 CHAPTER ONE OF THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF NAT LOVE, ALSO KNOWN AS DEADWOOD DICK. THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF NAT LOVE, BETTER KNOWN IN THE CATTLE COUNTRY AS DEADWOOD DICK, BY HIMSELF. A TRUE HISTORY OF SLAVERY DAYS, LIFE IN THE GREAT CATTLE RANGES AND ON THE PLANES OF THE WILD AND WOLLY WEST, BASED ON FACTS AND PERSONAL EXPERIENCES OF THE AUTHOR. CHAPTER ONE. SLAVERY DAYS. THE OLD PLANTATION, MY EARLY FORAGING, THE STOLEN DEMME JOHN, MY FIRST STRANK, THE CURSE OF SLAVERY. In an old log cabin on my master's plantation in Davidson County in Tennessee in June, 1854, I first saw the light of day. The exact date of my birth I never knew, because in those days no account was kept as such trivial matters as the birth of a slave-baby. They were born and died, and the account was balanced in the gains and losses of the master's chattels, and one more or less did not matter much one way or another. My father and mother were owned by Robert Love, an extensive planter and the owner of many slaves, he was in his way, and in comparison with many other slave-owners of those days, a kind and indulgent master. My father was a sort of foreman of the slaves on the plantation, and my mother presided over the kitchen at the big house in my master's table, and among her other duties were to milk the cows and run the loom, weaving clothing for the other slaves. This left her scant time to look after me, so I early acquired the habit of looking out for myself. The other members of father's family were my sister Sally, about eight years old, and my brother Jordan, about five. My sister Sally was supposed to look after me when my mother was otherwise occupied, but between my sister's duties of helping mother and chasing the flies from master's table, I received very little looking after for many of the family. Therefore necessity compelled me at an early age to look after myself and rustle my own grub. My earliest recollections are of pushing a chair in front of me and toddling from one to the other of my master's family to get a mouthful to eat like a pet dog, and later on as I became older, making raids on the garden to satisfy my hunger, much to the damage of the young onions, watermelons, turnips, sweet potatoes, and other things I could find to eat. We had to use much caution during these raids on the garden, because we well knew what we would catch if someone caught us, but much practice made us experts in escaping undetected. One day when master and the family went to town, mother decided to make some wine of which she was very fond. Accordingly she gathered some grapes, and after pressing them she made some fairly good wine. This she placed in a dimmy-john, and this for better security she hid in the garden as she thought unknown to anyone, but my brother, sister, and myself had been watching the process with considerable curiosity, which finally reached such a pitch that there was nothing to it. We must sample a liquid that looks so good. So Jordan went to the hayloft from where a good view could be obtained all around, while myself and Sally busied ourselves in the vineyard. Sally mother, thinking all secure, left the house with the dimmy-john and proceeded to hide it. Jordan from the hayloft noted that mother never left the garden until she returned to the house empty-handed, but he was unable to see the exact hiding-place. It was several days later while passing through the garden that we ran across the lost dimmy-john. It did not take us long to discover that its contents suited our tastes. Sally and Jordan dragged it into a sweet-corn patch, where we were safe from observation. An oyster can was secured to serve as a glass, and the way we attacked that wine was a caution to the temperance-workers, and I can assure you we enjoyed ourselves for a while. But for how long I am unable to tell exactly. Mother soon missed us, but being very busy she could not look for us until evening when she started out to look us up. After searching and calling in vain she decided to take the dogs to help find us. With their aid we were soon located lying in the sweet-corn, dead drunk, while the dimmy-john, quite empty, bottom side-up stared at mother with a reproachful stare, bearing mute witness against us. Mother picked me up and took me into the house and let Sally and Jordan lie in the sweet-corn all night to dwell on the events. Immediately preceding our return to consciousness is a painful subject to me, as it was exceedingly painful then. I was most feverish the next day with a head on my shoulder several sizes larger than the one I was used to wearing. Sally and Jordan were enjoying about the same health as myself, but the state of our health did not exempt us from mother's wrath. We all received a good sound old-fashioned thrashing, a fitting ending to my first drunk. I suppose I acquired the taste for strong drink on this occasion. Be that as it may the fact remains that I could out-drink any man I ever met in the cattle-country. I could drink large quantities of the very stuff they called whisky on the range without it affecting me in any way, and I have never been downright drunk since that time in the sweet-corn patch. Our plantation was situated in the heart of the black belt of the South, and on the plantations all around us were thousands of slaves all engaged in garnering the dollars that kept up the so-called aristocracy of the South, and many of the proud old families owe their standing and wealth to the toil and sweat of the black man's brow, where if they had to pay the regular rate of wages to hire laborers to cultivate their largest apes, their wealth would not have amounted to a third of what it was. Wealth was created, commerce carried on, cities built, and the new world wealth started on the career that has led to its present greatness and standing in the world of nations. All this was accomplished by the sweat of the black man's brow. By black man I do not mean to say only the black man, for the black woman and black child all helped to make the proud South what it was, the boast of every white man and woman with a drop of southern blood in their veins. And what did the black man get in return? His keep and care, you say. He gods and little fishes, is there a man living today who will be willing to do the work performed by the slaves of that time for the same returns, his care and keep? No, my friends, we did it because we were forced to do it by the dominant race. We had as taskmasters in many instances perfect devils in human form, men who delighted in torturing the black human beings over whom chance and the accident of birth had placed them. I have seen men beaten to the ground with the butts of the long whips carried by these brutal overseers and for no other reason than that they could not raise to their shoulders a load sufficient for four men to carry. I have seen the long, cruel lash curl around the shoulders of women who refused to comply with the licentious wishes of the men who own them body and soul. Did I say soul? No, they did not own their soul. That belonged to God alone, and many are the souls that have returned to him who gave them rather than submit to the desires of their masters, desires to which submission was worse than death. I have seen the snake-like lash draw blood from the tender limbs of mere babies, hardly more than able to toddle, their only offence being that their skin was black, and young as I was my blood often boiled as I witnessed these cruel sights, knowing that they were allowed by the laws of the land in which I was born. I used to think it was not the country's fault, but the fault of the men who made the laws. Of all the curses of this fair land the greatest curse of all was the slave auction block of the south where human flesh was bought and sold. Husbands were torn from their wives, the baby from its mother's breast, and the most sacred commands of God were violated under the guise of modern law. The law of the land which for more than two hundred years has boasted of its freedom and the freedom of its people. Some of the slaves, like us, had kind and indulgent masters. These were lucky indeed as their lot was somewhat improved over their less fortunate brothers. But even their lot was the same as that of the horse or cow of the present day. They were never allowed to get anything in the nature of education as smart negroes were not in much demand at that time, and the reason was too apparent. Education meant the death of the institution of slavery in this country, so the slave-owners took good care that their slaves got none of it. Go and see the play of Uncle Tom's cabin, and you will see the black man's life as I saw it when a child. And Harriet Beecher Stowe, the black man's saviour, well deserves the sacred shrine she holds along with the Great Lincoln in the black man's heart. CHAPTER II. WAR. The Rebels and Yankees. I raise a regiment to fight. Difficulty in finding an enemy. Ash cake. Freedom. When I was ten years old the war broke out between the north and the south, and there was little else talked about among the slaves as well as the slave-owners of the neighbourhood, and naturally the many different stories we heard worked us children to a high state of excitement, so much so that we wanted to go to war and fight for the union, because among us slave-children there was no difference of opinion as to which side was right. The union was it, and we were all Yankees. Not being able to go to war as our masters did, we concluded the play war. Accordingly I gathered all the boys of the neighbourhood together into a regiment, which it was my intention to divide into two parties of rebels and Yankees, but in this I met an insurmountable obstacle. Not one of the boys wanted to be a rebel. Consequently we had to look elsewhere for an enemy to give us battle and serve as a vent for our growing enthusiasm. The next Sunday preceding the organisation of our regiment we started out over the surrounding country in quest of trouble, which we were not long in finding as we soon ran across a nest of yellow jackets. These we proceeded to exterminate, in which we were successful after a short but destructive battle. We suffered considerably and wounded but lost none of our soldiers. This engagement we called the capture of Fort Hell. For some time thereafter we made regular raids into the surrounding country in quest of an enemy. We were eventually successful in our quest as in quick order we ran across and captured a company of bumblebees. This we called the Battle of the Wilderness. Victory over a nest of hornets we called the capture of Fort Sumter. A large nest of wasps gave us perhaps the hardest fight of our campaigning. This we ran across in the fields not far from home. There was an unusually large number of them, and as is usually the case with these insects they proved very ferocious. Nothing loath however we attacked with cheers, only to be driven back time and again, and finally we were compelled to make a very undignified retreat at full speed in the direction of home. Not to be beaten however we secured reinforcements and more ammunition in the shape of old rags, brooms and so forth, and returned to the charge. And although we were driven back several times we stayed until we won out, and the last insect lay a quivering mass on the ground. There was not one among us not wounded in some manner. As for myself I had enough of it. My nose looked like a Dutch slipper, and it was several days before my eyes were able to perform the duties for which they were made. However the Union forces were victorious, and we were happy. Our masters told us if the soldiers caught us they would hang us all, which had the effect of keeping most of us close around home. Master had gone to join Lee's forces, taking with him father, who was engaged in building forts, which work kept him with a Confederate army until General Grant arrived in the country when he was allowed to come home. From then on Union soldiers passed the neighborhood most every day on their way south to join the fighting regiments. We soon found out they would not hurt us, and they were the wonderment and pride of our youthful minds. They would take everything they could find to eat for themselves in their horses, leaving the plantations stripped clean of provisions and food which entailed considerable misery and hardships on those left at home, especially the colored people who were not used to such a state of affairs and were not accustomed to providing for their own wants. Finally Lee surrendered and Master returned home. But in common with other masters of those days he did not tell us we were free, and instead of letting us go he made us work for him the same as before. But in all other respects he was kind. He moved our log cabin on a piece of ground on a hill owned by him, and in most respects things went on the same as before the war. It was quite a while after this that we found out we were free and good news like bad news sometimes travels fast. It was not long before all the slaves in the surrounding country were celebrating their freedom, and Massa Lincoln was the hero of us all. While a great many slaves rejoiced at the altered state of affairs, still many were content to remain as before and work for their old masters in return for their keep. My father however decided to start out for himself. To that end he rented twenty acres of land including that on which our cabin stood from our late master. We were at this time in a most destitute condition, and father had a very hard time to get a start. Without food or money and almost snaked we existed for a time on the only food procurable, bran and cracklings. The limited supply of provisions made the culinary duties most simple, much to the disgust of mother, who was one of the best cooks in the country. But beggars cannot be choosers and she very cheerfully proceeded to make the best of what we had. She would make a great fire in the large fireplace in the cabin. The fire went hot enough was raked from the hearth in a small place cleaned away. In the center of this clean place mother would lay a cabbage leaf on which she would pour some batter made from bran and water or buttermilk and a little salt. Then on top another cabbage leaf was laid and hot coals raked over the hole and in a short time it would be baked nicely. This we called ash cake. This, with occasional cracklings, made up our entire bill of fare for many months. Father would make brooms and mats from straw and chair bottoms from cane and reeds in which my brother and I would help him after he had taught us how. During the week a large load was made and Friday night father would take the load on his shoulders and walk to town a dozen miles where he would sell them and bring seed and food home. When the weather would permit we worked in the field preparing for our first crop. The twenty acres being mostly uncullivated had to be cleared, plowed, and thoroughly harrowed. Our first crop consisted of corn, tobacco, and a few vegetables. Father would lay off the corn rows. Jordan and I would drop the corn while father came behind and covered the rows. In this manner we soon had in a considerable crop of corn and some vegetables for our own use. During the winter, which was sometimes severe, during which time nothing of course could be done in the farming line and when not otherwise engaged, we started to try and learn ourselves something in the educational line. Father could read a little and he helped us all with our ABCs, but it is hard work learning to read and write without a teacher and there was no school a black child could attend at that time. However we managed to make some headway. Then spring came and with it the routine of farm work. Father was a man of strong determination, not easily discouraged, and always pushing forward and upward quick to learn things and slow to forget them, a keen observer and a loving husband and father. Had he lived, this history would not have been written. Our first year of freedom, more privations, father dies, it never rains but it pours, I become the head of the family and start to work at a dollar fifty per month. As soon as the corn crop was in the ground we commenced to plant tobacco. Before the seed was sown it was necessary to gather large piles of brush and wood and burn it to ashes on the ground to destroy the seeds of the weeds. The ground was then spated and raked thoroughly in the seed sown. After it had come up and got a fair start it was transplanted and rose about three feet apart. When the plants became large enough it is necessary to pull the suckers off, also the worms off the leaves. This task fell upon Jordan and myself. In picking the worms off the plants it is necessary to use the greatest care that the plants are not damaged, but Jordan and I were afraid to touch the worms with our fingers so we took sticks and knocked them off, also a few leaves with each worm. This fact called for some rather strong language from father who said we were doing more harm than good. But our aversion to the worms was so strong that we took several thrashings before we could bring ourselves to use our fingers instead of a stick. When the tobacco was ripe there would be yellow spots on the leaves. It was then cut, let lie for one day, then hung on a scaffold to be sunkured. It was allowed to remain on the scaffold for perhaps a week, then it was hung up in the barn to be smoked, after which it was made into a big bulk and a weight placed on it to press it out. Then it was stripped and put into hands and then it was ready for the market. Our crop the first year was not large and the most of it went to pay the rent. The following winter proved a hard one and entailed considerable privation and suffering among the many ex-slaves who had so recently been thrown on their own resources without money or clothing or food and only those who have had the experience can appreciate the condition of things or rather lack of things at the close of the war and these conditions did not only affect the ex-slaves and colored people but covered the entire south and many former well-to-do slave owners now found themselves without a penny they could call their own having been stripped of everything and compelled to start all over again. Surely war is hell, but slavery is worse. Early in the spring Father went to work for a neighbouring planner a couple of weeks in order to get his plows and horses again to plow his land. A somewhat larger crop was put in this year, but unfortunately for us when everything was planted Father took sick and died shortly after. This was a stunning loss to us, just at a time when we most needed a father and husband's help, counsel and protection, but we did not lose courage for long. The crop must be looked after in the coming winter provided against. My sister Sally had been married about three years at this time and was with her husband and two little girls on a small farm some distance away which my brother-in-law rented. That left Mother Jordan and I to look after things. Although I was the youngest, I was the most courageous always leaving a mischief play in work, so I now took the leadership and became the head of the family. Things were beginning to take on a more hopeful look when my brother-in-law died, leaving my sister sick with two small children and in about the same circumstances as ourselves. Everything indeed looked hopeless now, as our late master and his brother had left the old place and gone north. So, remembering I was the only man on the place now, the only fifteen years old, I said to Mother and sister who were weeping bitterly, brace up and don't lose your heads. I will look after you all. I said this with a bravado I was far from feeling, but I could not see the use of weeping now that there was work to be done if we were to keep from starving the coming winter. We all turned in to help one another and in this manner the crop was gathered and we were in fairly good condition for the coming winter. But the work was too much for Sally, who lingered through the winter and early in the spring we later beside her father and husband and her two little orphans were left to us. It now became very apparent to me that something must be done because the crop raised the year before was barely enough to last us through the winter and we would soon be in actual need again. We needed clothing, especially the little girls of my sister, and we had no money to buy seed for this season's crop or food to last us out. So I concluded to go to work for someone if I could find anything to do. With that resolve I put on my best drags and to Mother's inquiry as to where I was going. I told her I did not know myself. It fairly made my heart ache to see my little nieces going around almost naked barefooted and have them always asking for things I was powerless to give them. I determined to go from place to place until I secured employment of some kind that would in a measure permit me to feed and as far as I was able close mother and the children now dependent on me. The fact that I was now free gave me newborn courage to face the world and what the future might hold in store for me. After tramping around the country for two days I finally secured work with a Mr. Brooks about six miles from home at one dollar and fifty cents a month. Notwithstanding the smallness of my perspective wages I was happy and returned home in a jubilant frame of mine to impart the news to Mother. I was to commence the next morning. Mother said it was not much but better than nothing. I told Mother that I thought I could bring some food and clothing home for the children before the month was out. The little ones hearing this were overjoyed and looked on me as a rich man indeed. Jordan was to remain at home and attend to what little there was to do and the next day I started work for Mr. Brooks. In less than a week I made my first visit home, taking with me some potatoes, bacon, cornmeal, and some molasses which I had rustled in various ways. I also had a bundle of old clothing given to me by the neighbors which Mother could make over for the children and to say the children were happy as but a mild expression. For the second month I received a raise of fifty cents and the third month of my employment so good did I work that I received three dollars. With so many at home to provide for my wages did not last long but out of my three dollars I bought each of the children a book. The rest went for provisions and clothing. One day while passing the store of a Mr. Graves near our home I saw a checked sun bonnet and a red calico dress which struck my fancy as just what I wanted for Mother. On asking the price Mr. Graves told me I could have the sun bonnet for twenty-five cents and the dress for four bits. That seemed to be within my means and quite reasonable. I asked him to keep them for me until I got my wages at the end of the month. This Mr. Graves promised to do if I would pay him something down. I only had fifteen cents of which I paid five cents on the bonnet and ten cents on the dress and went on my way filled with happy thoughts as the result of my bargain. I resolved to be very saving this month and I became very impatient for my month to end and was continually asking Mr. Brooks if my month was not soon over. He would laugh and say yes soon but it seemed to me that was the longest month I ever knew. When at last the month was over he gave me fifty cents claiming I had drawn my wages during the month. I knew that was not so. I also knew I had a balance coming to me and told him so. But he denied it and the result was that we had a fight. I hit him in the head with a rock and nearly killed him, after which I felt better. Then going to Mr. Graves the storekeeper I told him the whole trouble. He expressed sympathy for me and said to give him the fifty cents and take the bonnet and dress and we will call it Square. And you can imagine my feelings as I took the things home to mother and she was more pleased with them than any queen with her sulks and satins. There being plenty of work to do at home I did not again look for other work. The only thing that worried me was that the little ones were still without shoes but on my promise to soon get them some they were satisfied. It was here I got my first lessons in self dependence and life struggles. I learned true usefulness and acquired the habit of helping others which I carried with me all through my afterlife and that trait perhaps more than any other and dear me to my companions on the range and all with whom I have had dealings. End of Chapter 3 Chapter 4 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 4 Boyhood sports, more devilment, the rock battles, I hunt rabbits in my shirt tail, my first experience in rough riding, a question of breaking the horse or breaking my neck. In those days it was more the custom than now to work six days and rest on the seventh. Accordingly, us boys always had our Sundays free. And we never lost an opportunity to put in motion some devilment to make the time pass in what we thought was the most pleasant way. Anything to have a great time. Our chief means of having fun for a while was the rock battles. We boys of the entire neighborhood would get together, then divide in equal numbers on a side, then after gathering all the available rocks from the landscape we would proceed to have a pitched battle, throwing the rocks at each other as hard as we could and with a grim intent to commit battery. As a rational consequence the bravest would force the weaker side to retreat. It then became a question of running or being rocked to death. After these battles we were all usually in very bad condition having received very hard knocks on sundry and various parts of our anatomy. But for all that we have never bore malice toward each other. We were careful to keep these escapades in the knowledge of our elders. In this way we were quite successful until one time we had a boy nearly killed. Then we thought the old folks would whip us all to death. This incident ended the rock battles but we soon had something else doing to furnish ourselves fun and excitement. About this time we planned a rabbit hunt after the small cottontail rabbits which were plentiful in the surrounding country. Getting all the boys together and securing the track hounds of the neighborhood we were off. It was not long before the dogs caught track of something in a way they went with all the boys behind. Now at that time it was not customary for us boys of the plantation to wear shoes and pants. The principal reason being that we did not have either shoes or pants to wear. So you can perhaps imagine the sight presented by a score or more of boys of all ages chasing behind the hounds with our shirt tails flying through bushes thorns and brambles uphill and downhill. Many of us bleeding like stabbed pigs but we were too much interested to pay any attention to a little blood. We wanted the rabbits and everything else was of secondary importance even the calls of the younger boys who got tired and fell behind. Onward we went over rock through fields over fences until we could hear the dogs no more then tired out we had to stop. I told the boys to sit down that I thought the dogs would come this way again. It was not long before I thought I heard something and told the boys to hush and have their rocks ready to kill the rabbit. It never occurred to me that it could be anything but a rabbit. The bay of the dogs came nearer then over the fence jumped a big red fox right in front of me. He stopped and we looked in each other's eyes. It was hard to tell which of us was the most surprised however I was the first to run away and run I did. I ran like a black tailed deer. Many times I thought I felt him nibble at my shirt tails and his eyes grew in my imagination as large as wagon wheels and Mr. Fox himself seemed to grow as big as an elephant. When at last I dropped from sheer exhaustion and could some encourage to look behind me I could see nothing. It was then I realized I was not so game as I thought I was and the knowledge was not pleasant by any means. Not far from our house there was a horse ranch owned by a Mr. Williams. He had two sons about my own age and I would often go and see them on Sundays as I was very fond of riding horses. Most of the horses on the ranch were very wild so one day the oldest boy and I made a plan to break the young colts. The only chance we had of doing so was on Sunday when the family went to church as we did not think Mr. Williams would approve of our plan. Mr. Williams' boy said he would give me ten cents for every colt I broke. That was perfectly satisfactory to me. The money was made of shim plaster those days, paper. The next Sunday I started to break horses. We did not dare to put the bridal on them as we were afraid the boss might surprise us and we would not be quick enough to get it off. Our motive procedure was to drive one at a time in the barn, get it in a stall, then after much difficulty I would manage to get on its back. Then the door was opened and the pole removed and the horse liberated with me on its back. Then the fun would commence. The colt would run, jump, kick, and pitch around the barnyard in his efforts to throw me off. But he might as well have tried to jump out of his skin because I held on to his mane and stuck to him like a leech. The colt would usually keep up his bucking until he could buck no more and then I would get my ten cents. Ten cents is a small amount of money these days, but in those days that amount was worth more to me than ten dollars now. Well, we went on Sunday after Sunday and I broke about a dozen colts in this way and also managed to do it without the boss discovering the favor I was undoubtedly doing him and breaking all his wild horses. Only his boys were aware of the doings and they paid me, so I had no scruples about what I was doing, especially as it afforded me great fun. Finally the boys wanted me to break a big handsome black horse called Black Highwayman. Knowing the horse's uncertain temper and wild disposition and taking into consideration its size, I refused to break him for ten cents as the fact was I was rather scared of him. After considerable bargaining in which I held up for fifty cents we finally compromised on twenty five cents, but I can assure you it was more for the money than the fun of the thing that I finally consented to ride him. With great difficulty we managed to get him in a stall as we did the others, but I no sooner landed on his back than he jumped in the manger with me hanging to his mane. Finally the door was opened and the pole removed and out of the barn we shot like a black cloud. Around the yard we flew then over the garden fence. At this juncture the trackhounds became interested and promptly followed us. Over the fields we went the horse clearing the highest fences and other obstacles in his way with the greatest ease. My seat on his back was not the most comfortable place in the world, but as the horse did not evince any disposition to stop and let me get off I concluded to remain where I was. All the dogs of the neighborhood were fast joining in the race and I had quite a respectable following. After running about two miles we cleared a fence into a pasture where there was a large number of other horses and young colts who promptly stampeded as we joined them, highwaymen taking the lead with me on his back, looking very much like a toad. And all the dogs in the country strung out in the rear. Naturally we formed a spectacle that could not fail to attract the attention of the neighbors, who soon as possible mounted horses and started in pursuit and vainly tried to catch my black mount but could get nowhere near him while I, without bridle or anything to control him, could do nothing but let him run as all the other horses bunched around us and the dogs kept up a continual din. I simply held on and let him go. It was a question of breaking the horse or breaking my neck. We went over everything through everything until finally the killing pace told and black highwaymen fell, a thoroughly exhausted and completely conquered and well broken horse. As for myself, I was none the worse for my exciting ride, but on looking for my twenty-five cents I found it gone. The boys had paid me in advance as I insisted, and I had tied the money up in a corner of my shirt tail, and during my wild ride it had come untied and worked out. This was a great misfortune to me, and for a while I was inconsolable. I asked the boys if they would make it right, but no, they had paid me once and they refused to give me another quarter. This riled me considerable, and I told them all right to come again when they wanted a horse broken. That settled us and the horse breaking. The experiences I gained in riding during these times often stood me in good stead in after years during my wild life in the western plains. Mr. Williams, of course, heard of my last wild ride, but instead of being angry he seemed to see the funny side of it, which I could not. The spectators wondered how in the world I ever escaped a broken neck, and I have often wondered how I escaped in after years from situations that seem to be sure death. But escape I did, and am now hailing hearty without pain, with muscles like iron and able at any time to run a hundred yards in eleven seconds or jump a six-foot fence. End of Chapter Four Chapter Five 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 Five Home life, picking berries, the pigs commit larceny, nutting, we go to market, my first desire to see the world, I win a horse and a raffle, the last of home. I now settle down to the work around the farm, and the problem of making a living for those dependent on me. The crop was all in, and after attending to such work around home as had to be done, we found a source of revenue in gathering berries for market. Large quantities of blackberries and others grew wild in the woods nearby, and they always found a ready market. With small pails and a big basket, Mother and I would start out after the work at home was done. Reaching the woods, we would sit under the bushes and fill the pails, then empty them into the big basket until that was full, which usually comprised our day's work. One day, wishing to secure a large quantity of berries for market, we went early in the morning, and on reaching the woods we placed the big basket in what we thought was a safe place, and after some hours of industrious work the big basket was full of nice, ripe blackberries. We then proceeded to fill our pails again, which would be sufficient for the day. This accomplished we prepared to start for home. But when Mother went to take the big basket, it was empty. The stray pigs had found them and committed larceny. Mother felt so bad she cried. We had put in a hard day's work for nothing. It had been our intention to take them to town on the morrow and buy something for Sunday, but now the fruit of our labor was gone and the disappointment was great. I looked at Mother, then at the empty basket, and did not know for which to feel most sorry. So I said, while there's no use grieving over spilt milk, if we had not had them we could not have lost them, and there are plenty more of the same kind for the picking. Mother turned toward me and said, with a look I will always remember, my boy whatever happens you never get discouraged. I did not see the use of losing courage, and I think the only time I weakened was when Father died, as he could not be replaced. We went on talking and picking berries, and before we knew it the basket was full again and the pails. It was now night so Mother took the bushel basket on her head and I took the pails and we were soon home. That night Mother took my clothing as was customary and washed and pressed it, so I would look nice and clean to go to market the next day. As I only had one outfit of clothes I had necessarily to go without them during the washing process. However Mother always kept me clean at considerable labor on her part. The next morning early Mother and I started for town five miles distant, walking along the hot dusty road each of us with a basket of berries on our heads and bunches of cucumbers in our hands, Mother having much the larger load, but she was a very strong woman. As it chanced we had a lucky day and sold our stock of berries and cucumbers in a short time. We then bought what we needed and had a little money left, but for all that I was not quite satisfied. I wanted Mother to buy something that was not necessary, but she said, My son, if we don't save a few cents now what will it be later on? We will have to go to the poor house. I said, Dear Mother, if there is a house poorer than ours I don't want to see it. I will always remember the sight of Mother's face as she turned to me. The tears running down her cheeks as she answered. Yes, my son, you are right. There are few houses poorer than ours now. That same year when fall came Mother and I thought we had the bull by the horns. There were several fine groves of walnut, hickory nut, chestnut, and surely bark nut trees in the woods, and I made a slay on which I nailed a big box. I tied a rope for a tongue and with a stick on the end Mother and I working as a sort of double team would draw through the woods among the trees gathering the different kinds of nuts and as the box was big large quantities could be gathered in this manner. During the nut season we worked every day from morning to night gathering large quantities of nuts for which we always found a ready market. As we worked we talked of what we would buy with the money and making plans for the future. The nuts we sold usually brought us chestnuts one dollar a bushel, walnuts fifty cents, and hickory nuts fifty cents a bushel. This money added to the proceeds of the crop netted us quite a nice sum and made our condition much better. But I assure you dear readers it took hard work from morning to night to make both ends meet, but with the help of God we made them meet and during this time we were always healthy and the knowledge that we were free and working for ourselves gave us courage to continue the struggle. It was about this time that I commenced thinking about going west. I wanted to see more of the world and as I began to realize there was so much more of the world than what I had seen the desire to go grew on me from day to day. It was hard to think of leaving mother and the children, but freedom is sweet and I wanted to make more of the opportunity in my life than I could see possible around home. Besides I suppose I was a little selfish as mortals are prone to be. Finally the desire to go out in the world grew so strong that I mentioned it to mother, but she did not give me much encouragement, and I don't think she thought I had the courage to go and besides I had neither clothing nor money and to tell the truth the outlook was discouraging even to me, but I continued to look for an opportunity which happened in a very unexpected manner shortly after. One day a man by the name of Johnson announced that he would raffle a fine beautiful horse at fifty cents a chance. I heard of it at once, but had no money with which to get a chance. However when there's a will there's a way, so I went to the barn and caught two chickens which I sold for fifty cents and at once got a chance. My chance won the horse. Mr. Johnson said he would give me fifty dollars for the horse and as I needed the money more than the horse I sold the horse back again. Mr. Johnson at once raffled him off again and again I won the horse which I again sold for fifty dollars. With nearly a hundred dollars I went home and told mother of what I had done and gave her half of the money telling her I would take the other half and go out in the world and try and better my condition. I then went to town and bought some underwear and other needful articles intending to leave at once, but mother pleaded with me so hard to stay home that I finally consented to remain one more month. But at the end of that time she pleaded for one more and I could not refuse her. During this time my uncle came to live with us and I asked him to take my place at home. This he consented to do gladly. Things were going on fairly well at home now. The farm was yielding a fair living and the children having grown much larger were a source of help instead of a hindrance and now that my uncle and my brother Jordan were home to look after mother I felt I could better leave them now because I was not really needed at home. After gathering what few things I wanted to take with me and providing myself with some needed clothes I bade mother in the old home farewell and started out for the first time alone in a world I knew very little about. CHAPTER VI THE WORLD IS BEFORE ME. I joined the Texas Cowboys, Red River Dick, my first outfit, my first indian fight. I learned to use my gun. It was on the tenth day of February 1869 that I left the old home near Nashville, Tennessee. I was at that time about fifteen years old and though while young in years the hard work and farm life had made me strong and hearty much beyond my years and I had full confidence in myself as being able to take care of myself and making my way. I at once struck out for Kansas of which I had heard something and believing it was a good place in which to seek employment. It was in the west and it was a great west I wanted to see and so by walking and occasional lifts from farmers going my way and taking advantage of everything that promised to assist me on my way I eventually brought up at Dodge City, Kansas, which at that time was a typical frontier city with a great many saloons, dance halls and gambling houses and very little of anything else. When I arrived the town was full of cowboys from the surrounding ranches and from Texas and other parts of the west as Kansas was a great cattle center and market. The wild cowboy, prancing horses of which I was very fond and the wildlife generally all had their attractions for me and I decided to try for a place with them. Going around among the cowboys I watched my chances to get to speak with them as I wanted to find someone whom I thought would give me a civil answer to the questions I wanted to ask but they all seemed too wild around town so the next day I went out where they were in camp. Although it seemed to me I had met with a bad outfit at least some of them I approached a party who were eating their breakfast and got to speak with them. They asked me to have some breakfast with them which invitation I gladly accepted. During the meal I got a chance to ask them many questions. They proved to be a Texas outfit who would just come up with a herd of cattle and having delivered them or preparing to return. There were several colored cowboys among them and good ones too. After breakfast I asked the camp boss for a job as a cowboy. He asked me if I could ride a wild horse. I said yes sir. He said if you can I will give you a job. So he spoke to one of the colored cowboys called Bronco Jim and told him to go out and rope old good-eye, saddle him and put me on his back. Bronco Jim gave me a few pointers and told me to look out for the horse was especially bad on pitching. I told Jim I was a good rider and not afraid of him. I thought I had rode pitching horses before, but from the time I mounted old good-eye I knew I had not learned what pitching was. This proved the worst horse to ride I had ever mounted in my life, but I stayed with him and the cowboys were the most surprised outfit you ever saw as they had taken me for a tenderfoot, pure and simple. After the horse got tired and I dismounted the boss said he would give me a job and pay me thirty dollars per month and more later on. He asked what my name was and I answered Nat Love and he said to the boys we'll call them Red River Dick. I went by this name for a long time. The boss took me to the city and got my outfit which consisted of a new saddle, bridal and spurs, chaps, a pair of blankets and a fine forty-five Colt revolver. Now that the business which brought them to Dodge City was concluded preparations were made to start out for the panhandle country in Texas to the home ranch. The outfit of which I was now a member was called the Duvall outfit and their brand was known as the Pigpen brand. I worked with this outfit for over three years. On this trip there were only about fifteen of us riders, all accepting myself for hearty experienced men, always ready for anything that might turn up, but they were as jolly a set of fellows as one could find in a long journey. There now being nothing to keep us longer in Dodge City we prepared for the return journey and left the next day over the old Dodge and Sun City Lonesome Trail on a journey which was to prove the most eventful of my life up to now. A few miles out we encountered some of the hardest hailstorms I ever saw causing discomfort to man and beast, but I had no notion of getting discouraged but I resolved to be always ready for any call that might be made on me of whatever nature it might be and those with whom I have lived and worked will tell you I have kept that resolve. Not far from Dodge City on our way home we encountered a band of the old Victoria tribe of Indians and had a sharp fight. These Indians were nearly always harassing travelers and traders in the stockmen of that part of the country and were very troublesome. In this band we encountered there were about a hundred painted bucks all well mounted. When we saw the Indians they were coming after us yelling like demons. As we were not expecting Indians at this particular time we were taken somewhat by surprise. We only had fifteen men in our outfit but nothing daunted we stood our ground and fought the Indians to a stand. One of the boys was shot off his horse and killed near me. The Indians got his horse bridal and saddle. During this fight we lost all but six of our horses, our entire packing outfit and our extra saddle horses which the Indians stampeded then rounded them up after the fight and drove them off. And as we only had six horses left us we were unable to follow them although we had the satisfaction of knowing we had made several good Indians out of bad ones. This was my first Indian fight and likewise the first Indians I had ever seen. When I saw them coming after us and heard their blood curdling yell I lost all courage and thought my time had come to die. I was too badly scared to run some of the boys told me to use my gun and shoot for all I was worth. Now I had just got my outfit and had never shot a gun in my life but their words brought me back to earth and seeing they were all using their guns in a way that showed they were used to it I unlimbered my artillery and after the first shot I lost all fear and fought like a veteran. We soon routed the Indians and they left taking with them nearly all we had and we were powerless to pursue them. We were compelled to finish our journey home almost on foot as there were only six horses left to fourteen of us. Our friend and companion who was shot in the fight we buried on the plains wrapped in his blanket with stones piled over his grave. After this engagement with the Indians I seemed to lose all sense as to what fear was and thereafter during my whole life on the range I never experienced the least feeling of fear no matter how trying no ordeal or how desperate my position. The home ranch was located on the Palo Duro River in the western part of the Panhandle, Texas, which we reached in the latter part of May it taking us considerably over a month to make the return journey home from Dodge City. I remained in the employ of the Duval outfit for three years making regular trips to Dodge City every season and to many other places in the surrounding states with herds of horses and cattle for market and to be delivered to other ranch owners all over Texas, Wyoming and the Dakotas. By strict attention to business born of a genuine love of the free and wild life of the range and absolute fearlessness I became known throughout the country as a good all-around cowboy and a splendid hand in a stampede. After returning from one of our trips north with a bunch of cattle in the fall of 1872 I received and accepted a better position with a Pete Gallinger company whose immense range was located on the Hilo River in southern Arizona. So after drawing the balance of my pay from the Duval company and bidding good-bye to the true and tried companions of the past three years who had learned me the business and been with me in many a trying situation it was with genuine regret that I left them for my new position, one that meant more to me in pay and experience. I stayed with Pete Gallinger company for several years and soon became one of their most trusted men taking an important part in all the big roundups and cuttings throughout western Texas, Arizona and other states where the company had interests to be looked after. Sometimes riding 80 miles a day for days at a time over the trails of Texas and the surrounding country and naturally I soon became well known among the cowboys, rangers, scouts and guides. It was my pleasure to meet in my wanderings over the country in the wake of immense herds of the Longhorn, Texas cattle, and large bands of range horses. Many of these men who were my companions on the trail and in camp have since become famous in story and history and a braver, truer set of men never lived than these wild sons of the plains whose home was in the saddle and their couch mother earth with the sky for a covering. They were always ready to share their blanket and their last ration with a less fortunate fellow companion and always assisted each other in the many trying situations that were continually coming up in a cowboy's life. When we were not on the trail taking large herds of cattle or horses to market or to be delivered to other ranches, we were engaged in range riding, moving large numbers of cattle from one grazing range to another, keeping them together and hunting up strays which, despite the most earnest efforts of the range riders, would get away from the main herd and wander for miles over the plains before they could be found, overtaken and return to the main herd. Then the Indians and the white outlaws who infested the country gave us no end of trouble as they lost no opportunity to cut out and run off the choicest part of a herd of Longhorns or the best of a band of horses, causing the cowboys a ride of many a long mile over the dusty plains in pursuit and many are the fierce engagements we had when after a long chase of perhaps hundreds of miles over the ranges we overtook the thieves. It then became a case of to the victor belongs the spoils as there was no law respected in this wild country except the law of might and the persuasive qualities of the 45 Colt pistol. Accordingly it became absolutely necessary for a cowboy to understand his gun and know how to place its contents where it would do the most good. Therefore I, in common with my other companions, never lost an opportunity to practice with my 45 Colts, and the opportunities were not lacking by any means, and so in time I became fairly proficient and able in most cases to hit a barn door, providing the door was not too far away, and was steadily improving in this as I was in experience and knowledge of the other branches of the business which I had chosen as my life's work and which I had begun to like so well because while the life was hard and in some ways exacting yet it was free and wild and contained the elements of danger which my nature craved and which began to manifest itself when I was a pugnacious youngster on the old plantation in our rock battles and the breaking of the wild horses. I gloried in the danger and the wild and free life of the plains. The new country I was continually traversing, and the many new scenes and incidents continually arising in the life of a rough rider. CHAPTER VII 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 VII I learned to speak Spanish and a made cheap brand reader. The big round-ups. Riding the 7YL stair. Long rides. HUNTING STRAYS. Having now fairly begun my life as a cowboy, I was fast learning the many ins and outs of the business while my many romings over the range country gave me a knowledge of it not possessed by many at that time. Being of a naturally observant disposition, I noticed many things to which others attached no significance. This quality of observance proved of incalculable benefit to me in many ways during my life as a range rider in the western country. My employment with the Pete Gallinger Company took me all over the Panhandle country, Texas, Arizona and New Mexico, with herds of horses and cattle from market, and to be delivered to other ranch owners and large cattle breeders. Naturally I became very well acquainted with all the many different trails and grazing ranges located in the stretch of country between the north of Montana and the Gulf of Mexico and between the Missouri State Line and the Pacific Ocean. This whole territory I have covered many times in the saddle, sometimes at the rate of 80 or 100 miles a day. These long rides and much traveling over the country were of great benefit to me as it enabled me to meet so many different people connected with the cattle business and also to learn the different trails in the lay of the country generally. Among the other things that I picked up on my wanderings was a knowledge of the Spanish language which I learned to speak like a native. I also became very well acquainted with the many different brands scattered over this stretch of country. Consequently it was not long before the cattlemen began to recognize my worth and the Gallinger Company made me their chief brand reader which duties I performed for several years with honor to myself and satisfaction to my employers. In the cattle country all the large cattle raisers had their squad of brand readers whose duty it was to attend all the big roundups and cuttings throughout the country and to pick out their own brands and to see that the different brands were not altered or counterfeited. They also had to look to the branding of the young stock. During the big roundups it was our duty to pick out our brand and then send them home under the charge of our cowboys. Likewise the newly branded stock. After each brand was cut out and started homework we had to stay with the roundup to see that strays from the different herds from the surrounding country did not again get mixed up until the different home ranges were reached. This work employed a large number of cowboys who lived, ate and often slept in the saddle as they covered many hundreds of miles in a very short space of time. This was made possible as every large cattleman had relays of horses sent out over the country where we might be expected to touch and so we could always count on finding a fresh horse awaiting us at the end of a 25 or a 50 mile ride. But for us brand readers there was no rest. We merely changed our saddles and outfit to a fresh horse and were again on the go. After the general roundup was over cowboy sports in a good time generally was in order for those engaged in it. The interest of nearly all of us centered on the writing of what was known as the Seven YL Steer. A big longhorn wild steer, generally the worst in the herd, was cut out and turned loose on the open prairie. The cowboy who could rope and ride him would get the steer as his reward and let me assure you dear reader that it was not so easy as it sounds as the steer separated from its fellows would become extremely ferocious and wild and the man who attempted to rope and ride him would be in momentary danger of losing his life if he relaxed in the least his vigilance and caution because a wild steer is naturally ferocious. Even in cutting them out of the roundup I have known them to get mad and attack the cowboys who only save themselves by the quickness of their horses or the friendly intervention of a comrade who happened to be near to rope the madden longhorn and thus divert his attention to other things. But in the case of the Seven YL Steer such intervention is against the rules and the cowboy who attempts to rope and ride the steer must at all times look out for himself. I have seen two horses and their riders gored to death in this sport and I have had to shoot more than one steer to save my self-end horse after my horse had fallen with me and placed himself as well as me at the maddened beast's mercy. At such times it takes a cool head and a steady hand as no random shot will stop a wild steer. The bullet must be placed in a certain spot the center of the forehead to accomplish its mission. The last time I had a horse fall with me in roping the Seven YL Steer he fell as the steer was but a few feet away falling in such a way that my leg caught under the saddle holding me fast. Quick as I could I gave the steer a bullet in the head and he stumbled and fell dead on top of my horse and me so that the boys had to interfere to the extent of dragging the steer and horse off of my leg. The cowboy who is successful in roping the steer must then mount and ride him. If he does that successfully the steer becomes his personal property to do with as he will only a slight reward for the risking of his life in the trouble of accomplishing the feat. But it is done more for the sport's sake than anything else and the love of showing off a weakness of all cowboys more or less. But really it takes a high class of horsemanship to ride a longhorn to get on his back and stay there as he runs jumps pitches sideways backwards forward up and down then over the prairie like a streak of lightning. I have had the experience and I can assure you it is no child's play. More than one Seven YL steer has fallen to my lot but I had to work for it and work hard. After all it was only part of the general routine of the cowboy's life in which danger plays so important a part. It is seldom thought of being merely a matter of course and none of us would have foregone the sport had we known that sure death awaited us as the result because above all things the test of a cowboy's worth is his gainness and his nerve. He is not supposed to know what fear means and I assure you there are very few who know the meaning of that word. Most of my readers no doubt have heard of the great roundups and cuttings connected with the cattle razor's life but not one in a hundred has any idea as to how an immense herd of wild cattle are handled in a big roundup. My many years of experience has given me unusual knowledge on the subject and you may bring any cattleman or boss to me and I will guarantee to answer any question he can ask me about the cattle business. The first general roundup occurs about the first of April. This roundup is to run in all the near cattle belonging to each man and head them toward our respective ranges. If we find any other brand mixed up with ours we head them toward their own range and keep our own together. Every cowboy does the same and in this way every cattleman is enabled to get his own brand together on his own range so that when the next general roundup occurs he will have most of his near cattle together on the home range. In order to get the cattle together in the first general roundup we would have to ride for hundreds of miles over the country in search of the long horned steers and old cows that had drifted from the home range during the winter and were now scattered to the four winds of heaven. As soon as they were found they were started off under the care of cowboys for the place agreed upon for the general roundup whether they belong to us or not while the rest of us continued to search. All the cowboys from the many different outfits working this way enabled us to soon get all the strays rounded up in one great herd in which the cattle of a dozen different owners were mixed up together. It then became our duty to cut out our different herds and start them homewards. Then we had to brand the young stock that had escaped that ordeal at the hands of the range riders. On finding the strays and starting them homewards we had to keep up the search because notwithstanding the fact that we had done range riding or line riding all winter a large number of cattle would manage to evade the vigilance of the cowboys and get away. These must all be accounted for at the great roundup as they stood for dollars and cents profit and loss to the great cattle kings of the west. In going after these strayed and perhaps stolen cattle we boys always provided ourselves with everything we needed including plenty of grub as sometimes we would be gone for nearly two months and sometimes much longer. It was not an uncommon occurrence for us to have shooting trouble over our different brands. In such disputes the boys would kill each other if others did not interfere in time to prevent it because in those days on the great cattle ranges there was no law but the law of might and all disputes were settled with a forty-five colt pistol. In such cases the man who was quickest on the draw and whose eye was the best pretty generally got the decision. Therefore it was of the greatest importance that the cowboy should understand his gun its capabilities and its shooting qualities. A cowboy would never carry anything but the very best gun obtainable as his life depended on it often. After securing a good gun the cowboy had to learn how to use it if he did not already know how. In doing so no trouble or expense was spared and I know there were very few poor shots on the ranges over which we rode and they used the accomplishment to protect themselves and their employers cattle from the Indian thieves and the white desperados who infested the cattle country and who lost no opportunity to stampede the herds and run off large numbers of them. Whenever this happened it generally resulted in a long chase and a fierce fight in which some one was sure to get hurt and hurt badly but that fact did not bother us in the least. It was all simply our duty and our business for which we were paid and paid good and so we accepted things as they came always ready for it whatever it might be and always taking pride in our work in which we always tried to excel. Christmas December 25th 1872 is a day in my memory which time cannot blot out. I and a number of friends were in a place called Holbrooke Arizona. A dispute started over a saddle horse with the following result. Arizona Bob drew his 45 colt revolver but before he had time to fire he was instantly killed by Ajak. Then a general fight ensued in which five horses and three men were killed. It was a sad thing for me to see my friends dead in a corral on a Christmas morning but I helped bury the dead and took care of the wounded. The names of the dead were Ajak, Wild Horse Pete, and Arizona Bill. End of Chapter 7 Chapter 8 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 8 On the Trail A Texas Storm A Cattle Stampede Battle with the Elements After Business Comes Pleasure After the roundups and on returning from our long rides after straig cattle we would have to prepare to take the trail with herds of cattle and horses for market and to be delivered to other large ranch owners. The party of cowboys to make these trips were all selected men. We would spend several days at the home ranch resting up and preparing our outfit, in which our guns, saddles, blankets, and horses were given a thorough overhauling and placed in first class condition as they would be called on to do good hard service on these trips on the trail. The nature of our journey would depend very much on the kind of cattle we were called upon to handle. Sometimes it would be all classes together. On other occasions the herd would consist of a certain kind, such as long yearlings, short yearlings, tail end, and scabs. The larger demand, however, seemed to be for straight three and four-year-old steers. These latter kind were the easiest to handle on the trail. It is no doubt necessary that I explain the difference between the different kinds I mention here. Short yearlings were those over one year old and short of two years, long yearlings those two years and short of three years. Tail end and scabs mean nearly the same thing and comprise all the very young stock of all classes not yet reached the dignity of yearlings. These latter were in demand from the cattlemen who took them to feed until they got their growth or to raise from, as stock cattle three or four years old were generally the marketer beef cattle. These latter were by all odds the easiest to handle on the trail. Sometimes we would have an order for five or six hundred head of all classes of cattle. Then again we would have to start out with fifteen hundred head of shipping steers or several hundred head of horses. Shortly after I entered the employ of the Pete Gallinger Company and after the roundups of the early season we received an order for two thousand five hundred head of three-year-old steers to be delivered at Dodge City, Kansas. This was the largest herd I had up to the present time followed on the trail. After a good rest at the home ranch we strung the large herd out with two months provisions and the camp wagon and one hundred extra saddle horses and several pack horses. Our outfit consisted of forty picked cowboys along the old Chiller's Trail en route for Kansas and we started on what proved to be an eventful journey. The herd behaved splendidly and gave us very little trouble until we crossed the Red River and struck the old dog in Sun City Trail. Here they became restless and stampeded nearly every night and whenever they got half a chance. This made it very hard on us cowboys, as it is no easy matter to ride the lines of such a large herd, let alone having to chase them back in line for many miles over the prairie where they had stampeded in their wild career. After crossing the Kansas line at a place known as the South Forks, while making for the head of the Cimarron River on the twenty-seventh of June, we experienced one of the hardest rain and hail storms I had ever seen in the western country. The rain came down in torrents only to cease and give place to hailstones the size of Walnut while the thunder and lightning was incessant. It was shortly after dark when the storm commenced. The twenty five hundred head of cattle strung out along the trail became panic-stricken and stampeded and despite our utmost efforts we were unable to keep them in line. Imagine, my dear reader, riding your horse at the top of his speed through torrents of rain and hail and darkness so black that we could not see our horse's heads, chasing an immense herd of maddened cattle which we could hear but could not see except during the vivid flashes of lightning which furnished our only light. It was the worst night's ride I ever experienced. Late the next morning we had the herd rounded up thirty miles from where they started from the night before. On going back over the country to our camp of the night before we saw the great danger we had been in during our mad ride. There were holes, cliffs, gullies, and big rocks scattered all around some of the cliffs going down a sheer fifty feet or more where if we had fallen over we would have been dashed to pieces on the rocks below. But we never thought of our personal danger that night and we did not think particularly of it when we saw it further than to make a few joking remarks about what would have happened if some one of us had gone over. One of the boys offered to bet that a horse and rider going over one of those cliffs would bring up in China while others thought he would bring up in Utah. It was our duty to save the cattle and everything else was of secondary importance. We never lost a single steer during this wild night, something we were justly proud of. This proved the last trouble we were to have with the herd and we soon reached the five-mile divide five miles from Dodge City without further incident with our herd intact. Here we were to hold them until turned over to their new owners. This accomplished our work was done and done well for this trip. Then we all headed for Dodge City to have a good time and I assure you we had it. It was our intention and ambition to paint the town a deep red color and drink up all the bad whiskey in the city. Our nearly two months' journey over the dusty plains and ranges have made us all inordinately thirsty and wild and here is where we had our turn. Accordingly we started out to do the town in true western style in which we were perfectly successful until the town had done us and we were dead broke. This fact slowed us up because being broke we could not get up any more steam and we had to cool down right there. We then started out to find our boss, but that gentleman being wise in his time and generation and knowing we would soon all be broke and we'll be wanting more money and that he would let us have it if we asked him for it only to be thrown away, he made himself scarce and he kept out of our sight until we cooled off. For my part I would not spend all my money. I would draw about fifty dollars then I would get what things I wanted and would let the others go free. But while our money lasted we would certainly enjoy ourselves in dancing, drinking, and shitting up the town. It was our delight to give exhibitions of rough riding, roping, and everything else we could think of to make things go fast enough to suit our ideas of speed. After several days spent in this manner we would begin to make ready to start on the return journey home to Texas. We left Dodge City on the first of July and on the fifteenth of August we were back on the old home ranch where we rested up a few days before starting out to ride the range after the Longhorns again. As I was a brand reader I had little time to rest as my services were in demand from many of the large cattle kings of Texas and Arizona and whenever a dispute arose over brands I was generally sent for to straighten matters out. This with the numerous roundups which I had to attend and the many transfers of cattle throughout the panhandle country kept me continually on the go. When my services were not needed as a brand reader I rode the range along with the other cowboys. This kept us almost continually in the saddle and away from the home ranch for days at a time. When this was a case our food consisted of biscuit and cakes which we made ourselves from meal which we carried with us and such meat and game as we could knock over with our guns. We camped wherever it suited and where there was feed for our horses. A cowboy's first care is always after his gun and his horse. That animal often meaning life and liberty to the cowboy in a tight place and the cowboy without a horse is like a chicken without its head completely lost. My faithful horse has times without number carried me out of danger and preserved my life. We were not destined to have much rest this season as shortly after we returned from the trip to Dodge City the boss bought a large herd of cattle down on the Rio Grande just over the line in Mexico which we had orders for so we had to start out and round them up. This was no easy matter as they were scattered over a large range of territory and many strays had to be rounded up and got with the main herd. This we finally accomplished after a great deal of hard riding over the rough Rio Grande country and both men and horses were completely tired out so we went into camp only holding the herd together and getting rusted up. This opportunity we improved by getting acquainted and fraternizing with the cowboys of one of the oldest cattle countries this side of the herring pond, old Mexico. These men were for the most part typical greasers but they proved to us that they knew a thing or two about the cattle business and all things considered they were a jolly companionable sort of an outfit from them we learned a few pointers and also gave them a few very much to our mutual benefit. We remained here a few days before starting northward with our herd but these few days proved very pleasant ones to us boys who on account of the monotony of the life we led always welcome new experiences or events that would give us something to think and talk about while on our long rides behind the slow moving herd of long horned steers or around our campfires when in camp on the plains. And it gave us a special pleasure to meet men of the same calling from other states over the west. It not only gave us pleasure but it added to our cow knowledge and of the country over which we might at any time be called on to drive cattle and in such cases a knowledge of the country was most valuable to us. Then a cowboys life contains many things in which he is continually trying to improve and excel such as roping shooting writing and branding and many other things connected with the cattle business. We in common with other trades did not know at all and we were always ready to learn anything new when we met anyone who was capable of teaching us. End of Chapter 8 Chapter 9 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 9 On Route to Wyoming The Indians Demand Toll The Fight A Buffalo Stampede Tragic Death of Kel Cersei An Eventful Trip After getting the cattle together down on the Rio Grande and both men and beasts had got somewhat rested up we started the herd north. They were to be delivered to a man by the name of Mitchell whose ranch was located along the Powder River up in northern Wyoming. It was a long distance to drive cattle from old Mexico to northern Wyoming but to us it was nothing extraordinary as we were often called on to make even greater distances as the railroads were not so common then as now and transportation by rail was very little resorted to and except when beef cattle were sent to the Far East they were always transported on the hoof overland. Our route lay through southern Texas Indian Territory, Kansas and Nebraska to the Shoshone Mountains in northern Wyoming. We had on this trip five hundred head of mostly four-year-old longhorn steers. We did not have much trouble with them until we struck Indian Territory. On nearing the first Indian reservation we were stopped by a large body of Indian bucks who said we could not pass through their country unless we gave them a steer for the privilege. Now as we were following the regular government trail which was a free public highway it did not strike us as justifiable to pay our way. Accordingly our boss flatly refused to give the Indians a steer remarking that we needed all the cattle we had and proposed to keep them but he would not mind giving them something much warmer if they interfered with us. This ultimatum of our boss had the effect of starting trouble right there. We went into camp at the edge of the Indian country. All around us was the tall blue grass of that region which in places was higher than a horse affording an ideal hiding place for the Indians. As we expected an attack from the Indians the boss arranged strong watches to keep a keen look out. We had no sooner finished making camp when the Indians showed up and charged us with a yell or rather a series of yells. I for one had got well used to the blood curdling yells of the Indians and they did not scare us in the least. We were all ready for them and after a short but sharp fight the Indians withdrew and everything became quiet but us cowboys were not such guys as to be fooled by the seeming quietness. We knew it was only the calm before the storm and we prepared ourselves accordingly but we were all dead tired and it was necessary that we secure as much rest as possible so the low watch turned into rest until midnight when they were to relieve the upper watch in whose hands the safety of the camp was placed till that time. Every man slept with his boots on and his gun near his hand. We had been sleeping several hours but it seemed to me only a few minutes when the danger signal was given. Immediately every man was on his feet, gun in hand and ready for business. The Indians had secured reinforcements and after dividing in two bands one band hidden a tall grass in order to pick us off and shoot us as we attempted to hold our cattle while the other band proceeded to stampede the herd but fortunately there were enough of us to prevent the herd from stringing out on us. As we gave our first attention to the cattle we got them to Merling. Back and forward through the tall grass the large herd were charged the Indians being kept too busy keeping out of their way to have much time to bother with us. This kept up until daylight but long before that time we came to the conclusion that this was the worst herd of cattle to stampede we ever struck. They seemed perfectly crazy even after the last Indian had disappeared. We were unable to account for the strange actions of the cattle until daylight when the mystery was a mystery no longer. The Indians in large numbers had hidden the tall grass for the purpose of shooting us from ambush and being on foot they were unable to get out of the way of the herd as it stampeded through the grass. The result was that scores of the painted savages were trampled under the hooves of the maddened cattle and in the early gray dawn of the approaching day we witnessed a horrible sight. The Indians were all cut to pieces. Their heads, limbs, trunk and blankets all being ground up in an inseparable mass as if they had been through a sausage machine. The sight was all the more horrible as we did not know the Indians were hidden in the grass during the night but their presence there accounted for the strange actions of the herd during the night. We suffered no loss or damage except the loss of our rest which we sorely needed as we were all pretty well played out. However we thought it advisable to move our herd on to a more desirable and safe camping place not that we greatly feared any more trouble from the Indians, not soon at any rate, but only to be better prepared and in better shape to put up a fight if attacked. The second night we camped on the open plain where the grass was not so high and where the camp could be better guarded. After eating our supper and placing the usual watch the men again turned in expecting this time to get a good night's rest. It was my turn to take the first watch and with the other boys who were to watch with me we took up advantageous positions on the lookout. Everything soon became still. The night was dark and sultry. It was getting along toward midnight when all at once we became aware of a roaring noise in the north like thunder slowly growing louder as it approached and I said to the boys that it must be a buffalo stampede. We immediately gave the alarm and started for our herd to get them out of the way of the buffalo but we soon found that despite our utmost efforts we would be unable to get them out of the way so we came to the conclusion to meet them with our guns and try to turn the buffalo from our direction if possible and prevent them from going through our herd. Accordingly all hands rode to meet the oncoming stampede pouring volley after volley into the almost solid mass of rushing beasts but they paid no more attention to us than they would have paid to a lot of boys with pea shooters. On they came a maddened plunging snorting bellowing mass of horns and hooves. One of our companions a young fellow by the name of Cal Cersei who was riding a young horse here began to have trouble in controlling his mount and before any of us could reach him his horse bolded right in front of the herd of buffalo and in a trice the horse and rider went down and the whole herd passed over them. After the herd had passed we could only find a few scraps of poor Cal's clothing and the horse he had been riding was reduced to the size of a jackrabbit. The buffalo went through our herd killing five head and crippling many others and scattering them all over the plain. This was the year that the great buffalo slaughter commenced and such stampedes were common then. It seemed to me that as soon as we got out of one trouble we got into another on this trip but we did not get discouraged but only wondered what would happen next. We did not much care for ourselves as we were always ready and in most cases anxious for a brush with the Indians or for the other dangers of the trail as they only went to relieve the dull monotony of life behind the herd but these cattle were entrusted to our care and everyone represented money good hard cash so we did not relish in the least having them stampeded by the Indians or run over by the buffaloes. If casualties kept up at this rate there would not be very many cattle to deliver in Wyoming by the time we got there. After the buffalo stampede we rounded up our scattered herd and went into camp for a couple of days rest before proceeding on our journey north. The tragic death of Cal Cersei had a very depressing effect on all of us as he was a boy well liked by us all and it was hard to think that we could not even give him a Christian burial. We left his remains trampled into the dust of the prairie and his fate caused even the most hardened of us to shudder as we contemplated it. After getting fairly rested we proceeded on our journey north and were soon out of the Indian territory though we often met small bands of roving bucks but aside from exchanging a few shots at each other they caused us no trouble. We crossed Kansas and Nebraska and reached the end of our long journey without further incident worthy of note and we delivered our herd only five heads short which was not bad considering the distance we had traveled and the events that had happened. It was a wonder that we had been able to get through with half of our herd or men. Consequently it was with genuine relief that we turned the cattle over to their new owners and received our receipt therefore. We remained at the Mitchell Ranch in Wyoming several days fraternizing with our northern brothers swapping yarns and having a good time generally. On the return journey to Arizona we were of course able to make better time and we returned more direct by way of Colorado and Utah taking note of the cattle trails in the country over which we passed. In that way we secured valuable information of the trails in the country that stood us in good stead in future trips north. Arriving home at the Peak Gallinger Ranch in Arizona we became the heroes of the range and we received unstinted praise from our boss but the loss of Cal Cersei was universally regretted. We were relieved of all duty until we got thoroughly rested up while our horses had the best the ranch afforded. But at a large cattle ranch there is always something doing and it was not long before we were again in the saddle and preparing for another trip on the trail. To the cowboy accustomed to riding long distances life in the saddle ceases to be tiresome. It is only the dull monotony of following a large herd of cattle on the trail day after day that tires the rider and makes him long for something to turn up in the way of excitement. It does not matter what it is just so it is excitement of some kind. This the cowboy finds in daredevil riding shooting roping in such sports when he is not engaged in fighting Indians or protecting his herds from the organized bands of white cattle thieves that infested the cattle country in those days. It was about this time that I hired to Bill Montgomery for a time to assist in taking a band of nine hundred head of horses to Dodge City. The journey out was without incident on arriving at Dodge City we sold the horses for a good price returning to the old ranch in Arizona by the way of the old lone and lonesome Dodge City trail. While en route home on this trail we had a sharp fight with the Indians. When I saw them coming I shouted to my companions we will battle them to hell. Soon we heard their yells as they charged us at full speed we met them with a hot fire from our Winchester's but as they were in such large numbers we saw that we could not stop them that way and it soon developed into a hand to hand fight. My saddle horse was shot from under me at about the same time my partner James Holly was killed shot through the heart. I caught Holly's horse and continued the fight until it became evident that the Indians were too much for us then it became a question of running or being scalped. We thought it best to run as we did not think we could very well spare any hair at that particular time. Anyway we mostly preferred to have our hair cut in the regular way by a competent barber not that the Indians would charge us too much they would probably have done the job for nothing but we didn't want to trouble them and we did not grudge the price of a hair cut anyway so we put spurs to our horses and they soon carried us out of danger. Nearly every one of us was wounded in this fight but Holly was the only man killed on our side though a few of the Indians were made better as a result of it. We heard afterwards that Holly was scalped in his body filled with arrows by the Red Devils. This was only one of the many similar fights we were constantly having with the Indians in the cattle thieves of that part of the country. They were so common that it was not considered worth mentioning except when we lost a man as on this occasion. This was the only trouble we had on this trip of any importance and we soon arrived at the Montgomery Ranch in Texas where after a few days rest with the boys resting up I made tracks in the direction of my own crib in Arizona. End of Chapter 9 Chapter 10 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 10 we make a trip to Nebraska, the hole in the wall country, a little shooting scrape, cattle on the trail and the way to handle them, a bit of moralization. The ranch boss's voice rang out sharply but kindly as he entered our quarters where we were engaged in all sorts of occupations, some of the boys playing cards, other smoking and swapping stories, while those more industrious were diligently engaged in cleaning their forty fives. I glanced up from my long barreled rifle I was just putting the finishing touches to, wondering what was up now. The boss informed us that we were to take another herd of cattle north, a way up in the northwestern part of Nebraska, and that all of us who were on the last trip had been selected for the duty again this trip. This announcement was met with exclamations of approval from the boys who had now got thoroughly rested up and were anxious for regular duty again. Since our return from Wyoming we had not been doing much but taking it easy with occasional range riding and were becoming rusty in consequence. We were to start on our second journey north this season as soon as possible so we lost no time in getting ready. We were to take the same size herd as before. It did not take us long to round the herd up, and the second day from the time we received the order we were off. Our route was different this time, starting from the home ranch in Arizona, we went by way of New Mexico, Colorado, and into Nebraska by way of the Platte River, which we crossed near where the forks of the north and south Platte unite. It was now late in the season and we had to hurry in order to get through in good weather, therefore we put the cattle to the limit of their traveling powers. Beef cattle, that is four-year-old longhorns, differ greatly from other cattle in their travel. The first day after being put out on the trail they will travel twenty-five miles without any trouble. Then as the pace begins to tell on them they fall back to fifteen or twenty miles a day, and there also seems to be an understanding among the cattle themselves that each must take a turn at leading the herd. Those that start in the lead in the morning will be a way back in the center of the herd at noon, and those that started in the center are now leading. This they keep up until all have had their turn at leading, and as a rule if they are not scared by something they will stay pretty well bunched. We allowed the herd to graze and rest during the night, only traveling during the day, as a herd of cattle should never be moved off their grazing ground until the dew is off the grass, because their feet are made soft by the wet grass, and if they are moved on to the hard trail while in that condition sore heels are sure to result, and a steer with sore heels cannot travel and will have to be left behind on the trail where the herd held until those affected have recovered. Our saddle horses travel several times the distance that a herd of cattle does on the trail, as it is necessary to ride from one end of the herd to the other to keep them in line and head it in the right direction. This work is hard on the horses, but that is always provided for by having a small herd of horses along under the charge of a horse wrestler, as we call them, and any of the boys could change his tired horse for a fresh one at any time he chose, but he would have no one to help him make the change. He would have to rope, throw, saddle, and bridle the horse himself without any assistance whatever from his companions, and this was no easy matter as most of the horses were wild Texas mustangs and had never had the saddle on more than once or twice, and so as often happened the cowboy would be led a hard life before he finally made the change of mount. On such occasions he always received the unwelcome and unasked advice of the other boys, but as most of the boys were expert at that business there was slight chance for railing in chaff. But if for any reason he should get the laugh from his companions he always took it in the same spirit in which it was given, only waiting his chance to get even, and such a chance was not long incoming. This particular herd acted very well and gave us no trouble to speak of. Our route lay over the old Hays and Ellsworth Trail, one of the best known cattle trails in the west, then by way of Oldgin, Nebraska, at that time a very small and also a very tough place. It was a rendezvous of the tough element and the bad men of the cow country. There were a large number of cowboys there from the surrounding ranges, and the place looked very enticing to our tired and thirsty crowd. But we had our herd to look after and deliver, so we could not stop, but pushed on north crossing the Platte River, then up the trail that led by the hole in the wall country, near which place we went into camp. Then as now, this hole in the wall country was the refuge of the train robbers, cattle thieves, and bandits of the western country, and when we arrived the place was unusually full of them, and it was not long before trouble was brewing between our men and the natives, which culminated in one of our men shooting and killing one of the bad men of the hole. Fearing more trouble and not being in the best possible shape to meet it, burdened as we were with five hundred head of cattle, we broke camp at once and proceeded on our journey north. We arrived at the ranch where our herd were to be delivered without further incident and with all our cattle intact, and after turning the herd over to their new owners and spending several days and getting acquainted with our northern neighbors, the Nebraska Cowboys, whom we found hot numbers, and a jolly all round crowd of cattlemen, we left for Arizona on the return journey by way of Wyoming, Colorado, and New Mexico, arriving home in good shape late in the fall without further incident and were soon engaged in range riding over our own ranges again and getting everything in shape for the winter, but we had to be out on the range off and on all winter. Then in the spring came the usual roundups, cuttings, and brandings, during which time all our men were needed at the home ranch. I had long since developed into a first class cowboy, and besides being chief brand reader in Arizona and the panhandle country, my expertness in riding, roping, and in the general routine of the cowboy's life, including my wide knowledge of the surrounding country, gained in many long trips with herds of cattle and horses, made my services in great demand and my wages increased accordingly. To see me now you would not recognize in the bronze-hardened dare-double cowboy the slave boy who a few years ago hunted rabbits in his shirt tail on the old plantation in Tennessee, or the tenderfoot who shrank shaking all over at the sight of a band of painted Indians. I had long since felt the hot sting of the leaden bullet as it plowed its way through some portion of my anatomy. Likewise I had lost all sense of fear, and while I was not the wild bloodthirsty savage and all-around bad man many writers have pictured me in their romances. Yet I was wild, reckless and free, afraid of nothing, that is nothing that I ever saw, with the wide knowledge of the cattle country and the cattle business and of my guns with which I was getting better acquainted every day, and not above taking my whiskey straight or returning bullet for bullet in a scrimmage. I always had been reckless, as evidenced by my writing of black highwaymen on the old home plantation, and I never lost courage or my nerve under the most trying circumstances. Always cool, observant, and ready for what might turn up, which made me liked and respected by my employers and those of the cattle-kings of the western country it was my good fortune to meet and know. On our own ranch, among my own companions, my position was as high as a king, enjoying the trust and confidence of my employers, and the homage of the men, many of whom were indebted to me on occasions when my long rope or ever-ready forty-five-colt pistol had saved them from serious injury or death. But I thought nothing of those things then. My only ambition was to learn the business and excel in all things connected with the cowboy's life that I was leading and for which I had genuine liking. Mounted on my favorite horse, my long horse hide lariat near my hand, and my trusty guns in my belt and the broad plain stretching away for miles and miles, every foot of which I was familiar with, I felt I could defy the world. What man with a fire of life and youth and health in his veins could not rejoice in such a life? The fallen winter of 1874 passed on the Arizona ranch without any unusual occurrence. The cattle wintered well, and the prospects were bright for the coming year. In the early spring we again began preparing for the big roundup, the brandings and the cuttings. There had been hundreds of calves and colts added to the vast herds. These all had to be cut out and branded, while all the cattle that had strayed during the winter had to be rounded up and accounted for. This work kept us in the saddle the greater part of the time. Sometimes we would be absent for days and weeks at a time on the trail of a bunch of strayed cattle. On these trips we often encounter big herds of buffalo, and these supplied us with meat, and such meat. A buffalo steak fresh from a still quivering buffalo broiled over coals is a dish fit for the gods. Coming back from one of these trips after Stray's early in 1875, we were notified to get ready to take a herd of five hundred head of horses up to South Dakota. The trip was a long one, but horses can travel much faster than cattle, and on the whole are much easier to handle. On the trails we were all happy at the prospect of the trip, and were not long in getting ready and getting the horses started out on the trail, we took them by way of New Mexico, Colorado and Nebraska. They gave us very little trouble on the way up, and we reached our destination and delivered them without incident worthy of note, returning by way of Wyoming, Colorado and New Mexico. On starting out on the return journey we came down Pole Creek and stopped at the old log saloon to get a drink, that being the first place where we could get any whiskey. Here and moving around among the large number of cowboys and tough characters generally, another fuss was started between our men and some cattle wrestlers resulting in some shooting, but fortunately without serious consequences. As we were not looking for trouble and not wishing to kill anyone we left at once for home. It was our policy to always avoid trouble if possible while on these trips, but to always defend ourselves and our rights against all comers, be they white men or Indians. And then it would look bad for us to have to report the loss of a man or so in a saloon fight when we were sent out to attend the business. For that reason we did not stop to give an exhibition of our fighting qualities, although we were very anxious to have matters out with them. We arrived home safely with all well and in time to assist in the roundups and the other ranch work in which we were needed. CHAPTER XI 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 XI. A BUFFALO HUNT. I LOSE MY LARIET AND SATTLE. I ORDER A DRINK FOR MYSELF AND MY HORSE. A CLOSE PLACE IN OLD MEXICO. When there was not much doing around the ranch, we boys would get up a buffalo hunt. Buffaloes were plentiful in those days and one did not have to ride far before striking a herd. Going out on the open plain we were not long inciting a herd, peacefully grazing on the luxuriant grass, and it would have been an easy task to shoot them, but that was not our idea of sport. In the first place it was too easy. Then to shoot them would rob the hunt of all element of danger and excitement. For that reason we prepared to rope them and then dispatch them with a knife or revolver. As soon as the herd caught sight of us they promptly proceeded to stampede and were off like the wind. We all had pretty good mounts and we started in pursuit. It is a grand sight to see a large herd of several thousand buffalo on a stampede, all running with their heads down and their tongues hanging out like a yard of red flannel, snorting and bellowing as they crowd along, shaking the ground for yards around. We soon reached the rear of the herd and began operations. I had roped and dispatched several when my attention was attracted by a magnificent bull buffalo which I made up my mind to get, running free behind the herd. My buffalo soon came within range and my rope settled squarely over his horns and my horse braced himself for the strain, but the bull proved too much for us. My horse was knocked down, the saddle snatched from under me and off my horse's back and my neck nearly broken as I struck the hardest spot in that part of Texas. After I got through counting the stars, not to mention the moons that I could see quite plainly, I jumped to my feet and after assuring myself that I was all there I looked for my horse. He was close by, just getting up, while in the distance and fast growing more distant each moment was my favorite saddle, flying in the breeze, hanging to the head of the infuriated buffalo. Now, I did not think I could very well lose that saddle, so I sprang on my horse's bear back and started in pursuit. My horse could run like a deer, and his hard fall did not seem to affect him much, so it did not take us long to overtake the plunging herd. Running my horse close up by the side of the thief who stole my saddle, I placed the muzzle of my forty-five close against his side, and right there I took charge of Mr. Buffalo and my outfit. It was no trouble to get all the buffalo meat we wanted in those days. All that was necessary was to ride out on the prairie and knock them over with a bullet, a feat that any cowboy can accomplish without useless waste of ammunition, and a running buffalo furnishes perhaps the best kind of a moving target for practice shooting. And the man that can drop his buffalo at two hundred yards the first shot could hit pretty much anything he shoots at. I never missed anything I shot at within this distance, and many a time when I thought the distance of an object was too great the boys have encouraged me by saying, shoot, you never miss, and as much to my surprise as there's, my old standby placed the bullet where I aimed. I early in my career recognized the fact that a cowboy must know how to use his guns, and therefore I never lost an opportunity to improve my shooting abilities until I was able to hit anything within range of my forty-five or my Winchester. This ability has times without number proved of incalculable value to me when in tight places. It has often saved the life of myself and companions, and so by constant practice I soon became known as the best shot in the Arizona and Panhandle country. After the buffalo hunt we were sent down in Old Mexico to get a herd of horses that our boss had bought from the Mexicans in the southwestern part of Old Mexico. We made the journey out all right without special incident, but after we had got the horses out on the trail head in north I was possessed with a desire to show off, and I thought surprise the state old greasers on whom we of the northern cattle country looked with contempt. So accordingly I left the boys to continue with the herd while I made for the nearest saloon, which happened to be located in one of the low mud houses of that country with a wide door and clay floor. As the door was standing open and looked so inviting I did not want to go to the trouble of dismounting, so urging my horse forward I rode in the saloon. First however scattering with a few random shots a respectable size crowd of dirty Mexicans hanging around as I was in no humor to pay for the drinks for such a motley gathering. Riding up to the bar I ordered keller for myself and a generous measure of polky for my horse, both popular Mexican drinks. The fat wobbling greaser who was behind the bar looked scared but he proceeded to serve us with as much grace as he could command, my forty-five colt which I proceeded to reload acting as a persuader. Hearing a commotion outside I realized that I was surrounded. The crowd of Mexican bums had not appreciated my kindly greeting as I rode up and it seems did not take kindly to being scattered by bullets and not realizing that I could have killed them all just as easy as I scattered them and seeing there was but two of us, I and my horse, they had summoned sufficient courage to come back and seek revenge. There was a good size crowd of them, every one with some kind of shooting iron and I saw at once that they meant business. I hated to have to hurt some of them but I could see I would have to or be taken myself and perhaps strung up to ornament a telegraph pole. This pleasant experience I had no a special wish to try so putting spurs to my horse I dashed out of the saloon then knocking a man over with every bullet from my colts I cut for the open country followed by several bollies from the angry Mexicans' pop guns. The only harm their bullets did was to wound my horse in the hip, not seriously however, and he carried me quickly out of range. I expected to be pursued however as I had no doubt I had done for some of those whom I knocked over so I made straight for the Rio Grande river riding day and night until I sighted that welcome stream and on the other side I knew I was safe. Crossing the Rio Grande and entering Texas at the Eagle Pass I rode straight to the old home ranch where I stayed resting up until the boys got the horses out of Mexico into Texas. Then I joined them and assisted in driving the horses into the ranch. I congratulated myself that I escaped so easily and with such little damage. It was certainly a close place but I have been in even closer places numbers of times and always managed to escape either through trick, the fleetness of my horse or my shooting and sometimes through all combined. At this time I was known all over the cattle country as Red River Dick, the name given to me by the boss of the Deval Outfit when I first joined the cowboys at Dodge City, Kansas. And many of the cattle kings of the West as well as the Indians and scores of bad men all over the Western country have at some time or other had good reason to remember the name of Red River Dick. This was in 1875. It was not till the next year that I won the name of Deadwood Dick, a name I made even better known than Red River Dick and a name I was proud to carry and defend if necessary with my life. This season we made several trips north. The horses we brought up from Texas now had to be driven to Old Man Keith in Nebraska on the North Platte River. On this trip we had no trouble to speak of. Several bands of Indians showed up at different times but a shot or so from one of the boys would send them scurrying off at full speed without stopping to sample further our fighting abilities. This was in some ways disappointing to us as we were spoiling for a fight or excitement of some kind. However nothing turned up, so after delivering the horses to their new owners we made tracks for home again. It was the same round of duty season after season but all our trips on the trail were not by any means alike. We were continually visiting new country and new scenes traveling over trails new to us but old in history. Many of these old trails are now famous in history. Each trip gave us new experiences and traveling so much as we were there were few outfits in the cattle country that knew the trails in the country as we did and we were continually adding to this knowledge and experience. After returning from Old Man Keith in Nebraska we had to take the trail again with a herd of cattle for the Spencer Brothers whose ranch was located just north of the red light about 65 miles north of the Badlands in South Dakota. This was one of the largest cattle ranches in the west. Their brand was known as the Arbok Circle brand. There we remained for some time adding to our knowledge of the cattle business such things as could only be learned at a large cattle ranch. On our way home we passed through Laramie Wyoming. As fate would have it we arrived at Laramie City on July 4th 1875 just as a notorious Jack Watkins escaped from the Albany County Jail and the excitement in the town was at fever heat. Jack Watkins who was probably the most desperate criminal that was ever placed behind prison bars had been arrested and placed in close confinement as the officers in the western states had long tried to affect his capture and they did not want to take any chances of losing him now they had him. But for all their caution he had escaped shooting Deputy Sheriff Lawrence in the leg crippling him for life. Ex-conductor Brophy was at that time Sheriff. The officers noting our arrival at such time at once ordered us out of the city as they suspected we knew something about the outbreak. We protested our innocence of any knowledge of the trouble but appearances were against us so we had to leave going direct to Cheyenne Wyoming. Here we disposed of a small band of horses our boss had along in which we did not wish to take back home with us. They were sold to the Swarm Brothers at a good price. We remained in Cheyenne until the 18th of July when we left for Texas arriving at the old Pallidora Range Ranch on the 10th of August. We had no more than got rested up before we were again called out on active duty. The many large cattle owners of the Panhandle country had got together and come to the conclusion that the wild mustang horses large bands of which were running wild over the area.