 CHAPTER XII. The Big Wild Mustang Hunt. The Indians capture our mess wagon and cook, our bill of fair buffalo meat without salt. It was a bright clear morning in September as we were all gathered at the old home ranch prepared to start on the Great Mustang Hunt. There was one of the best men from each of the big cattle ranges in the Panhandle and Arizona country, making twenty of the best range riders ever assembled together for a single purpose, while we were mounted on the best and fastest horses the Texas and Arizona cattle country could produce, while a horse wrestler had left four days before with twenty more equally as good horses, giving each of us two horses a piece. We carried with us four days rations, consisting of dried beef, crackers, potatoes, coffee, we had no sugar. The mess wagon, well stocked with provisions for a two-month trip, had also left four days before for a place in the Wild Horse District where we knew the Mustangs were to be found. Many of the cattlemen of Texas and Arizona were present to see us off, and the boss gave us a little talk on what was expected of us and said, among other things, we were twenty of the best and gamest cowboys who ever roamed the western plains, and that he knew we would make good. Upon hearing these words we one and all resolved to do our best, and swinging into the saddle we emptied our guns as a parting salutation and started on a dead run across the plains towards the scene of our duty. After a hard ride of ten days we sighted a band of about seventy-five Mustangs. We at once proceeded to run them down. It was decided that twenty of us should surround the herd in a large circle, ten or fifteen miles across, which would leave a space of several miles between each rider, but not of a greater distance than he could easily cover when he saw the band coming his way or heard our signals. The horse-wrestler was to keep the extra horses at a place where they would be safe and at the same time handy to the riders. Our plans completed, each rider made preparations to start for his station. But here another difficulty arose. We had not yet seen anything of our cook and mess wagon. It had not arrived at the place agreed upon, although it had ample time to do so. Our provisions which we carried were quite low, so after waiting as long as we could and the mess wagon failing to show up, we decided to start the hunt and take our chances on Grubb from what we could knock over with our guns. Accordingly the boys all started out for their several stations. After waiting a reasonable length of time to give them an opportunity to reach their positions, we made for the herd, which as near as we could judge contained about seventy-five of the prettiest horses it was ever my pleasure to see. The magnificent stallion who happened to be on guard had no sooner seen us than he gave the danger signal to the herd, who were off like the wind, led by a beautiful snow-white stallion. To get them going was our only duty at present and we well knew the importance of saving our saddle-horses for the more serious work before us. Therefore we only walked our horses or went on a dog-trot, keeping a sharp look out for the herd's return. The band of wild horses would run ten or fifteen miles across the prairie where they would catch sight of the other boys, then off they would go in another direction, only to repeat the performance as they struck the other side of the circle. In this way they would make from fifty to sixty miles to our ten and we were slowly working them down. We kept them going this way day and night, not giving them a moment's rest or time to eat. After keeping them on the go this way for ten days we were able to get within a mile of them and could see some of the stallions taking turns at leading the herd while other stallions would be in the rear fighting them on. In a few days more we were near enough to begin shooting the stallions out of the herd. Then we could handle them a great deal better. At this time our one of grub began to tell on us. Our cook and mess wagon had not showed up, so we had long since given them up as lost. We believed they had been captured by the Indians and future events proved we were right. Our only food consisted of buffalo meat, of which we were able to secure plenty, but buffalo meat for breakfast, dinner, and supper every day without bread or salt is not the most palatable bill of fare, especially when it is all we had day after day without any prospect of a change until we got home. But we were game and resolved to stay with our work until it was finished, especially as we only had twenty men and everyone was badly needed in the work ahead of us, so we did not think we could spare a man to return home after grub. So we swallowed our buffalo meat day after day and kept the horses moving. They were now pretty well worked down and we proceeded to work them toward a place where we could begin to rope them. There were now only a few stallions left in the herd as we had shot nearly all of them and the others were too tired to cause us any trouble. We had now been out of grub over three weeks except buffalo meat in such other game as we could bring down with our guns. Our fears that the cook and mess wagon had been captured by the Indians proved well founded as we about this time met an outfit who had seen the place where the cook was killed. They said the surroundings indicated that quite a large band had surprised the cook and driver, but that they had put up a brave fight as evidenced by the large number of empty rifle and revolver shells scattered around. Our first impulse after hearing this was to start in pursuit of the Redskins and get revenge. But calmer judgment showed that such a course would be useless because the Indians had a couple of weeks start of us and we did not know what tribe had committed the offense as there were so many Indians in that part of the country and in the Indian territory. And besides our horses were in no shape to chase Indians. So much to our regret our comrades had to go unrevenged at least for the present but we all swore to make the Indians pay dearly especially the guilty ones if it were possible to discover who they were. We continued to work the Mustangs back and forth and in thirty days from the time we started out we had about sixty head hemmed up in Yellow Fox Canyon and were roping and riding them. They were not hard to handle as they were so poor some of them could hardly walk. This was not to be wondered at as we had kept them on the go for the past thirty days never once giving them a moment's rest day or night and in that time they had very little to eat and no sleep. After roping and riding them all we got them together and headed for home. Arriving at the ranch the Mustangs were allowed to eat all they wanted and were roped and ridden until they were fairly well broken when they were turned out with the other ranch horses. They proved good saddle horses but as soon as they were turned out with the ranch horses they would start for their old feeding grounds leading the other horses with them. We found it impossible to thoroughly domesticate them so for that reason we gave them up as a bad proposition and did not attempt to capture any more though at that time thousands of wild Mustangs were on the plains of Texas, Arizona, Wyoming and in fact all over the West. They were large, fine and as pretty a lot of horses as one could wish to see. They were seldom molested though once in a while the Indians would make a campaign against them and capture a few but not often as they were so hard to capture. It was not worth the trouble as it was almost impossible to approach them nearer than two miles and there were always some stallions on the lookout while the others grazed over the plains so it was out of the question to surprise them. At the first sign of danger the stallion sentinel would give his shrill may of warning and the herd were off like the wind. We received unstinted praise from our employers for bringing to a successful conclusion the errand on which we were sent under such trying circumstances but now that we were where Grubb was plentiful we looked on our experiences nothing to make a fuss over but we deeply regretted the loss of our cook and mess wagon and we resolved that if we ever found the guilty parties to make it rather warm for them this we never did neither did we ever hear more of the fate of the cook. Our work so far as trips on the trail were concerned was over for this season and we could count on a long rest until spring as aside from range riding and feeding there was nothing doing around the home ranch but sometimes the range riding kept us on the go pretty lively especially during and after a big storm which sometimes scattered the cattle all over the surrounding country and it would take some lively riding to get them all together again. Then the Indians and the white cattle thieves would make raids on our herds running them off in great numbers and stampeding the balance of the herd. This generally resulted in us chasing them sometimes for miles over the prairies and we generally were successful in recovering our cattle and punishing the cattle thieves in a manner that they did not soon forget. But then again sometimes they would stampede the herd in the night and under the cover of darkness and the excitement would manage to make off with some of the best horses or the choicest cattle and by the time we missed them the thieves would have such a start that it was impossible to overtake them but if they were overtaken vengeance was swift and sure. End of Chapter 12 Chapter 13 of the Life and Adventures of Nat Love also known as Deadwood Dick This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Life and Adventures of Nat Love, Written by Nat Love Chapter 13 On the trail with three thousand head of Texas steers Rumors of trouble with the Indians at Deadwood The roping contest I win the name of Deadwood Dick The shooting match The Custer Massacre The view of the battlefield Scouts at home again In the spring of 1876 Orders were received at the home ranch for three thousand head of three year old steers to be delivered near Deadwood, South Dakota This being one of the largest orders we had ever received at one time every man around the ranch was placed on his metal to execute the order and record time Cowboys mounted on swift horses were dispatched to the farthest limits of the ranch with orders to round up and run in all the three year olds on the place and it was not long before the ranch corrals began to fill up with the long horns as they were driven in by the several parties of cowboys As fast as they came in we would cut out under the boss's orders such cattle as were to make up our herd In the course of three days we had our herd ready for the trail and we made our preparations to start on our long journey north Our route lay through New Mexico, Colorado and Wyoming and as we had heard rumors that the Indians were on the warpath and were kicking up something of a rumpus in Wyoming, Indian territory and Kansas we expected trouble before we again had the pleasure of sitting around our fire at the home ranch Quite a large party was selected for this trip owing to the size of the herd and the possibility of trouble on the trail from the Indians We as usual were all well armed and had as mounts the best horses our ranch produced and in taking the trail we were perfectly confident that we could take care of our herd and ourselves through anything we were liable to meet We had not been on the trail long before we met other outfits who told us that General Custer was out after the Indians and that a big fight was expected when the 7th U.S. Cavalry, General Custer's command met the Crow Tribe and other Indians under the leadership of Sitting Bull, Rain in the Face, Old Chief Joseph and other chiefs of lesser prominence who had for a long time been terrorizing the settlers of that section and defying the government As we proceeded on our journey it became evident to us that we were only a short distance behind the soldiers when finally the Indians and soldiers met in a memorable battle or rather massacre in the little big horn basin on the little big horn river in northern Wyoming we were only two days behind them or within 60 miles but we did not know that at the time or we would have gone to Custer's assistance we did not know of the fight or the outcome until several days after it was over it was freely claimed at the time by cattlemen who were in a position to know and with whom I talked that if Reno had gone to Custer's aid as he promised to do Custer would not have lost his entire command and his life it was claimed Reno did not obey his orders however that may be it was one of the most bloody massacres in the history of this country we went on our way to Deadwood with our herd where we arrived on the 3rd of July 1876 eight days after the Custer massacre took place the Custer battle was June 25th, 76 the battle commenced on Sunday afternoon and lasted about two hours that was the last of General Custer and his 7th cavalry how I know this so well is because we had orders from one of the government scouts to go in camp that if we went any farther north we were liable to be captured by the Indians we arrived in Deadwood in good condition without having had any trouble with the Indians on the way up we turned our cattle over to their new owners at once then proceeded to take in the town the next morning, July 4th, the gamblers and mining men made up a purse of $200 for a roping contest between the cowboys that were then in town and as it was a holiday nearly all the cowboys for miles around were assembled there on that day it did not take long to arrange the details for the contest and contestants six of them being colored cowboys including myself our trail boss was chosen to pick out the mustangs from a herd of wild horses just off the range and he picked out 12 of the most wild and vicious horses that he could find the conditions of the contest were that each of us who were mounted was to rope, throw, tie, bridle and saddle and mount the particular horse picked for us in the shortest time possible the man accomplishing the feat in the quickest time to be declared the winner it seems to me that the horse chosen for me was the most vicious of the lot everything being in readiness the 45 cracked and we all sprang forward together each of us making for our particular mustang I roped through, tied, bridled, saddled and mounted my mustang in exactly nine minutes from the crack of the gun the time of the next nearest competitor was 12 minutes and 30 seconds this gave me the record and championship of the west which I held up to the time I quit the business in 1890 and my record has never been beaten it is worthy of passing remark that I never had a horse pitch with me so much as that mustang but I never stopped sticking my spurs in him and using my quirk on his flanks until I proved his master right there the assembled crowd named me deadwood dick and proclaimed me champion roper of the western cattle country the roping contest over a dispute arose over the shooting question with the result that a contest was arranged for the afternoon as there happened to be some of the best shots with rifle and revolver in the west present that day among them were stormy jim who claimed the championship powder horn bill who had the reputation of never missing what he shot at also whitehead a half breed who generally hit what he shot at and many other men who knew how to handle a rifle or 45 colt the range was measured off 100 and 250 yards for the rifle and 150 for the colt 45 at this distance a bull's eye about the size of an apple was put up each man was to have 14 shots at each range with the rifle and 12 shots with the colts 45 I placed every one of my 14 shots with the rifle in the bull's eye with ease all shots being made from the hip but with the 45 colts I missed it twice only placing 10 shots in a small circle stormy jim being my nearest competitor only placing eight bullets in the bull's eye clear the rest being quite close while with the 45 he placed five bullets in the charm circle this gave me the championship of rifle and revolver shooting as well as the roping contest and for that day I was the hero of deadwood and the purse of 200 dollars which I had won on the roping contest went toward keeping things moving and they did move as only a large crowd of cattlemen can move things this lasted for several days when most of the cattlemen had to return to their respective ranches as it was the busy season accordingly our outfit began to make preparations to return to Arizona in the meantime news had reached us of the custer massacre and the indignation and sorrow was universal as general custer was personally known to a large number of the cattlemen of the west but we could do nothing now as the Indians were out in such strong force there was nothing to do but let uncle Sam revenge the loss of the general and his brave command but it is safe to say not one of us would have hesitated a moment in taking the trail in pursuit of the bloodthirsty redskins had the opportunity offered everything now being in readiness with us we took the trail homeward bound and left deadwood in a blaze of glory on our way home we visited the custer battlefield in the little big horn basin there was ample evidence of the desperate and bloody fight that had taken place a few days before we arrived home in Arizona in a short time without further incident accepted on the way back we met and talked with many of the famous government scouts of that region among them Buffalo Bill, William F. Cody, Yellowstone Kelly and many others of that day some of whom are now living while others lost their lives in the line of duty and a finer or braver body of men never lived in these scouts of the west it was my pleasure to meet Buffalo Bill often in the early seventies and he was as fine a man as one could wish to meet kind, generous, true and brave Buffalo Bill got his name from the fact that in the early days he was engaged in hunting Buffalo for their hides and furnishing U.P. railroad graders with meat hence the name Buffalo Bill Buffalo Bill and Yellowstone Kelly with many others were at this time serving under general C.C. Miles the name of Deadwood Dick was given to me by the people of Deadwood, South Dakota, July 4th, 1876 after I had proven myself worthy to carry it and after I had defeated all comers in riding, roping and shooting I have always carried the name with honor since that time we arrived at the home ranch again on our return from the trip to Deadwood about the middle of September it taking us a little over two months to make the return journey as we stopped in Cheyenne for several days and at other places where we always found a hearty welcome especially so on this trip as the news had preceded us and I received enough attention to have given me the big head but my head had constantly refused to get enlarged again ever since the time I sampled the dimmy-john in the sweet-corn patch at home arriving at home we received a send-off from our boss and our comrades of the home ranch every man of whom on hearing the news turned loose his voice and his artillery in a grand demonstration in my honor but they said it was no surprise to them as they had long known of my ability with the rope, rifle and .45 Colt but just the same it was gratifying to know I had defeated the best man of the west and brought the record home to the home ranch in Arizona after a good rest we proceeded to ride the range again getting our herds in good condition for the winter now at hand End of Chapter 13 Chapter 14 of the Life and Adventures of Nat Love also known as Deadwood Dick This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org The Life and Adventures of Nat Love, written by Nat Love Chapter 14 Writing the Range, the Fight with Yellow Dogs Tribe I am captured and adopted by the Indians. My escape. I ride a hundred miles and twelve hours without a saddle. My Indian Pony. Yellow Dog Chief. The boys present me with a new outfit. In the saddle and on the trail again. It was a bright clear fall day, October 4th, 1876 that quite a large number of us boys started out over the range hunting strays which had been lost for some time. We had scattered over the range and I was riding along alone when all at once I heard the well-known Indian war-woop and noticed not far away a large party of Indians making straight for me. They were all well-mounted and they were in full war-paint which showed me that they were on the war-path and as I was alone and had no wish to be scouted by them I decided to run for it. So I headed for Yellow Horse Canyon and gave my horse the rain. But as I had considerable objection to being chased by a lot of painted savages without some remonstrance I turned to my saddle every once in a while and gave them a shot by way of greeting. And I had the satisfaction of seeing a painted brave tumble from his horse and go rolling in the dust every time my rifle spoke. And the Indians were by no means idle all this time as their bullets were singing around me rather lively, one of them passing through my thigh. But it did not amount to much. Reaching Yellow Horse Canyon I had about decided to stop and make a stand when one of their bullets caught me in the leg passing clear through it and then through my horse killing him. Quickly falling behind him I used his dead body for a breastwork and stood the Indians off for a long time as my aim was so deadly and they had lost so many that they were careful to keep out of range. But finally my ammunition gave out and the Indians were quick to find this out and they at once closed in on me. But I was by no means subdued wounded as I was and almost out of my head and I fought with my empty gun until finally overpowered. When I came to my senses I was in the Indians camp. My wounds had been dressed with some kind of herbs. The wound in my breast just over the heart was covered thickly with herbs and bound up. My nose had been nearly cut off. Also one of my fingers had been nearly cut off. These wounds I received when I was fighting my captors with my empty gun. What caused them to spare my life I cannot tell. But it was I think partly because I had proved myself a brave man and all savages admire a brave man and when they captured a man whose fighting powers were out of the ordinary they generally kept him if possible as he was needed in the tribe. Then again yellow dogs tribe was composed largely of half breeds and there was a large percentage of colored blood in the tribe and as I was a colored man they wanted to keep me as they thought I was too good a man to die. Be that as it may they dressed my wounds and gave me plenty to eat but the only grub they had was buffalo meat which they cooked over a fire of buffalo chips but of this I had all I wanted to eat. For the first two days after my capture they kept me tied hand and foot. At the end of that time they untied my feet but kept my hands tied for a couple of days longer when I was given my freedom but was always closely watched by members of the tribe. Three days after my capture my ears were pierced and I was adopted into the tribe. The operation of piercing my ears was quite painful in the method used as they had a small bone secured from a deer's leg, a small thin bone rounded at the end and as sharp as a needle. This they used to make the holes then strings made from the tendons of a deer were inserted in place of thread of which the Indians had none. Then horn ear rings were placed in my ears and the same kind of salve made from herbs which they placed on my wounds was placed on my ears and they soon healed. The bullet holes in my leg and breast also healed in a surprisingly short time. That was good salve all right. As soon as I was well enough I took part in the Indian dances. One kind or another was in progress all the time. The war dance and the medicine dance seemed the most popular. When in the war dance the savages danced around me in a circle making gestures chanting with every now and then a blood girdling yell always keeping time to a sort of music provided by stretching buffalo skins tightly over a hoop. When I was well enough I joined the dances and I think I soon made a good dancer. The medicine dance varies from the war dance only that in the medicine dance the Indians danced around a boiling pot, the pot being filled with roots and water and they dance around it while it boils. The medicine dance occurs about daylight. I very soon learned their ways and to understand them though our conversation was mostly carried on by means of signs. They soon gave me to understand that I was to marry the chief's daughter promising me one hundred ponies to do so and she was literally thrown in my arms. As for the lady she seemed perfectly willing if not anxious to become my bride. She was a beautiful woman or rather girl. In fact all the squaws of this tribe were good looking out of the ordinary but I had other notions just then and did not want to get married under such circumstances. But for prudent sake I seemed to enter into their plans but at the same time keeping a sharp look out for a chance to escape. I noted where the Indians kept their horses at night even picking out the handsome and fleet Indian pony which I meant to use should opportunity occur. And I seemed to fall in with the Indians plans and seemed to them so contented that they gave me more and more freedom and relaxed the strict watch they had kept on me. And finally in about thirty days from the time of my capture my opportunity arrived. My wounds were now nearly well and gave me no trouble. It was a dark cloudy night and the Indians grown careless in their fancy security had relaxed their watchfulness. After they had all thrown themselves on the ground and the quiet of the camp proclaimed them all asleep I got up and crawling on my hands and knees using the greatest caution for fear of making a noise. I crawled about two hundred and fifty yards to where the horses were picketed and going to the Indian pony I had already picked out I slipped the skin thong in his mouth which the Indians use for a bridal. One which I had secured and carried in my shirt for some time for this particular purpose. Then springing to his back I made for the open prairie in the direction of the home ranch in Texas one hundred miles away. All that night I rode as fast as my horse could carry me and the next morning twelve hours after I left the Indians camp I was safe on the home ranch again and my joy was without bounds. And such a reception as I received from the boys. They said they were just one day late and if it hadn't been for a fight they had with some of the same tribe they would have been to my relief. As it was they did not expect to ever see me again alive. But they knew that if the Indians did not kill me and gave me only half a chance I would get away from them. But now that I was safe home again nothing mattered much and nothing was too good for me. It was a mystery to them how I managed to escape death with such wounds as I had received the marks of which I will carry to my grave. And it is as much a mystery to me as the bullet that struck me in the breast just over the heart passed clear through coming out my back just below the shoulder. Likewise the bullet in my leg passed clear through then through my horse killing him. Those Indians are certainly wonderful doctors and then I am naturally tough as I carry the marks of fourteen bullet wounds on different parts of my body. Most any one of which would be sufficient to kill an ordinary man but I am not even crippled. It seems to me that if ever a man bore a charm I am that man as I have had five horses shot from under me and killed have fought Indians and Mexicans in all sorts of situations in more tight places than I can number yet I have always managed to escape with only the mark of a bullet or knife as a reminder. The fight with the yellow dogs tribe is probably the closest call I ever had and as close a call as I ever want. The fleet Indian pony which carried me to safety on that memorable hundred mile ride I kept for about five years. I named him the yellow dog chief and he lived on the best the ranch afforded until his death which occurred in 1881 never having anything to do except an occasional race as he could run like a deer. I thought too much of him to use him on the trail and he was the special pet of everyone on the home ranch and for miles around. I heard afterwards that the Indians pursued me that night for quite a distance but I had too much to start and besides I had the fastest horse the Indians owned. I have never since met any of my captors of that time as they knew better than to venture in our neighborhood again. My wound healed nicely thanks to the good attention the Indians gave me. My captors took everything of value I had on me when captured. My rifle which I especially prized for old association's sake also my forty-fives saddle and bridle in fact my whole outfit leaving me only the few clothes I had on at the time. My comrades did not propose to let this bother me long however because they all chipped in and bought me a new outfit including the best rifle and revolvers that could be secured and I had my pick of the ranch horses for another mount. During my short stay with the Indians I learned a great deal about them their ways of living, sports, dances and mode of warfare which proved of great benefit to me in after years. The oblong shields they carried were made from tanned buffalo hides and so tough were they made that an arrow would not pierce them although I have seen them shoot an arrow clean through a buffalo. Neither will a bullet pierce them unless the ball hits the shield square on otherwise it glances off. All of them were exceedingly expert with the bow and arrow and they are proud of their skill and are always practicing in an effort to excel each other. This rivalry extends even to the children who are seldom without their bows and arrows. They named me Buffalo Papu so we managed to make our once known by means of signs as I was not with them a sufficient length of time to learn their language. I learned from them that I had killed five of their number and wounded three while they were chasing me and in the subsequent fight with my empty gun. The wounded men were hidden many places but they were brought around all right the same as I was. After my escape and after I arrived home it was some time before I was again called to active duty as the boys would not hear of me doing anything resembling work until I was thoroughly well and rested up. But I soon began to long for my saddle and the range and when orders were received at the ranch for two thousand head of cattle to be delivered at Dodge City, Kansas I insisted on taking the trail again. It was not with any sense of pride or in bravado that I recount here the fate of the men who have fallen at my hand. It is a terrible thing to kill a man, no matter what the cause. But as I am writing a true history of my life I cannot leave these facts out. But every man who died at my hands was either seeking my life or died in open warfare when it was a case of killing or of being killed. End of Chapter 14. Chapter 15 of The Life and Adventures of Nat Love, also known as Deadwood Dick. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. The Life and Adventures of Nat Love, written by Nat Love. Chapter 15. On a trip to Dodge City, Kansas I roped one of Uncle Sam's cannon. Captured by the soldiers. Bapped Masterson to my rescue. Lost on the prairie. Cater the buffalo hunter. My horse gets away and leaves me alone on the prairie. The blizzard. Frozen stiff. In the spring of 1877, now fully recovered from the effects of the very serious wounds I had received at the hands of the Indians, and feeling my old self again, I joined the boys in their first trip of the season with a herd of cattle for Dodge City. The trip was uneventful until we reached our destination. This was the first time I had been in Dodge City since I had won the name of Deadwood Dick, and many of the boys who knew me when I first joined the cowboys there in 1869 were there to greet me now. After our herd had been delivered to their new owners, we started out to properly celebrate the event, and for a space of several days we kept the old town on the jump. And so when we finally started for home all of us had more or less of the bad whiskey of Dodge City under our belts, and were feeling rather spirited and ready for anything. I probably had more of the bad whiskey of Dodge City than anyone, and was in consequence feeling very reckless, but we had about exhausted our resources of amusement in the town, and so we're looking for trouble on the trail home. On our way back to Texas our way led past Old Fort Dodge. Seeing the soldiers and the cannon in the fort, a bright idea struck me, but a full one just the same. It was no less than a desire to rope one of the cannons. It seemed to me that it would be a good thing to rope a cannon and take it back to Texas with us to fight Indians with. The bad whiskey which I carried under my belt was responsible for the full idea, and gave me the nerve to attempt to execute the idea. Getting my lariat rope ready I rode to a position just opposite the gate of the fort which was standing open. Before the gate paced a sentry with his gun on his shoulder and his white gloves showing up clean and white against the dusty gray surroundings. I waited until the sentry had passed the gate, then putting spurs to my horse I dashed straight for and threw the gate into the yard. The surprise sentry called halt, but I paid no attention to him. Making for the cannon at full speed my rope left my hand and settled square over the cannon. Then turning and putting spurs to my horse I tried to drag the cannon after me, but strain as he might my horse was unable to budget an inch. In the meantime the surprise sentry at the gate had given the alarm, and now I heard the bugle sound, boots and saddles, and glancing around I saw the soldiers mounting to come after me, and finding I could not move the cannon I rode close up to it and got my lariat off, then made for the gate again at full speed. The guard jumped in front of me with his gun up calling halt, but I went by him like a shot, expecting to hear the crack of his musket. But for some reason he failed to fire on me, and I made for the open prairie with a cavalry in hot pursuit. My horse could run like a wild deer, but he was no match for the big strong fresh horses of the soldiers, and they soon had me. Relieving me of my arms they placed me in the guard house where the commanding officer came to see me. He asked me who I was and what I was after at the fort, I told him, and then he asked me if I knew anyone in the city. I told him I knew Bat Masterson. He ordered two guards to take me to the city to see Masterson. As soon as Masterson saw me he asked me what the trouble was and before I could answer the guards told him I rode into the fort and roped one of the cannons and tried to pull it out. Bat asked me what I wanted with the cannon and what I intended doing with it. I told him I wanted to take it back to Texas with me to fight the Indians with. Then they all laughed. Then Bat told him that I was all right, the only trouble being that I had too much bad whiskey under my shirt. They said I would have to set the drinks for the house. They came to fifteen dollars, and when I started to pay for them Bat said for me to keep my money that he would pay for them himself, which he did. Bat said that I was the only cowboy that he liked and that his brother Jim also thought very much of me. I was then let go and I joined the boys and we continued on our way home where we arrived safely on the first of June, 1877. We at once began preparing for the coming big round up. As usual this kept us very busy during the month of July and August and as we received no more orders for cattle this season we did not have to take the trail again. But after the round up was over we were kept busy in range riding and the general all around work of the big cattle ranch. We had at this time on the ranch upwards of thirty thousand head of cattle, our own cattle not to mention the cattle belonging to the many other interests throughout the panhandle country, as all these immense herds use the range of the country in common as there was no fences to divide the ranches. Consequently the cattle belonging to the different herds often got mixed up and large numbers of them strayed. At the round ups it was our duty to cut out and brand the young calves, take a census of our stock and then after the round up was over we would start out to look for possible strays. Over the range we would ride through canyons and gorges and every place where it was possible for cattle to stray as it was important to get them with the main herd before winter set in as if left out in small bunches there was danger of them perishing in the frequent hard storms of the winter. While range riding or hunting for strays we always carried with us on our saddle the branding irons of our respective branches and whenever we ran across a calf that had not been branded we had to rope the calf, tie it, then a fire was made of buffalo chips, the only fuel besides grass to be found on the prairie. The irons were heated and the calf was branded with the brand of the finder no matter who it personally belonged to. It now became the property of the finder. The lost cattle were then driven to the main herd. After they were once gotten together it was our duty to keep them together during the winter and early spring. It was while out hunting strays that I got lost, the first and only time I was ever lost in my life and for four days I had an experience that few men ever went through and lived as it was a close pull for me. I had been out for several days looking for lost cattle and becoming separated from the other boys and being in a part of the country unfamiliar to me. It was stormy when I started out from the home ranch and when I had ridden about a hundred miles from home it began to storm in earnest. Rain, hail, sleet and the clouds seemed to touch the earth and gather in their impenetrable embrace everything thereon. For a long time I rode on in the direction of home but as I could not see fifty yards ahead it was a case of going at blind. After riding for many weary hours through the storm I came across a little log cabin on the Palador River. I rode up to within one hundred yards of it where I was motioned to stop by an old long haired man who stepped out of the cabin door with a long buffalo gun on his arm. It was with this he had motioned me to stop. I promptly pulled up and raised my hat which according to the custom of the cowboy country gave him to understand I was a cowboy from the western cow ranges. He then motioned me to come on. Writing up to the cabin he asked me to dismount and we shook hands. He said when I saw you come and I said to myself that must be a lost cowboy from some of the western cow ranges. I told him I was lost all right and I told him who I was and where from. Again we shook hands. He sang as we did so that we were friends until we met again and he hoped forever. He then told me to pick it out my horse and come in and have some supper which very welcome invitation I accepted. His cabin was constructed of rough-hewn log somewhat after the fashion of a Spanish blockhouse. One part of it was constructed underground to sort of dug out while the upper portion of the cabin proper was provided with many loopholes commanding every direction. He later told me these loopholes had stood him in handy many a time when he had been attacked by Indians in their efforts to capture him. On entering his cabin I was amazed to see the walls covered with all kinds of skins, horns and antlers. Buffalo skins and great numbers covered the floor and bed while the walls were completely hidden behind the skins of every animal of that region including a large number of rattlesnake skins and many of their rattles. His bed which was in one corner of the dugout was of skins and to me weary from my long ride through the storm seemed to be the most comfortable place on the globe just then. He soon set before me a bounteous supper consisting of buffalo meat and corn dodgers and seldom before have I enjoyed a meal as I did that one. During supper he told me many of his experiences in the western country. His name was Cater and he was one of the oldest buffalo hunters in that part of Texas having hunted and trapped over the wild country ever since the early thirties and during that time he had many a thrilling adventure with Indians and wild animals. I stayed with him that night and slept soundly on a comfortable bed he made for me. The next morning he gave me a good breakfast and I prepared to take my departure as the storm had somewhat moderated and I was anxious to get home as the boys knowing I was out would be looking for me if I did not show up in a reasonable time. My kind host told me to go directly northwest and I would strike the Cologne's Flats, a place with which I was perfectly familiar. He said it was about seventy-five miles from his place. Once there I would have no difficulty in finding my way home. Cater put me up a good lunch to last me on my way and with many expressions of gratitude to him I left him with his skins uncomfortable though solitary life. All that day and part of the night I rode in the direction he told me until about eleven o'clock when I became so tired I decided to go into camp and give my tired horse a rest and a chance to eat. Accordingly I dismounted and removed the saddle and bridle from my horse. I hobbled him and turned him loose to graze on the luxuriant grass while I, tired out, laid down with my head on my saddle, fully dressed as I was, not even removing my belt containing my forty-five pistol from my waist, laying my windchester close by. The rain had ceased to fall but it was still cloudy and threatening. It was my intention to rest a few hours then continue on my way and as I could not see the stars on account of the clouds and as it was important that I keep my direction north-west in order to strike the Flats, I had carefully taken my direction before sundown and now on moving my saddle I placed it on the ground pointing in the direction I was going when I stopped so that it would enable me to keep my direction when I again started out. I had been laying there for some time and my horse was quietly grazing about twenty yards off when I suddenly heard something squeal. It sounded like a woman's voice. It frightened my horse and he ran for me. I jumped to my feet with my windchester in my hand. This caused my horse to rear and wheel and I heard his hobbles break with a sharp snap. Then I heard the sound of his galloping feet going across the panhandled plains until the sound was lost in the distance. Then I slowly began to realize that I was left alone on the plains on foot. How many miles from home I did not know. Remembering I had my guns all right it was my impulse to go in pursuit of my horse as I thought I could eventually catch him after he had got over his scare. But then I thought of my forty pound saddle and I did not want to leave that saying to myself that is the second saddle I ever owned. The other having been taken by the Indians when I was captured and this saddle was part of the outfit presented to me by the boys. And so tired and as hungry as a hawk I shouldered my saddle and started out in the direction I was going when I went into camp saying to myself as I did so if my horse could pack me and my outfit day and night I can at least pack my outfit. Keeping my direction as well as I could I started out over the prairie through the dark walking all that night and all the next day without anything to eat or drink until just about sundown. And when I had begun to think I would have to spend another night on the prairie without food or drink I emerged from a little draw onto a raise on the prairie. Looking over onto a small flat I saw a large herd of buffalo. These were the first I had seen since I became lost in the sight of them put renewed life and hope in me as I was then nearly famished and when I saw them I knew I had something to eat. Off to one side about twenty yards from the main herd and about one hundred and fifty yards from me was a young calf. Placing my wind-tester to my shoulder I glanced along the shining barrel but my hand shook so much I lowered it again. Not that I was afraid of missing it as I knew I was a dead shot at that distance but my weakness caused by my long enforced fast and my great thirst made my eyes dim and my hands shaken away they had never done before. So waiting a few moments I again placed the gun to my shoulder and this time it spoke and the calf dropped where it had stood. Picking up my outfit I went down to where my supper was laying. I took out my jackknife and commenced on one of his hind quarters. I began to skin and eat to my heart's content but I was so very thirsty. I had heard of people drinking blood to quench their thirst and that gave me an idea so cutting the calf's throat with my knife I eagerly drank the fresh warm blood. It tasted very much like warm sweet milk. It quenched my thirst and made me feel strong. When I had eaten all I could I cut off two large chunks of the meat and tied them to my saddle. Then again shouldering the whole thing I started on my way feeling almost as satisfied as if I had my horse with me. I was lost two days and two nights after my horse left me and all that time I kept walking packing my forty pound saddle and my wind chester and two cattle pistols. On the second night about daylight the weather became more threatening and I saw in the distance a long column which looked like smoke. It seemed to be coming towards me at the rate of a mile a minute. It did not take it long to reach me and when it did I struggled on for a few yards but it was no use. Tired as I was from packing my heavy outfit for more than forty-eight hours and my long tramp I had not the strength to fight against the storm. When I again came to myself I was covered up head and foot in the snow in the camp of some of my comrades from the ranch. It seemed from what I was told afterwards that the boys knowing I was out in the storm and failing to show up they had started out to look for me. They had gone in camp during the storm and when the blizzard had passed they noticed an object out on the prairie in the snow with one hand frozen clenched around my wind chester and the other around the horn of my saddle and they had hard work to get my hands loose. They picked me up and placed me on one of the horses and took me to camp where they stripped me of my clothes and wrapped me up in the snow. All the skin came off my nose and mouth and my hands and feet had been so badly frozen that the nails all came off after I had got thawed out in the mess wagon they took me home. In fifteen days I was again in the saddle ready for business, but I will never forget those few days I was lost and the marks of that storm I will carry with me always. End of chapter fifteen The Life and Adventures of Nat Love, Written by Nat Love Chapter sixteen The Old Hayes and Ellsworth Trail Our Trip to Cheyenne Ex-Sheriff Pat A. Garrett The Death of Billy the Kid The Lincoln County Cattle War Early the next spring, eighteen seventy-eight, we went on a short trip to Junction City, Kansas, with a small herd of horses were hoken and hurst. We started out from the home ranch early in April, stringing the herd out along the Old Hayes and Ellsworth Trail. Everything went well until we were several days out and we have went in camp for the night. The herd had been rounded up and were grazing in the open prairie under the usual watch. All the cowboys except the first watch had turned in for a good night's rest when it began to storm, finally developing into a genuine old-fashioned Texas storm with the usual result that the herd stampeded. The watch at once gave the alarm and we awoke to find everything in confusion. It was a very dark night and under such circumstances it is hard to control a herd of horses in a stampede. In a few moments every man was in the saddle as we always kept our saddle horses picketed out so they could not join the other horses. And it was our custom when on the trail with a herd of horses on going into camp to leave our saddle horses saddled and bridled, merely loosing the cinches of the saddles, though sometimes we removed the bridles to enable them to graze better. So when the alarm was given in this instance it did not take us long to get in the saddle and after the horses who were now going across the prairie as only frightened horses can go in a stampede. The storm continued with more or less fury all night and it was late the next day before we got the herd rounded up and under any sort of control. The next morning we found that one of the boys, Frank Smith, had lost his horse in outfit during the night. While chasing the horses over the prairie his horse stepped in a prairie dog's hole and fell. Throwing his rider and snatching the rope out of Smith's hand the horse made off over the prairie carrying with him bridle, saddle, and outfit and we never saw or heard of him again. After getting our breakfast we continued north and all went well with us until we struck the Wakini River near Junction City when importing the stream. It was high water and we were forced to swim our horses across. All went well with the herd and the boys were following when one of them came near being drowned and was only saved by my quick rope. I had entered the river and my horse was swimming easily when on glancing around I saw one of the boys, Lloyd Hoden by name, go under the water. Both man and horse completely disappeared. They soon came up only to disappear again. I saw it once something was wrong so when they came up the second time I threw my rope it fell near Hoden who had the presence of mine to grasp it and hold on while I snaked both man and horse out to safety. After reaching Junction City and turning the herd over to their new owners we started out to have the usual good time. This lasted for several days during which time we cleaned up pretty near all the money there was in the Junction with our horses in a 600 yard race between ourselves and cowboys from different outfits who happened to be in the city. Our horses without exception proved the fastest runners. Accordingly we pocketed considerable coin and in consequence we were feeling first rate when we struck the trail homeward bound. We arrived at the home ranch all right in June. This was the last trip we were called to make this season and our time for the remainder of the year was taken up with the general routine work of the large cattle ranch. Late the next season we took the trail en route to Cheyenne, Wyoming with 2,000 head of fine Texas steers for the Swan Brothers, 20 miles northwest of Cheyenne. Nothing of unusual importance happened on this trip aside from the regular incidents pertaining to driving such a large herd of cattle on the trail. We had a few stampedes and lost a few cattle. Arriving in Cheyenne we had a royal good time for a few days as usual before starting home. On arriving at the home ranch again we found considerable excitement owing to the war between the cattlemen and cattle wrestlers and every man was needed at home and few there were who did not take part in one way or another in the most bitter and furious cattle war of history. And I being one of the leading cowboys of the west necessarily took an active part in the dispute and many were the sharp clashes between the warring factions that I witnessed and fought in and was wounded many times in these engagements. For years the cattle wrestlers had been invading the large cattle ranges belonging to the large cattle kings of the west and running off and branding large numbers of choice cattle and horses. This led to many a sharp fight between the cowboys and the wrestlers. But of late these seas have become so bold and the losses of the cattlemen have become so great that the latter determined to put a stop to it and so open war was declared. On one side was the large ranchmen and cattlemen and on the other the Indians, half breeds, Mexicans and white outlaws that made the cattle country their rendezvous. The cattlemen had now organized with the given determination of either killing or running out of the country for good these thieves who had caused them so much loss. And during the war many of them cashed in and the others for the most part left for pastors knew having been virtually whipped out of the country. It was a desperate and bloody war while it lasted. But it was satisfactory to the cattlemen who could now rest easier in the security of their herds and their grazing grounds. It was at this time that I saw considerable of William H. Bonnie, alias Billy the Kid, the most noted desperado and all-around bad man the world has known. The first time I met Billy the Kid was in Antonchico, New Mexico, in a saloon when he asked me to drink with him. That was in 1877. Later he hired to beat Gallaghan the man in whose employ I was. Gallaghan hired the Kid to drive his buck-board between the White Oaks, the nearest town, and Gallaghan's ranch with provisions for the boys. And the Kid told me himself that one of these trips he would drive the team on a dead run the whole distance of 30 miles to the Oaks in order to get there quick so he could have more time to stay around town before it was time to start back. Then when he would arrive home the team was nearly dead from exhaustion. He remained in the employ of Gallaghan for about eleven months, then he was hired by John Chisholm to wrestle cattle for him. Chisholm agreed to pay the Kid so much per head for all the cattle the Kid wrestled. When the time came for a settlement Chisholm failed to settle right, or to the Kid's satisfaction. Then the Kid told Chisholm he would give him one day to make up his mind to settle right, but before the Kid could see Chisholm again Chisholm left the country going east where his brother was. The Kid then swore vengeance and said he would take his revenge out of Chisholm's men and he at once began killing all in the employ of John Chisholm. He would ride up to a bunch of cowboys and inquire if they worked for Chisholm. If they replied in the affirmative he would shoot them dead on the spot and few men were quicker with a 45 or a deadly shot than Billy the Kid. The next time I met the Kid was in Holbrook, Arizona just after a big roundup. The Kid, Buck Cannon and Billy Woods were together. I was on my way to Silver City, New Mexico in the fall of 1880 when I met them and as they were going there also we rode on together. The Kid showed me the little log cabin where he said he was born. I went in the cabin with him and he showed me how it was arranged when he lived there showing me where the bed sat and the stove and table. He then pointed out the old post office which he said he had been in lots of times. He told me he was born and raised in Silver City, New Mexico which is near the Muggy Ohm Mountains and at that time the Kid was badly wanted by the sheriffs of several counties for numerous murders committed by him mostly of John Chisholm's men in Texas and New Mexico. The Kid bid me goodbye. He said he was going to the mountains as he knew them well and once there he was all right as he could stand off a regiment of soldiers. The three of them departed together. I never saw him again until the spring of 1881. I was in the city of El Moro, New Mexico and saw him the morning he was forced to flee to the mountains to escape arrest. We could see him up there behind the rocks. He was well armed having with him two Winchester's and two Forty-Five Colts revolvers and plenty of ammunition and although the officers wanted him badly, no one dared go up after him as it was certain death to come within range of the Kid's guns. Later on he escaped and the next time I saw him was in Antonchico, New Mexico. It was in June and we had come up from Colonus after some saddle-horses and I met and talked with him. The next time I saw him he was laying dead at Pete Maxwell's Ranch in Lincoln County, New Mexico having been killed by Pat A. Garrett at that time sheriff of Lincoln County, New Mexico. We arrived in Lincoln County the very night he was killed at Pete Maxwell's Ranch and went into camp a short distance from Maxwell's and we saw the Kid a short time after he had been killed. The Kid had been arrested by Pat Garrett and his posse a short time before its stinking springs, New Mexico, along with Tom Pickett, Billy Wilson and Dave Rubau, after arresting these men which was only affected after a hard fight and after the Kid's ammunition had given out. Garrett took the men heavily ironed to Las Vegas when it became known that Billy the Kid had been captured a mob formed for the purpose of lynching him. But Garrett placed his prisoners in a boxcar over which himself and deputies stood guard until the train pulled out which was nearly two hours. During that time the mob was furious to get at the men but they well knew the temper of sheriff Garrett so they kept their distance. The men were tried and convicted. The Kid and Rubau were sentenced to be hanged, Rubau for having killed a jailer at Las Vegas in 1880. The judge on passing sentence on the Kid said, You are sentenced to be hanged by the neck until you are dead, dead, dead. The Kid laughed in the judge's face saying, And you can go to hell, hell, hell. After the Kid had been sentenced he was placed in jail at Las Vegas, ironed hand and foot and under heavy guard but never lost confidence and was always looking for a chance to escape. When the day of his execution was not much more than a week off the Kid saw his chance. While eating his supper both handcuffs had been fastened to one wrist so the Kid could better feed himself. He was only guarded by one deputy named Bell, the other deputy Hollinger had gone to supper across the street from the jail. Bell turned his head for a moment and the Kid noticing the movement quick as a flash brought the handcuffs down on Bell's head stunning him. The Kid then snatched Bell's revolver and shot the deputy through the body. Bell staggered to the steps down which he fell and into the yard below where he died. The Hollinger hearing the shot rushed across the street. As he entered the jail yard he looked up and saw the Kid at a window. As he did so the Kid shot Hollinger dead with a shotgun which was loaded with buckshot. The Kid then broke the gun across the window sill then going to the room where the weapons were kept the Kid picked out what guns he wanted and broke the balance. Then he made the first person he met break the irons from his legs and bring him a horse. The Kid then took four revolvers and two Winchester rifles and rode away. Sheriff Garrett was at White Oaks at the time and as soon as he heard of the escape he hurried home and organized a posse to recapture the Kid. But the Kid was at Liberty two months before he was finally rounded up and killed at Pete Maxwell's ranch. At the time the Kid escaped at Las Vegas myself and a party of our boys had our horses at Menderhall and Hunter's livery stable. Just a few doors from the jail and I was standing on the street talking to a friend when the Kid rode by. From Las Vegas he went to the borders of Lincoln County where his ever ready revolver was always in evidence. Shortly after his escape he shot and killed William Matthews and a companion whom he met on the prairie without apparent cause. And several other murders were attributed to him before he was finally located at Maxwell's ranch and killed by Sheriff Garrett. The Kid was only 22 years of age when his wild career was ended by the bullet from the Sheriff's gun and it is safe to assert he had at least one murder to the credit of every year of his life. He was killed by Sheriff Garrett in a room of one of the old houses at Fort Sumner known at that time as Maxwell's Ranch, July 12th, 1881, about two months after his escape from the Lincoln County jail. Sheriff Pat A. Garrett, one of the nerviest men of that country of nervy men and the only man who ever pursued the Kid and lived to tell the tale, is at present at the head of the customs service at El Paso, Texas. And to meet him and note his pleasant smile and kindly disposition one would not believe him the man who sent Billy the Kid to his last account. But behind the pleasant twinkle in his eye in the warm hand-clasp there is a head as cool and a nervous steady as ever held of forty-five. End of Chapter 16 Chapter 17 of the Life and Adventures of Nat Love, also known as Deadwood Dick. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Life and Adventures of Nat Love, written by Nat Love. Chapter 17 Another trip to Old Mexico. I rope an engine. I fall in love. My courtship. Death of my sweetheart, my promised wife. I must bear a charmed life. The advent of progress. The last of the range. On one of these memorable trips after cattle and with cattle on the trail, the one that I will most likely remember the longest was a trip to Old Mexico after a herd of horses. It was on this trip that I fell in love. The first time in my life. During my wild career on the western plains, I had met many handsome women and they often made much of me, but somehow I had never experienced the feeling called love until I met my charming sweetheart in Old Mexico. I had perhaps been too much absorbed in the wildlife of the plains, in the horses and cattle which made up my world, to have the time or inclination to seek or enjoy the company of the gentler sex. But now that I had met my fate, I suppose I became as silly about it as any tender foot from the east could possibly be, as evidence of how badly I was hit. While on the trail with the herd, our route lay along a narrow gauge railroad and I was feeling up in the air, caused no doubt partly from the effects of love and partly from the effects of Mexican whiskey, a generous measure of which I had under my belt. However, I was feeling fine, so when the little engine came puffing along in the distance I said to the boys, I have roped nearly everything that could be roped, so now I am going to rope the engine. They tried to persuade me not to make the attempt, but I was in no mood to listen to reason or anything else, so when the engine came along I put my spurs to my horse and when near enough I let fly my lariat. The rope settled gracefully around the smokestack and as usual my trained horse set himself back for the shock, but the engine set both myself and my horse in the ditch and might have continued to set us in places had not something given way, as it was the rope parted, but the boys said afterwards that they thought they would have to send for a wrecking train to clean the track, or rather the ditch. Roping a live engine is by long odds worse than roping wild buffalo on the plains, or Uncle Sam's cannon at the forts. This incident cleared the atmosphere somewhat, but my love was as strong as ever and I thank my lucky stars she did not see me as they dragged me out of the ditch. I first saw my sweetheart as we were driving the herd along the dusty road passing a small adobe house near the city of Old Mexico. I saw a handsome young Spanish girl standing in the yard and I suppose I fell in love with her at first sight. Anyway, I pretended to be very thirsty and rode up and asked her for a drink. She gave it to me and I exchanged a few words with her before joining the boys in the herds. After that I saw her quite often during my stay in Old Mexico before we again returned home. One day shortly before I was to leave for the north I went to see her and overheard a conversation between her and her mother in which her mother said to her, My daughter, will you leave your mother for to go with a wild cowboy? And she answered, No mother, I will not leave you to go with any wild cowboy. On hearing this I bid her good-bye and a long farewell as I told her I did not expect to ever see her again. Then, leaping to the back of my faithful horse, I rode like mad across the Mexican plains until I had somewhat cooled down, but it was a hard blow to me as I truly loved her. After that I joined the boys and returned up the trail with them. Six or seven months later we were again in Old Mexico with a herd of cattle and went in camp some distance out from the city and as soon as she heard our outfit had returned she rode out to the camp and after looking around and not seeing me she said to the camp boss, Where is the wild cowboy that was here with you last time? Did he not come up the trail with you? The boss told her I had come up the trail but that I had not been seen since crossing the last mountains as of course he knew whom she meant as my little love affair was pretty generally known among the boys. When the boss told her that I had not been seen since they had crossed the last mountains she hung her head and looked completely heartbroken. I was lying in the mess wagon at the time and interested spectator of all that took place and seeing her looking so downhearted I could hardly restrain myself from jumping out of the wagon and taking her in my arms. After a time she slowly raised her head and looked long and wistfully up the trail. Then turning to the camp boss again she said, Camp boss tell me truly if not love works with you and did he come on this trip with you? The boss answered her as before that I had not been seen since crossing the last mountains which was true as I had been riding in the mess wagon. On hearing the boss's answer she took it as final and started to ride away. I thought it high time to make my presence known as with the sight of her all my old love returned and I forgot everything except that I loved her. So I jumped out of the wagon exclaiming here I am and in a minute we were locked in each other's arms and I believe I kissed her before all the boys but I didn't care she was mine now. We became engaged and were to be married in the fall and were to make our home in the city of Mexico but in the spring she took sick and died. Her death broke me all up and after I buried her I became very wild and reckless not caring what happened to me and when you saw me in the saddle you saw me at home. And while I saw many women since I could never care for any as I did for her and I vainly tried to forget her and my sorrow in the wild life of the plains and every danger I could find courting death and fights with Indians and Mexicans and dare devil riding on the range. But it seemed to me that I bore a charmed life. Horses were shot from under me, men were killed around me but always I escaped with a trifling wound at the worst. As time passed I began to recover from my disappointment and to take my old interest in the work of the ranch and as my reputation had spread over the country I did not lack work but was kept on the go all the time first with one large cattle owner then with another. Most of my working being in the roundups and brandings, brand reading and with large herds on the trail as during my long experience in the cattle country I had traveled every known trail and over immense stretches of country where there was no sign of a trail, nothing but the wide expanse of prairie. Bear except for the buffalo grass with here and there a lone tree or a giant cactus standing as a lone sentinel in the wildest of long stretches of grazing land rolling away in billows of hill and gully like the waves of the ocean. Likewise I could read, identify and place every brand or mark placed on a horse or steer between the Gulf of Mexico and the borders of Canada on the north and from Missouri to California. Over this stretch of country I have often traveled with herds of horses or cattle or in searching for strays or hunting the noble buffalo on his own native feeding grounds. The great buffalo slaughter commenced in the west in 1874 and in 1877 they have become so scarce that it was a rare occasion when you came across a herd containing more than fifty animals where before you could find thousands in a herd. Many things were responsible for this slaughter but the principal reason that they had now become so scarce was that in 1875 and 1876 the Indians started to kill them in large numbers for their skins. Thousands were killed by them skinned and the carcasses left as food for the wolves and vultures of the prairie. Many were killed by the white hunters to furnish meat for the railroad graders and the troops at the frontier forts while the big cattle ranches were always kept well supplied with buffalo meat. On the stock of my rifle is 126 notches each one representing a fine buffalo that has fallen to my own hand while some I have killed with a knife and 45 colts I forgot to cut a notch for. Buffalo hunting a sport for kings thy time has passed where once they roamed by the thousands now rises the chimney and the spire while across their once peaceful path now thunders the iron horse awakening the echoes far and near with bell and whistle where once could only be heard the sharp crack of the rifle or the long doleful yelp of the coyote. At the present time the only buffalo to be found are in the private parks of a few men who are preserving them for pleasure or profit. With the march of progress came the railroad and no longer were recalled upon to follow the long horned steers or mustangs on the trail while the immense cattle range is stretching away in the distance as far as the eye could see. Now began to be dotted with cities and towns and the cattle industry which once held a monopoly in the west now had to give way to the industry of the farm and the mill. To us wild cowboys of the range used to the wild and unrestricted life of the boundless plains the new order of things did not appeal and many of us became disgusted and quit the wild life for the pursuits of our more civilized brother. I was among that number and in 1890 I bid farewell to the life which I had followed for over twenty years. It was with genuine regret that I left the long horned Texas cattle and the wild mustangs of the range but the life had in a great measure lost its attractions and so I decided to quit it and try something else for a while. During my life so far I had no chance to secure an education except the education of the plains and the cattle business. In this I recognized no superior being. Gifted with a splendid memory and quick observation I learned and remembered things that others passed by and forgot and I have yet to meet the man who can give me instruction in the phases of a life in which I spent so long. After quitting the cowboy life I struck out for Denver. Here I met and married the present Mrs. Love, my second love. We were married August 22, 1889 and she is with me now a true and faithful partner and says she is not one bit jealous of my first love who lies buried in the city of Old Mexico. One year later in 1890 I accepted a position in the Pullman service on the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad running between Denver and Salita, Colorado. The Pullman service was then in its infancy so to speak as there was as much difference between the Pullman sleeping cars of those days and the present as there is between the ox team and the automobile. End of Chapter 17 Chapter 18 of the Life and Adventures of Nat Love also known as Deadwood Dick. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. The Life and Adventures of Nat Love written by Nat Love. Chapter 18 The Pullman service. Life on the Rail. My first trip. A slump in tips. I become disgusted and quit. A period of husking. My next trip on the Pullman. Tips and the people who give them. After my marriage in Denver I rented a small cottage which I comfortably furnished and we Mrs. Love and myself started housekeeping in a modest way. Then I began to look around for a job but to a man who was used to the excitement and continual action of the range in the cattle ranches the civilized and quiet life of the city is apt to prove stale and uninteresting. It was that way with me and after passing up several jobs offered to me I thought I would try railroading for a while probably for the same reason that prompted me to leave home twenty years before. I still wanted to see the world. With that idea in mind I went to the Pullman offices in Denver and after making some inquiries I was directed to the office of Superintendent Rummels who was at that time superintendent of the Pullman service. A Mr. Wright was his assistant. I found Superintendent Rummels in his office and I asked him if he wanted to hire any more porters. He asked me if I had ever worked for the Pullman company. I told him no that I had been a cowboy ever since I was sixteen years old. He then asked me if I had money enough to buy my Pullman uniform. I asked him how much it would cost and he said twenty two dollars. I told him yes I had the price. He asked me if I knew any one in Denver. I told him yes and gave him the name of Mr. Sprangler who had my money in his bank. Superintendent Rummels told me to get a letter from Mr. Sprangler and he would put me on. So I went and got the letter and with it the money to pay for my uniform after having my measure taken and sending for my suit. I borrowed a uniform from one of the other porters in the second day after I called on the superintendent. I was sent on the run between Denver and Salita. One of the old men put me on to my duties and showed me how to make up my car and the general run of things. On my first trip I found a kind friend in the Pullman conductor, a Mr. Keely, who helped me in many ways and I suppose I made many blunders as the difference between a Pullman car and the back of a Texas Mustang is very great. However, I managed to get around among the passengers in my car and attend to their needs in some sort of a way. My first trouble commenced when I succeeded in getting the shoes of passengers which had been given to me to polish badly mixed up. The shoes of a portly red-faced man whose birth was in the forward end of the car I placed by the birth of a tall and slim western Yankee at the other end of the car while a number seven and a number nine shoe were placed decorously by the birth of a sour spinster from New York. This naturally caused a good-sized rumpus the next morning and sundry blessings were heaped on the head of yours truly. Nearly all the passengers were mad and the tips were conspicuous by their absence. That made me mad and thoroughly disgusted with the job on returning to Denver I again called on superintendent Rummels and told him that I had enough of the Pullman service and would rather go back to the cattle in the range. Superintendent Rummels tried to persuade me to stay with it saying I had done all right and would improve with experience but I was thoroughly disgusted and wanted no more of it so I turned in my keys got my uniform and walked out so again I was without a job. After going around Denver for several days it struck me that there was money to be made selling fruit, vegetables, honey and chickens around the town. Accordingly I purchased a horse and wagon and an assorted stock and started out on my new vocation. This proved profitable from the start and I made good money which caused me to stay with it for nearly a year when my natural restfulness caused me to become discontented and to yearn for more excitement and something a little faster so I disposed of my stock, horse and wagon and started out to look for something else to do. But that something else was about as hard to find as the proverbial needle in the straw stack at that particular time. Whether it was fate or the talk of the other porters whom I met I finally concluded to give the Pullman service another try. Accordingly I called on Mr. J. M. Smith who is now district superintendent of the Pullman service and asked him for a job. He asked me if I had been in the company service before and I told him yes. He asked me how long and I told him one trip and I told him why I quit and that the tips were too slow for me. He asked me if I thought it was any better now and I said I did not know whether it was any better or not but that I thought I could do better. He told me the whole secret of success was in pleasing all my passengers. I told him I thought it was all right about pleasing two or three passengers but when it came to pleasing a whole car full of passengers that was another matter. He said to try anyway. He then assigned me to a car running on the narrow gauge line between Denver and Alamosa, Creed and Durango. This was the real beginning of my Pullman service. I ran on the Colorado roads under Superintendent Smith for a number of years and always found him courteous and obliging, always ready and willing to help us with advice and counsel. But what proved a mystery to me for a long time was how the Superintendent managed to find out things that happened on my car when he was not present. Sometimes when I went to report or met him he would question me about things that happened on my run such as pleasing the passengers and other things which I did not suppose he knew a thing about and inquiries among the other trainmen only deepened the mystery. I would ask the Pullman conductor if he told the Superintendent such and such a thing and he would say no. Then I would ask him how the Superintendent knew about them as he was not on the train. He would say he did not know. This kept up until finally I made up my mind that if there ever was a clairvoyant the Superintendent certainly was one. The fact that he was able to find out things that happened hundreds of miles away without anyone telling him kept me worked up for a long time until I finally tumbled to the special agents who are employed to travel as common passengers and report how things are going to the Superintendent. That explained the whole mystery but it did not in any way make me move easy in my mind because if a special agent was along one trip there was no reason to think that one was not along every trip. At least I made up my mind there was and governed myself accordingly but the increased attention given to my passengers as a result caused an increase in the tips that came my way. With the increase in my earnings and the experience I was gaining I came to have a liking for the service which is in no wise diminished at this time. I soon learned the knack of pleasing the greater number of my passengers and this reported to the Superintendent by the special agents raised me in the official's favor with the result that I was given more extensive and more profitable runs and soon became one of the most popular porters in Colorado. This brought with it increased responsibilities as well as increased profits and favors enjoyed. When I started to work it was for $15 per month. This has been increased from time to time until at present owing to my long service and having gained a thorough knowledge of my business I am often made porter in charge. This position pays me as high as $40 per month. The difference between a porter and a porter in charge is that a porter generally has a car over which a Pullman conductor presides. While the porter in charge owing to his long service and his knowledge of the business is placed in full charge of a car making the services of a Pullman conductor unnecessary. A porter in the employee of the Pullman company for ten years and giving good service for that time receives from the company two suits of clothes per year and other privileges not enjoyed by the beginner. A porter just beginning in the service has to purchase his own uniform the cost of which is never less than $20 for the summer suit or $22 for the winter suit. After five years of good service a porter is entitled to wear one white stripe on his coat sleeve to which one is added for every succeeding five years of good service. Naturally the porter that understands his business and gives his whole attention to the passengers in his car and to his work will make more money than the porter who has not the patience to try and please his passengers. I have had porters complain to me about the small amount they were able to earn in the service and on questioning them I found it was holy because they did not think it necessary to try and make friends with the people in their car. I early recognize the fact that if I expected to succeed in the Pullman service I must make all the friends I could on my runs and the cases are very rare where I have failed to receive a tip of some kind from my passengers. Although as it happens sometimes I have people in my car who are not very well blessed with this world's goods and who can ill afford to spend money in tips. To such people I always give the same attention and care as if I was sure to receive a $10 tip and they rarely fail to give me a kind thank you on leaving my car. In the course of our duties we naturally meet all manner of people, the business man up for business or pleasure, the drummers who nearly always give us a tip, the wife going to join her sick husband or the husband hurrying home to the bedside of his sick child, the invalid in search of health or the family going home to attend the funeral of a loved one, the young man going to be married and the young couple on their honeymoon, the capitalist, the minor, the sportsman and the vast army of people that go to make up the traveling public who like the sands of the desert are forever shifting around from place to place and with whom we porters are brought in closer contact perhaps than anyone else on their travels. We must necessarily be good judges of human nature to be able to please the majority of the people who travel under our care. We nearly always receive a tip from those who ride with us for any distance. The size of the tip often depends on the mode of the passenger giving it. Even those who ride with us only a short distance often give us a tip of more generous proportions than will the man who has ridden with us several thousands of miles. The superintendent himself when he rides in our car we are sure to receive from him twenty five cents or fifty cents for a day or a day's ride. The smallest tip I have received from a passenger during my service was two cents. This amount I received from a rather cranky individual who when I went to brush him off handed me two copper cents and followed them up with a remark that some of us porters needed calling down and some needed knocking down. My opinion of what he needed caused me to smile wherein he wanted to know what I was smiling at. Needless to say I did not feel like wasting any more breath on him so I bundled his boxes and satchel out on the platform and left him to follow at his leisure. The largest tips I ever received from a single traveler was twenty five dollars given to me by one of the Rothschilds whom I brought from Chicago to Frisco. But this has been largely surpassed several times in car tips or trips. The Knights Templar, one of whose cars I had charged up between Denver and Boston, made up a purse of one hundred and fifty dollars and presented it to me with the compliments of the passengers in recognition of the good service I had rendered them. While in charge of the private car of general manager Fisher in a trip through California and Mexico Mr. Fisher made up a purse of seventy five dollars for me in recognition of my attentions to the members of his party. But the man who gave me five cents received as much attention from me as the man who gives me five dollars. It is perhaps all he can afford and the manner in which he gives it often makes up for the smallness of the tip. End of Chapter 18 Chapter 19 of the Life and Adventures of Nat Love, also known as Deadwood Dick. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Life and Adventures of Nat Love, written by Nat Love. Chapter 19 The Pullman Sleeping Car. Long Trips on the Rail. The Wreck. One touch of nature makes the whole world ken. A few of the railroads over which I have traveled. The Invalid and the care we give them. The Modern Pullman Sleeping Car is a veritable palace on wheels furnished in the best materials without regard to expense. Comfort, convenience, and the safety of the passengers being the main object. To say that the builders of the Pullman cars have succeeded in attaining this object is but a mild expression. Fine carpets cover the floors, the seats and chairs are upholstered in the best and softest of material, while every convenience is provided for the use of the lucky mortal who is called across the continent on business or pleasure and whose pleasure it is to travel and sleep in the Pullman sleeping car of the present day. The traveler of today when he has to go from Chicago to San Francisco simply throws a few things in a grip is driven to the Union Terminal Station in Chicago where he secures a through ticket and a sleeping car berth. At the car steps he is met by the Pullman porter who relieves him of his grip and assists him on the train if necessary. From that time until four days later when he arrives in San Francisco he has no more care. If he wishes to write letters there is a handy writing tablet with stationery and everything needful. He can write his letters and hand them to the porter to mail and continue his perusal of the morning paper. If he gets hungry he has but to step in the dining car where he will find buy and spit for a king. If he wants a shave or a haircut the barber is in the next car. If he wants to view the scenery en route the observation car is but a few steps away. When he gets sleepy and wishes to retire he presses the electric button at his elbow and the porter will do the rest. But if he prefers to lay in his luxurious bed and read he has but to turn on the electric light at his bedside and he can read as long as he pleases and when he arrives at San Francisco he will be cleanly shaven nicely brushed with his shoes freshly shined and on the outside of a good breakfast ready to tackle at once the business or the pleasure that brought him across the continent. Or if the traveler prefers he may swing aboard the magnificently equipped and royally appointed Los Angeles Limited one of the finest through trains that this mundane sphere can boast. Catch this train in Chicago which you may do any day in the year and it will carry you with safety, speed and comfort over the fertile farms, meadows and plains through the city of Saints on the second day then around the great Dead Sea of America over the sagebrush plains and grazing ranges of southern Nevada and into the land of sunshine and flowers and the city of the angels on the third day after leaving your home in Chicago. What a contrast to the mode of travel our grandfathers were forced to adopt a decade ago when the old ox team in the prairie schooner wended its slow way over the mountains and plains over trails in every turn of which lurked danger and death. Verily the sun do move. During my service with the Pullman Company I have traveled from the Atlantic to the Pacific and from the Gulf of Mexico to the borders of Canada over nearly all the many different lines of railroad that makes the map of North America look like a spider have been crawling over it in search of a fly. I have visited all the principal cities and towns where the sound of the bell and the whistle is heard and I have in a great measure satisfied my desire to see the country. Among the great lines of railway over which I have traveled are the Union Pacific whose Overland Limited, the Atlantic Express and the Portland Chicago Special are the acme of quick safe and comfortable travel. The Overland Limited is electric lighted steam heated and contains every known luxury and convenience of travel. The Denver and Rio Grand Railroad is noted the world over for its quick time find scenery comfort and safety. The Southern Pacific, the Baltimore and Ohio Southwestern, the Missouri Pacific between St. Louis and all points east all electric lighted trains with observation, parlor, cafe, dining cars and Pullman sleeping cars. The Chicago and Northwestern whose through train service to Chicago and the east from San Francisco, Los Angeles, Portland, Salt Lake, Ogden and Denver is not excelled in any land. The Illinois Central Railroad whose eight track entrance to Chicago from the south along the lakefront is one of the triumphs of Yankee Railroading and whose train service is elegant in the extreme. The Pennsylvania lines which will take you from Chicago to New York in 18 hours and make you feel thoroughly comfortable while doing it. The Louisville and Nashville Railroad whose lines reach every town and hamlet in the solid south. The Nickel Plate Road the direct line from Chicago to New York, Boston and all points east all trains of the Nickel Plate Road arrive and depart from the new LaSalle Street Station one of the finest railroad stations in the country. The Santa Fe from whose trains you can view some of the finest scenery in the Rocky Mountains including the Grand Canyon of Arizona a mile deep 13 miles wide, 217 miles long and painted like a flower. The Lehigh Valley Railroad to Chicago, New York and Philadelphia from whose car windows one may view the world famous Niagara Falls. The Colorado and Southern the Colorado Road over which travel is one continuous delight. The San Pedro, Los Angeles and Salt Lake Railroad one of the youngest but by no means the least of railroads. The road that lies as straight as the crow flies linking together the city of the saints and the city of the angels. The snow-capped Rocky Mountains and the sun-kissed shores of the Pacific Ocean the Dead Sea and the Live Sea the railroad that makes it possible to have a sleigh ride with your second wife in the city of the saints on Sunday and pick flowers and eat oranges with your first wife in the city of the angels on Tuesday. Over this line I am running at present and while it has only been in operation a short time yet the time and service equals and in some cases surpasses the time and service of the great trunk lines of the East. We often make 90 miles an hour over the standard gauge rowbed that equals any in this country. The cars are all new. The engines are the latest up to date kind. The cars are built for comfort and convenience. The trains are all electric lighted steam heated and have every modern convenience for the safety and comfort of the passengers. This road in common with some of the eastern roads employs chair car porters in addition to the poleman porters. On all trains from Salt Lake to Los Angeles there are three or four poleman porters and one chair car porter. All trains have dining cars which are in reality magnificent dining rooms where three times a day the dainties of the season are prepared by a competent chef to satisfy the most discriminating inner man. The furnishings of these cars, the fine linen, the artistic glass china and silverware are guaranteed to make you enjoy your meal even if you have got dyspepsia. Besides the dining car and the poleman sleeping cars there is attached to all overland trains on the Salt Lake route a through tourist sleeper which differs from the poleman sleeper only in a slight difference in the furnishings. The service is the same but the cost of a birth in them between Salt Lake and Los Angeles is just one half that of the standard sleeper. I have never run on a road where better service, more courteous treatment or better time was made than on the SPLA and SL railroad. In these latter years when progress is the watchword of the railroads in common with the other industries of the country no expense or pains are spared by the railroad people to add to the comfort, enjoyment, safety and convenience of the traveling public. Until now it is about as safe to travel as it is to stay at home and not much if any more expensive. But in spite of all safeguards adopted by the railroads a wreck occurs once in a while the same as accidents occur at home. The first wreck I was in the train struck a split switch with the result that the cars turned over and piled up in a ditch. That happened in Colorado. We were forced to crawl out through the windows like a prairie dog out of his hole. No one was killed but the passengers were all pretty well shaken up and somewhat scared. As soon as the cars got comfortably piled up and the passengers were able to speak they all commenced yelling for the porter. But at that particular moment the porter was busy rubbing his shins and assuring himself there was nothing to be scared about. The passengers at such times are apt to forget that the porter is as scared as they are and has forgotten all about tips and such commonplace matters as that. But after he gets his wits about him he loses no time in looking after his flock and rendering assistance to such of his passengers as needed and most of them do need assistance of some kind if for no other reason than to be assured that they are not hurt. The Pullman porter of today must be a very versatile sort of a person. He must have plenty of patience be a good judge of human nature, quick kind and observant. Many are the times a gouty and crusty passenger has traveled in my car who was in such a bad humor that it was next to impossible to please him. Yet before he had ridden a hundred miles with me I had him in good humor and laughing with the rest of the passengers. Laugh and the whole world laughs with you. It is by no means an uncommon thing for us porters to be called upon to turn nurse for sick or invalid passengers in our car and often have I watched by the bedside of a sick passenger feeding him, giving him medicine, bathing him and in fact becoming for the time being a hospital nurse. And many are the blessings I have received from my sick passengers both men and women whose pain I have eased in their last moments on earth I have cheered. And this, dear reader, we do in the name of humanity and not in the name of tips. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. The Life and Adventures of Nat Love, Written by Nat Love. Chapter 20 The Tourist's Sleeping Car. The Chair Car. The Safeguards of Modern Railroading. See America, then let your chests well with pride that you are an American. The Pullman Tourist's Sleeping Car, which you can find on all through trains of the different railroads throughout the United States, are to the traveler of moderate means what the Pullman Car is to the millionaire traveler. They are designed for the comfort and convenience of the traveling public to whom the expenditure of a dollar more or less is a matter of moment and who cannot afford or do not care for the small extra show and tinsel of the Pullman's Sleeping Car, but whose only desire is to make their journey pleasant, comfortable and safe. This they can do as well in the tourist as in the standard sleeping car. There is a difference in price that will amount to a tidy sum in a long trip across the continent, but that fact does not always appeal to the traveling public, as I have had the poorest of passengers in the palace car and at other times a millionaire in his family would be my passengers in the tourist cars. It seems to me a matter of fact, and one which my long experience seems to verify, that the American traveler does not care so much about his comfort as his ability to get there, as the average American traveler is always in a hurry, and in nine cases out of ten he is thinking more about the speed of the train than he is about his immediate surroundings or the price he had paid for his ticket. The railroads knowing this have made and are continually making every effort to add to the speed and safety of their trains, but traveling long distances is a tiresome matter at the best, and for that reason the railroads are continually making improvements with a view to add to the comfort, convenience and pleasure of the traveler. And in a journey such as one from Chicago to Los Angeles for instance, there is no time to stop for meals in such trivial matters as a shave, as time is money lost to most of the passengers and to the railroad company also. For that reason the sleeping car is provided that you may sleep with as much comfort as if you were in your own home. The dining car is provided to furnish you a good meal on the fly and at a price that all can afford. The library and drawing room cars are provided where you can make yourself as comfortable as you can in your own house. The porter will get your morning paper, furnish you with writing materials or your morning high ball, and look after you like a hen after her brood. But on all railroads there are rules governing the passengers as well as the employees, the same as there are in all lines of business. A passenger may not for instance smoke in the body of the Pullman car but must retire to the drawing room or his state room. As an instance in point I had JJ Corbett for a passenger in my car between Ogden and Chicago, a gentleman who was at that time in the height of his career and naturally thought he owned the earth or a large part of it at any rate. He came in the sleeper from the dining car, lit a cigar, propped his feet upon the opposite seat and prepared for a comfortable smoke. But it was against the rules to smoke in that part of the car so I approached him and politely requested him not to smoke in that part of the car. He regarded me a few moments and with a sneer said, so you are Mr. Pullman are you? I told him I was not Mr. Pullman but I was in charge of one of Mr. Pullman's cars and for that reason I was a representative of Mr. Pullman and that it was strictly against the rules to smoke in that part of the car and that if he wished to smoke he would have to go to the drawing room. He went but the sleeping car conductor who had watched the incident told me I had better look out or Corbett would have my scout. I told the conductor I was not scared and that if Corbett hadn't gotten out I would have thrown him out, all of which I meant but the conductor shook his head and said to look out. Sure enough the matter was reported to the superintendent but that official on hearing the facts in the matter said I had done perfectly right in what I was paid to do. It is necessary that all passengers as well as all employees shall observe the rules of the company for the benefit, safety and enjoyment of all the passengers and employees alike. All the railroad men I have met from the president down have all proved themselves jolly good fellows kind, considerate and always ready to render assistance and service to those in need but at the same time they are strict about the rules and discipline. Thoroughly understanding their business themselves they insist on the beginner obeying instructions in the laws of the road because on that depends the lives of hundreds of people and the value of thousands of dollars worth of property and for the same reason they are expending thousands of dollars annually in new appliances, inventions and equipment that will add to the saving of time or ensure the safety of the traveler. Among the new inventions adopted by the modern railroads are the block system which makes collisions between two trains approaching each other on the same track almost an impossibility if the engineer is awake and attentive to business. Under this system when the trains approach a certain distance of each other a bell is rung in the cab of each locomotive simultaneously and will continue to ring until the danger is over. This with the powerful electric headlights now used with which the roadbed is lit up for a distance of five miles makes a head on collision almost impossible. While the air brakes heavy rails solid roadbed doing away with the sharp curves and heavy grades all add to the safety of the passengers in the saving of many miles in travel and many precious moments. It has always seemed strange to me that so many Americans rush off to Europe and foreign countries every year in search of health and pleasure or to climb the Alps in Switzerland and to view the scenery of the old world when our own North America the New World offers so many better opportunities to study Dame Nature in all her phases. I always say to the traveling American, see America. How many of you have done so? Only those who have seen this grand country of ours can justly appreciate the grandeur of our mountains and rivers, valley and plain canyon and gorge, lakes and springs, cities and towns. The grand evidences of God's handiwork scattered all over this fair land over which waves the stars and stripes. Go to New York and view the tall buildings, the Brooklyn Bridge, the subway, study the works of art to be found there both in statuary and painting, ponder on the vast volume of commerce carried on with the outside world. Note the many different styles of architecture displayed in the Palace of the Millionaire in the House of the Humble Tradesmen. View the magnificent Hudson River and the country homes along its grassy treeline shores. Note the ships from every climb riding an anchor in the East River. Then speculate on the changes that have been wrought in the course of the short time since Manhattan Island was purchased from the Indians by Pete Minuet for a few blankets and beads amounting in value to twenty-four dollars. Then board the Pennsylvania Limited, whose trains are the acme of modern railroading and go to Washington, the nation's capital city. Walk along Pennsylvania Avenue and notice beauty. Visit the capital and let your chests swell out with pride that you are an American. Visit the Tomb of General Grant in a thousand to one magnificent statues scattered throughout the city. Visit Annapolis and West Point, where the leaders of the nation's navy and army are trained. Walk over the battlefields of Fredericksburg, Gettysburg and Lexington and let your mind speculate on the events that made modern history. Note the majestic Potomac and the Washington Monument. Take a short trip north and see the great Niagara Falls. Listen to what they tell you in their mighty roaring voice. Go to Pittsburgh, where the great steel works are located, and see how the steel pen and the steel cannon are made. Go to Chicago, that western hive of commerce. See the great lakes or better still take a cruise on them. Note the great lumber industry of Michigan and the traffic of the lakes. Go to Kansas City and Omaha and see the transformation of the Texas steer into the corned beef you ate at your last picnic. Or was it chip beef? See the immense stockyards with their thousands of cattle hogs and sheep and think of the thousands of people that they feed. Cross the Missouri River and enter on the plains of the great and recently unknown west. Think of the pioneer who in 1849 traversed these once barren stretches of prairie, walking beside his slow moving ox team, seeking the promised land, breaking a trail for the generations that were to come after him as you are coming now in a Pullman car. Think of the dangers that beset him on every hand, then wonder at the nervy head, then again let your chest swell with pride that you are an American, sprung from the same stock that member composed of in those days. Note the grandeur of the rocky mountains as they rise from the plains, their peak snow-capped, glistening in clear blue sky. Breathe the pure essence of life, drink of the crystal streams twinkling down their sides, then scorn the wine made by man. Listen to the salute of the bells and the whistles as the trains approach and pass that strange monument of nature's handiwork, the Mount of the Holy Cross. Go to the Yellowstone National Park and revel in the wonders thereof. Walk in the garden of the gods and listen to the voice of the giant geyser as it sends forth its torrents of boiling water. Bade in the life-giving springs and mud-baths. Note the fantastic forms of the rocks and trees carved by the hand of nature. Then go to Colorado Springs and climb Pike's Peak and behold the world stretched out before you in Valley, Mountain and Plain. Visit the mines of Leadville and Cripple Creek, the storehouses of a part of the nation's wealth. Visit Denver and see the strides made in the improvement of the West in a short time. Board the Denver and Rio Grand Train and note the magnificent scenery of mountain, canyons, gorgeous, and the beautiful mountain lakes and streams. Note the grand canyon of the Colorado, the Royal Gorge. Now note the great wide expanse of the great Salt Lake as it lies glistening in the rays of the setting sun and think of the stories you have heard of it until the conductor brings you back to earth with the cry of Ogden. Note this bustling railroad center in the heart of the Rocky Mountains and acknowledge our country's greatness. Visit Salt Lake City, the city of Zion, the Canaan of the New World. See the beautiful city nestling within the protection of the wassage and ochre range of mountains. Walk its wide treeline streets, visit the Tabernacle, and hear the sweet strains of the world's greatest organs. See the Mormon Temple. Visit Salt Air and sport in the waves of the briny sea. Board the San Pedro, Los Angeles and Salt Lake Westbound train and cross the end of the same lake, one of nature's wonders. Cross the Desert of Nevada, which was only a short time ago a desert waste, on and on until you smell the orange blossoms of sunny California and the train emerges from the mountains and brings in to view the grand Pacific Ocean. See the big trees of California, the seals, and the scenery of the Yosemite Valley. Visit the orange groves and the vineyards in partake of the orange and the grape. Visit Catalina Island in the Pacific Ocean and try a couple of hours fishing in its waters. Then take the Southern Pacific and return to New York by way of Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, New Orleans, Florida, and other southern states. Then again let your chests swell with pride that you are an American. I think you will agree with me that this grand country of ours is the peer of any in the world and that volumes cannot begin to tell of the wonders of it. Then after taking such a trip you will say with me, See America. I have seen a large part of America and am still seeing it.