 11. THE PASSING OF PEG LEG of Cattle Brands, a collection of western campfire stories. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Cattle Brands, a collection of western campfire stories by Andy Adams. 11. THE PASSING OF PEG LEG In the early part of September 91, the Eastern Overland Express on the Denver and Rio Grande was held up and robbed at Texas Creek. The place is little more than a watering station on that line, but it was an inviting place for hold-ups. Surrounded by the fastnesses of the front range of the Rockies, Pegleg Eldridge and his band selected this lonely station as best-fitted for the transaction in hand. To the south-west lay the Sangre de Cristo Range in which the band had rendezvoused and planned this robbery. Further to the south-west arose the snow-capped peaks of the Continental Divide in whose silent solitude an army might have taken refuge and hidden. It was an inviting country to the robber. These mountains offered retreats that had never known the tread of human footsteps. Emboldened by the thought that pursuit would be almost a matter of impossibility, they laid their plans and executed them without a single hitch. About ten o'clock at night, as the train slowed up as usual to take water, the engineer and fireman were covered by two of the robbers. The other two, there were only four, cut the express car from the train, and the engineer and fireman were ordered to decamp. The robbers ran the engine and express car out nearly two miles where, by the aid of dynamite, they made short work of a through safe that the messenger could not open. The express company concealed the amount of money lost to the robbers, but smelters who were aware of certain retorts in transit by this train were not so silent. The smelter products were in gold retorts of such a size that they could be made away with as easily as though they had reached the mint and been coined. There was scarcely any excitement among the passengers so quickly was it over. While the robbery was in progress, the wires from this station were flashing the news to headquarters. At a division of the railroad, one hundred and fifty-six miles distant from the scene of the robbery lived United States Marshal Bob Banks, whose success in pursuing criminals was not bounded by the state in which he lived. His reputation was in a large measure due to the successful use of bloodhounds. This officer's calling compelled him to be both planesman and mountainer. He had the well-deserved reputation of being as unrelenting in the pursuit of criminals as death is in marking its victims. Within half an hour after the robbery was reported at headquarters, an engine had coupled to a caboose at the division where the Marshal lived. He was equally hasty. To gather his arms and get his dogs aboard the caboose required but a few moments' time. Everything ready, they pulled out with a clear track to their destination. Heavy traffic and coal had almost ruined the road-bed, but engine and caboose flew over it regardless of its condition. Halfway to their destination the Marshal was joined by several officials both Railway and Express. From there the train turned westward up the valley of the Arkansas. Here was a track and an occasion that gave the most daring engineer license to throw the throttle wide open. The climax of this night's run was through the Grand Canyon of the Arkansas. Into this gash in the earth's surface plunged the engineer as though it were an easy stretch of down-grade prairie. As the engineer rounded turns the headlight through its raised upseried columns of granite half a mile high, columns that rear their height in grotesque form and gothic arch, polished by the waters of ages. As the officials agreed, after a full discussion with the Marshal of every phase and possibility of capture, the hope of this night's work and the punishment of the robbers rested almost entirely on three dogs lying on the floor, and as the rocking of the car disturbed them, growling in their dreams. In their helplessness to cope with this outridge they turned to these dumb animals as a welcome ally. Under the guidance of their master they were an aide whose value he well understood. Their sense of smell was more reliable than the sense of seeing in man. You can't believe the dog when you doubt your own eyes. His opinion is unquestionably correct. As the train left the canyon it was but a short run to the scene of the depredation. During the night the few people who resided at this station were kept busy getting together saddle horses for the officer's passe. This was not easily done as there were a few horses at the station while the horses of nearby ranches returned loose in the open range for the night. However, upon the arrival of the train, banks and the express people found mouths awaiting them to carry them to the place of the holdup. After the robbers had finished their work during the four part of the night the train crew went out and brought back to the station the engine and express car. The engine was unhurt but the express car was badly shattered and the thru safe was ruined by the successive charges of dynamite that were used to force it to yield up its treasure. The local safe was unharmed, the messenger having opened it in order to save it from the fate of its larger and stronger brother. The train proceeded on its way with the loss of a few hours time and the treasure of its express. Day was breaking in the east as the passe reached the scene. The marshal lost no time circling about until the trail leaving was taking up. Even the temporary camp of the robbers was found in close proximity to the chosen spot. The experienced eye of this officer soon determined the number of men though they led several horses. It was a cool daring act of peg leg and three men. Afterward when his past history was learned his leadership in this raid was established. Peg leg Elridge was a product of that unfortunate era succeeding the civil war. During that strife the herds of the south west were neglected to such an extent that thousands of cattle grew to maturity without earmark or brand to identify their owner. A good mount of horses, a rope and a running iron in the hands of a capable man were better than capital. The good old days when an active young man could brand annually fifteen calves all better than yearlings to every cow he owned or look back to to this day from cattle king to the humblest of the craft in pleasant reminiscence though they will come no more. Elridge was of that time and when conditions changed he failed to change with them. This was the reason that under the changed condition of affairs he frequently got his brand on some other man's calf. This resulted in his losing a leg from a gun shot at the hands of a man he had thus outraged. Worse it branded him for all time as a cattle thief with every man's hand against him. Thus the steps that led up to this September night were easy, natural and gradual. This child of circumstances, a born plainsman like the Indian, read in plain forest and mountain things which were not visible to other eyes. The stars were his compass by night. The heat waves of the plain warned him of the tempting mirage, while the cloud on the mountain's peak or the wind in the pines which sheltered him alike spoke to him and he understood. The robbers' trail was followed but a few miles when their course was well established. They were heading into the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Several hours were lost here by the pursuing party as they were compelled to await the arrival of a number of pack horses so when the trail was taken up in earnest they were at least twelve hours behind the robbers. In the ascent of the foothills the dogs led the posse, six in number, a merry chase. As they gradually rose to higher altitudes the trail of the robbers was more compact and easy to follow except for the roughness of the mountain slope. Frequently the trail was but a single narrow path. Old game trails were the elk and deer drifting in the advance of winter crossed the range had been followed by the robbers. These game trails were certain to lead to the passes in the range. Thus by the instinct given to the deer and elk against the winter storm the humblest of his creatures had blazed for these train robbers an unerring pathway to the mountain's pass. Along these paths the trail was so distinct that the dogs were an unnecessary adjunct to the pursuing party. These hounds, one of which was a veteran in the service while the other two, being younger, were without that practice which perfects showed an exuberance of energy and ambition in following the trail. The ancestry of the dogs was Russian. Hounds of this breed never give mouth thus warning the hunted of their approach. Man hunting is exciting sport. The possibility, though the trail may look hours old, that any turn of the trail may disclose a fugitives keeps at the highest tension every nerve of the pursuer. All day long the marshal and posse climbed higher and higher on the rugged mountain side. Night came on as they reached the narrow plateau that formed the crest of the mountain on which they found several small parks. Here they made the first halt since the start in the morning. The necessity of resting their saddle-stock was very apparent to banks, though he would gladly have pushed on. The only halt you could expect of the robbers was to save their own horses and he must do the same. Forcing a tired horse an extra hour has left many an amateur rider afoot. He realized this. Knowing the necessity of being well-mounted the robbers had no doubts blended horses. This was a reasonable supposition. Near midnight the marshal and posse set out once more on the trail. He was compelled to take it afoot now depending on his favorite dog which was under leash, the posse following with the mounts. The dogs led them several miles southward on this mountain crest. Here was where the dogs were valuable. The robbers had traveled in some places an entire mile over lava-beds not leaving as much as a trace which the eye could detect. Having the advantage of daylight the robbers selected a rocky cliff over which they began the descent of the western slope of this range. The ingenuity displayed by them to throw pursuit from their trail marked peg-leg as an artist in his calling. But with the aid of dogs and the dampness of night their trail was as easily followed as though it had been made in snow. This declivity was rough and in places every one was compelled to dismount. Progress was extremely slow and when the rising sun tipped the peaks of the continental range before them lay the beautiful landscape where the Rio Grande in a hundred mountain streams has her fountain-head. With only a few hours rest for men and animals during the day night fell upon them before they had reached the mesa at the foothills in the western slope. An hour before nightfall they came upon the first camp or halt of the robbers. They had evidently spent about a short time here there being no indication that they had slept. Criminals are a nerd to all kinds of hardship. They have been known to go for days without sleep, while smugglers, well mounted, have put a hundred miles of country behind them in a single night. The marshal and party pushed forward during the night, the country being more favourable. When morning came they had covered many a mile and was believed they had made time as the trail seemed fresher. There were several ranches along the mainstream in the valley which the robbers had avoided with well-studied caution showing that they had passed through in the daytime. There are several lines of railroad running through this valley section. These they crossed at points between stations where observation would be almost impossible either by day or night. Inquiries at ranches failed on account of the lack of all accurate means of description. The posse was maintaining a due southwest course that was carrying them into the fastnesses of the main range of the western continent. Another full day of almost constant advance and the trail had entered the undulating hills forming the approach of the second range of mountains. Physical exertion was beginning to tell on the animals and they were compelled to make frequent halts in the ascent of this range. The fatigue was showing in the two younger dogs. Their feet had been cut in several places in crossing the first range of mountains. During the past nights in the valley, though their master was keeping a sharp look out, they encountered several places where sand burrows were plentiful. These burrows in the tender inner part of a dog's foot, if not removed at once, soon lame it. Many times had the poor creatures laying down licking their paws in anguish. On examination during the previous night, their feet were found to be webbed with this burr. Now on climbing the second mountain, they began to show the lameness which their master so much feared until it was almost impossible to make them take any interest in the trail. The old dog, however, seemed nothing the worst for his work. On reaching the first small park near the summit of this range, the pursuers were so exhausted that they lay down and took their first sleep, having been over three days and a half from the trail. The marshal himself slept several hours, but he was the last to go to sleep and the first to awake. Before going to sleep and on arising, he was particular to bathe the dog's feet. The nearest approach to a liniment that he possessed was a lubricating tube for the guns, which he fortunately had with him. This afforded relief. It was daybreak when the pursuers took up the trail. The plateau in the crest of this range was in places several miles wide, having a luxuriant growth of grass upon it. The course of the robbers continued to the south-west. The pursuers kept this plateau for several miles, and before descending the western slope of the range an abandoned camp was found, where the pursuit had evidently made their first bunks. Indications of where horses had been picketed for hours and where both men and horses had slept were evident. The trail where it left this deserted camp was in no wise encouraging to the marshal, as it looked at least thirty-six hours old. As the pursuers began the descent they could see below them where the San Juan River meanders to the west until her waters, mingling with others, find their outlet into the Pacific. It was a trail of incessant toil down the mountain slope, where is some alike to man and beast. Near the foothill of this mountain they were rewarded by finding a horse which the robbers had abandoned on account of an accident. He was an extremely fine horse but so lame in the shoulders, apparently owing to a fall that it was impossible to move him. The trail of the robbers kept in the foothills, finally doubling back an almost due east course. Now and then ranches were visible out on the mesa, but in all instances they were carefully avoided by the pursuit. Spending a night in these hills the posse prepared to make an early start. Here however they met their first serious trouble. Both of the younger dogs had feet so badly swollen that it was impossible to make them take any interest in the trail. After doing everything possible for them their owner sent them to a ranch which was in sight several miles below in the valley. Several hours were lost to the party by this incident, though they were in no wise deterred in following the trail, still having the veteran dog. Late that afternoon they made a pastor who gave them a description of the robbers. Yesterday morning so the shepherd in broken Spanish, shortly after daybreak, four men rode into my camp and asked for breakfast. I gave them coffee, but as I had no meat in my quarters they tried to buy a lamb which I have no right to sell. After drinking the coffee they tendered me money which I refused. On leaving one of their number rode into my flock and killed a kid. Taking it with him he rode away with the others. A good description of the robbers was secured from this simple shepherd, a full description of men, horses, colors and condition of pack. The next day nothing of importance developed and the posse hugged the shelter of the hill scourging the mountain range crossing into New Mexico. It was late that night when they went into camp on the trail. They had pushed forward with every energy hoping to lessen the intervening distance between them and the robbers. The following morning on awakening to the surprise and mortification of everybody the old dog was unable to stand upon his feet. While this was felt to be a serious drawback it did not necessarily check the chase. In bringing to bay over 30 criminals, one of whom had paid the penalty of his crime on the gallows, master and dog had here to fore been an invisible team. Old age and physical weakness had now overtaken the dog in an important chase and the sympathy he deserved was not withheld nor was he deserted. Tenderly as a mother would lift a sick child, banks gathered him in his arms and lifted him to one of the posse on his horse. To the members of the posse it was a touching scene. They remembered him but a few months before pursuing a flying criminal, when the latter seeing that escape was impossible and turning to draw his own weapon upon the officer whose six shooter had been emptied at the fugitive but who with the drawn knife was ready to close with him in the death struggle immediately threw down his weapon and pleaded for his life. Yet this same officer could not keep back the tears that came into his eyes as he lifted this dumb comrade of other victories to a horse. With an earnest oath he brushed the incident away by assuring his posse that unless the earth opened and swallowed up the robbers they could not escape. A few hours after taking up the trail a ranch was sighted and the dog was left, the instructions of the good Samaritan being repeated. At this ranch they succeeded in buying two fresh horses which proved a valuable addition to their mounts. Now it became a hunt of man by man. To an experienced trailer like the Marshal there was little difficulty in keeping the trail, that the robbers kept to the outlying country was an advantage, yet the latter traveled both night and day while pursuit must of necessity be by day only. With the fresh horses secured they covered a stretch of country hardly credible. During the day they found a place where the robbers had camped for at least a full day. A trail made by two horses had left this camp and returned. The Marshal had followed it to a rather pretentious mejican rancho where there was a small store kept. Here a second description of the two men was secured though neither one was peg leg. He was so indelibly marked that he was crafty enough to keep out of sight of so public a place as a store. These two had tried unsuccessfully to buy horses at this rancho. The next morning the representatives of the express company left a posse to report progress. He was enabled to give such an exact a description of the robbers at the company through their detective system were not long in locating the leader. The Marshal and posse pushed on with the same unremitting energy. The trail was now almost due east. The population of the country was principally Mexican and even Mexicans the robbers avoided as much as possible. They had, however, bought horses at several ranches and were always liberal in the use of money but very exacting in regard to the quality of horse flesh they purchased. The best was none too good for them. They passed north of old Santa Fe town and entering a station on the line of railway. By that name late at night they were liberal patrons of the gaming tables at the town tolerated. The next morning they had disappeared. At no time did the pursuers come within two days of them. This was owing to the fact they traveled by night as well as day. At the last dimension point messages were exchanged with express company with little loss of time. Banks had asked that certain points on the railway be watched in the hope of capture while crossing the country but the effort was barren of results. In following the trail the marshal had recrossed the continuation of the first range of mountains which they had crossed to the west ten days before or the morning after the robbery three hundred miles southward. There was nothing difficult in the passage of this range of mountains and now before them stretched the endless prairie to the eastward. Here Banks seriously felt the loss of his dogs. This was a country that they could be used in to good advantage. It would then be a question of endurance of men and horses. As it was he could work only by day. Two lines of railway were yet to be crossed if the band held its course. The same tactics were resorted to as formerly yet this villagence and precaution availed nothing as peg-leg crossed them carefully between two of the watched places. Owing to his occupation he knew the country better by night than day. Banks was met by the officials of the express company on one of these lines of railroad. The exhaustive amount of information that they had been able to collect regarding this interesting man with the wooden leg was astonishing. From out of the abundance of the data there were a few items that were of interest to the officer. Several of Elridge's haunts were not actively engaged in his profession were located. In one of these haunts was a woman and toward this one he was heading though it was many a weary mile distant. At the Marshall's request the express people had brought bloodhounds with them. The dogs proved worthless and the second day were abandoned. When the trail crossed the Gulf Railway the robbers were three days ahead. The posse had now been fourteen days on the trail. Banks followed them one day farther, himself alone leaving his tired companions at a station near the line of the Panhandle of Texas. This extra day's ride was to satisfy himself that the robbers were making for one of their haunts. They capped as he expected down between the two Canadians. After following the trail until he was thoroughly satisfied of their destination the Marshall retracted his steps and rejoined his posse. The first train carried him in the posse back to the headquarters of the express company. Two weeks later at a country store in the Chickasaw Nation there was a horse race of considerable importance. The countryside were gathered to witness it. The owners of the horses had made large wagers on the race. Outsiders wagered money and livestock to a large amount. There were a number of strangers present which was nothing unusual. As the race was being run and every eye was centered on the outcome a stranger present put a six-shooter to a very interested spectator's ear and informed him that he was a prisoner. Another stranger did the same thing to another spectator. They also snapped handcuffs on both of them. One of these spectators had a peg leg. They were escorted to a waiting rig and when they alighted from it were on the line of a railroad forty miles distant. One of these strangers was a United States Marshall who for the past month had been very anxious to meet these same gentlemen. Once safe from the rescue of friends of these robbers the Marshall regaled his guest with the story of the chase which had now terminated. He was even able to give Eldridge a good part of his history but when he attempted to draw him out as to the whereabouts of the other two peg was suddenly ignorant of anything. They were never captured having separated before reaching the haunt of Mr. Eldridge. Eldridge was tried in a federal court in Colorado and convicted of train robbery. He went over the road for a term of years far beyond the lease of his natural life. He with a companion captured at the same time was taken by an officer of the court to Detroit for confinement. When within an hour's ride of the prison, his living grave, he raised his iron hands and twisting from a blue flannel shirt which he wore a large pearl button said to the officer in charge, will you please take this button back and give it with my compliments to that human bloodhound and say to him that I'm sorry that I didn't anticipate meeting him. If I had would have saved you this trip with me he might have got me but I wouldn't have needed a trial when he did. End of story eleven. Story twelve. In the hands of his friends of Cattle Brands, a collection of western campfire stories. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Cattle Brands, a collection of western campfire stories by Andy Adams. Story twelve. In the hands of his friends. There was a painting at the World's Fair at Chicago named The Reply in which the lines of two contending armies were distinctly outlined. One of these armies had demanded the surrender of the other. The reply was being written by a little fella surrounded by grim veterans of war. He was not even a soldier. But in this little fellow's countenance shone a supreme contempt for the enemy's demand. His patriotism beamed out as plainly as did that of the officer dictating to him. Physically he was debarred from being a soldier. Still there was a place where he could be useful. So with little Jack Martin he was a cripple and could not ride but he could cook. If the way to rule men is through the stomach Jack was a general who never knew defeat. The JH camp where he presided over the kitchen was noted for good living. Jack's domestic tastes followed him wherever he went so that he surrounded himself at this camp with chickens and a few cows for milk. During the spring months when the boys were away on the various round-ups he planted and raised a fine garden. Men returning from a hard month's work would brace themselves against fried chicken, eggs, milk, and fresh vegetables. After drinking alkali water for a month and living out of tin cans who wouldn't love Jack? In addition to his garden he always raised a fine patch of watermelons. This camp was an oasis in the desert. Every man was Jack's friend and an enemy was an unknown personage. The peculiarity about him, aside from his deformity, was his ability to act so much better than he could talk. In fact he could barely express his simplest wants in words. Cripples are usually cross, irritable, and unpleasant companions. Jack was the reverse. His best qualities shown their brightest when there were a dozen men around to cook for. When they ate hardly he felt he was useful. If a boy was sick Jack could make a broth or fix a cup of beef tea like a mother or sister. When he went out with the wagon during beef shipping season a pot of coffee simmered over the fire all night for the boys on night herd. Men going or returning on guard liked to eat. The bread and meat left over from the meals of the day were always left convenient for the boys. It was the many little things that he thought of which made him such a general favorite with every one. Little Jack was middle-aged when the proclamation of the President opening the original Oklahoma was issued. This land was to be thrown open in April. It was not a cow country then, though it had been once. There was a warning in this that the strip would be next. The dominion of the cowmen was giving away to the homesteader. One day Jack found opportunity to take Miller, our foreman, into his confidence. They had been together five or six years. Jack had coveted a spot in the section which was to be thrown open and he asked the foreman to help him get it. He had been all over the country when it was part of the range and had picked out a spot on Big Turkey Creek, ten miles south of the strip line. It gradually passed from one to another of us what Jack wanted. At first we felt blue about it but Miller, who could see farther than the rest of us, dispel the gloom by announcing a dinner. Jack is going to take a claim if this outfit has a horse in it and a man to ride him. It is only a question of a year or two at the farthest until the rest of us will be guiding a white mule between two corn rows and glad of the chance. If Jack goes now he will have just that many years the start of the rest of us. We nerfed ourselves and tried to appear jolly after the stalk of the foreman. We entered into quite a discussion as to which horse would be the best to make the ride with. The ranch had several especially good saddle animals. In chasing gray wolves in the winter those qualities of endurance which long races developed in hunting these enemies of cattle pointed out a certain coyote-colored horse whose color marks and dead tree brand indicated that he was of Spanish extraction. Intelligently ridden with a light rider he was first choice on which to make this run. That was finally agreed too by all. There was no trouble selecting the rider for this horse with the zebra marks. The lightest weight was Billy Edwards. This qualification gave him the preference over us all. Jack described the spot he desired to claim by an old branding pen which had been built there when it had been part of the range. Billy had ironed up many a calf in those same pens himself. Well Jack, said Billy, if this outfit don't put you on the best quarter section around that old coral you'll know that they have thrown off on you. It was two weeks before the opening day. The coyote horse was given special care from this time forward. He feasted on corn while others had to be content with grass. In spite of all the bravado that was being thrown into these preparations there was noticeable a deep undercurrent of regret. Jack was going from us. Everyone wanted him to go. Still these dissolving ties moved the simple men to acts of boyish kindness. Each tried to outdo the others in the matter of a parting present to Jack. He could have robbed us then. It was as bad as a funeral. Once before we felt similarly when one of the boys died at camp. It was like an only sister leaving the family circle. Miller seemed to enjoy the discomfort of the rest of us. This creedless old Christian had fine strata in his makeup. He and Jack planned continually for the future. In fact they didn't live in the present like the rest of us. Two days before the opening we loaded up a wagon with Jack's effects. Every man but the newly installed cook went along. It was too early in the spring for work to commence. We all dubbed Jack a boomer from this time forward. The horse so much depended on was led behind the wagon. On the border we found a motley crowd of people. Soldiers had gathered them into camps along the line to prevent Sooners from entering before the appointed time. We stopped in a camp directly north of the claim our little boomer wanted. One thing was certain. It would take a better horse than ours to win the claim away from us. No Sooner could take it. That and other things were what all of us were going along for. The next day when the word was given that made the land public domain, Billy was in line on the coyote. He held his place to the front with the best of them. After the first few miles the others followed the valley of Turkey Creek but he maintained his course like wild fowl, skirting the timber which covered the first range of hills back from the creek. Jack followed with the wagon while the rest of us rode leisurely after the first mile or so. When we saw Edwards bear straight ahead from the others we argued that a Sooner only could beat us for the claim. If he tried to out hold us it would be six to one as we noted the leaders closely when we slacked up. By not following the valley Billy would cut off two miles. Any man who could ride twelve miles to the coyote's tent with Billy Edwards in the saddle was welcomed to the earth. That was the way we felt. We rode together expecting to make the claim three quarters of an hour behind our man. When near enough decided we could see Billy and another horseman apparently protesting with one another. A loud yell from one of us attracted our man's attention. He mounted his horse and rode out and met us. Well, fellas, as expected that's happened this time, said he. Well, there's a Sooner on it and he puts up a fine bluff of having ridden from the line but he's a liar by the watch for there isn't a wet hair on his horse while the sweat was dripped from the fetlocks of this one. If you are satisfied that he is a Sooner, said Miller, he has to go. Well, he is a lying Sooner, said Edwards. We ran into our horses and held a short parley. After a brief discussion of the situation Miller said to us, you boys go down to him, don't hurt him or get hurt, but make out that you're going to hang him, put plenty of reality into it, and I'll come in in time to save him and give him a chance to run for his life. We all rode down towards him, Miller bearing off towards the right of the old corral, rode out over the claim noticing the rich soil thrown up by the mole hills. When we came up to our Sooner, all of us dismounted. Edwards confronted him and said, Do you contest my right to this claim? I certainly do, was the reply. Well, you won't do so long, said Edwards. Quick as a flash, Mouse prodded the cold steel muzzle of a sixth shooter against his ear. As the Sooner turned his head and looked into Mouse's stern countenance, one of the boys relieved him of an ugly gun and knife that dangled from his belt. Get on your horse, said Mouse, emphasizing his demand within oath, while the muzzle of a forty-five in his ear made the order undebatable. Edwards took the horse by the bits and started for a large black jack tree which stood nearby. Reaching it, Edwards said, Better use Coon's rope, it's manilla and stronger. Can any of you boys tie a hangman's knot? He inquired when the rope was handed him. Yes, let me, responded several. Which limb will be the best? Inquired Mouse. Take this horse by the bits, said Edwards to one of the boys, till I look. He coiled the rope sailor fashion and made an ineffectual attempt to throw it over a large limb, which hung out like a yard arm, but the small branches intervening defeated his throw. While he was coiling the rope to make a second throw, someone said, Maybe so he'd like to pray. What? Him pray? said Edwards. Any prayer that he might offer couldn't get a hearing amongst men, let alone above where liars are forbidden. Try that other limb, said Coon to Edwards. There's not so much brushing away. We want to get this job done some time today. As Edwards made a successful throw, he said, Bring that horse directly underneath. At this moment Miller dashed up and demanded, What in hell are you trying to do? This sheep-thief of a sooner contests my right to this claim, snapped Edwards, and he has played his last cards on this earth. Lead that horse under here. Just one moment, said Miller, I think I know this man. Think he worked for me once in New Mexico. The Sooner looked at Miller appealingly, his face blanched to whiteness. Miller took the bridal reins out of the hands of the boy who was holding the horse, and whispering something to the Sooner, said to us, Are you all ready? Just waiting on you, said Edwards. The Sooner gathered up the reins. Miller turned the horse halfway around as though he was going to lead him under the tree, gave him a slap in the flank with his hand, and the Sooner, throwing the rolls of his spurs into the horse, shot out from us like a startled deer. Recalled to him to halt, as half a dozen six shooters encouraged him to go by opening a fuselage on the fleeing horsemen, who only hit the high places while going. Nor did we let up fogging him until we emptied our guns and he entered the timber. There was plenty of zeal in this latter part, as the lead must have zipped and cried near enough to give it reality. Our object was to shoot as near as possible without hitting. Other horsemen put in an appearance as we were unsaddling and preparing to camp, for we had come to stay a week if necessary. In about an hour Jack joined as speechless as usual his face wreathed in smiles. The first step toward a home he could call his own had been taken. We told him about the trouble we had had with the Sooner, a story which he seemed to question, until Miller confirmed it. We put up a tent among the black Jacks as the nights were cool and were soon at peace with all the world. At supper that evening Edward said, when the old settlers hold their unions in the next generation, they'll say, thirty years ago Uncle Jack Martin settled over there on Big Turkey, and point him out to their children as one of the pioneer fathers. No one found trouble in getting to sleep that night, and the next day arts long forgotten by most of us were revived. Some plowed up the old branding pen for a garden, others cut logs for a cabin, everyone did two ordinary days' work. The getting of the logs together was the hardest. We sawed and chopped and hewed for dear life. The first few days Jack and one of the boys planted a fine big garden. On the fourth day we gave up the tent as a smoke hurled upward from our own chimney, in the way that it does in well-told stories. The last night we spent with Jack was one long to be remembered. A bright fire snapped and crackled in the ample fireplace. Everyone told stories. Several of the boys could sing the lone star, cow trail, while Sam Bass and Bonnie Black Bass were given with a vim. The next morning we were to leave for camp, one of the boys who would work for us that summer, but whose name was not on the payroll until a roundup stayed with Jack. We all went home feeling fine, and leaving Jack happy as a bird in his new possession. As we were saddling up to leave, Miller said to Jack, Now, if you're any good you'll delude some girl to keep house for you to extend and fall. Remember what the holy book says about it being hard luck for men to be alone. You notice all your boomer-navers have wives. That's a hint to you to do likewise. We were on the point of mounting when the coyote horse began to act up in great shape. Someone said to Edwards, losing your cinches. Oh, it's nothing but the corn he's been eating in a few days rest, said Miller. He's just running a little bluff on Billy. As Edwards went to put his foot in the stirrup a second time, the coyote reared like a circus horse. Now look here, Colty, said Billy, speaking to the horse. My daddy rode with old John Morgan, the confederate cavalry raider, and he'd be ashamed of any boy he ever raised that couldn't ride a bad horse like you. You're plump foolish to act this way. Do you think I'll walk and lead you home? He let him out a few rods from the others and mounted him without any trouble. He just wants to show Jack how it affects a cow horse to graze a few days in a boomer's claim, that's all. Said Edwards, when he joined us. Now, Jack, said Miller, as a final parting. If you want a cow, I'll send one down, or if you need anything, let us know and we'll come a-runnin'. It's a bad example you've set us to go booming this way, but we want to make a howling success out of you, so we can visit you next winter. And mind what I told you about getting married? He called back as he rode away. We reached camp by late noon. Miller kept up his talk about what a fine move Jack had made. Said that we must get him a stray beef or his next winter's meat. Kept figuring constantly what else he could do for Jack. You come around in a few years and you'll find him as cozy as a coon and better off than any of us, said Miller, when we were talking about his farming. I've slept under wet blankets with him and watched him kindle a fire in the snow, too often not to know what he's made of. There's good stuff in that little rascal. About the ranch it seemed lonesome without Jack. It was like coming home from school when we were kids and finding mother gone to the neighbors. We always liked to find her at home. We visited ourselves repairing fences, putting in floodgates on the river, doing anything to keep away from camp. Miller himself went back to see Jack within ten days, remaining a week. None of us stayed at the home ranch any more than we could help. We visited other camps on hatched excuses until the home roundups began, when anyone else asked us about Jack. We would blow about what a fine claim he had and what a boost we had given him. When we buckled down to the summer's work, the gloom gradually left us. There were men to be sent on the eastern, western, and middle divisions of the general roundup of the strip. Two men were sent south into the Chieny country to catch anything that had winter drifted. Our range lay in the middle division. Miller and one man looked after it on the general roundup. It was a busy year with us. Our range was full stocked and by early fall was rich with fat cattle. We lived with the wagon after the shipping season commenced. Then we missed Jack, although the new cook did the best he knew how. Train after train went out of our pasture, yet the cattle were never missed. We never went to camp now, only the wagon went in after supplies, though we often came within sight of the stabling and corrals in our work. One day, late in the season, we were getting out a train load of barbed wire cattle, when who should come toddling along on a plough-nag but Jack himself? Busy as we were, he held quite a levy, though he didn't give down much news, nor have anything to say about himself or the crops. That night at camp, while the rest of us were arranging the guards for the night, Miller and Jack prowled off in an opposite direction from the beef herd, possibly half a mile and a foot too. We could all see that something was working. Some trouble was bothering Jack, and he had come to a friend in need, so we thought. They did not come back to camp until the moon was up, and the second guard had gone out to relieve the first. When they came back, not a word was spoken. They unrolled Miller's bed and slept together. The next morning, as Jack was leaving us to return to his claim, we overheard him say to Miller, I'll ride you. As he faded from our sight, Miller smiled to himself, as though he was tickled about something. Finally, Billy Edwards brought things to a head by asking bluntly, What's up with Jack? We want to know. Oh, it's too good, said Miller. If that little game-legged rooster hasn't gone and diluted some girl back in the state into marrying him, I'm a horse thief. You fellows are all in the play too. Came here special to see when we could best get away. Once every one of us to come. He's built another end to his house, double log style, floored both rooms in the middle, says he will have two fiddlers and promises us the hog killing us time of our lives. I've accepted the invitation on behalf of the J.H.'s without consulting anyone. But supposing we are busy when it takes place, it mouse, then what? But we won't be, answered Miller. It isn't every day that we have a chance at a wedding in our little family, and when we get the word, this outfit quits then and there. Ordinary callings in life like cattle matters must go to the rear until important things are attended to. Every man is expected to don his best hogs and dance to the center on the word. If it takes a week to turn the trick properly, good enough, Jack and his bride must have a blow-out ride. This outfit must do themselves proud. It will be our night to howl, and every man will be a woolly wolf. We loaded the beavers out the next day, going back after two trains of turkey-track cattle. While we were getting these out, Miller cut out two strays and a cow or two and sent them to the horse pasture at the home camp. It was getting late in the fall, and we figured that a few more shipments would end it. Miller told the owners to load out what they wanted while the weather was fit, as our saddle horses were getting worn out fast. As we were loading out the last shipment of mixed cattle of our own, the letter came to Miller. Jack would return with his bride on a date only two days off, and the festivities were set for one day later. We pulled into headquarters that night, the first time in six weeks, and turned everything loose. The next morning we overhauled our Sunday bests, and worried around trying to pick out something for wedding present. Miller gave the happy pair a little flower pot cow, which she had rustled in the Chieny country on the round up a few years before. Edwards presented him with a log chain that a bone-picker had lost in our pasture. Mouse gave Jack a four-tinned fork, which the hay outfit had forgotten when they left. Coon Floyd's accomplishments went with five cowbells, which we always thought he rustled from a boomer's wagon that broke down over in the Reno Trail. It bothered some of us to rustle something for a present, for, you know, we couldn't buy anything. We managed to get some deer's antlers, a gray wolf's skin for the bride's tutsis, and several colored sheep's skins, which we had bought from a Mexican horse herd going up the trail that spring. We killed a nice fat little beef the evening before we started, hanging it out overnight to harden. None of the boys knew the brand. In fact, it's bad taste to remember the brand on anything you've beefed. No one troubles himself to notice it carefully. That night a messenger brought a letter to Miller ordering him to ship out their remnant of diamond tail cattle as soon as possible. They belonged to a Northwest Texas outfit, and we were maturing them. The messenger stayed all night, and in the morning asked, Shall I order cars for you? No, I have a few other things to attend to first, answered Miller. We took the wagon with us to carry our bedding and the other plunder, driving along with us a cow and a calf of jacks, the little flowerpot cow and beef. Our outfit reached Jack's house by the middle of the afternoon. The first thing was to be introduced to the bride. Jack did the honors himself, presenting each one of us, and seemed just as proud as a little boy with new boots. Then we were given introductions to several good-looking neighbor girls. We began to feel our own inferiority. While we were hanging up the quarters of beef on some pegs on the north side of the cabin, Edwards said, whispering, Jack must have pictured this claim mighty high-falutin' to that gal for she's a way up good looker. Another thing, watch me build to the one inside with the black eyes. I claimed her first, remember. As soon as we get this beef hung up, I'm going in and saddle up to her. We won't differ with you on that point, remarked Mouse. But if she takes any special shine to a runt like you, when there's boys like the rest of us standing around, all I've got to say is her tastes must be a heapside sorry and depraved. I expect to dance with the bride, in the headset I whirl her to myself. If I'd only thought, chimed in Coon, I'd sent up to the state and got me a white shirt and a standing collar and a red neck tie. You galutes out, hold me on togs. But where I was raised to back down in Palo Pinto County, Texas, I was some pumpkins as a ladies' man myself. You hear me. Oh, you look all right, said Edwards. You would look all right with only a cotton string round your neck. After tending to our horses we all went into the house. There, said Miller, talking to the bride just as if he had known her always, with Jack standing with his back to the fire grinning like a cat eating paste. The neighbor girls felt to getting supper and our cook turned to and helped. We managed to get fairly well acquainted with the company by the time the meal was over. The fiddlers came early, in fact, dined with us. Jack said if there were enough girls we could run three sets and he thought there would be. As he had asked, every one both sides of the creek for five miles. The beds were taken down and stowed away as there would be no use for them that night. The company came early. Most of the young fellows brought their best girl seated behind them on saddle horses. This manner gave the girl a chance to show her trustful clinging nature. A horse that would carry double was a prize animal. In settling up a new country primitive methods crop out as a matter of necessity. Ben Thorn, an old timer in the strip, called off. While the company was gathering the fiddlers began to tune up, which sent a thrill through us. When Ben gave the word, secure your partners for the first quadril. Miller led out the bride to the first position in the best room, Jack's short leg barring him as a participant. This was the signal for the rest of us and we fell in promptly. The fiddles struck up hounds in the woods. The prompter's voice rang out, honors to your partner, and the dance was on. Edwards close herded the black-eyed girl till supper time. Not a one of us got a dance with her even. Mouse admitted next day as we rode home that he squeezed her hands several times at the grand right and left just to show her that she had other admirers, that she needn't throw herself away on any one fellow, but it was no go. After supper, Billy corralled her in a corner, she seemed willing and stuck to her until her brother took her home night daylight. Jack got us boys' partners for every dance. He proved himself clean-strain that night, the widest little engine on the reservation. We knocked off dancing about midnight and had supper, good coffee with no end of way up, fine chuck. We ate as we danced, hardly. Supper over the dance went on full blast. About two o'clock in the morning the wire-edge was well worn off the revelers, and they showed signs of weariness. Miller, noticing it, ordered the Indian war dance as given by the Chienis. That aroused everyone and filled the sets instantly. The fiddlers caught the inspiration and struck in to sift the meal and save the brand. In every grand right and left we keyed as we had witnessed lowing the dance on festive occasions. At the end of every change we gave a war-hoop some of the girls joining in, that would have put to shame any son of the Chienis. It was daybreak when the dance ended and the guests departed. Though we had brought our blankets with us, no one thought of sleeping. Our cook and one of the girls got breakfast. The bride offered to help, but we wouldn't let her turn her hand. At breakfast we discussed the incidents of the night previous, and we all felt that we had done the occasion justice. Cattle Brands A Collection of Western Campfire Stories by Andy Adams Story 13 A Question of Possession Along in the eighties there occurred a question of possession in regard to a brand of horses numbering nearly two hundred head. Courts had figured in former matters, but at this time they were not appealed to, owing to the circumstances. This incident occurred in leased Indian lands, unprovided with civil courts in a judicial sense, no man's land. At this time it seemed that might graced the woolsack, while on one side Judge Colt cited his authority only to be reversed by Judge Parker. Breach-loader, short-barreled, a full choke ten bore. The clash of opinions between these two eminent Western authorities was short determined and to the point. A man named Gray had settled in one of the northwest counties in Texas, while it was yet the frontier, and by industry and economy of himself and family had established a comfortable home. As a ranchman he had raised the brand of horses in question. The history of this man is somewhat obscured before his coming to Texas, but it was known and admitted that he was a bankrupt on account of assuredy debts, which he was compelled to pay for friends in his former home in Kentucky. Many a good man had made similar mistakes before him. His neighbor spoke well of him in Texas, and he was looked upon as a good citizen in general. Ten years of privation and hardship in their new home had been met and overcome, and now he could see a ray of hope for the better. The little prosperity which was beginning to dawn upon himself and family met with a sudden shock in the form of an old judgment which he always contended his attorneys had paid. In some manner this judgment was revived transferred to the jurisdiction of his district and an execution issued against his property. Sheriff Nind of this county was not as wise as he should have been. When the execution was placed in his hands he began to look about for property to satisfy the judgment. The exemption laws allowed only a certain number of gentle horses, and as any class of ranged horses had a cash value then, this brand of horses was levied on to satisfy the judgment. The range on which these horses were running was at this time an open one, and the sheriff either relied on his reputation as a bad man, or probably did not know any better. The question of possession did not bother him. Still this stock was as liable to range in one county as another. There is one thing quite evident. The sheriff had overlooked the nature of this man gray, for he was no weakling inclined to sit down and cry. It was thought that legal advice caused him to take the step he did, and it may be admitted with no degree of shame, that advice was often given on lines of justice, if not of law, in the lone star state. There was a time when the decisions of Judge Lynch in that state had the hearty approval of good men. Anyhow, Gray got a few of his friends together, gathered his horses without attracting attention, and within a day's drive crossed into the Indian territory where he could defy all the sheriffs in Texas. When this cold fact first dawned on Sheriff Ninde he could hardly control himself. With this brand of horses five or six days ahead of him he became worried. The effrontery of any man to deny his authority, the authority of a duly elected sheriff, was a reflection on his record. His bondsmen began to inquire into the situation, in case the property could not be recovered were they liable as bondsmen. Things looked bad for the sheriff. The local papers in supporting his candidacy for this office had often spoken of him and his chief deputy as human bloodhounds, a terror to evil doers. Their election, they maintained, meant a strict enforcement of the laws and assured the community that a better era would dawn in favor of peace and security of life and property. Ninde was resourceful, if anything. He would overtake those horses, overpower the men if necessary, and bring back to his own balouic that brand of horse stock. At least, that was his plan. Of course Gray might object, but that would be a secondary matter. Sheriff Ninde would take time to do this. Having made one mistake, he would make another to ride it. Gray had a brother living in one of the border towns of Kansas, and it was thought he would head for this place. Should he take the horses into the state all the better, as they could invoke the courts of another state and get other sheriffs to help. Sixty years of experience with an uncharitable world had made Gray distrustful of his fellow men, though he did not wish to be so. So when he reached his brother in Kansas without molestation, he exercised caution enough to leave the herd of horses in the territory. The courts of this neutral strip were federal and located at points in adjoining states, but there was no appeal to them in civil cases. United States marshals looked after the violators of law against the government. Sheriff Ninde sent his deputy to do the Sherlock act for him as soon as the horses were located. This the deputy had no trouble in doing, as this sized bunch of horses could not well be hidden, nor was there any desire on the part of Gray to conceal them. The horses were kept under herd day and night in a nearby pasture. Gray usually herded by day, and two young men, one his son, herded by night. Things went on this way for a month. In the meantime the deputy had reported to the sheriff who came on to personally supervise the undertaking. Gray was on the lookout and was aware of the deputy's presence. All he could do was to put an extra man on herd at night, arm his men well, and await the results. The deputies secretly engaged seven or eight bad men of the long-haired variety, such as in the early days usually graced the frontier towns with their presence. This brand of human cattle were not the disturbing element on the borderline of civilization that riders of that period depicted, nor the authors of the blood-curdling drama portrayed. The average busy citizen paid little attention to them, considering them more ornamental than useful. But this was about the stripe that was wanted and could be secured for the working hand. A good big bluff was considered sufficient for the end in view. This crowd was mounted, armed to the teeth, and all was ready. Secrecy was enjoined on every one. Led by the sheriff and his deputy they rode out about midnight to the pasture and found the herd and herders. What do your fellows want here? demanded young Gray as Nint and his posse rode up. We want these horses. Answer the sheriff. On what authority? Demanded Gray. This is sufficient authority for you, so the sheriff flashing a six-shooter in young Gray's face. All the healers to the play now jumped their horses forward, holding their six shooters over their heads, ratcheting the cylinders of their revolvers by cocking and lowering the hammers as if nothing but a fight would satisfy their demand for gore. If you want these horses that bad, said young Gray, I reckon you can get them for the present. But I want to tell you one thing. There are sixty head of horses here under herd with ours outside the ninety-six brand. They belong to men in town. If you take them out of this pasture tonight they might consider you a horse thief and deal with you accordingly. You know you are doing this by force of arms. You have no more authority here than any other men except what men and guns give you. Good night, sir. I may see you by daylight. Calling off his men they let little grass grow under their feet as they rode to town. The young man roused his father and uncle who in turn went out and asked their friends to come to their assistance. Together with the owners of the sixty head by daybreak they had eighteen mounted and armed men. The sheriff paid no attention to the advice of young Gray but when day broke he saw that he had more horses than he wanted as there was a brand or two there he had no claim on, just or unjust and they must be cut out or trouble would follow. One of the men with Nind knew of a corral where this work could be done and to this corral which was at least fifteen miles from the town where the rescue party of Gray had departed at daybreak they started. The pursuing posseyson took the trail of the horses from where they left the pasture and as they headed back toward Texas it was feared it might take a long hard ride to overtake them. The gate was now increased to the gallop not fast probably covering ten miles an hour which was considered better time than the herd could make under any circumstances. After an hour's hard riding it was evident from the trail left that they were not far behind. The fact that they were carrying off with them horses that were the private property of men in the rescue party did not tend to fortify the sheriff in the good opinion of any of the rescuers. It was now noticed that the herd had left the trail in the direction of a place where there had formerly been a ranch house the corrals of which were in good repair as they were frequently used for branding purposes. On coming inside of these corrals Gray's party noticed that some kind of work was being carried on so they approached it cautiously. The word came back that it was the horses. Gray said to his party, Keep a short distance behind me I'll open the ball if there is any. To the others of his party it seemed that the supreme moment in the old man's life had come. Over his determined features there spread a smile of the deepest satisfaction as though some great object in life was about to be accomplished. Yet in that determined look it was evident that he would rather be shot down like a dog than yield to what he felt was tyranny and the denial of his rights. When his party came within a quarter of a mile of the corrals it was noticed that Ninde and his deputies seized their work, mounted their horses and rode out into the open the sheriff in the lead and halted to await the meeting. Gray rode up to within a hundred feet of Ninde's posse and dismounting handed the reins of his bridle to his son. He advanced with a steady even stride, a double-barreled shotgun held as so he expected to flush a partridge. At this critical juncture his party following him up it seemed that reputations as bad men were due to get action or suffer a discount at the hands of hair to four peaceable men. Every man in either party had his arms where they would be instantly available should the occasion demanded. When Gray came within easy hailing distance his challenge was clear and audible to everyone. What in hell are you doing with my horses? I've got to have these horses, sir. Answered Ninde. Do you realize what it will take to get them? Asked Gray as he brought his gun both barrels at full cock to his shoulder. Bad an eye or crook your little finger if you dare and I'll send your soul glimmering into eternity if my own goes to hell for it. There was something in the old man's voice that conveyed the impression that these were not idle words. To heed them was the better way if human life had any value. Well, Mr. Gray, so the sheriff, put down your gun and take your horses. This has been a bad piece of business for us. Take your horses and go, sir. My bondsmen can pay that judgment if they have to. Gray's son rode around during the conversation, opened the gate, and turned out the horses. One or two men helped him and the herd was soon on its way to the pasture. As the men of his party turned to follow Gray who had remounted, he presented a pitiful sight. His still-determined features, relaxed from the high tension to which he had been nerved, were blanched to the color of his hair and beard. It was like a drowning man, with a strength of two, when rescued and brought safely to land, fainting through sheer weakness. A reprieve from death itself for the blood of his fellow men upon his hands had been met and passed. It was some little time before he spoke. Then he said, I reckon it was best the way things turned out, for I would hate to kill any man, but I would gladly die rather than suffer an injustice or quietly submit to what I felt was a wrong against me. It was some moments before the party became communicative, as they all had a respect for the old man's feelings. Nind was on the uneasy seat, for he would not return to the state, though his posse returned somewhat crestfallen. It may be added that the sheriff's bondsmen, upon an examination into the facts in the case, concluded to stand as suit on the developments of some facts which their examination had uncovered in the original proceedings, and the matter was dropped, rather than fight it through in open court. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Cattle Brands A Collection of Western Campfire Story by Antti Adams Story 14 The Story of a Poker Steer He was born in a Chaparral Thicket, south of the Nueces River in Texas. It was a warm night. In April, with a waning moon hanging like a hunter's horn-high overhead, when the subject of this sketch drew his first breath. Assured into a strange world in the fulfillment of natural laws, he lay trembling on a bed of young grass, listening to the low moo-ings of his mother, as she stood over him in the joy and pride of the first-born. But other voices at the night reached his ears, a whipper-wheel and his mate were making much adieu over the selection of their nesting place on the border of the Thicket. The tantalizing cry of a coyote on the nearest hill caused his mother to turn from him, lifting her head in alarm and uneasily sending the night air. On thus being deserted and complying with an inborn instinct of fear, he made his first attempt to rise and follow, and although unsuccessful, it caused his mother to return and by her gentle nosings and lickings to calm him. Then in an effort to rise he struggled to his knees, only to collapse like a limp rag. But after several such attempts he finally stood on his feet, unsteady on his legs, and tottering like one drunken. Then his mother nursed him, and as the new milk warmed his stomach he gained sufficient assurance of his footing to wiggle his tail and to butt the feverish caked udder with his velvety muzzle. After satisfying his appetite he was loath to lie down and rest, but must dry his legs in tottering around to investigate the strange world into which he had been ushered. He smelled of the rich green leaves of the mesquite, which hung in festoons about his birth chamber, and trampled underfoot the grass, which carpeted the bower. After several hours sleep he was awakened by a strange twittering above him. The moon and stars which were shining so brightly at the moment of his birth had grown pale. His mother was the first to rise, but heedless of her entreaties he lay still, bewildered by the increasing light. Animals, however, have their own ways of teaching their little ones, and on the dam's first pretense of deserting him he found his voice and uttering a plaintive cry struggled to his feet, which caused his mother to return and comfort him. Later she enticed him out of the thicket to enjoy his first sun-bath. The warmth seemed to relieve the stiffness in his joints, and after each nursing during the day he attempted several awkward capers in his fright at a shadow or the rustle of a leaf. Near the middle of the afternoon his mother being feverish, it was necessary that she should go to the river and slake her thirst. So she enticed him to a place where the grass in former years had grown rank, and as soon as he lay down she cautioned him to be quiet during her enforced absence, and though he was a very young calf he remembered and trusted in her. It was several miles to the river, and she was gone two whole hours, but not once did he disobey. A passing ranchero reigned in and rode within three feet of him, but he did not open an eye or even twitch an ear to scare away a fly. The horseman halted only long enough to notice the flesh marks. The calf was a dark red except for a white stripe which covered the right side of his face, including his ear and lower jaw, and continued in a narrow band, beginning on his withers, and broadening as it extended backward until it covered his hips. Aside from his good colour the ranchman was pleased with his sex, for a steer those days was better than gold. So the cowman rode away with a pleased expression on his face, but there is a profit and loss account in all things. When the calf's mother returned she rewarded her offspring for his obedience, and after grazing until dark she led him into the chaparral thicket and lay down for the night. Thus the first day of his life and a few succeeding ones passed with unvarying monotony. But when he was about a week old his mother allowed him to accompany her to the river, where he met other calves and their dams. She was but a three-year-old, and he was her first baby, so as they threaded their way through the cattle on the river bank, the little line-back calf was the object of much attention. The other cows were jealous of him, but one old grandmother came up and smelled of him benignantly, as if to say, Suki, this is a nice baby boy you have here. Then the young cow, embarrassed by so much attention, crossed the shallow river and went up among some hills, where she had once ranged and where the vining mesquite grass grew luxuriously. There they spent several months, and the calf grew like a weed, and life was one long summer day. He could have lived there always and been content, for he had many pleasures. Other cows also brought their calves up to the same place, and he had numerous playmates in his gambles and the hillsides. Among the other calves was a speckled heifer, whose dam was a great crony of his own mother. These two cows were almost inseparable during the entire summer, and it was as natural as the falling of a mesquite bean that he should form a warm attachment for his speckled playmate. But this June time of his life had an ending when, late in the fall, a number of horsemen scoured the hills and drove all the cattle down to the river. It was the first round up he had ever been in, so he kept very close to his mother's side, and allowed nothing to separate him from her. When the outriders had thrown in all the cattle from the hills, and had drifted all those in the river valley together, they moved them back on an open plain and began cutting out. There were many men at the work, and after all the cows and calves had been cut into a separate herd, the other cattle returned loose. Then with great shouting the cows were started up the river to a branding pen several miles distant. Never during his life did the line-backed calf forget that day. There was such a rush and hurrah among these horsemen, that long before they reached the corrals, the line-backs' tongue lulled out, for he was now a very fat calf. Only once did he even catch sight of his speckled playmate, who was likewise trembling like a fawn. Inside the corral he rested for a short time in the shade of the palisades. His mother, however, scented with alarm a fire which was being built in the middle of the branding pen. Several men, who seemed to be the owners, rode through the corraled cows while the cruel irons were being heated. Then the men who directed the work ordered into their saddles a number of swarthy fellows who spoke Spanish and the work of branding commenced. The line-backed calf kept close to his mother's side, and as long as possible avoided the ropers. But in an unguarded moment the noose of a rope encircled one of his hind feet, and he was thrown upon his side, and in this position the mounted men dragged him up to the fire. His mother followed him closely, but she was afraid of the men, and could only stand at a distance and listen to his piteous crying. The roper when asked for the brand replied, Bar circle bar, for that was the brand his mother bore. A tall quiet man who did the branding called to a boy who attended the fire to bring him two irons. With one he stamped the circle, and with the other he made a short horizontal bar on either side of it. Then he took a bloody knife from between his teeth, and cut an underbit from the calf's right ear, inquiring of the owners he did so. Do you want this calf left for a bull? No, yearlings will be worth fourteen dollars next spring. He is a first calf, his mother is only a three-year-old. As he was released he edged away from the fire, forlorn looking. His mother coaxed him over into a corner of the corral where he dropped exhausted, for with his bleeding ear, his seared side, and a hundred shooting pains in his loins, he felt as if he must surely die. His dam, however, stood over him until the day's work was ended, and kept the other cows from trampling him. When the gates were thrown open and they were given their freedom, he cared nothing for it. He wanted to die. He did not attempt to leave the corral until after darkness had settled over the scene. Then with much persuasion he arose and limped along after his mother. But before he could reach the river, which was at least half a mile away, he sank down exhausted. If he could only slake his terrible thirst, he felt he might possibly survive, for the pain had eased somewhat. With every passing breeze of the night he could scent the water, and several times in his fiverish fancy, he imagined he could hear it as it gurgled over its pebbly bed. Just at sunrise air the heat of the day fell upon him. He struggled to his feet, for he felt it was a matter of life and death with him to reach the river. At last he dragged his pain-wracked body down to the rippling water, and lowered his head to drink. But it seemed as if every exertion tended to reopen those seared scars, and with the one thing before him that he most desired, he moaned in misery. A little farther away was a deep pool. This he managed to crawl to, and there he remained for a long time, for the water laughed his wounds, and he drank and drank. The sun now beat down on him fiercely, and he must seek some shady place for the day, but he started reluctantly to leave, and when he reached the shallows, he turned back to the comfort of the pool and drank again. A thickety moat of chaparral which grew from the scattering timber on the river afforded him the shelter and seclusion he wanted, for he dared not trust himself where the grown cattle congregated for the day's siesta. During all his troubles his mother had never forsaken him, and frequently offered him the scanty nourishment of her utter, but he had no appetite and could scarcely raise his eyes to look at her. But time heals all wounds, and within a week he followed his dam back into the hills where grew the succulent grama grass which he loved. There they remained for more than a month, and he met his speckled playmate again. One day a great flight of birds flew southward, and amidst the cawing of crows and the croaking of ravens the cattle which ranged beyond came down out of the hills in long columns heading southward. The line-backed calf felt a change himself in the pleasant day's atmosphere. His mother and the dam of the speckled calf laid their heads together, and after sensing the air for several minutes they curved their tails a thing he had never seen said at cow's do before, and stampeded off to the south. Of course the line-backed calf and his playmate went along out running their mothers. They travelled far into the night until they reached a chaparral thicket south of the river much larger than the one in which he was born. It was well they sought its shelter. For two hours before daybreak a norther swept across the range which chilled them to the bone. When day dawned a mist was falling which encrusted every twig and leaf in crystal armour. There were many such northers during the first winter. The one mysterious thing which bothered him was how it was that his mother could always foretell when one was coming. But he was glad she could, for she always sought out some cozy place, and now he noticed that his coat had thickened until it was as heavy as the fur on a bear, and he began to feel a contempt for the cold. But springtime came very early in that southern climb, and as he nibbled the first tender blades of grass he felt an itching in his wintery coat and rubbed off great tufts of hair against the chaparral bushes. Then one night his mother, without a word of farewell, foresook him, and it was several months before he saw her again. But he had the speckled heifer yet for a companion when suddenly her dam disappeared in the same inexplicable manner as had his own. He was a yearling now, and with his playmate he ranged up and down the valley of the noesses for miles. But in June came a heavy rain, almost a deluge, and nearly all the cattle left the valley for the hills, for now there was water everywhere. The two yearlings were the last to go, but one morning while feeding the line back got a ripe grass-burr in his mouth. Then he took warning for a despised grass-burrs, and that evening the two cronies crossed the river and went up into the hills, where they ranged as calves as summer before. Within a week at a lake which both well remembered, they met their mothers face to face. The steer was on the point of upgrading his maternal relative for deserting him when a cream-coloured heifer calf came up and nourished itself at the cow's udder. That was too much for him. He understood now why she had left him, and he felt that he was no longer her baby. Peaked with mortification he went to a nearby knoll where the ground was broken, and with his feet potted great clads of dust which settled on his back until the white spot was almost obscured. The next morning he and the speckled heifer went up higher into the hills where the bigger steer-cattle ranged. He had not been there the year before, and he had a great curiosity to see what the upper country was like. In the extreme range of the hills back from the river the two spent the entire summer, or until the first norther drove them down to the valley. The second winter was much milder than the first one, snow and ice being unknown. So when spring came again they were both very fat, and together they planned, as soon as the June rains came, to go on a little passier over north in the Frio River. They had met others of their kind from the Frio when out on those hills the summer before, and had found them decently-behaved cattle. But though the outing was feasible and well-planned, it was not to be. For after both had shed their winter coats the speckled heifer was as pretty a two-year-old as ever roamed the Noesis Valley or drank out of its river, and the lion-back steer had many rivals. Almost daily he fought other steers of his own age and weight, who were paying altogether too marked attention to his crony. Although he never outwardly upgraded her for it, her coquetry was a matter of no small concern with him. At last one day in April she forced matters to an open rupture between them. A dark red arch-necked curly-headed animal came bellowing defiance across their feeding-grounds. Without a moment's hesitation the lion-back had accepted the challenge and had locked horns with his adonis. Though he fought valiantly the battle is ever with the strong, and inch by inch was forced backward. When he realized that he must yield he turned to flee and his rival with one horn caught him behind the foreshoulder cutting a cruel gash nearly a foot in length. Riching a point of safety he halted, and as he witnessed his adversary basking in the coquettish amorous advances of her, who had been his constant companion since babyhood, his wrath was uncontrollable. Kneeling he cut the ground with his horns throwing up clouds of dust, and then and there he renounced Keith and Kin, the speckled heifer in the Noesis Valley forever. He firmly resolved to start at once for the Frio country. He was a proud two-year-old and had always held his head high. Could his spirit suffer the humiliation of meeting his old companions after such defeat? No. Hurling his bitterest curses on the amorous pair he turned his face to the northward. On reaching the Noesis feverish in anger he drank sparingly, kneeling against the soft river's bank, cutting it with his horns and matting his forehead with red mud. It was a momentous day in his life. He distinctly remembered the physical pain he had suffered once in a branding pen, but that was nothing compared to this. Surely his years had been few and full of trouble. He hardly knew which way to turn. Finally he concluded to lie down in a knoll and rest until nightfall, when he would start on his journey to the Frio. Just how he was to reach that country troubled him. He was a cautious fellow. He knew he must have water on the way, and the rains had not yet fallen. Near the middle of the afternoon an incident occurred which changed the whole course of his afterlife. From his position on the knoll he witnessed the approach of four horsemen who apparently were bent on driving all the cattle in that vicinity out of their way. To get a better view here rose, for it was evident they had no intention of disturbing him. When they had drifted away all the cattle for a mile on both sides of the river, one of the horsemen rode back and signaled to someone in the distance. Then the lion-backed steer saw something new, for coming over the brow of the hill was a great column of cattle. He had never witnessed such a procession of his kind before. When the leaders had reached the river, the rear was just coming over the brow of the hill, for the column was fully a mile in length. The lion-backed steer clasped them as strangers, probably bound for the Frio, for that was the remotest country in his knowledge. As he slowly approached the herd which was then crowding into the river, he noticed that they were nearly all two-year-olds like himself. Why not accompany them? His resolution to leave the Nueces Valley was still uppermost in his mind, but when he attempted to join in, a dark-skinned man on a horse chased him away, cursing him in Spanish as he ran. Then he thought they must be exclusive and wondered where they came from. But when the lion-backed steer once resolved to do anything, the determination became a consuming desire. He threw the very intensity of his existence into his resolution of the morning. He would leave the Nueces Valley with those cattle or alone, it mattered not. So after they had watered and grazed out from the river, he followed at a respectful distance. Once again he tried to enter the herd, but an outrider cut him off. The man was well-mounted and running his horse up to him, he took up his tail, wrapped the brush around the palm of his saddle, and by a dexterous turn of his horse threw him until he spun like a top. The horsemen laughed, the ground was sandy, and while the throwing frightened him, never for an instant did it shake his determination. So after darkness had fallen and the men had bedded their cattle for the night, he slipped through the guard on night herd and lay down among the others. He complimented himself on his craftiness, but never dreamed that this was a trail herd, bound for some other country 300 miles beyond his native Texas. The company was congenial, it numbered 3,500 two-year-old steers like himself, and strangely no one ever noticed him until long after they had crossed the frio. Then a swingman one day called his foreman's attention to a stray line-backed far-circle bar steer in the herd. The foreman only gave him a passing glance saying, let him alone, we may get a jug of whiskey for him if some trail-cutter don't claim him before we cross Red River. Now Red River was the northern boundary of his native state, and though he was unconscious of his destination, he was delighted with his new life and its constant change of scene. He also rejoiced that every hour carried him farther and farther from the Nueces Valley, where he had suffered so much physical pain and humiliation. So for several months he travelled northward with the herd. He swam rivers and grazed in contentment across flowery prairies, mazes and broken country. Yet it mattered nothing to him where he was going, for his every need was satisfied. These men with the herd were friendly to him, for they anticipated his wants by choosing the best grazing, so arranging matters that he reached water daily and selecting a dry bed-ground for him at night, and when strange copper-coloured men with feathers in their hair rode along beside the herd, he felt no fear. The provincial ideas of his youth underwent a complete change within the first month of trail-life. When he swam Red River with the leaders of the herd, he not only bade for well to his native soil, but burned all bridges behind him. To the line-back steer, existence on the Nueces had been very simple, but now his views were broadening. Was not he a unit of millions of his kind, all forging forward like brigades of a king's army to possess themselves as some unconquered country? These men with whom he was associated were the Vikings of the plain. The red men was conquered, and daily the skulls of the buffalo, his predecessors, stared vacantly into his face. By the middle of summer they reached their destination for the cattle was contracted to a cow-man in the Cherokee Strip, Indian Territory. The day of delivery had arrived. The herd was driven into a pasture where they met another outfit of horsemen similar to their own. The cattle were strung out and counted, the men agreed on the numbers, but watchful eyes scanned every brand as they passed in review, and the men in the receiving outfit called the attention of their employer to the fact that there were several strays in the herd not in the road-band. One of these strays was a line-back, bar-circle-bar, two-year-old steer. There were also others. When fifteen of them had been cut out and the buyer asked the trail foreman if he was willing to include them in the bill of sale, the latter smilingly replied, Not on your life, captain, you can't keep them out of a herd. Down in my country we call strays like them poker steers. And so there were turned loose in the cold-water pool one of the large pastures in the strip, fifteen strays. That night, in a dugout on that range, the home outfit of cowboys played poker until nearly morning. There were seven men in the camp entitled to share in this flotsam on their range the extra steer falling to the foreman. Mentally they had a list of the brands, and before the game opened the strays were divided among the participants. An animal was represented by ten beans. At the beginning the boys played cautiously, counting every card at its true worth in a hazard of chance. But as the game wore on, and the more fortunate ones saw their chips increase, the weaker ones were gradually forced out. At midnight but five players remained in the game. By three in the morning the foreman lost his last bean and ordered the men into their blankets, saying they must be in their saddles by dawn, writing the fences scattering and locating the new cattle. As the men yawningly arose to obey, Dick Larkin definedly said to the winners, I have just got ten beans left and I'll cut high card with any man to see who takes mine or I take one of his poker steers. My father was killed in the battle of the wilderness, replied Tex, and I must game a breed as you are. I'll match your beans and pit you my bar-circle-bar steer. My sire was born in Ireland and is living yet, retorted bold Richard, cut the cards, young fellow. The proposition is yours, cut first yourself. The other players languidly returned to the table. Larkin cut a five spot of clubs and was in the act of tearing it in two when Tex returned the tray of spades. Thus on the turn of a low card the lineback steer passed into the questionable possession of Dick Larkin. The Cherokee strip wrought magic in a Texas steer. One or two winters in its rigorous climate transformed the gaunt longhorn into a marketable beef. The lineback steer met the rigors of the first winter and by June was as glossy as a gentleman's silk-tile. But at that spring roundup there was a special inspector from Texas, and no sooner did his eye fall upon the bar-circle-bar steer than he opened his book and showed the brand and his authority to claim him. When Dick Larkin asked to seize credentials, the inspector not only produced them, but gave the owner's name and the counting which the brand was a matter of record. There was no going back on that, and the Texas man took the lineback steer. But the roundup stayed all night in the pool pasture, and Larkin made it his business to get on second guard in night herding the cut. He had previously assisted in bedding down the cattle for the night and made it a point to see that the poker-three-year-old lay down on the outer edge of the bed-ground. The next morning the lineback steer was on his chosen range in the south end of the pasture. How he escaped was never known. There are ways and ways in a cow-country. At daybreak the roundup moved into the next pasture, the wagons cut and saddled horses following. The special inspector was kept so busy for the next week that he never had time to look over the winter drift and strays, which now numbered nearly two thousand cattle. When the work ended the inspector missed the lineback steer. He said nothing, however, but exercised caution enough to take what cattle he had gathered up into Kansas for pastureage. When the men who had gone that year on the roundup on the Western division returned, there was a man from Reese's camp in the strip east on Black Bear who asked permission to leave about a dozen cattle in the pool. He was alone and, saying he would bring another man with him during the shipping season, he went his way. But when Reese's men came back after their winter drift, during the beef-gathering season, bold Richard Larkin bantered the one who had left the cattle for a poker game, pitting the lineback three-year-old against a white poker cow, then in the pool pasture and belonging to the men from Black Bear. It was a short but spirited game. At its end the bar-circle-bar steer went home with Reese's men. There was a protective coat of honour among wrestlers, and Larkin gave the new owner the history of the steer. He told him that the brand was of record in McMullen County, Texas, warned him of special inspectors, and gave him other necessary information. The men from the cold-water pool who went on the Eastern division of the roundup next spring came back and reported having seen a certain lineback poker steer, but the bar-circled bar had somehow changed, until now it was known as a pilot wheel. And, as so report came back, in the three weeks' work that spring, the lineback pilot wheel steer had changed owners no less than five times. Late that fall word came down from flat pasture up west on the Salt Fork to send a man or two up there, as cold-water pool cattle had been seen on that range. Larkin and another lad went up to a beef roundup, and almost the first steer bold Richard Lady's eyes on was an under-bid lineback, once a bar-circle bar, but now a pilot wheel beef. Larkin swore by all the saints he would know that steering hates. The Nabner-Taylor called bold Richard aside and told him that he had won the steer about a week before from an eagle chiefman who had also won the beef from another man east on Black Bear during the spring roundup. The explanation satisfied Larkin, who recognized the existing code among rustlers. The next spring the lineback steer was a five-year-old, three winters in that northern climate had put the finishing touches on him. He was a beauty, but Abner-Taylor knew he dared not ship him to a market, for there he would have to run a regular gauntlet of inspectors. There was another chance open, however. Fent, Taylor's employer, had many Indian contracts. One contract in particular required three thousand northern wintered cattle for the Fort Peck Indian Reservation in northeast Montana. Fent had wintered the cattle with which to fill this contract on his salt fork range in the Cherokee Strip. When the cowmen cast about for a foreman on starting the herd for Fort Peck, the fact that Abner-Taylor was a Texan was sufficient recommendation with Fent, and the linebacked beef and several other poker steers went along. The wintered herd of beavies were grazed across to Fort Peck in the less than three months. On reaching the agency, the cattle were in fine condition and ready to issue to the Indian wars of our Christian nation. In the very first allotment from this herd the linebacked beef was cut off with thirty others, it was fitting that he should die in his prime. As the thirty head were let out of the agency corral, a great shouting arose among the braves who were to make the kill. A murderous fire from a hundred repeaters was poured into the running cattle. Several fell to their knees, then rose and struggled on. The scene was worthy of savages. As the cattle scattered several Indians singled out the linebacked poker steer. One specially well-mounted brave ran his pony along beside him and pumped the contents of his carbine into the beef's side. With the blood frothing from his nostrils the lineback turned and catching the horse with his horn disemboweled him. The Indian had thrown himself on the side of his mount to avoid the sudden thrust, and as the pony fell he was pinned under him. With admirable tenacity of life the pilot wheel steered, staggered back and made several efforts to gore the dying horse and help his rider, but with a dozen shots through his vitals he sank down and expired. A destiny over which he had no seeming control wheeled that he should yield to the grim reaper, nearly three thousand miles from his birthplace on the sunny Nueces. Abner Taylor, witnessing the incident, rode over to a companion and inquired, Did you notice my linebacked poker steer plays last trump? From the bottom of my heart I wish he had killed the Indian instead of the pony. End of Story 14. This is also the end of Cattle Brands, a collection of western campfire stories.