he started to uncoil and crawl in my +direction, but I stirred up the bull to floundering around and bluffed +the snake out of coming any closer. Still he seemed to like our company, +and finally went to sleep; but every time I and the bull got to +threshing around, he would drowsily sound his rattle, as much as to say, +"I am still here; don't crowd me any." It was now about two o'clock in +the afternoon. I felt a kind of a goneness in my stomach, but my thirst +was something awful, and in my mind's eye I could see the boys in town +setting in the card-room of the saloon around the poker tables behind +stacks of red, white and blue chips, drinking Scotch highballs, while I +was out on that high mesa dying of thirst and holding down a little +black bull maverick with nothing for company but that old fat +rattlesnake who insisted on staying there to see how the bull and I come +out. + +I hoped against hope that when old Billy arrived at the ranch some one +would start back with him to hunt me up, but I remembered that most +everybody at the ranch had gone up in the mountains trout fishing and +wouldn't be back till night, and then I wondered which would live the +longest, me or the bull, and I thought about slipping away from him +while he was quiet; but the moment I would loosen up on his tail he +would commence threshing around trying to get up, still I kept fooling +with him. I'd loosen up on his tail, and then when he tried to get up, +throw him back; so pretty soon he didn't pay any attention when I +loosened up, and I thought I would try a sneak. However, in order to +make him think I still had hold of his tail, I tied the end of it into a +hard knot. + +I looked around for his snakeship, as I had got to sneak back towards +him, but he was sound asleep, and as the bull was pretty quiet, I sized +up the country back of me and spied a gulch with steep broken banks +about one hundred and fifty yards away, and made up my mind that that +was the place to get to. So slipping by the snake I made the star run +of my life for that gulch. + +I had run about fifty feet when that bull first realized some of his +company was missing, and jumping to his feet looked around and caught +sight of me, and giving a snuff that I can hear in my dreams to this +day, he was after me. Talk about running. I remember a jackrabbit jumped +up in front of me, but I hollered to him to get out of the way. The bull +caught up before I quite got to the gulch, but hesitated for a moment +where to put his horns, and sort a-throwed his head up and down for a +time or two, like he was practicing--kind a-getting a swing like +throwing a hammer. When he got his neck to working good, biff! he took +me and I went sailing through the air, but when I come down it was on +the bank of the gulch, and before he could pick me up again I was over +and under that bank. It was about fifteen feet to the bottom and +straight up and down, but there was a little shelf of hard dirt on the +side, and I caught on there and was safe. He had gone clear over me into +the gulch, but was up and bawling and jawing around in a minute. +However, he couldn't get up to me, so looked around, found a trail +leading out of the gulch, and went up on top, then come around and +looked down at me. He was mad clear through; went and hunted up the old +rattlesnake, and after pawing and bellowing around him, charged him and +got bit on the nose. Then he saw my Stetson hat, and giving a roar, went +after it, and putting his horn through it, went off across the hills mad +clear through, full of snake poison, with my Stetson hat on one horn, +and that was the last I saw of the little black bull. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[2] Wrapping rope around the saddle horn. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +STEALING CRAZY HEAD'S WAR PONIES. + + +We all got to talking about looking over your shoulder, and the boys +asked me if I had ever had to look over my shoulder, and I related to +them the following incident in my career on the plains: + +In the year 1880-81 the first cattle herds were driven to northern +Wyoming and turned loose along Tongue River, Powder River and the Little +Horn, and while the Injuns in southern Montana at that time were not +very hostile, yet they kept stealing our hosses and butchering the +cattlemen's cattle and committing all kinds of petty crimes, and once in +a while when they found a white man riding alone in the hills didn't +scruple to murder him. But stealing hosses was their long suit. Now, I +only had four hosses at that time, and was working out by the month for +a cow outfit at $50 a month and board. I thought everything of these +four hosses, as they was the sum total of my possessions except about +$500 I had due me in wages. And when these hosses was missing one day +and a hunter reported seeing a band of Injuns prowling around, I was +pretty well worked up. A good many of the settlers in northern Wyoming +at that time had had their hosses stolen by the Injuns, but when they +found them in the Injuns' possession were unable to get them, as the +Injuns refused to give them up and would drive the white men out of +their camp. I had always made a loud talk when these men related their +experiences, that if ever any Injuns stole my hosses and I found them +in their possession I'd take them hosses and no Injun would drive me a +step in any direction. So when a freighter reported seeing some Injuns +on the Little Horn River, going north with my hosses, the cowboys all +said now was the time for me to make good all my loud talk about taking +my hosses away from the Injuns if they stole them. + +I had considerable trouble to get anyone to go with me, but finally +persuaded a boy by the name of King, who was about 17 years old at the +time, and getting three hosses from the outfit I worked for, which was +the PK cattle outfit, we packed one of the hosses with bed and grub, and +riding the other two we struck out north down the Little Horn River. +After traveling along the river for several days we crossed and went +over on the Big Horn River, and keeping up this river to the Big Horn +Mountains, came across about two hundred Injuns camped at the base of +the mountains. As soon as we got in sight of their cayuses we saw two of +my hosses running with theirs. When we rode into their camp they +appeared friendly enough till they found out we wanted these two hosses. +I could talk the Injun language, and after making one of the petty +chiefs of their band a few little presents, King and I went out to catch +our two hosses, but they had been running with the Injuns' cayuses so +long we couldn't get near them. Finally we tried to drive them away from +the Injuns' cayuses, but about twenty Injuns had come up to us and told +us to let the hosses alone and go away. They had their guns, and while +they didn't point their guns at me, they kept sticking them against +King's breast and threatening to shoot if he didn't go at once. I now +offered to pay them if they would catch the two hosses. Every Injun +wanted from four to twenty dollars apiece. As there were about twenty +Injuns it amounted to about $300. The Injuns rounded up all their +cayuses, and getting them in a safe corral, caught my two hosses. + +I now instructed King to take the saddle off the hoss he was riding and +tie the hoss to the pack-hoss, and I also done this with the one I was +riding. We then turned them loose and the three animals immediately +started south towards Wyoming. I then told King to saddle one of the +hosses that the Injuns had caught for us, but pay no attention to the +Injun who was holding it. I saddled the other animal; two Injuns each +had a rope on the hoss's neck. When we got them saddled and bridled, I +told King to get on his, and I got on mine. The Injuns were standing all +around us as well as the squaws and papooses, but they had all laid down +their guns. I pulled my Winchester out of the saddle scabbard and +throwing a shell in the barrel, I told King to pull his six-shooter and +cut the Injun's rope that was on his hoss's neck. He said: "The Injuns +will shoot me if I do." I said: "I will shoot you right now if you +don't." Although he was very much excited, he managed to pull his knife +out of his belt and cut the Injun's rope, and immediately started off +after the pack-hoss and saddle hosses on a dead run. The Injuns all set +up a howl, and the squaws began bringing the guns out of the teepees. +But I kept throwing my Winchester down on first one and then another. +The Injuns kept up an awful din hollering to one another, all the squaws +yelling to kill the masacheta (white man). But I could hear the chief's +voice above them all, telling them not to shoot me. The two Injuns +holding the hoss having dropped their ropes, I suddenly threw the ropes +off my hoss's neck and reaching down grabbed a papoose, five or six +years old, and throwing it up in the saddle with me, galloped away. I +knew they wouldn't shoot at me as long as I held to that papoose. But +it was like holding on to a full-grown wildcat. I was carrying my +Winchester in one hand, guiding my hoss with the same hand and trying to +hold on to that little biting, scratching, hair-pulling, shrieking +papoose with the other. My hoss was bounding over rocks and sage brush. +But he was a magnificent animal and in less time than it takes to tell I +was out of gunshot, and then I dropped that shrieking little Injun devil +on a sage bush and galloped off in the gathering darkness. + +I soon caught up with King. We traveled all night and the next day. +Putting him on the trail to Wyoming with all the hosses but the one I +was riding, I turned north again to find the other two hosses. That day +I met a Piegan Injun that I was acquainted with, and he told me old +Crazy Head's band was camped on the Yellowstone River, and that they had +my other two hosses and tried to sell them to him. + +I rode into Fort Custer and told my story to Jim Dunleavy, the post +scout and interpreter, and wanted him to introduce me to the post +commander and get me a permit to be on the reservation. But the post +commander refused to see me and sent word for me to get off the +reservation, or he would put me in the guard house. But I struck out +through the hills north, and that afternoon came in sight of Crazy +Head's camp. I found an Injun boy herding a large bunch of cayuses about +a mile from camp, with my two hosses in the bunch. I rode into the herd +and had my hosses roped and tied together before the Injun had recovered +from his surprise, and started back south. + +But now a new idea took possession of me. Why not steal some Indian +cayuses and get even? There was a stage line running through the +reservation them days, and I knew the stock tender at the stage ranch, +fifteen miles from Fort Custer, at the Fort Custer battle-ground. So +waiting till dark I went there, and getting something to eat and leaving +the two hosses, I started back to Crazy Head's camp. It was a bright, +moonlight night and I found the Injuns' cayuses grazing in the same +place. Looking around cautiously I discovered two fine-looking, coal +black cayuses grazing by themselves about two hundred yards from the +main bunch. Slipping up close to them I threw my rawhide rope over one +of them, and, as he was perfectly gentle, started to lead him to a +little patch of timber, intending to hobble him and come back and get +his mate. But as soon as I started to lead him off, his mate followed +him, so I just kept going till I got to the stage station, twenty miles +from there, about 3 o'clock in the morning. Getting a bite to eat from +the old stock tender and showing him the two cayuses I had stole, he +told me he knew the cayuses and that they were old Crazy Head's war +ponies. + +I had been in the saddle now for twenty-four hours without any rest, but +dare not stop a moment, for I knew the Injuns and troops both would be +after me as soon as Crazy Head missed his ponies. So necking the two to +my other two hosses I started for Wyoming, ninety miles away. The Little +Horn River was very high, swimming a hoss from bank to bank, and the +stage hadn't been able to get through for some time. The recent rains +made the ground soft, and I knew the Injuns would have no trouble +tracking me. But they wouldn't miss the ponies till 6 o'clock in the +morning, so I would have twenty miles the start and certainly three +hours of time. But there was the danger of meeting other Injuns who +would know Crazy Head's ponies, and I might meet some scouting soldiers +and have to give an account of myself, not having any permit. I didn't +mind swimming the Little Horn River, if I hadn't the hosses to drive, +but it's hard work for a hoss to swim in a swift current where the waves +out about the middle are running big and high, as they do in mountain +streams, and drive some loose hosses. But I made the hosses all plunge +in and started for the other shore, two hundred yards away. They all +swam like ducks at first crossing, but I would have to swim the river +seven times if I kept the valley, and knew I would lose time if I went +through the hills. So I kept on in a tireless lope, mile after mile, and +all the time looking back over my shoulder. + +[Illustration: "_Looking Over My Shoulder._"] + +Now I knew the Injuns couldn't be in twenty miles of me, but +nevertheless I kept looking over my shoulder to make sure, and I looked +ahead, and every moving bush along the stream looked like a soldier or +an Injun, and every jackrabbit that jumped up side the road, every sage +hen that flew out the grass and startled my hosses nearly made me jump +out of my skin. Everything that moved in the distance looked like old +Crazy Head to me. Talk about looking over your shoulder, boys; why, my +neck got in the shape of a corkscrew. Then I came to another crossing of +the river. I never stopped to look at the high rolling black waters, but +plunged my hosses in and struck out for the other side. I again made it +in safety, and stopping just long enough to tighten my saddle cinches, +took another look over my shoulder and hit that lope again and made up +my mind I wouldn't be caught. But supposing I was caught, what kind of a +story could I tell? And so I tried to figure out a defense for being +found with them two black hosses. I couldn't think of anything or any +story but what looked fishy and showed I was a thief, and it seemed as +if every one else would know it. I remember after I became an officer of +the law, several years after this event happened, I caught a poor devil +skinning a beef one day that didn't belong to him, and as I rode up on +him and told him to turn the beef over so I could see the brand, he +dropped his skinning knife and looking up at me with guilt and terror in +his face, he says, "You know how it is yourself." And I said, "Yes, +Bill, I know how it is. I was a thief once, but the people are paying me +now to uphold the law. Besides I stole Injun hosses and you are stealing +white men's beef." And then at the memory of my ride on the Little Horn +that day I looked over my shoulder again, and when I looked back for +Bill he was gone, and somehow I was kind of glad, for I had a fellow +feeling for him. + +But to return to my story. When I had swum the Little Horn the fourth +time I was forty miles on my journey, and while the iron grey Oregon +hoss I was riding seemed as fresh as ever, the black Indian ponies +seemed to be getting tired. When I struck the next ford on the river I +was fifty miles on the way and it was only 9 o'clock. I was feeling +pretty good. But this time when we got out about the middle of the river +where the waves were high and rolling, one of the Injun ponies stopped +swimming and commenced to float down stream with his nose in the water +and dragging the one he was necked to with him. I started after them and +by a good deal of urging got my hoss alongside, and throwing my rope on +them finally towed them ashore. The pony laid in the shallow water at +the shore for a long time, and I thought he was dead, but he finally +came to and got up. But he was full of water and pretty groggy. + +I found the other two, and getting them together again started on, but +knew I would have to take to the hills now when I came to the river +again, which I did, and hadn't rode over five miles in the hills +skirting the river till, coming up on a high divide and looking down in +the valley of the river, I saw a camp of five or six hundred Injuns; but +they didn't see me, and I kept on till I came to Owl Creek, which +empties into the Little Horn, and it was bank full of cream-colored, +muddy water. The banks were steep and I couldn't guess at the depth of +the water, which was of the consistency of gumbo soup. However, I drove +the hosses into it, first having untied them from one another, as the +buffalo trail going down into it was very narrow. As each hoss plunged +in he went completely out of sight, and I couldn't guess how far he went +under water. But they all clambered up on the other bank, and I see I +had got to follow them, so plunged in. As my hoss jumped off that high +bank, I grabbed my nose and under that yellow water we went. It seemed +like we never would find the bottom, but finally did, and came back to +the surface and scrambled up the bank. My fine buckskin shirt and +leggings made but a sorry appearance. My six-shooter and holster were +full of yellow mud the same as my Winchester, and it took me an hour to +clean my guns and get that yellow mud off my hat and clothes. But I had +no more streams to cross, except Tongue River, which is in Wyoming, and +I crossed it a little after dark and got to my own ranch at 9 o'clock +that evening, having ridden the same hoss one hundred and six miles +since 3 o'clock that morning. + +That grey hoss is still living and is 30 years old now, and is well +known by all the old-timers in northern Wyoming. I laid down and slept +for twenty hours, and when I reported at the roundup with my four hosses +and the two Injun ponies besides, I got a hearty handshake all around. +The boys made up a pot of a hundred dollars and gave it to me for the +Injun ponies, and then played a game of freeze-out to see who should +have them. + +I've never had the least inclination to look over my shoulder since. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +THE CATTLE QUEEN'S GHOST. + + + When darkness overshadows a lone cow ranch, wild and drear, + One's nerves they get a-trembling in a way that seems so queer; + When you _feel_ the spirits round you, 'tis idle then to boast + You don't believe those stories you've heard about the ghosts. + +One dark, rainy evening while we were waiting on a sidetrack the boys +insisted I should tell them some adventure of mine. So after +considerable urging I told them an actual experience I had, that has +always convinced me that murdered people's ghosts come back and haunt +the place they were murdered in. + +Twenty years ago Jerry Wilson was known as the cattle king of the Platte +River. His cattle roamed for hundreds of miles up and down the main +river and all its tributaries, and, as the cowboys used to say, no one +man could count them even if they was strung out, cause he couldn't +count high enough. + +Jerry had a beautiful wife and two lovely children, a boy and a girl, +and for years he and his family had no settled place to live, but went +around amongst his different ranches, staying awhile at each one, the +children being kept in school in Chicago, except in the summer time when +they came West to stay on some cattle ranch with their parents. Finally +Jerry Wilson bought a new ranch up in the south part of South Dakota, on +Battle Creek, and stocking it up with registered cattle and fine horses, +built a fine house, furnished it very expensively and settled on this +ranch for their home. He built magnificent barns that were the talk of +the whole country, and spent a small fortune in building up and +beautifying this ranch. But one day Jerry was riding his horse after a +cow on a hard run. The horse stepped in a badger hole and fell on top of +him, crushing in his ribs and otherwise injuring him so he only lived +long enough to be carried to the house and bid his wife and children +good-bye before he died. + +Mrs. Wilson mourned for Jerry a long time, but the care of her two +children and the increasing cattle herds occupied her mind and time to +such an extent that her grief had settled into a quiet sadness, when a +young man from New York City, who had been discarded from home by his +family for his profligate excesses, came to Battle Creek, and stopping +at Mrs. Wilson's ranch was (as is the custom at all cattle ranches in +the West) made welcome to stay as long as he wanted to. At this time +Jerry Wilson had been dead seven years. His daughter, who was the oldest +of the two children, had married a prominent lawyer of Chicago. The son +was in school in the same city, and Mrs. Wilson made her home at the +Battle Creek ranch. She had successfully carried on all her cattle +enterprises and was known all over the West as the Cattle Queen. She was +about 40 years old at this time, still a beautiful woman and had +received many offers of marriage, but had rejected them all till this +graceless and unprincipled scoundrel from New York, whose name was +Clayton Allen, came to the ranch. Mrs. Wilson had arrived at the age +where a great many women begin to hanker for a young man's society and +attention, and was soon violently in love with Clayton Allen; and he, +seeing a chance to get hold of large sums of money to gamble and go on +sprees with, and knowing he could never hope to get any more from his +family, laid siege to the Cattle Queen's heart and herds with all the +wiles he was capable of. + +To make the story short, Mrs. Wilson married this worse than scamp and +learned too late to regret her mistake. He persuaded her first to sell +all her great cattle herds and ranches and invest all the money in +bonds, which she did, keeping only the ranch and blooded cattle on +Battle Creek. He now persuaded her to go to New York City with him, and +soon as they arrived he joined his old gang of profligates and spent his +nights with gay men and women, only coming to see her when his money was +exhausted, and then only long enough to get more money. In vain she +plead with him. Finally, in sorrow and grief, not having seen him for +several days, she took the train for the West and returned alone to her +old Battle Creek home. + +She had been home about a month, staying in her room alone most of the +time, weeping and crying, when one stormy, black night Clayton Allen +returned about 10 o'clock. He immediately went to his wife's rooms. The +servants heard loud talking and angry words between them for some time, +and apparently he was demanding money and she was refusing to give him +any. There was a large hall that ran through the center of the house, +dividing the building its entire length. The servants had their rooms +and the dining-room was on the west side of this hall, and the Cattle +Queen had her parlors and sleeping apartments on the other side. About +11 o'clock the servants heard their mistress walking up and down this +hall, crying and moaning, but on opening their door that led into the +hall found she had gone back into her rooms, but Clayton Allen came in +the hall just then and asked the housekeeper to bring a bottle of wine, +as her mistress was ill and wanted some. The wine was brought, and +Clayton Allen taking it out of her hand at the door closed the door in +her face, telling her if she was wanted he would call her. Thirty +minutes later the housekeeper heard her mistress scream for help in the +hall, and rushing in found her lying on the floor in violent spasms, and +picking her up carried her to the bed, only to see her die the next +moment. The death-stricken woman only spoke once as she was being +carried to the bed. She whispered in the housekeeper's ear, "Mr. Allen +has poisoned me." + +All of the Cattle Queen's money and bonds were kept in a portable safe +and where she kept the keys hidden no one knew. But at the funeral the +lawyer from Chicago, who, it will be remembered, married Jerry Wilson's +daughter, appeared on the scene, and after a consultation with the +housekeeper and cowboys at the ranch, Clayton Allen disappeared, in fact +the cowboys kidnapped him and kept him guarded in an old dugout for +several days, and when they let him go the lawyer had returned to +Chicago. The safe disappeared at the same time the lawyer left. So +Clayton Allen never got the enormous fortune that was in the safe, but +he got an administrator appointed, and the administrator sold the herd +of fine cattle at the Battle Creek ranch to me, as also the use of the +ranch for one year, and the hay. + +I tried to get some cowboys living in that part of the country to take +care of the ranch and cattle, but all of them promptly refused, saying +they wouldn't stay there for any amount of money. Then I sent some of my +men from my Wyoming ranch, where I was living at the time, but in a week +they came back, looking shamefaced and sulky, but refusing to stay at +the Battle Creek ranch. After I questioned them pretty sharply, they +said they didn't believe much in ghosts, but the Cattle Queen's ghost +was too much for them. They said from 10:30 o'clock in the evening till +after midnight she tramped up and down the hall in the house, crying, +screaming and groaning. They said the doors leading from the hall to the +Cattle Queen's rooms kept opening and shutting, and they could hear her +talking and expostulating with someone and walking back and forth from +the hall to her rooms. I had an old man working for me at the time who +was almost totally deaf, so I sent him and my own son, Georgie, who was +a manly, brave little fellow of 12 years, to the ranch. I had a talk +with George before they started and told him all about it. I said some +one was trying to buy the ranch cheap and was making these disturbances +in order to give the ranch the name of being haunted. But in a week I +got a letter from my boy, saying there might not be any such things as +ghosts, but there was certainly some kind of carrying on in the hall of +that old house every night, and wanting me to come up. So taking my gun +and dog, I went up there to lay the ghost. My dog was one of the largest +specimens of the big blue Dane breed and wasn't afraid of anything. And +I said to myself, "Now I will nail these parties and convince my son +while he is young that there isn't any such things as ghosts." + +When I arrived at the ranch I found Deaf Bill, as we called him, and my +little boy had taken up their quarters in the housekeeper's room, which +was in the extreme western portion of the house, which was built without +any upstairs, all the rooms being on the ground floor. I went into the +hall of the house and found that the doors at each end of the hall were +locked from the inside, the keys being in the locks. I next went into +the parlors and sleeping apartment used by the Cattle Queen in her +lifetime and where she met her tragic death, and found the curtains all +down and the windows closed with catch locks and screens outside of the +windows. Everything was apparently in the same condition as when the +rooms were fastened up after her death. Her books, and pictures, and +paintings, and wardrobe, and easy chairs were all there, just as if she +might have stepped out expecting to be back at any moment. + +I raised a window in her bedroom with some difficulty, as I wanted to +air the room a little, for I had made up my mind to sleep in that bed +that night in those haunted rooms and convince superstitious people that +I at least wasn't afraid of ghosts. I tried to get my little boy to +sleep in there with me, but with pale cheeks and staring eyes and +chattering teeth he begged so hard that I didn't insist on it. I have +always been thankful that I didn't oblige him to stay with me that +dreadful night. + +When I retired, about 8:30 that evening, with my dog and gun into the +haunted rooms I was very tired from my long drive from the railroad, and +setting the lamp on a stand at the head of the bed and putting my +six-shooter under my pillow I called my dog to the side of the bed and +laying down with my clothes on, pulled some blankets over me, blew out +the light and immediately went to sleep. + +How long I slept I know not, but was awakened by my dog who was whining +and licking my face. When I first woke up I didn't remember for a moment +where I was, but the next moment heard a long-drawn sigh across the room +from me and could hear somebody walking on the carpet. I bounded up and +had just lit the lamp when I heard someone open the door from the parlor +into the hall, and the next moment heard an agonizing cry for help in +the hall. I now grabbed the lamp and my six-shooter and running through +the two parlors opened the hall door suddenly, just after hearing the +second cry for help, and found that the hall was absolutely empty, the +doors at each end still being locked, and the door that led into the +servants' part of the house was also locked from my side of the hall, as +I had locked it when I went through to go to bed. + +I went back into the two parlors and sleeping apartments and searched +them thoroughly, even the wardrobes and clothes closets; tried all the +windows, but there was no trace of any living person's presence. I then +noticed my dog. He had crawled under the bed and was lying there whining +in the most abject terror. I dragged him out and kicked him a couple +of times and told him to "watch them." But apparently he'd had all the +ghost business he cared about, for he lay at my feet trembling and +whining. Disgusted with him, I laid down again, thinking I would blow +out the light, but be ready with my six-shooter and some matches and +catch whoever it was prowling around that house, trying to hoodoo the +place. + +[Illustration: _The Cattle Queen's Ghost._] + +I hadn't any more than laid down and blown out the light before my dog +was trying to get out of the window back of my bed and whining +piteously, and then I heard a woman crying in the same room with me and +coming slowly towards my bed. I began to get nervous, but scratched a +match and in the flickering light saw that the room was absolutely +empty. But as the match went out I heard someone run through the parlor, +open and shut the door into the hall, and then heard a long despairing +cry for help in a woman's voice. I plucked up the little courage I had +left, ran to the hall door, opened it, and, lighting a match, gazed up +and down that empty hall, seeing nothing or nobody. But as the match +flickered and went out there came a breath of cold air right in my face, +and then out of that black darkness, seemingly right at my shoulder, +arose that awful blood-curdling cry for help again, and as my blood +froze in my veins my dog answered the cry with one of those long, +despairing, drawn-out, mournful howls that dogs always give as a +premonition of death in the family. I tottered back to the bed and +vainly tried to light a match, but was too nervous; then hearing that +light footstep and that rustling presence coming from the hall through +the parlors again towards the bed, I dropped the match and pulling a lot +of blankets and bed covers over my head, I huddled down in a heap and +lay there trembling with fright and horror till the next morning, when I +heard my boy pounding on the outside of the window and calling me to +breakfast. + +No money would have induced me to have stayed another night on that +ranch, and getting an offer next day for the cattle, I sold them. Five +years afterwards I saw a man who had come by The Cattle Queen's ranch +and he said nobody lived there. The house and barns were all out of +repair; the fields overgrown with weeds and an air of desolation to the +whole premises. The administrator had finally sold the property for a +song to an easterner and he moved his family up there in the day time. +He had to go back to town that night for another load of his goods, and +when he returned to the ranch the next day, he found his wife roaming +around the fields a raving maniac, and she is still in the asylum in +South Dakota. They say the Cattle Queen's ghost still keeps entire +possession, and will till her murderer is punished for his crimes. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +PACKSADDLE JACK'S DEATH. + + +Packsaddle Jack had got tired of filing off wrinkles one night, and, not +being sleepy, walked on ahead of the special till he came to a +sidetrack. Lying down there on the embankment he went to sleep and +caught a violent cold, from which he never recovered. It settled into a +bad cough, and the wrinkle dust seemed to aggravate it. Still he +insisted on taking his regular shift in spite of our remonstrances, and +the harder he coughed the harder he'd file. As the motion of filing and +coughing is almost the same, he seemed to make better time coughing when +he was filing, and vice versa, but finally he became so weak that he +couldn't leave the way-car any more, and we knew it would be a question +of a very few days till old Packsaddle would be swimming his bronk +across the River Styx. He became very quiet and thoughtful those +days--seemed to do a heap of studying--and one bright, sunny afternoon +he called me over to his corner of the way-car and told me he had a +dream the night before and it made such an impression on him he wanted +to tell it to me. + +He said in the start of his dream he seemed to be there on the way-car +planning how much he could possibly get out of what cattle was left when +he got to Omaha, when it seemed all of a sudden there was a mighty +well-dressed cowpuncher riding a big paint hoss and leading another all +saddled and bridled came right up to him and says: "Packsaddle, come +with me." He said the stranger had on a big Stetson hat, a mighty nice +embroidered blue shirt, with red silk necktie and white fur snaps, +high-heeled boots, and a pearl-handled .45 six-shooter. He was riding +Frazier's famous Pueblo saddle, had a split-eared bridle and was rigged +out every way that was proper. Said he asked the stranger where he +wanted him to go, and the stranger told him they was going to a country +where there was no sheep or sheepmen; where the grass grew every year; +where the cattle was always fat; where they drove their cattle to market +place of shipping them; where hard winters, horn flies, heel flies and +mange was unknown. He said the stranger made such a square talk he +finally made up his mind to go with him, although he had some doubts, +not knowing the fellar. So getting on the led hoss, he was kind of +surprised to find the stirrups just his length and the saddle just +fitted him. + +He said they started off kind a slow at first, in a little jog trot, but +directly got to loping, and finally, after crossing a lot of +mean-looking country, they came to a big river and his guide told him +they had got to swim their horses across it as there was no bridge. The +stranger said lots of smart men had tried to build a bridge across this +river, and some people had deluded themselves into thinking they knew of +a bridge that they could get across on, but always when it came to +crossing they couldn't exactly locate their bridge and had to plunge in +with the crowd. Packsaddle said it was a mighty ugly-looking stream. It +was wide and deep and looked like it was rising. The water was black as +ink and the waves out toward the middle was rolling mountain high. Still +there appeared to be people all along the shore, a-plunging in and +starting for the other side. There was a large crowd scattered along and +most of them didn't seem to see the river till they fell off backwards +into it. They would be laughing and cutting up, with their backs to the +river and all of a sudden get too close; a little piece of bank would +crumble off, and with a despairing cry they disappeared beneath the +black waters and was seen no more. Some apparently mighty rich people +dashed up with carriages and servants, and taking a sack of gold in each +hand would offer that to the river, thinking probably they wouldn't have +to cross if they offered it some gold. But of all the people who came to +the river, only a very few ever turned back, although most of them +seemed to want to. He noticed a few that looked like farmers' wives who +came up, and soon as they saw the river a smile of content came on their +faces and they slid into the boiling water as naturally as though it was +wash-day. There was a class of men, too, who came up with a determined +look on their countenances, and without the slightest hesitation plunged +into the awful stream and struck out for the other side. These men all +had cowboy hats on, and when Packsaddle asked his guide who they were, +he said they were cowmen who had been shipping their cattle to the Omaha +market, and their cattle had starved to death on the stock-yard transfer +waiting to be unloaded. + +Some there was that looked like pettifogging lawyers and cheap +politicians, who, when they arrived at the river, flourished a handful +of annual passes over different lines, looking for a pass over the +river, but not getting it, turned back and wouldn't cross, and the guide +told Packsaddle that he guessed this class of people never did cross, as +they seemed to get thicker every year. + +Packsaddle said at first he kind of hated to cross the river, as his +guide said none ever returned, and he couldn't see the other bank very +plainly, and was in some doubt as to what kind of a country was on the +other side, although there was hundreds of big, fat, red-faced looking +men, dressed in black, standing along the shore where he was, telling +everybody what kind of a country was on the other side. They differed a +great deal in their description of it, but that was probably on account +of what different people wanted. All these black-robed, fat-looking +rascals got money out of the crowds and seemed to be doing a thriving +business by fixing up people to cross and giving them encouragement. +Most all of them was selling some kind of a patented life-preserver to +wear across the river, and each one shouted out the merits of his +life-preserver till their noise drowned the roar of the river, and they +tried to get lots of people to cross the river that hadn't got anywhere +near the bank, just to sell them a life-preserver. + +Packsaddle had noticed all these things as they waited on the bank a +moment, and then, he said, they plunged their hosses in and started +swimming for the other side. The other bank, he said, was sorter +obscured by a mist or fog, and he didn't see it till most there, but saw +worlds of all kinds of people struggling in the black water of the +river. Packsaddle said his hoss swam high in the water, never wetting +the seat of his saddle, and he felt just like he was getting home from +the general roundup. When they struck the bank there was a bunch of +cowboys helped his hoss up the bank, gave him a hearty handshake all +around and made him welcome every way. When he turned around to thank +his guide that gentleman had vanished, and the cowboys told him his +guide was a regular escort across the river for cowmen and cowboys; that +most everybody had to get across the best way they could, but cowmen and +cowboys always had a good hoss to ride and a guide; that one reason for +this was that they was most always mighty good to a hoss and thought a +heap of them. They said, though, that there was a lot of boats with +cushioned seats, and mighty comfortable, that brought over the poor old +widder women and farmers' wives and orphan children that had been abused +and starved till they just had to cross the river to get away. + +Packsaddle said it looked like a mighty good country, lots of fat +cattle, the finest hosses he ever see, lots of cowboys laying under the +mess-wagon bucking monte and everybody winning, while the roundup cooks +had pots and bakeovens steaming with roast veal, baking powder biscuits +and cherry roll. He said the boss of one of these outfits hired him on +the spot, and giving him a string of fat hosses to ride, he picked out a +black pinto with watch eyes and saddled him. Soon as he got on this hoss +it started to buck and he said he dreamed that hoss throwed him so high +that he saw he was coming down on the other side of the river and it +disgusted him so he woke up. + +[Illustration: _Packsaddle Jack._] + +Packsaddle was very weak when he got through telling his dream, and +after taking a drink of water he told me he thought we was all making a +mistake trying to make money raising cattle. He'd heard about some place +in the East where they just issued stock, place of raising it, and that +certainly must be the place to go. He'd heard of two or three men, +probably stockmen, who get together in New York City, issued just +millions of stock in one day, and he was satisfied that was one thing +made our stock so cheap. For himself, he said, he liked that country he +saw in his dream and thought he'd go there pretty soon. + +While we were talking the head brakeman came in and said there was a cow +dead in the car next the engine. Packsaddle gave a gasp or two, and +when I bent down over him he whispered he would go and round her up; and +when I looked at him again he was dead. + +Poor old Packsaddle! His early life had been embittered by the discovery +that a married woman (whom he was in the habit of visiting in the +absence of her husband down in Texas where he was raised) was untrue to +him, and on meeting his rival at the lady's house when her husband had +gone to mill with a grist of corn, he promptly filled his rival's +anatomy full of lead and came away in such a hurry that he had to borrow +a jack-mule and packsaddle from a man that was prospecting, and rode +this packsaddle to Wyoming, and thus acquired the euphonious name of +Packsaddle Jack. Although he was cheerful at times, yet the memory of +this woman's perfidy to him cast a gloom of melancholy over his after +life which was never entirely dispelled. He never whined when he lost +his money bucking monte, always had a good supply of tobacco and +cigarette papers of his own and never failed to pass them around. While +he didn't have much love for women or Injuns, he loved a good hoss and +twice owed his life to his hoss when he had a brush with Cheyenne Injuns +in early days in northern Wyoming. + +In a burst of confidence a few days before his death he told me he had +endured the worst kind of hardships all his life. Winter and summer he +had lived on the plains and in the mountains without shelter, by open +campfires, lots of times without much to eat; had been hunted and shot +at for days and nights by Cheyenne Injuns and never met with the +privations and discomforts he had on this trip. And as for slowness, he +said he hired out one time in Texas when he was a boy, to help drive 900 +tame ducks across the swamps of Louisiana to New Orleans to market; said +the trail was so narrow that only one duck at a time could walk in it +and sometimes no trail at all, just high grass and swamp brush, and yet +they beat the time of a cattle special away yonder. + + +THE SPIRIT OF PACKSADDLE FOLLOWS THE DEAD COW. + + A stock train was waiting on a sidetrack one day + For gravel trains going some other way; + And as they waited the cattle grew old, + The stockmen grew haggard, the weather turned cold. + + Their stomachs were empty, they were starving in fact, + While the stock train was waiting on its lonely sidetrack. + The reports said the markets were lower each day, + While the cattle grew thinner, the stockmen grew grey. + + An old, grizzled cattleman spoke up at last, + Said he to the cowboys, "The time it is past, + To make mon out of cattle or get any dough, + This going to market by rail is a little too slow. + + "The railroad companies' tariffs get higher each year, + Their passes get fewer, till I very much fear + That ahead of our stock train we will have to walk + And wait for the cattle train to get up our stock. + + "Let us up and be doing and build a big merger trust, + And sell stock to suckers and let them go bust, + And for every steer issue millions of shares, + Let other people worry how to get railroad fares. + + "We will issue bonds and certificates and thus raise our stock; + In place of breeding Shorthorns we will make a swift talk; + Have our shares all printed in red, green and gold, + Sell them in the stock market to the young and the old. + + "And thus live by our cuteness and work of our brains + In place of starving on special stock trains. + We will have servants and waiters, the best in the land; + Governors and princes will give us the glad hand." + + Just then the front brakeman stuck in his head, + Saying in the car next the engine an old cow was dead. + The old cowman gave a gasp and his spirit started to ride + To round up that old cow that in the front car had just died. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +A COWBOY ENOCH ARDEN. + + +Just after leaving North Platte, a train of immigrants on their way from +Oregon to Arkansas with mule teams went by us, and we found they had a +letter for us from Eatumup Jake, who had returned to Utah long ere this +to look after his domestic matters. One of the reasons why he abandoned +us was to return and look after the education of the twin boys. However, +the main reason was that so many reports had come to us from travelers +in wagons and sheepherders trailing sheep east, who had come through our +neighborhood in Utah, who said that all our friends had given us up for +dead, and Eatumup Jake's wife, after putting on mourning for a proper +season, had begun to receive the attentions of a widower, who was part +Gentile bishop and part Mormon elder. + +As Jake was in a hurry when he started back home, he bought him a cheap +mustang in place of accepting the transportation which was urged on him +by all the principal officers of the railroad. He wrote us that when he +arrived on his ranch, his wife was out in the hayfield putting up the +third crop of alfalfa. She was driving a bull rake, hauling it into the +stack, while one of the twins was driving the mower and the other twin +was doing the stacking. The half-breed Mormon-Gentile bishop was +standing round with a cotton umbrella over his head, giving orders. +Jake's wife didn't know him at first, he had changed so, but the bishop +tumbled to him at once and started to leave. However, Jake overtook him +and persuaded the bishop to turn aside into a little patch of timber +with him, and Jake getting the loan of the umbrella in the painful +interview that followed, he left most of the steel ribs of the umbrella +sticking in the anatomy of the bishop, and then let the house dog, with +the help of the twin boys armed with their pitchforks, assist the bishop +clear off the ranch. This was so much better than the old style of Enoch +Arden business that Dillbery Ike made up a little rhyme about it after +we got Jake's letter, and here it is: + + In Utah a cattleman got married in the glow of summer time, + Married a buxom Mormon girl, warm heart and manner kind. + And as the autumnal sun began to tinge things red, + He rounded up his cattle herd and to his bride he said: + "Come hither, dear, and kiss me and sit upon my lap, + For I am going a lengthy journey with my cows and steers that's fat. + I'm going on the Overland with a special, long stock train." + His bride, she wept and trembled and said, "I'll ne'er see you again. + O Jake, my darling husband, give up this wrong design, + If you must go east with cattle, then try some other line, + For I have heard the stockmen talking and this is what they say, + That if you drive your stock to market, that then there's no delay. + But if you get a special train, the railroad has a knack + Of letting you do your running when your train is on a sidetrack. + Some stockmen they have starved to death, and others grow so old + That none knew them on their return, so frequent I've been told." + But Jake was young and hearty and his mind was full of zeal + To load his beef on a special and eastward take a spiel. + So he started with his steers and cows in the golden autumn time. + Some neighbors also loaded theirs; the cattle were fat and fine. + But they run the stock on the Overland, so slow and awful bum + That stockmen get old and care-worn, staying with a special run. + Their wives get weary waiting for hubby's coming home + And flirt with the nearest preacher who drops in when they're alone. + Jake's wife was no exception, and, as time went by, she said, + "If Jake was alive I know he'd come back; he surely must be dead." + The good woman put on mourning and mourned for quite a time, + But when thus she'd done her duty, she suddenly ceased to pine, + And when a Gentile-Mormon preacher dropped in one night to tea + She put on her new dress of gingham and was chipper as she could be; + Had him eating her pies and jellies that she knew how to make, + Had him sit in the easy rocker, without ever a thought of Jake. + And when the twins got drowsy, she packed them off to bed, + Sat and played checkers with the bishop, just as though poor Jake was + dead. + When she jumped in the preacher's king-row, and had eight men to his + five, + She cared not (she was so excited) whether Jake was dead or alive. + But at four o'clock next morning, she roused from sleep with a scream; + She'd seen Jake pushing behind a stock train in this early morning dream. + And that evening when the lusty preacher came hanging around again, + He got but a scanty welcome, for she thought of the special train. + For a time she was silent and thoughtful, the dream an impression had + made, + She could still see Jake pushing the special, as it slowly climbed the + grade. + Now we know how the brave-hearted Jake with the stock train had to stay, + How he camped by her side night times as on a sidetrack she lay. + We know how he pushed so manfully whene'er she climbed a hill, + In fact every one pushed, even the sheepmen, Cottswool and Rambolet Bill; + How hunger and famine o'ertook them as slowly they crawled along, + Their hearts almost broke with home-longing when Jackdo sung a home song. + Eyes filled with tears that were unbidden, hearts o'erflowing with pain-- + No pen can paint their sorrow as they stayed with this special stock + train. + The passing of poor old Chuckwagon, who slowly starved to death, + On account of the smell of the sheepmen, he couldn't get his breath; + Their camping ahead of the special after they had buried Chuck, + The washing away of the sheepmen, who surely were out of luck. + They lived in snow huts on the mountain that's known as Sherman Hill, + Where the last was seen of the sheepmen, Cottswool and Rambolet Bill; + Their arrival at the Windy City that's known as the dead Shyann, + Some things about Burt and Warren and mayhap another man. + And now with their party diminished by old age, privation and death, + They still kept plodding on eastward, what of the party was left + Till Jake talking with wandering sheepmen, who had trailed by his cabin + home. + Heard of the scandalous preacher, who came when his wife was alone; + Heard of the nightly playing of checkers when the twins were safely in + bed, + About his wife all the neighbors were talking, her claiming that Jake + was dead. + Finally through very home-sickness, he started to take the back track, + And because he was in such a hurry, he rode all the way horse-back. + Arriving in sight of his meadows, a-waving fresh and green, + The alfalfa growing the highest that Jake had ever seen; + Two red-headed boys the hay were pitching; their mother was hauling it + in. + There was only one blot on the landscape that made Jake feel like sin. + 'Twas our Gentile-Mormon bishop in the shade of his old umbreller. + With his long-tailed coat and eye glasses, he looked like Foxy Quiller. + When Jake got close to the bishop he booted him out the field, + The house dog and twins, with their hayforks, finished making the elder + spiel. + Then Jake gathered his family around him, work was laid by for the day, + They told all their joys and their sorrows, so I've finished my lay. + +_Moral._ + + The old-fashioned Enoch Arden story was a tale well told; + I can't approach or rival it, nor make a claim so bold. + But the ending of my cowboy Enoch Arden I really like the best, + For he fired the interloper out the modern Arden nest. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +GRAND ISLAND. + + +Before we arrived at Grand Island we learned from Jackdo that most +cowmen unloaded their cattle there and drove them back and forth through +the stockyards awhile in order to accumulate a large amount of mud on +them. This Grand Island mud is very adhesive and once steers is +thoroughly immersed in it the mud sticks to them for weeks and helps +very materially in their weight. A shipper told him that before he +stopped at Grand Island he used to wonder what cattlemen meant by +filling their cattle at Grand Island, but now he knew it was filling +their hair full of mud. Sometimes he said the mud was a little too +thick, kind of chunky and fell off, and sometimes it had too much water +in it and drained off, more or less. But when it was mixed just right it +would settle into their hair like concrete cement. It's quite dark in +color, fortunately, and if they've had a rain it is easy to get pens +where you can immerse your cattle all over and thus make them the color +of the Galloways, which is the most fashionable color for cattle in the +market. + +He said there was cases where cattlemen had got a good fill on Grand +Island mud and sold their cattle weighed up there to feeders who put +them on full feed for six months and they weighed less in the market +than to start with, because the feeders had curried the mud off them. +Sometimes he said after people left Grand Island with their cattle and +before the mud got well set, there would come a hard rain on them and +the mud washed off in streaks and gave the cattle kind of a zebra +appearance. Especially was this true where the cattle had originally +been white. He said we would be expected to order some hay and pay for +it and get the mud for nothing. It was just like a boot-jack saloon, +where you bought a high-priced peppermint drop and got a pint of whiskey +throwed in. + +[Illustration: _Joe Kerr Loading Sheep for South St. Joe._] + +'Twas here at Grand Island that we met Joe Kerr again. We had met him in +Utah before we shipped, and he had tried very hard to get us to ship our +cattle to the coming live stock market of the United States at St. Joe. +Kerr travels in the interest of the St. Joe stockyards, and while in the +fullness of our youth and conceit when we first loaded our stock we +wouldn't have taken a suggestion from Teddy Roosevelt, yet we had grown +older and had lost some of our self-confidence; in fact, I've often +thought since these experiences that the old proverb, "He who ships his +range cattle to market place of selling them at home leaves hope +behind," would apply to most range shipments. + +Now it seems Joe Kerr had kept posted as to our movements right along +through friends of his who were in the sheep business and who had +trailed their herds past our train at different times on their trip +East to sell their sheep for feeders, and Kerr had made such nice +calculations by casting horoscopes and looking up the signs of the +zodiac that he knew to a month when we would arrive in Grand Island, and +was waiting there to persuade us to ship our stock to St. Joe in place +of Omaha. He was right on the spot to help us unload them; knew all the +pens where the mud was the deepest, even helped us smear the mud into +their hair on the few spots that was missed, when we were swimming them +through the mud batter. Joe had loads of statistics for sheepmen, +cattlemen, horsemen and hogmen that would convince any man that wasn't +too suspicious that St. Joe was the best market. He had beautiful +colored maps of the yards, showing the clear limpid waters of the +Missouri River, flowing along at the foot of the bluffs; the waters +swarming with steamboats and smaller craft; the city of St. Joe covering +the bluffs and river bottoms for miles, and just down the river at the +lower end of this great city was stockyards and packing plants laid out +like some great city park and hundreds of acres, all paved with brick, +laid into walks and floors for the pens with perfect precision, and all +divided in different compartments for all kinds of live stock; +everything arranged so sheep could be unloaded one place, hogs another +place, cattle another, so as to admit of no delay in unloading when +stock arrived. He told us that their yards were kept so clean that +ladies could walk all over them in rainy weather without soiling their +costumes. Said no Sheenies were skinning people in their yards. He made +such a square talk we finally agreed to split the shipment and let part +of the train go to St. Joe, and sent Jackdo along to take care of the +cattle. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +"SARER." + + +The rainy season had now set in in good earnest all through Nebraska, +and while the natives have typhoid fever and malaria to a more or less +extent, yet most of them live through it, but people from the dry +mountain regions that have been used to pure air and water all their +lives fare worse from these fevers ten times over than the natives, and +Dillbery Ike fell a victim right in the start. One evening soon after +we left Grand Island I noticed his face was flushed very red, and he +complained of a dull headache, but as he had the headache a good deal +ever since the railroad police had scalped him at Cheyenne in mistake +for a striker, I didn't think so much of his headache. But when I come +to look at his tongue and feel his pulse I found every indication of +high fever. In a few hours he was out of his mind and talked of shady +mountain sides, babbling brooks and clear mountain springs of water, and +he talked of his hosses and cattle, his cow ranch and alfalfa meadows, +but most of all he talked of "Sarer." + +Now Dillbery had only one romance in his life that we knew of, and that +happened in this way: Several decades previous to our story the few +families living in the vicinity of Dillbery's ranch in Utah had got +together and built an adobe school-house, and voting a special tax on +the piece of railroad track that run through their part of the country +had raised enough money to pay for the school-house and hire a +school-teacher. At first each of the three married women in the +neighborhood wanted to teach the school. Then each of them offered to +take turns about teaching it so they could divide the money, but their +husbands, who was the directors, wanted a school-marm, so as to have a +little young female blood diffused through the atmosphere in that part +of the country, and after advertising for a school teacher, the New +England brand preferred, got hundreds of answers very shortly. So +putting their heads together they selected one that had a kind of crab +apple perfume attached to the application, and was worded in such way as +to give the reader a notion of pleading blue eyes, with a wealth of +golden brown hair and heaving bosom, not too young to teach school nor +too old to be romantic and sympathetic, and closed a deal with her to +come West and teach their school. She had signed her name Sarah Jessica +Virginia Smythe, but was always known as Miss Sarer. When she was about +to arrive at the railroad station, thirty miles away, all the married +men wanted to go and meet her. All of them had particular business in at +the station that day, but none of their wives would stand for it. They +said that Dillbery Ike was a bachelor and the proper one to get her. + +[Illustration: _The Arrival of Miss "Sarer."_] + +Now Dillbery Ike was a long, gangling, bashful, backward plainsman, +never had a sweetheart and was considered perfectly harmless around +women by every one who knew him. The old married men finally agreed to +let Dillbery meet the school-marm, but not till each had went through a +stormy scene with his wife, in which that good woman had threatened to +tear the blanket right in two in the middle with such forcible language +that you could almost hear it ripping. Dillbery had got shaved, had his +hair cut, put on his best black suit he had bought from a Sheeny, the +pants being a trifle of six or eight inches too short for him at the top +and bottom both, his coat rather large in the waist, but short at the +wrists like the pants; and hitching his mules to his spring wagon, he +started bright and early to the station of Kelton, Utah. He arrived +about noon, him and his mules white with alkali dust, and finding that +the train was twenty-three hours late, stayed at the section house till +next day, there being no hotel in Kelton. When the train came along next +day about noon, a large, portly lady of uncertain age, with her +frizzed-up hair turning grey, her hands full of wraps, lunch baskets, +sofa pillows, telescope grips, umbrellers, band-boxes and bird cages, +climbed off the train, and the baggageman put off a large horse-hide +trunk, from which most of the hair had been worn off, or perhaps +scalped off in the troublous times when Washington was crossing the +Delaware. When she got this old, bald-headed looking trunk and a couple +of shoe boxes with rope handles (that were probably full of Century +Magazines) piled up with her other baggage, the newsboy said it looked +like an Irish eviction. + +When Dillbery saw this old man-hunter and all her luggage, his heart +failed him, and he went to the saloon three times to liquor up before he +got sand enough to talk to her. Of course, Dillbery expected to marry +her, no matter what she was like, as the whole neighborhood where he +lived had planned it ever since the school-marm was talked of, and he +couldn't expect to disappoint the neighbors and still continue to live +there. Still she wasn't exactly what he had figured in his mind after +reading a great many novels about the rosy-cheeked, small-waisted, +dainty-feet, lily-white hands, wondrous brown hair, blue-eyed New +England darlings, with pretty sailor hats and tailor-made suits, who +come West to teach our schools and incidentally marry the most expert +roping, best broncho-busting, chief cowpuncher. And now here was this +dropsical-looking old girl, with fat, pudgy-looking hands and feet like +a couple of poisoned pups, with all this colonial luggage. + +However, Dillbery was obliged to take charge of her and her traps, as he +called them, and when he was finally ready to start, had got everything +on the spring wagon, even to the bird cages, and after getting a final +drink with the boys and filling a bottle to take along, he loaded the +old girl in and whipping up his mules, disappeared in a cloud of alkali +dust. + +Dillbery sat on his end of the seat, frightened out of his wits, and +Sarah Jessica Virginia Smythe sat on the other end, but, of course, sat +on all the vacant seat left by Dillbery, 'cause she couldn't help it, +she was built that way, and was even more afraid of Dillbery than he was +of her. Although she had always been hunting a man, yet she was in a +wild country and a stranger; not a house in sight and night coming on, +was with a savage-looking man, who was, undoubtedly, very drunk, and +acting very strangely to say the least. As time went on Dillbery got +dryer and dryer, and studied a good deal how to get a drink out of his +bottle without letting Sarah see him. Finally he concluded he could make +some excuse that the load was slipping; he might get around back of the +wagon to fix it, and under cover of the darkness quietly get a drink +out of his bottle. So when they were crossing a canyon in an unusually +lonely spot, he stopped the mules and muttering something about the +load, he started to get out, but Sarah thought her hour had come, and +throwing her arms (which were like pillow bolsters) around Dillbery's +neck, began to scream and piteously beg him not to do her any wrong. The +more Dillbery Ike tried to explain, the more Sarah Jessica cried, +screamed and sobbed, till finally with a despairing sigh, like unto the +collapse of a big balloon, she fainted clear away on his breast, pinning +him over the back of the seat, his spinal column slowly but surely being +sawed in two over the sharp edge. The horror of poor old Dillbery, when +he realized that death from a broken back was only a question of her not +coming out of the dead faint, which she seemed to have gotten an +allopathic dose of, cannot be described. + +When some time had elapsed and she showed no signs of animation, he made +a great struggle to get from under her; but it was a vain attempt, he +was nailed down as completely as a piece of canvas under a paving block. +And when it came over him that he was doomed to this ignominious death, +when he fully realized what people would think about him when they found +him in this compromising position, and the cowboys would facetiously all +agree that he looked like a Texas dogie steer hanging dead on a wire +fence after a Wyoming blizzard; when he felt that peculiar, loud buzzing +in his ears that is a premonition of death, he made one final desperate +struggle, and spitting out a lot of grey hair, hair pins and pieces of +switch, which had accumulated in his mouth, he screamed with all the +strength of his lungs in one long despairing cry, the one word "Sarer." + +Now in Dillbery Ike's delirium and raging fever on the stock train, he +kept continually giving tongue in a long, blood-curdling, soul-freezing, +despairing cry to that one word "Sarer." Night and day we had to listen +to that heart-broken cry. Finally, when the fever was at its highest +stage I consulted the conductor of our special about getting a doctor +and he advised me to go back to the last town we had passed through, +where there was a good physician and get him. He said that we would have +plenty of time, as there was a lonely sidetrack just ahead of the train. +So walking back about ten miles to this town, I secured the services of +a doctor, and getting a livery rig we soon caught up with the special. +When the doctor had examined Dillbery's tongue and pulse and had put his +ear to Dillbery's heart while he was giving one of his despairing cries +for "Sarer," he wrote a prescription in some kind of foreign language +which he interpreted to us, as he said he had written it down as a mere +form to show that he could write in a foreign language. He said our +friend was very sick and the one thing that would save his life was to +get "Sarer" for him. Now, of course, that was an impossibility, but he +said all we needed was an imitation "Sarer," something that looked like +her and was about her size and form, so after explaining to him what +"Sarer" was like, he drove back to town, and when he caught up to us +again, brought into the car a wonderful dummy made out of a large sack +of bran with a head tied on it composed mainly of a sack of hair, such +as plasterers use to mix mortar with. He had a large, but not too large, +Mother Hubbard dress on this wonderful dummy, and the whole well +perfumed with Florida water. When we laid this imitation "Sarer" in the +emaciated arms of poor old Dillbery, his eyes grew moist for a moment, +and straining it to his breast he gave a contented sigh or two, +whispered "Sarer, Sarer," and dropped off into a healthy slumber, and +the doctor said he would live. + + +EATS UP "SARER." + +Dillbery slept for a long time, and awoke somewhat refreshed, but +somewhat under the influence of his animal scalp, and no one being in +the car, the spirit of the goat probably overtook him, as he devoured +the head of the dummy "Sarer," which will be remembered consisted of +plastering hair. Then the spirit of the sheep and the pig coming over +him, he devoured the sack of bran, and laying down in front the stove +like a Newfoundland dog, he went to sleep. Thus I found him on my return +to the car. But, alas! his stomach was too weak to digest all the stuff +he had consumed and in a few hours he was in a raging fever and calling +for "Sarer" again. But, of course, he had devoured "Sarer," and we had +nothing to fix up in the place of the dummy. And while it was +heart-rending to hear his sobbing cry for "Sarer" growing weaker and +weaker as the night wore on, yet we could only listen and hope. About 4 +o'clock in the morning his cries stopped and he seemed to be sleeping +for a few minutes, and then opened his eyes and took my hand and in a +weak but rational voice told me the story of his boyhood in the +following words: + +[Illustration: _Dillbery Ike's Darling Mother Under Arrest._] + +He said he was born in the mountains in Virginia. He was the only child, +so far as he knew, of a moonshiner's daughter. His mother was not an +unhappy woman, he said, when she had plenty of snuff and moonshine +whisky; in fact, was quite gay at times. No one, not even his mother, +knew exactly who his father was. Some people said it was a revenue +officer and some said it was the member of Congress from that district, +but most people thought it was a live stock agent of one of the western +railroads. However this may be, he thrived on corn pone, dewberries, +wild honey, and sow bosom, and as soon as he got old enough helped his +mother cut wood and haul it to town in a two-wheeled hickory cart drawn +by a steer. They lived with his grandfather, who was quite a prominent +man in that part of Virginia and who was finally killed by revenue +officers. His mother was sent to the pen for selling moonshine whiskey +and he was taken charge of by a family who immigrated to Utah. He said +the last time he saw his darling mother 'twas at their old home in the +mountains in Virginia. The steer was hitched to the cart one beautiful +spring morning. The sun's rays was just kissing the mountain tops, when +two revenue officers had appeared at their home, and after a lively +scrap with his mother they had succeeded in arresting her. Not though +till she had thoroughly furrowed their cheeks with her finger nails and +plenteously helped herself to sundry handfuls of their hair, after which +she had peacefully seated herself in the cart and was placidly chewing a +snuff stick in each corner of her mouth, when the steer and cart +disappeared around a bend in the mountain road, and fate had decreed he +should never see her again. + +The family that took charge of him were neighbor moonshiners and had a +day or so after this took place traded off their Virginia estate for a +team of antique mules and a linch-pin wagon, and storing a goodly supply +of moonshine whiskey, apple jack, corn meal and bacon in the wagon, +loaded the family, consisting of nine children, himself included, in the +wagon, and immigrated for Utah. He said as long as he was with these +people he was treated like one of the family, but as they immigrated +back to Virginia the next year they left him in Utah with a poor family +and he was hungry many times, and was always telling the children he +associated with how big the dewberries grew where he came from, so the +other children nicknamed him Dewberry, which was finally changed to +Dillbery and that name had stuck to him ever since. + +After finishing the story of his boyhood, Dillbery lay quiet for a short +time and then motioning me to bend down close to him he whispered to me +not to bury him in Nebraska where, he said, the only way a man could +hope to be resurrected was in the shape of a yellow ear of corn, to be +fed to a yellow steer, followed by a yellow hog and the hog meat eaten +by a yellow-whiskered malarial Populist, and so on. After I promised to +see that he was buried on his ranch in Utah, he asked me to sing that +old cowboy song, "Oh! give me a home where the buffalo roams, a place +where the rattlesnake plays." + + +THE PASSING OF DILLBERY IKE. + + 'Twas a dismal night on a way-car, the rain pattering on the roof + o'erhead, + The man who has told this story was alone with the silent dead. + The voice that had been calling for Sarah was hushed and stilled at last, + He had finished telling the story of his childhood's checkered past. + + No more would he ride the ranges, no more the mavericks brand, + Nor subdue the bucking broncho, in that far western land; + Never again to meet the school-marms, when they came traveling West + Under the guise of school teaching, to get in a bachelor's nest. + + Dillbery folded his hands gently, as he quietly went to sleep, + In the death that knows no waking, for which no shipper could weep; + While some of his life had been stormy, of hardships he'd had his share, + Pen cannot paint a cattleman's troubles, nor picture his heart sick care. + + When he's got his cattle on a special, and getting a special run, + Death for him hasn't a single terror, he longs for it to come; + And so with poor old Dillbery, when his weary eyes closed in death, + Blotted out his sorrows and troubles, all blown away with his last + breath. + + He had gone to meet his grandfather, and get some of his latest brew, + For who shall say that old moonshiner had quit distilling some mountain + dew; + For all say the other world is better, we'll get what we like over there, + While of our joys here we are stinted, in the hereafter we get double + share. + + His eyes grew bright with a vision that he saw on the other side, + He got a glimpse of a right good cow country, just before he started + to ride; + And his eyes lit up with a gladness, his face o'erspread with hope, + As without a trace of sadness, his spirit rode away in a lope. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +ARRIVAL AT THE TRANSFER TRACK OF SOUTH OMAHA. + + +One dark, dismal, rainy morning, a little before daylight, I arrived +with the remnant of our stock train on the stockyards transfer at South +Omaha. The conductor and brakeman ordered me out of the way-car. So +picking up my belongings I got out in the mud and rain and looked around +for some shelter. There was a lot of railroad tracks and switches, but +no houses or hotels, or anyone to inquire from, as I had learnt by +experience that conductors, brakemen and switchmen never give any +information to stockmen in a dark, rainy night. + +So after wandering up and down the tracks for a ways, and not being able +to find out which way the town lay I got on top of the stock cars, and +huddling down in my rain-soaked rags I prepared to wait till daylight. +The rain was very cold, and after a bit turned to snow and chilled me to +the bone. But I was afraid to leave the stock cars, as I had never been +there before and was sure to get lost if I left the stock, as the town +is quite a ways from the transfer. I thought of Dillbery Ike, Packsaddle +Jack and old Chuckwagon in the other world, and wondered why I should be +left shivering in this awful storm, suffering the pangs of hunger and +cold, while doubtless they had more fire than they really needed. No +matter what their condition was in the other world, it was bound to be +better than mine. Even the sheepmen's condition in the other world +couldn't be much worse, though some claim there is a hell set apart +a-purpose for sheepmen on the other side. + +[Illustration: _The Arrival of the Survivor at the Transfer._] + +My clothes were all worn out long ago; my beard had grown down to my +knees and the hair on my head having never been cut since we started, +now reached to my waist, and, of course, it and my beard was some +protection from the storm. But I realized that if I stayed where I was +it would only be a short time till I should meet my comrades who had +gone before, and I thought it would be proper to make some preparations +for the other world. I never had prayed or went to church much, 'cause a +cowman don't have any chance to attend to these, as there is always +either some calves to brand Sundays, or else some of the neighbors +coming visiting. But I remembered a passage of scripture I had heard +when a boy, and it came back to me now and kept ringing in my ears: +"Forgive thine enemy." I never had an enemy in my whole life that I knew +of, without it was this blamed railroad, and while I wasn't sure they +was enemies, yet they had dealt me more misery than anyone, except it +might be this stockyards company that was keeping me and my stock out on +this transfer, starving and freezing in the storm after me and my steers +had all got to be Rip Van Winkles getting that far on the road. I +studied over the matter and could see it would be too great a job to +forgive them both at the same time, and, of course, couldn't tell how +much forgiveness the stockyards company would have to have, as I hadn't +got through with them yet. There might be so much against them before +they got my cattle unloaded that it would be impossible to forgive it. + +It was very lucky, as it turned out afterwards, that I had this +forethought, because, as I take it, forgiveness only comes from the +heart no matter what your lips say, and your heart is the blamedest +thing to control in forgiveness, as well as love, and when that +stockyards company finally got around to bring my cattle in and unload +them, I reckon it would have been impossible for any mortal man with the +least spark of vitality left in his veins to have forgiven them. They +have tried over and over to explain it to me by saying that when they +built the transfer tracks and unloading chutes, their receipts only run +about 1,500 to 2,000 cattle a day, with about the same number of hogs +and about 200 sheep. And, now in the fall of the year, their receipts of +cattle run up to 7,000 to 12,000 a day, with the same number of hogs and +20,000 to 25,000 of sheep, and they are trying to handle them with the +same facilities they had to start with. So they are pretty near always +so far behind in unloading stock in the busy season that it takes all +the slack business season to finish unloading the stock that +accumulated during the rush. + +Having made up my mind to put off forgiving the stockyards company till +some future date, I turned all my attention to forgiving the railroad +company. I had noticed a good many religious people when some one had +done them an injury and they couldn't get at them any other way they +would pray for them. And while they generally asked the Lord to forgive +them, yet they always told their side of the story in such a way that if +the Lord was anyways easily prejudiced, he would be pretty tolerable +slow about handing out any unsought-for clemency to their enemies, as +they always started in by telling of all the mean things their enemies +had ever done in order to remind the Lord what a big contract it was. +After studying the matter over I thought this would be the proper way to +pray for the railroad company. But after I got started telling the Lord +what mean things they had done, I see 'twas no use to try to finish +unless I'd hand the matter down to future generations, as one life +wouldn't be long enough to get fairly started in. + + +THE INFERNO OF THE TRANSFER. + +All night long I had heard voices on all sides of me and apparently the +owners of them were in the direst distress. Some were praying +undoubtedly, but the most were cursing. A few were crying and moaning +with the cold and I thought for a long time I must have got into an +inferno of lost souls, and added to my sufferings in the storm in which +I had come close to death was the terror of listening to these +distressing cries, and I longed for daylight to appear so these horrors +would be explained. + +Daylight began to appear while I was thinking about these things, and I +could see other stock trains near me, and on every train I could see one +or more miserable wretches like myself huddled down on top of a car in +the snow and cold rain, and the only sign of life you could detect was +when they took spells of shivering. One of them was pretty close, and I +hailed him once or twice, and finally he roused up enough to answer me; +but the poor, shivering wretch was so numb with the cold he didn't sense +much of anything, and when I asked him why all the shippers stayed out +all night with their cattle, place of going into town, he said lots of +times cattle were so tired when they got to Omaha and they were so long +about getting them to the chutes, that there was more danger of their +getting down after they got to the transfer and getting tramped to death +than before. Then he said lots of stockmen who tried to get to town from +the transfer in the night and had got killed, and some got their legs +cut off by trains that were all the time switching on the transfer +tracks. He said if the Humane Society took half the pains to protect the +shippers that they did the stock being shipped he thought it would be +better. He said a shipper was a human being even if he did look like a +orangoutang just dragged out of a Chicago sewer when he got through to +Omaha with a shipment of livestock. I thought maybe he was getting +personal, so told him he didn't look so fine himself; that I thought +anyone who resembled a jackass in a Wyoming blizzard hadn't any call to +make reflections on other people's looks. Just then the switch engine +coupled onto his train and hauled him and his stock off to the unloading +chutes, and I was kinda glad he was gone, as I had conceived a dislike +to him anyway. I can't bear anyone who makes disagreeable reflections +and comparisons on one's personal appearance when one isn't looking +their best, especially a person who ain't got anything to brag of +themselves. + + +THE FARMER'S PRAYER. + +I looked on the other side of me and saw another stock train with a +group of four or five stockmen on top the cars. They were huddled down +together in the snow and wet, and I thought at first one of them was +making a speech, but soon discovered he was praying. It turned out one +of their number was dying from ill health and the exposure of the night +before, they having been there all night waiting for the switch engine +to haul them to the chutes. They were a bunch of Nebraska farmers who +had bought some feeders in Omaha sometime previous, shipped them out to +their farms a couple hundred miles west, fed up their corn crop and was +bringing the cattle back. The man that was praying seemed to be a son +and partner of the dying man, and was telling the Lord the whole +transaction from a to izard. Whether he was doing this to relieve his +own feelings, or whether he thought the Lord would size his father up as +an honest man in place of a sucker, it's hard to tell. Anyway, you could +tell by his prayer that him and his dying father had got the worst of +the deal all the way through. What I heard of his prayer run something +like this: + +"O Lord, Thou knowest how Thy humble servants have been the victims of +designing and unscrupulous men. Thou knowest, Lord, how a hooked-nosed +Sheeny first induced Thy poor servants to buy of him a lot of +crooked-backed, narrow-hipped, long-tailed, high-on-the-rump, +ewe-necked, dehorned, Southern steers, and how they had kept them off of +water for seven days, waiting for a sale, and then let them drink till +their stomachs was like unto bass drums, when they weighed them up to +Thy deceived servants, and then, O Lord, Thy wretched servants, not +having any money to pay for them, we had to go to a grasping commission +man and, O Lord, Thou knowest how he did charge us usury cent for cent +and all kinds of percent, how he figured up interest on the cost of the +steers, then figured interest on that interest, then figured interest on +the interest that he had figured on the interest, then figured a +commission for buying them, then another commission for selling them, +then figured the interest on the commission, then figured the interest +on the interest that he had figured on the commission; and, how when we +had got these steers home, two of them were dead, three were cripples, +five were lump jaws, and how their feet were so large, and they had such +wise, old-fashioned countenances, we were behooved to look into their +mouths to determine by their teeth how old they were, and Thy astonished +servants discovered that in place of two year-olds, as was represented, +they were a great many times two years old; and how many times when we +had a little fat on their ribs, they saw someone afoot, and becoming +frightened, ran round and round the feed lots till they were poorer than +ever, and some there was that escaping over the fence were never seen by +Thy servants any more, they having disappeared over the hills and in +adjacent corn fields; and Thou knowest how we were always sober, +law-abiding citizens till we were inveigled into buying these imitation +steers, and since that time have lived in a constant round of +excitement, terror and riot." + +The switch engine now coupled on to the dying man's stock train and +pulled it away to the chutes, so I didn't hear the last of the prayer. +Probably his commission man heard it after he got through explaining why +the steers didn't bring any more money. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +THE FINAL ROUNDUP. + + + Two railroad men of mighty brain, + The steadfast friends of true cowmen; + No matter which the first you name, + We all love George Crosby and Charlie Lane. + + And if in this story, they should see + Some mentioned evil, for which a remedy + That's in their power and can be used, + They'll fix it so the shipper is less abused. + + Of all things needed, and it's a crying shame, + Is some kind of toilet room on each stock train; + In regard to fires, let the shippers agree, + Whether they'll be froze or roasted into eternity. + + Have a call-boy escort with lantern bright, + When at division stations we come in darkest night; + To save our anxiety, fear and doubt, + Put us on the right way-car that's going out. + + To the stockyards company a suggestion could be made, + If they expect to keep and gain more trade; + When our cattle are delivered on their transfer track, + Try and unload them, or else we'll ship them back. + + If one or two of these evils should be wiped away + By these suggestions in this humble lay, + Then will I rejoice and forget the days of toil + When I composed this work and burnt the midnight oil. + + + + +The Denver Union Stock Yard Co., Denver, Colo. + +[Illustration] + +Greatest Stocker, Feeder and Fat Stock Market in the West. + +Capacity--15,000 Cattle; 10,000 Hogs; 30,000 Sheep; 5,000 Horses. + +G. W. BALLENTINE, V.-Pres. and Gen. Mgr. +J. W. HURD, Asst. Treasurer. +H. PETRIE, Superintendent. + + + + + Elijah Bosserman, President. + M. H. Mark, Vice-President. + F. J. Duff, Secretary and Treas. + A. Bosserman, Cashier. + Elijah Bosserman, Cattle Salesman. + Link Bosserman, Cattle Salesman. + F. J. Duff, Hog Salesman. + M. H. Mark, Sheep Salesman. + +====The==== +Denver Live Stock +Commission Co. + +[Illustration] + +Telephone 818. P. O. Box 818. + +Union Stock Yards, Denver, Colo. + + * * * * * + +Market Reports Furnished Promptly by Mail or Wire on +Application. Money Loaned to Parties Owning +Stock. Correspondence Solicited. + + * * * * * + +Incorporated $20,000. +Reference: ANY BANK IN DENVER. +DENVER, COLO. + + + + + F. W. FLATO, Jr., Prest. + I. M. HUMPHREY, Vice-Prest. + JAMES C. DAHLMAN, Sec'y. + J. S. HORN, Treas. + +...The... + +Flato Commission +Company + +LIVE STOCK SALESMEN AND BROKERS. + +South Omaha, Nebraska; Chicago, Illinois; South St. +Joseph, Missouri; North Fort Worth, Texas. + +======== + +Capital $250,000.00 + +======== + +Prompt and Careful Attention Given all Consignments. Pleased +to Furnish Information by Correspondence or Otherwise to +any Person Interested. + + +DIRECTORS: + + F. W. Flato Jr. + I. M. Humphrey. + R. R. Russell. + Ed. H. Reid. + L. L. Russell. + James C. Dahlman. + J. S. Horn. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Cowboy Life on the Sidetrack, by Frank Benton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COWBOY LIFE ON THE SIDETRACK *** + +***** This file should be named 39777.txt or 39777.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/7/7/39777/ + +Produced by Annie R. McGuire. 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