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diff --git a/7867-h/7867-h.htm b/7867-h/7867-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..28a2adf --- /dev/null +++ b/7867-h/7867-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4632 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Crooked Trails, by Frederic Remington + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body { margin:5%; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + --> +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Crooked Trails, by Frederic Remington + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Crooked Trails + +Author: Frederic Remington + +Release Date: July 31, 2009 [EBook #7867] +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CROOKED TRAILS *** + + + + +Produced by Eric Eldred, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> <a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-1.jpg" + alt="01 Texas Rangers Holding up Chapparal Bandits " width="100%" /><br /></div> + <h1> + CROOKED TRAILS + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Frederic Remington + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + Illustrated By Frederic Remington + </h2> + <h4> + Author Of “Pony Tracks” + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h4> + First published in 1898 + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <big><b>CROOKED TRAILS</b></big> </a><br /><br /><br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> HOW THE LAW GOT INTO THE CHAPARRAL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> THE BLUE QUAIL OF THE CACTUS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> A SERGEANT OF THE ORPHAN TROOP </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> THE SPIRIT OF MAHONGUI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> THE ESSENTIALS AT FORT ADOBE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> MASSAI'S CROOKED TRAIL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> JOSHUA GOODENOUGH'S OLD LETTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> CRACKER COWBOYS OF FLORIDA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> THE STRANGE DAYS THAT CAME TO JIMMIE FRIDAY + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> THE SOLEDAD GIRLS </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>ILLUSTRATIONS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0001"> 01 Texas Rangers Holding up Chapparal Bandits + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0002"> 02 A Bearer of Civilization </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0003"> 03 The Charge Anp Killing of Padre Jarante + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0004"> 04 We Struck Some Boggy Ground </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0005"> 05 Prisoners Drawing Their Beans </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0006"> 06 How the Law Got Into The Chaparral </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0007"> 07 Luncheon in the Desert </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0008"> 08 Supper in the Corral </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0009"> 09 On the Shore of The Tank—morning + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0010"> 10 Running Blue Quail </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0011"> 11 Too Big Game for Number Six </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0012"> 12 Mile After Mile Rushed the Little Column + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0013"> 13 The Horses Assembled in a Side Canyon </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0014"> 14 The Two Men Climbed Slowly </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0015"> 15 Brave Cheyennes Running Through the Frosty + Hills </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0016"> 16 Through the Smoke Sprang The Daring + Soldier </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0017"> 17 This Time the Air Grew Clear </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0018"> 18 This Was a Fatal Embarquation </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0019"> 19 The Omen of The Little Blue Birds </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0020"> 20 Ye Spirit Dog Strode from Ye Darkness </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0021"> 21 The Advance </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0022"> 22 Horse Gymnastics </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0023"> 23 Jumping on a Horse </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0024"> 24 A Tame Horse </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0025"> 25 The Pursuit </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0026"> 26 The Attack on The Cossack </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0027"> 27 Natastale </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0028"> 28 The Arrest of The Scout </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0029"> 29 Scouts </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0030"> 30 The Chief of Scouts </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0031"> 31 Not Much Fitted for Bush-ranging </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0032"> 32 The March of Rogers's Rangers </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0033"> 33 The Storming of Ticonderoga </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0034"> 34 Paddling the Wounded British Officer </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0035"> 35 The Capture of The French Grenadier </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0036"> 36 About Four Dollars Worth of Clothes + Between Them </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0037"> 37 A Cracker Cowboy </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0038"> 38 Fighting over a Stolen Herd </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0039"> 39 In Wait for an Enemy </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0040"> 40 A Bit of Cow Country </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0041"> 41 Cowboys Wrestling a Bull </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0042"> 42 The Lawyer Had Become a Voyager </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0043"> 43 It is Strange How One Can Accustom Himself + to 'pack' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0044"> 44 Down the River on a Golden Morning </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0045"> 45 A Real Camp </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0046"> 46 Rough Water </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0047"> 47 The Indians Used 'setting-poles' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0048"> 48 Trying Moments </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0049"> 49 The Half-wild Cattle Came Down from The + Hills </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + CROOKED TRAILS + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HOW THE LAW GOT INTO THE CHAPARRAL + </h2> + <p> + “You have heard about the Texas Rangers?” said the Deacon to me one night + in the San Antonio Club. “Yes? Well, come up to my rooms, and I will + introduce you to one of the old originals—dates 'way back in the + 'thirties'—there aren't many of them left now—and if we can + get him to talk, he will tell you stories that will make your eyes hang + out on your shirt front.” + </p> + <p> + We entered the Deacon's cosey bachelor apartments, where I was introduced + to Colonel “Rip” Ford, of the old-time Texas Rangers. I found him a very + old man, with a wealth of snow-white hair and beard—bent, but not + withered. As he sunk on his stiffened limbs into the arm-chair, we + disposed ourselves quietly and almost reverentially, while we lighted + cigars. We began the approaches by which we hoped to loosen the history of + a wild past from one of the very few tongues which can still wag on the + days when the Texans, the Co-manches, and the Mexicans chased one another + over the plains of Texas, and shot and stabbed to find who should inherit + the land. + </p> + <p> + Through the veil of tobacco smoke the ancient warrior spoke his sentences + slowly, at intervals, as his mind gradually separated and arranged the + details of countless fights. His head bowed in thought; anon it rose + sharply at recollections, and as he breathed, the shouts and lamentations + of crushed men—the yells and shots—the thunder of horses' + hoofs—the full fury of the desert combats came to the pricking ears + of the Deacon and me. + </p> + <p> + We saw through the smoke the brave young faces of the hosts which poured + into Texas to war with the enemies of their race. They were clad in loose + hunting-frocks, leather leggings, and broad black hats; had powder-horns + and shot-pouches hung about them; were armed with bowie-knives, + Mississippi rifles, and horse-pistols; rode Spanish ponies, and were + impelled by Destiny to conquer, like their remote ancestors, “the godless + hosts of Pagan” who “came swimming o'er the Northern Sea.” + </p> + <p> + “Rip” Ford had not yet acquired his front name in 1836, when he enlisted + in the famous Captain Jack Hayes's company of Rangers, which was fighting + the Mexicans in those days, and also trying incidentally to keep from + being eaten up by the Comanches. + </p> + <p> + Said the old Colonel: “A merchant from our country journeyed to New York, + and Colonel Colt, who was a friend of his, gave him two five-shooters—pistols + they were, and little things. The merchant in turn presented them to + Captain Jack Hayes. The captain liked them so well that he did not rest + till every man jack of us had two apiece. + </p> + <p> + “Directly,” mused the ancient one, with a smile of pleasant recollection, + “we had a fight with the Comanches—up here above San Antonio. Hayes + had fifteen men with him—he was doubling about the country for + Indians. He found 'sign,' and after cutting their trail several times he + could see that they were following him. Directly the Indians overtook the + Rangers—there were seventy-five Indians. Captain Hayes—bless + his memory!—said,' They are fixin' to charge us, boys, and we must + charge them.' There were never better men in this world than Hayes had + with him,” went on the Colonel with pardonable pride; “and mind you, he + never made a fight without winning. + </p> + <p> + “We charged, and in the fracas killed thirty-five Indians—only two + of our men were wounded—so you see the five-shooters were pretty + good weapons. Of course they wa'n't any account compared with these modern + ones, because they were too small, but they did those things. Just after + that Colonel Colt was induced to make bigger ones for us, some of which + were half as long as your arm. + </p> + <p> + “Hayes? Oh, he was a surveyor, and used to go out beyond the frontiers + about his work. The Indians used to jump him pretty regular; but he always + whipped them, and so he was available for a Ranger captain. About then—let's + see,” and here the old head bobbed up from his chest, where it had sunk in + thought—“there was a commerce with Mexico just sprung up, but this + was later—it only shows what that man Hayes used to do. The bandits + used to waylay the traders, and they got very bad in the country. Captain + Hayes went after them—he struck them near Lavade, and found the + Mexicans had more than twice as many men as he did; but he caught them + napping, charged them afoot—killed twenty-five of them, and got all + their horses.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose, Colonel, you have been charged by a Mexican lancer?” I + inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, many times,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “What did you generally do?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see, in those days I reckoned to be able to hit a man every + time with a six-shooter at one hundred and twenty-five yards,” explained + the old gentleman—which no doubt meant many dead lancers. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:20%"> + <img src="images/ct-2.jpg" alt="02 a Bearer of Civilization " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + “Then you do not think much of a lance as a weapon?” I pursued. + </p> + <p> + “No; there is but one weapon. The six-shooter when properly handled is the + only weapon—mind you, sir, I say <i>properly”</i> and here the old + eyes blinked rapidly over the great art as he knew its practice. + </p> + <p> + “Then, of course, the rifle has its use. Under Captain Jack Hayes sixty of + us made a raid once after the celebrated priest-leader of the Mexicans—Padre + Jarante—which same was a devil of a fellow. We were very sleepy—had + been two nights without sleep. At San Juan every man stripped his horse, + fed, and went to sleep. We had passed Padre Jarante in the night without + knowing it. At about twelve o'clock next day there was a terrible outcry—I + was awakened by shooting. The Padre was upon us. Five men outlying stood + the charge, and went under. We gathered, and the Padre charged three + times. The third time he was knocked from his horse and killed. Then + Captain Jack Hayes awoke, and we got in a big <i>casa.</i> The men took to + the roof. As the Mexicans passed we emptied a great many saddles. As I got + to the top of the <i>casa</i> I found two men quarrelling.” (Here the + Colonel chuckled.) “I asked what the matter was, and they were both + claiming to have killed a certain Mexican who was lying dead some way off. + One said he had hit him in the head, and the other said he had hit him in + the breast. I advised peace until after the fight. Well—after the + shooting was over and the Padre's men had had enough, we went out to the + particular Mexican who was dead, and, sure enough, he was shot in the head + and in the breast; so they laughed and made peace. About this time one of + the spies came in and reported six hundred Mexicans coming. We made an + examination of our ammunition, and found that we couldn't afford to fight + six hundred Mexicans with sixty men, so we pulled out. This was in the + Mexican war, and only goes to show that Captain Hayes's men could shoot + all the Mexicans that could get to them if the ammunition would hold out.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the most desperate fight you can remember, Colonel?” + </p> + <p> + The old man hesitated; this required a particular point of view—it + was quality, not quantity, wanted now; and, to be sure, he was a + connoisseur. After much study by the Colonel, during which the world lost + many thrilling tales, the one which survived occurred in 1851. + </p> + <p> + “My lieutenant, Ed Burleson, was ordered to carry to San Antonio an Indian + prisoner we had taken and turned over to the commanding officer at Fort + McIntosh. On his return, while nearing the Nueces River, he spied a couple + of Indians. Taking seven men, he ordered the balance to continue along the + road. The two Indians proved to be fourteen, and they charged Burleson up + to the teeth. Dismounting his men, he poured it into them from his Colt's + six-shooting rifles. They killed or wounded all the Indians except two, + some of them dying so near the Rangers that they could put their hands on + their boots. All but one of Burleson's men were wounded—himself shot + in the head with an arrow. One man had four 'dogwood switches' [Arrows.] + in his body, one of which was in his bowels. This man told me that every + time he raised his gun to fire, the Indians would stick an arrow in him, + but he said he didn't care a cent. One Indian was lying right up close, + and while dying tried to shoot an arrow, but his strength failed so fast + that the arrow only barely left the bowstring. One of the Rangers in that + fight was a curious fellow—when young he had been captured by + Indians, and had lived with them so long that he had Indian habits. In + that fight he kept jumping around when loading, so as to be a bad target, + the same as an Indian would under the circumstances, and he told Burleson + he wished he had his boots off, so he could get around good”—and + here the Colonel paused quizzically. “Would you call that a good fight?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-3.jpg" + alt="03 the Charge Anp Killing of Padre Jarante " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + The Deacon and I put the seal of our approval on the affair, and the + Colonel rambled ahead. + </p> + <p> + “In 1858 I was commanding the frontier battalion of State troops on the + whole frontier, and had my camp on the Deer Fork of the Brazos. The + Comanches kept raiding the settlements. They would come down quietly, + working well into the white lines, and then go back a-running—driving + stolen stock and killing and burning. I thought I would give them some of + their own medicine. I concluded to give them a fight. I took two wagons, + one hundred Rangers, and one hundred and thirteen Tahuahuacan Indians, who + were friend-lies. We struck a good Indian trail on a stream which led up + to the Canadian. We followed it till it got hot. I camped my outfit in + such a manner as to conceal my force, and sent out my scouts, who saw the + Indians hunt buffalo through spyglasses. That night we moved. I sent + Indians to locate the camp. They returned before day, and reported that + the Indians were just a few miles ahead, whereat we moved forward. At + daybreak, I remember, I was standing in the bull-wagon road leading to + Santa Fe and could see the Canadian River in our front—with eighty + lodges just beyond. Counting four men of fighting age to a lodge, that + made a possible three hundred and twenty Indians. Just at sunup an Indian + came across the river on a pony. Our Indians down below raised a yell—they + always get excited. The Indian heard them—it was very still then. + The Indian retreated slowly, and began to ride in a circle. From where I + was I could hear him puff like a deer—he was blowing the bullets + away from himself—he was a medicine-man. I heard five shots from the + Jagers with which my Indians were armed. The painted pony of the + medicine-man jumped ten feet in the air, it seemed to me, and fell over on + his rider—then five more Jagers went off, and he was dead. I ordered + the Tahuahuacans out in front, and kept the Rangers out of sight, because + I wanted to charge home and kind of surprise them. Pretty soon I got + ready, and gave the word. We charged. At the river we struck some boggy + ground and floundered around considerable, but we got through. We raised + the Texas yell, and away we went. I never expect again to hear such a + noise—I never want to hear it—what with the whoops of the + warriors—the screaming of the women and children—our boys + yelling—the shooting, and the horses just a-mixin' up and + a-stampedin' around,” and the Colonel bobbed his head slowly as he + continued. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-4.jpg" alt="04 We Struck Some Boggy Ground " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + “One of my men didn't know a buck from a squaw. There was an Indian woman + on a pony with five children. He shot the pony—it seemed like you + couldn't see that pony for little Indians. We went through the camp, and + the Indians pulled out—spreading fanlike, and we a-running them. + After a long chase I concluded to come back. I saw lots of Indians around + in the hills. When I got back, I found Captain Ross had formed my men in + line. 'What time in the morning is it?' I asked. 'Morning, hell!' says he—'it's + one o'clock!' And so it was. Directly I saw an Indian coming down a hill + near by, and then more Indians and more Indians—till it seemed like + they wa'n't ever going to get through coming. We had struck a bigger + outfit than the first one. That first Indian he bantered my men to come + out single-handed and fight him. One after another, he wounded five of my + Indians. I ordered my Indians to engage them, and kind of get them down in + the flat, where I could charge. After some running and shooting they did + this, and I turned the Rangers loose. We drove them. The last stand they + made they killed one of my Indians, wounded a Ranger, but left seven of + their dead in a pile. It was now nearly nightfall, and I discovered that + my horses were broken down after fighting all day. I found it hard to + restrain my men, they had got so heated up; but I gradually withdrew to + where the fight commenced. The Indian camp was plundered. In it we found + painted buffalo-robes with beads a hand deep around the edges—the + finest robes I have ever seen—and heaps of goods plundered from the + Santa Fe traders. On the way back I noticed a dead chief, and was for a + moment astonished to find pieces of flesh cut out of him; upon looking at + a Tahuahuacan warrior I saw a pair of dead hands tied behind his saddle. + That night they had a cannibal feast. You see, the Tahuahuacans say that + the first one of their race was brought into the world by a wolf. 'How am + I to live?' said the Tahuahuacan. 'The same as we do,' said the wolf; and + when they were with me, that is just about how they lived. I reckon it's + necessary to tell you about the old woman who was found in our lines. She + was looking at the sun and making incantations, a-cussing us out generally + and elevating her voice. She said the Comanches would get even for this + day's work. I directed my Indians to let her alone, but I was informed + afterwards that that is just what they didn't do.” + </p> + <p> + At this point the Colonel's cigar went out, and directly he followed; but + this is the manner in which he told of deeds which I know would fare + better at the hands of one used to phrasing and capable also of more + points of view than the Colonel was used to taking. The outlines of the + thing are strong, however, because the Deacon and I understood that fights + were what the old Colonel had dealt in during his active life, much as + other men do in stocks and bonds or wheat and corn. He had been a + successful operator, and only recalled pleasantly the bull quotations. + This type of Ranger is all but gone. A few may yet be found in outlying + ranches. One of the most celebrated resides near San Antonio—“Big-foot + Wallace” by name. He says he doesn't mind being called “Big-foot,” because + he is six feet two in height, and is entitled to big feet. His face is + done off in a nest of white hair and beard, and is patriarchal in + character. In 1836 he came out from Virginia to “take toll” of the + Mexicans for killing some relatives of his in the Fannin Massacre, and he + considers that he has squared his accounts; but they had him on the debit + side for a while. Being captured in the Meir expedition, he walked as a + prisoner to the city of Mexico, and did public work for that country with + a ball-and-chain attachment for two years. The prisoners overpowered the + guards and escaped on one occasion, but were overtaken by Mexican cavalry + while dying of thirst in a desert. Santa Anna ordered their “decimation,” + which meant that every tenth man was shot, their lot being determined by + the drawing of a black bean from an earthen pot containing a certain + proportion of white ones. “Big-foot” drew a white one. He was also a + member of Captain Hayes's company, afterwards a captain of Rangers, and a + noted Indian-fighter. Later he carried the mails from San Antonio to El + Paso through a howling wilderness, but always brought it safely through—if + safely can be called lying thirteen days by a water-hole in the desert, + waiting for a broken leg to mend, and living meanwhile on one + prairie-wolf, which he managed to shoot. Wallace was a professional + hunter, who fought Indians and hated “greasers”; he belongs to the past, + and has been “outspanned” under a civilization in which he has no place, + and is to-day living in poverty. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-5.jpg" alt="05 Prisoners Drawing Their Beans " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + The civil war left Texas under changed conditions. That and the Mexican + wars had determined its boundaries, however, and it rapidly filled up with + new elements of population. Broken soldiers, outlaws, poor immigrants + living in bull-wagons, poured in. “Gone to Texas” had a sinister + significance in the late sixties. When the railroad got to Abilene, + Kansas, the cow-men of Texas found a market for their stock, and began + trailing their herds up through the Indian country. + </p> + <p> + Bands of outlaws organized under the leadership of desperadoes like Wes + Hardin and King Fisher. They rounded up cattle regardless of their owners' + rights, and resisted interference with force. The poor man pointed to his + brand in the stolen herd and protested. He was shot. The big owners were + unable to protect themselves from loss. The property right was established + by the six-shooter, and honest men were forced to the wall. In 1876 the + property-holding classes went to the Legislature, got it to appropriate a + hundred thousand dollars a year for two years, and the Ranger force was + reorganized to carry the law into the chaparral. At this time many judges + were in league with bandits; sheriffs were elected by the outlaws, and the + electors were cattle-stealers. + </p> + <p> + The Rangers were sworn to uphold the laws of Texas and the United States. + They were deputy sheriffs, United States marshals—in fact, were + often vested with any and every power, even to the extent of ignoring + disreputable sheriffs. At times they were judge, jury, and executioner + when the difficulties demanded extremes. When a band of outlaws was + located, detectives or spies were sent among them, who openly joined the + desperadoes, and gathered evidence to put the Rangers on their trail. + Then, in the wilderness, with only the soaring buzzard or prowling coyote + to look on, the Ranger and the outlaw met to fight with tigerish ferocity + to the death. Shot, and lying prone, they fired until the palsied arm + could no longer raise the six-shooter, and justice was satisfied as their + bullets sped. The captains had the selection of their men, and the right + to dishonorably discharge at will. Only men of irreproachable character, + who were fine riders and dead-shots, were taken. The spirit of adventure + filled the ranks with the most prominent young men in the State, and to + have been a Ranger is a badge of distinction in Texas to this day. The + display of anything but a perfect willingness to die under any and all + circumstances was fatal to a Ranger, and in course of time they got the <i>moral</i> + on the bad man. Each one furnished his own horse and arms, while the State + gave him ammunition, “grub,” one dollar a day, and extra expenses. The + enlistment was for twelve months. A list of fugitive Texas criminals was + placed in his hands, with which he was expected to familiarize himself. + Then, in small parties, they packed the bedding on their mule, they hung + the handcuffs and leather thongs about its neck, saddled their + riding-ponies, and threaded their way into the chaparral. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-6.jpg" alt="06 How the Law Got Into The Chaparral " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + On an evening I had the pleasure of meeting two more distinguished Ranger + officers—more modern types—Captains Lea Hall and Joseph Shely; + both of them big, forceful men, and loath to talk about themselves. It was + difficult to associate the quiet gentlemen who sat smoking in the Deacon's + rooms with what men say; for the tales of their prowess in Texas always + ends, “and that don't count Mexicans, either.” The bandit never laid down + his gun but with his life; so the “la ley de huga” [Mexican law of + shooting escaped or resisting prisoners.] was in force in the chaparral, + and the good people of Texas were satisfied with a very short account of a + Ranger's fight. + </p> + <p> + The most distinguished predecessor of these two men was a Captain McNally, + who was so bent on, carrying his raids to an issue that he paid no heed to + national boundary-lines. He followed a band of Mexican bandits to the town + of La Cueva, below Ringgold, once, and, surrounding it, demanded the + surrender of the cattle which they had stolen. He had but ten men, and yet + this redoubtable warrior surrounded a town full of bandits and Mexican + soldiers. The Mexican soldiers attacked the Rangers, and forced them back + under the river-banks, but during the fight the <i>jefe politico</i> was + killed. The Rangers were in a fair way to be overcome by the Mexicans, + when Lieutenant Clendenin turned a Gatling loose from the American side + and covered their position. A parley ensued, but McNally refused to go + back without the cattle, which the Mexicans had finally to surrender. + </p> + <p> + At another time McNally received word through spies of an intended raid of + Mexican cattle-thieves under the leadership of Cammelo Lerma. At Resaca de + la Palma, McNally struck the depredators with but sixteen men. They had + seventeen men and five hundred head of stolen cattle. In a running fight + for miles McNally's men killed sixteen bandits, while only one escaped. A + young Ranger by the name of Smith was shot dead by Cammelo Lerma as he + dismounted to look at the dying bandit. The dead bodies were piled in + ox-carts and dumped in the public square at Brownsville. McNally also + captured King Fisher's band in an old log house in Dimmit County, but they + were not convicted. + </p> + <p> + Showing the nature of Ranger work, an incident which occurred to my + acquaintance, Captain Lea Hall, will illustrate. In De Witt County there + was a feud. One dark night sixteen masked men took a sick man, one Dr. + Brazel, and two of his boys, from their beds, and, despite the imploring + mother and daughter, hanged the doctor and one son to a tree. The other + boy escaped in the green corn. Nothing was done to punish the crime, as + the lynchers were men of property and influence in the country. No man + dared speak above his breath about the affair. + </p> + <p> + Captain Hall, by secret-service men, discovered the perpetrators, and also + that they were to be gathered at a wedding on a certain night. He + surrounded the house and demanded their surrender, at the same time saying + that he did not want to kill the women and children. Word returned that + they would kill him and all his Rangers. Hall told them to allow their + women and children to depart, which was done; then, springing on the + gallery of the house, he shouted, “Now, gentlemen, you can go to killing + Rangers; but if you don't surrender, the Rangers will go to killing you.” + This was too frank a willingness for midnight assassins, and they gave up. + </p> + <p> + Spies had informed him that robbers intended sacking Campbell's store in + Wolfe City. Hall and his men lay behind the counters to receive them on + the designated night. They were allowed to enter, when Hall's men, rising, + opened fire—the robbers replying. Smoke filled the room, which was + fairly illuminated by the flashes of the guns—but the robbers were + all killed, much to the disgust of the lawyers, no doubt, though I could + never hear that honest people mourned. + </p> + <p> + The man Hall was himself a gentleman of the romantic Southern soldier + type, and he entertained the highest ideals, with which it would be + extremely unsafe to trifle, if I may judge. Captain Shely, our other + visitor, was a herculean, black-eyed man, fairly fizzing with nervous + energy. He is also exceedingly shrewd, as befits the greater concreteness + of the modern Texas law, albeit he too has trailed bandits in the + chaparral, and rushed in on their camp-fires at night, as two big + bullet-holes in his skin will attest. He it was who arrested Polk, the + defaulting treasurer of Tennessee. He rode a Spanish pony sixty-two miles + in six hours, and arrested Polk, his guide, and two private detectives, + whom Polk had bribed to set him over the Rio Grande. When the land of + Texas was bought up and fenced with wire, the old settlers who had used + the land did not readily recognize the new regime. They raised the + rallying-cry of “free grass and free water”—said they had fought the + Indians off, and the land belonged to them. Taking nippers, they rode by + night and cut down miles of fencing. Shely took the keys of a county jail + from the frightened sheriff, made arrests by the score, and lodged them in + the big new jail. The country-side rose in arms, surrounded the building, + and threatened to tear it down. The big Ranger was not deterred by this + outburst, but quietly went out into the mob, and with mock politeness + delivered himself as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Do not tear down the jail, gentlemen—you have been taxed for years + to build this fine structure—it is yours—do not tear it down. + I will open the doors wide—you can all come in—do not tear + down the jail; but there are twelve Rangers in there, with orders to kill + as long as they can see. Come right in, gentlemen—but come fixed.” + </p> + <p> + The mob was overcome by his civility. + </p> + <p> + Texas is to-day the only State in the Union where pistol-carry ing is + attended with great chances of arrest and fine. The law is supreme even in + the lonely <i>jacails</i> out in the rolling waste of chaparral, and it + was made so by the tireless riding, the deadly shooting, and the + indomitable courage of the Texas Rangers. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BLUE QUAIL OF THE CACTUS + </h2> + <p> + THE Quartermaster and I both had trouble which the doctors could not cure—it + was January, and it would not do for us to sit in a “blind “; besides, I + do not fancy that. There are ever so many men who are comfortable all over + when they are sitting in a blind waiting on the vagrant flying of the + ducks; but it is solemn, gloomy business, and, I must say, sufficient + reason why they take a drink every fifteen minutes to keep up their + enthusiasm. We both knew that the finest winter resort for shot-gun folks + was in the Southwest—down on the Rio Grande in Texas—so we + journeyed to Eagle Pass. As we got down from the train we saw Captain + Febiger in his long military cloak by a lantern-light. + </p> + <p> + “Got any quail staked out for us, Feb?” asked the Quartermaster. + </p> + <p> + “Oodles,” said Febiger; “get into my trap,” and we were rattled through + the unlighted street out to the camp, and brought up by the Captain's + quarters. + </p> + <p> + In the morning we unpacked our trunks, and had everything on the floor + where we could see it, after the fashion with men. Captain Febiger's baby + boy came in to help us rummage in the heaps of canvas clothes, ammunition, + and what not besides, finally selecting for his amusement a loaded Colt's + revolver and a freshly honed razor. We were terrorized by the + possibilities of the combination. Our trying to take them away from the + youngster only made him yell like a cavern of demons. We howled for his + mother to come to our aid, which she finally did, and she separated the + kid from his toys. + </p> + <p> + I put on my bloomers, when the Captain came in and viewed me, saying: + “Texas bikes; but it doesn't bloom yet. I don't know just what Texas will + do if you parade in those togs—but you can try.” + </p> + <p> + As we sauntered down the dusty main street, Texas lounged in the doorways + or stood up in its buggy and stared at me. Texas grinned cheerfully, too, + but I did not care, so long as Texas kept its hand out of its hip pocket. + I was content to help educate Texas as to personal comfort, at no matter + what cost to myself. We passed into Mexico over the Long Bridge to call on + Senor Munos, who is the local czar, in hopes of getting permits to be let + alone by his chaparral-rangers while we shot quail on their soil. In + Mexico when the people observe an Americano they simply shrug their + shoulders; so our bloomers attracted no more contempt than would an X-ray + or a trolley-car. Senor Munos gave the permits, after much stately + compliment and many subtle ways, which made us feel under a cloud of + obligation. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-7.jpg" alt="07 Luncheon in the Desert " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + The next morning an ambulance and escort-wagon drove up to the Captain's + quarters, and we loaded ourselves in—shot-guns, ammunition, + blankets, and the precious paper of Senor Munos; for, only the week + before, the custom-house rangers had carefully escorted an American + hunting-party a long distance back to the line for lack of the little + paper and red seals. We rattled over the bridge, past the Mexican barrack, + while its dark-skinned soldiery—who do not shoot quails—lounged + in the sunshine against the whitewashed wall. + </p> + <p> + At the first outpost of the customs a little man, whose considerable + equatorial proportions were girted with a gun, examined our paper, and + waved us on our way. Under the railroad bridge of the International an + engineer blew his whistle, and our mules climbed on top of each other in + their terror. + </p> + <p> + We wound along the little river, through irrigating ditches, past dozens + of those deliciously quaint adobe houses, past the inevitable church, past + a dead pony, ran over a chicken, made the little seven-year-old girls take + their five-year-old brothers up in their arms for protection, and finally + we climbed a long hill. At the top stretched an endless plain. The road + forked; presently it branched; anon it grew into twigs of white dust on + the gray levels of the background. The local physician of Eagle Pass was + of our party, and he was said to know where a certain tank was to be + found, some thirty miles out in the desert, but no man yet created could + know which twig of the road to take. He decided on one—changed his + mind—got out of the ambulance, scratched his head, pondered, and + finally resolution settled on his face. He motioned the driver to a + certain twig, got in, and shut his mouth firmly, thus closing debate. We + smoked silently, waiting for the doctor's mind to fog. He turned uneasily + in his seat, like the agitated needle of a compass, and even in time + hazarded the remark that something did not look natural; but there was + nothing to look at but flat land and flat sky, unless a hawk sailing here + and there. At noon we lunched at the tail of the ambulance, and gently + “jollied” the doctor's topography. We pushed on. Later in the afternoon + the thirsty mules went slowly. The doctor had by this time admitted his + doubts—some long blue hills on the sky-line ought to be farther to + the west, according to his remembrance. As no one else had any ideas on + the subject, the doctor's position was not enviable. We changed our + course, and travelled many weary miles through the chaparral, which was + high enough to stop our vision, and stiff enough to bar our way, keeping + us to narrow roads. At last the bisecting cattle trails began to converge, + and we knew that they led to water—which they did; for shortly we + saw a little broken adobe, a tumbled brush corral, the plastered gate of + an <i>acequia,</i> and the blue water of the tank. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-8.jpg" alt="08 Supper in the Corral " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + To give everything its due proportion at this point, we gathered to + congratulate the doctor as we passed the flask. The camp was pitched + within the corral, and while the cook got supper we stood in the + after-glow on the bank of the tank and saw the ducks come home, heard the + mud-hens squddle, while high in the air flew the long line of sand-hill + cranes with a hoarse clangor. It was quite dark when we sat on the “grub” + chests and ate by the firelight, while out in the desert the coyotes + shrilled to the monotonous accompaniment of the mules crunching their feed + and stamping wearily. To-morrow it was proposed to hunt ducks in their + morning flight, which means getting up before daylight, so bed found us + early. It seemed but a minute after I had sought my blankets when I was + being abused by the Captain, being pushed with his foot—fairly + rolled over by him—he even standing on my body as he shouted, “Get + up, if you are going hunting. It will be light directly—get up!” And + this, constantly recurring, is one reason why I do not care for + duck-shooting. + </p> + <p> + But, in order to hunt, I had to get up, and file off in the line of + ghosts, stumbling, catching, on the chaparral, and splashing in the mud. I + led a setter-dog, and was presently directed to sit down in some damp + grass, because it was a good place—certainly not to sit down in, but + for other reasons. I sat there in the dark, petting the good dog, and + watching the sky grow pale in the east. This is not to mention the desire + for breakfast, or the damp, or the sleepiness, but this is really the + larger part of duck-hunting. Of course if I later had a dozen good shots + it might compensate—but I did not have a dozen shots. + </p> + <p> + The day came slowly out of the east, the mud-hens out in the marsh + splashed about in the rushes, a sailing hawk was visible against the gray + sky overhead, and I felt rather insignificant, not to say contemptible, as + I sat there in the loneliness of this big nature which worked around me. + The dog dignified the situation—he was a part of nature's belongings—while + I somehow did not seem to grace the solitude. The grays slowly grew into + browns on the sedge-grass, and the water to silver. A bright flash of fire + shot out of the dusk far up in the gloom, and the dull report of a + shot-gun came over the tank. Black objects fled across the sky—the + ducks were flying. I missed one or two, and grew weary—none came + near enough to my lair. Presently it was light, and I got a fair shot. My + bird tumbled into the rushes out in front of me, and the setter bounded in + to retrieve. He searched vehemently, but the wounded duck dived in front + of him. He came ashore shortly, and lying down, he bit at himself and + pawed and rolled. He was a mass of cockle-burs. I took him on my lap and + laboriously picked cockle-burs out of his hair for a half-hour; then, + shouldering my gun, I turned tragically to the water and anathematized its + ducks—all ducks, my fellow-duckers, all thoughts and motives + concerning ducks—and then strode into the chaparral. “Hie on! hie + on!” I tossed my arm, and the setter began to hunt beautifully—glad, + no doubt, to leave all thoughts of the cockle-burs and evasive ducks + behind. I worked up the shore of the tank, keeping back in the brush, and + got some fun. After chasing about for some time I came out near the water. + My dog pointed. I glided forward, and came near shooting the + Quartermaster, who sat in a bunch of sedge-grass, with a dead duck by his + side. He was smoking, and was disgusted with ducks. He joined me, and + shortly, as we crossed the road, the long Texas doctor, who owned the dog, + came striding down the way. He was ready for quail now, and we started. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0009" id="linkimage-0009"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-9.jpg" alt="09 on the Shore of The Tank--morning " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + The quail-hunting is active work. The dog points, but one nearly always + finds the birds running from one prickly-pear bush to another. They do not + stand, rarely flush, and when they do get up it is only to swoop ahead to + the nearest cover, where they settle quickly. One must be sharp in his + shooting—he cannot select his distance, for the cactus lies thick + about, and the little running bird is only on view for the shortest of + moments. You must overrun a dog after his first point, since he works too + close behind them. The covey will keep together if not pursued with too + much haste, and one gets shot after shot; still, at last you must run + lively, as the frightened covey scurry along at a remarkable pace. Heavy + shot are necessary, since the blue quail carry lead like Marshal Massena, + and are much harder to kill than the bob-white. Three men working together + can get shooting enough out of a bunch—the chase often continuing + for a mile, when the covey gradually separate, the sportsmen following + individual birds. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-10.jpg" alt="10 Running Blue Quail " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + Where the prickly-pear cactus is thickest, there are the blue quail, since + that is their feed and water supply. This same cactus makes a difficulty + of pursuit, for it bristles with spines, which come off on your clothing, + and when they enter the skin make most uncomfortable and persistent sores. + The Quartermaster had an Indian tobacco-bag dangling at his belt, and as + it flopped in his progress it gathered prickers, which it shortly + transferred to his luckless legs, until he at last detected the reason why + he bristled so fiercely. And the poor dog—at every covey we had to + stop and pick needles out of him. The haunts of the blue quail are really + no place for a dog, as he soon becomes useless. One does not need him, + either, since the blue quail will not flush until actually kicked into the + air. + </p> + <p> + Jack and cotton-tail rabbits fled by hundreds before us. They are + everywhere, and afford good shooting between coveys, it being quick work + to get a cotton-tail as he flashes between the net-work of protecting + cactus. Coyotes lope away in our front, but they are too wild for a + shot-gun. It must ever be in a man's mind to keep his direction, because + it is such a vastly simple thing to get lost in the chaparral, where you + cannot see a hundred yards. Mexico has such a considerable territory that + a man on foot may find it inconvenient to beat up a town in the desolation + of thorn-bush. + </p> + <p> + There is an action about blue-quail shooting which is next to buffalo + shooting—it's run, shoot, pick up your bird, scramble on in your + endeavor to keep the skirmish-line of your two comrades; and at last, when + you have concluded to stop, you can mop your forehead—the Mexican + sun shines hot even in midwinter. + </p> + <p> + Later in the afternoon we get among bob-white in a grassy tract, and while + they are clean work—good dog-play, and altogether more satisfactory + shooting than any other I know of—I am yet much inclined to the + excitement of chasing after game which you can see at intervals. Let it + not be supposed that it is less difficult to hit a running blue quail as + he shoots through the brush than a flying bob-white, for the experience of + our party has settled that, and one gets ten shots at the blue to one at + the bob-white, because of their number. As to eating, we could not tell + the difference; but I will not insist that this is final. A man who comes + in from an all day's run in the brush does not care whether the cook gives + him boiled beans, watermelon, or crackers and jam; so how is he to know + what a bird's taste is when served to a tame appetite? + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0011" id="linkimage-0011"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-11.jpg" alt="11 Too Big Game for Number Six " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + At intervals we ran into the wild cattle which threaded their way to + water, and it makes one nervous. It is of no use to say “Soo-bossy,” or to + give him a charge of No. 6; neither is it well to run. If the <i>matadores</i> + had any of the sensations which I have experienced, the gate receipts at + the bull-rings would have to go up. When a big long-horn fastens a + quail-shooter with his great open brown eye in a chaparral thicket, you + are not inclined to “call his hand.” If he will call it a misdeal, you are + with him. + </p> + <p> + We were banging away, the Quartermaster and I, when a human voice began + yelling like mad from the brush ahead. We advanced, to find a Mexican—rather + well gotten up—who proceeded to wave his arms like a parson who had + reached “sixthly” in his sermon, and who proceeded thereat to overwhelm us + with his eloquence. The Quartermaster and I “<i>buenos dias-ed</i>” and “<i>si, + senor-ed</i>” him in our helpless Spanish, and asked each other, + nervously, “What de'll.” After a long time he seemed to be getting through + with his subject, his sentences became separated, he finally emitted + monosyllables only along with his scowls, and we tramped off into the + brush. It was a pity he spent so much energy, since it could only arouse + our curiosity without satisfying it. + </p> + <p> + In camp that night we told the Captain of our excited Mexican friend out + in the brush, and our cook had seen sinister men on ponies passing near + our camp. The Captain became solicitous, and stationed a night-guard over + his precious government mules. It would never do to have a bandit get away + with a U. S. brand. It never does matter about private property, but + anything with U. S. on it has got to be looked after, like a croupy child. + </p> + <p> + We had some good days' sport, and no more formidable enterprise against + the night-guard was attempted than the noisy approach of a white jackass. + The tents were struck and loaded when it began to rain. We stood in the + shelter of the escort-wagon, and the storm rose to a hurricane. Our corral + became a tank; but shortly the black clouds passed north, and we pulled + out. The twig ran into a branch, and the branch struck the trunk near the + bluffs over the Rio Grande, and in town there stood the Mexican soldiers + leaning against the wall as we had left them. We wondered if they had + moved meanwhile. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A SERGEANT OF THE ORPHAN TROOP + </h2> + <p> + WHILE it is undisputed that Captain Dodd's troop of the Third Cavalry is + not an orphan, and is, moreover, quite as far from it as any troop of + cavalry in the world, all this occurred many years ago, when it was, at + any rate, so called. There was nothing so very unfortunate about it, from + what I can gather, since it seems to have fought well on its own hook, + quite up to all expectations, if not beyond. No officer at that time + seemed to care to connect his name with such a rioting, nose-breaking band + of desperado cavalrymen, unless it was temporarily, and that was always in + the field, and never in garrison. However, in this case it did not have + even an officer in the field. But let me go on to my sergeant. + </p> + <p> + This one was a Southern gentleman, or rather a boy, when he refugeed out + of Fredericksburg with his family, before the Federal advance, in a wagon + belonging to a Mississippi rifle regiment; but nevertheless some years + later he got to be a gentleman, and passed through the Virginia Military + Institute with honor. The desire to be a soldier consumed him, but the + vicissitudes of the times compelled him, if he wanted to be a soldier, to + be a private one, which he became by duly enlisting in the Third Cavalry. + He struck the Orphan Troop. + </p> + <p> + Physically, Nature had slobbered all over Carter Johnson; she had lavished + on him her very last charm. His skin was pink, albeit the years of Arizona + sun had heightened it to a dangerous red; his mustache was yellow and + ideally military; while his pure Virginia accent, fired in terse and jerky + form at friend and enemy alike, relieved his natural force of character by + a shade of humor. He was thumped and bucked and pounded into what was in + the seventies considered a proper frontier soldier, for in those days the + nursery idea had not been lugged into the army. If a sergeant bade a + soldier “go” or “do,” he instantly “went” or “did”—otherwise the + sergeant belted him over the head with his six-shooter, and had him taken + off in a cart. On pay-days, too, when men who did not care to get drunk + went to bed in barracks, they slept under their bunks and not in them, + which was conducive to longevity and a good night's rest. When buffalo + were scarce they ate the army rations in those wild days; they had a fight + often enough to earn thirteen dollars, and at times a good deal more. This + was the way with all men at that time, but it was rough on recruits. + </p> + <p> + So my friend Carter Johnson wore through some years, rose to be a + corporal, finally a sergeant, and did many daring deeds. An atavism from + “the old border riders” of Scotland shone through the boy, and he took on + quickly. He could act the others off the stage and sing them out of the + theatre in his chosen profession. + </p> + <p> + There was fighting all day long around Fort Robinson, Nebraska—a + bushwhacking with Dull-Knife's band of the Northern Cheyennes, the + Spartans of the plains. It was January; the snow lay deep on the ground, + and the cold was knife-like as it thrust at the fingers and toes of the + Orphan Troop. Sergeant Johnson with a squad of twenty men, after having + been in the saddle all night, was in at the post drawing rations for the + troop. As they were packing them up for transport, a detachment of F Troop + came galloping by, led by the sergeant's friend, Corporal Thornton. They + pulled up. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, Carter—go with us. I have just heard that some troops have + got a bunch of Injuns corralled out in the hills. They can't get 'em down. + Let's go help 'em. It's a chance for the fight of your life. Come on.” + </p> + <p> + Carter hesitated for a moment. He had drawn the rations for his troop, + which was in sore need of them. It might mean a court-martial and the loss + of his chevrons—but a fight! Carter struck his spurred heels, + saying, “Come on, boys; get your horses; we will go.” + </p> + <p> + The line of cavalry was half lost in the flying snow as it cantered away + over the white flats. The dry powder crunched under the thudding hoofs, + the carbines banged about, the overcoat capes blew and twisted in the + rushing air, the horses grunted and threw up their heads as the spurs went + into their bellies, while the men's faces were serious with the interest + in store. Mile after mile rushed the little column, until it came to some + bluffs, where it drew reign and stood gazing across the valley to the + other hills. + </p> + <p> + Down in the bottoms they espied an officer and two men sitting quietly on + their horses, and on riding up found a lieutenant gazing at the opposite + bluffs through a glass. Far away behind the bluffs a sharp ear could + detect the reports of guns. + </p> + <p> + “We have been fighting the Indians all day here,” said the officer, + putting down his glass and turning to the two “non-coms.” “The command has + gone around the bluffs. I have just seen Indians up there on the + rim-rocks. I have sent for troops, in the hope that we might get up there. + Sergeant, deploy as skirmishers, and we will try.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0012" id="linkimage-0012"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-12.jpg" + alt="12 Mile After Mile Rushed the Little Column " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + At a gallop the men fanned out, then forward at a sharp trot across the + flats, over the little hills, and into the scrub pine. The valley + gradually narrowed until it forced the skirmishers into a solid body, when + the lieutenant took the lead, with the command tailing out in single file. + The signs of the Indians grew thicker and thicker—a skirmisher's + nest here behind a scrub-pine bush, and there by the side of a rock. + Kettles and robes lay about in the snow, with three “bucks” and some women + and children sprawling about, frozen as they had died; but all was silent + except the crunch of the snow and the low whispers of the men as they + pointed to the telltales of the morning's battle. + </p> + <p> + As the column approached the precipitous rim-rock the officer halted, had + the horses assembled in a side canon, putting Corporal Thornton in charge. + He ordered Sergeant Johnson to again advance his skirmish-line, in which + formation the men moved forward, taking cover behind the pine scrub and + rocks, until they came to an open space of about sixty paces, while above + it towered the cliff for twenty feet in the sheer. There the Indians had + been last seen. The soldiers lay tight in the snow, and no man's valor + impelled him on. To the casual glance the rim-rock was impassable. The men + were discouraged and the officer nonplussed. A hundred rifles might be + covering the rock fort for all they knew. On closer examination a cutting + was found in the face of the rock which was a rude attempt at steps, + doubtless made long ago by the Indians. Caught on a bush above, hanging + down the steps, was a lariat, which, at the bottom, was twisted around the + shoulders of a dead warrior. They had evidently tried to take him up while + wounded, but he had died and had been abandoned. + </p> + <p> + After cogitating, the officer concluded not to order his men forward, but + he himself stepped boldly out into the open and climbed up. Sergeant + Johnson immediately followed, while an old Swedish soldier by the name of + Otto Bordeson fell in behind them. They walked briskly up the hill, and + placing their backs against the wall of rock, stood gazing at the Indian. + </p> + <p> + With a grin the officer directed the men to advance. The sergeant, seeing + that he realized their serious predicament, said: + </p> + <p> + “I think, lieutenant, you had better leave them where they are; we are + holding this rock up pretty hard.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0013" id="linkimage-0013"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-13.jpg" alt="13 the Horses Assembled in a Side Canyon " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + They stood there and looked at each other. “We's in a fix,” said Otto. + </p> + <p> + “I want volunteers to climb this rock,” finally demanded the officer. + </p> + <p> + The sergeant looked up the steps, pulled at the lariat, and commented: + “Only one man can go at a time; if there are Indians up there, an old + squaw can kill this command with a hatchet; and if there are no Indians, + we can all go up.” + </p> + <p> + The impatient officer started up, but the sergeant grabbed him by the + belt. He turned, saying, “If I haven't got men to go, I will climb + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop, lieutenant. It wouldn't look right for the officer to go. I have + noticed a pine-tree, the branches of which spread over the top of the + rock,” and the sergeant pointed to it. “If you will make the men cover the + top of the rim-rock with their rifles, Bordeson and I will go up;” and + turning to the Swede, “Will you go, Otto?” + </p> + <p> + “I will go anywhere the sergeant does,” came his gallant reply. + </p> + <p> + “Take your choice, then, of the steps or the pine-tree,” continued the + Virginian; and after a rather short but sharp calculation the Swede + declared for the tree, although both were death if the Indians were on the + rim-rock. He immediately began sidling along the rock to the tree, and + slowly commenced the ascent. The sergeant took a few steps up the cutting, + holding on by the rope. The officer stood out and smiled quizzically. + Jeers came from behind the soldiers' bushes—“Go it, Otto! Go it, + Johnson! Your feet are loaded! If a snow-bird flies, you will drop dead! + Do you need any help? You'd make a hell of a sailor!” and other gibes. + </p> + <p> + The gray clouds stretched away monotonously over the waste of snow, and it + was cold. The two men climbed slowly, anon stopping to look at each other + and smile. They were monkeying with death. + </p> + <p> + At last the sergeant drew himself up, slowly raised his head, and saw snow + and broken rock. Otto lifted himself likewise, and he too saw nothing + Rifle-shots came clearly to their ears from far in front—many at one + time, and scattering at others. Now the soldiers came briskly forward, + dragging up the cliff in single file. The dull noises of the fight came + through the wilderness. The skirmish-line drew quickly forward and passed + into the pine woods, but the Indian trails scattered. Dividing into sets + of four, they followed on the tracks of small parties, wandering on until + night threatened. At length the main trail of the fugitive band ran across + their front, bringing the command together. It was too late for the + officer to get his horses before dark, nor could he follow with his + exhausted men, so he turned to the sergeant and asked him to pick some men + and follow on the trail. The sergeant picked Otto Borde-son, who still + affirmed that he would go anywhere that Johnson went, and they started. + They were old hunting companions, having confidence in each other's sense + and shooting. They ploughed through the snow, deeper and deeper into the + pines, then on down a canon where the light was failing. The sergeant was + sweating freely; he raised his hand to press his fur cap backward from his + forehead. He drew it quickly away; he stopped and started, caught Otto by + the sleeve, and drew a long breath. Still holding his companion, he put + his glove again to his nose, sniffed at it again, and with a mighty tug + brought the startled Swede to his knees, whispering, “I smell Indians; I + can sure smell 'em, Otto—can you?” Otto sniffed, and whispered back, + “Yes, plain!” “We are ambushed! Drop!” and the two soldiers sunk in the + snow. A few feet in front of them lay a dark thing; crawling to it, they + found a large calico rag, covered with blood. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0014" id="linkimage-0014"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-14.jpg" alt="14 the Two Men Climbed Slowly " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + “Let's do something, Carter; we's in a fix.” “If we go down, Otto, we are + gone; if we go back, we are gone; let's go forward,” hissed the sergeant. + </p> + <p> + Slowly they crawled from tree to tree. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you see the Injuns?” said the Swede, as he pointed to the rocks in + front, where lay their dark forms. The still air gave no sound. The + cathedral of nature, with its dark pine trunks starting from gray snow to + support gray sky, was dead. Only human hearts raged, for the forms which + held them lay like black bowlders. + </p> + <p> + “Egah—lelah washatah,” yelled the sergeant. + </p> + <p> + Two rifle-shots rang and reverberated down the canon; two more replied + instantly from the soldiers. One Indian sunk, and his carbine went + clanging down the rocks, burying itself in the snow. Another warrior rose + slightly, took aim, but Johnson's six-shooter cracked again, and the + Indian settled slowly down without firing. A squaw moved slowly in the + half-light to where the buck lay. Bordeson drew a bead with his carbine. + </p> + <p> + “Don't shoot the woman, Otto. Keep that hole covered; the place is alive + with Indians;” and both lay still. + </p> + <p> + A buck rose quickly, looked at the sergeant, and dropped back. The latter + could see that he had him located, for he slowly poked his rifle up + without showing his head. Johnson rolled swiftly to one side, aiming with + his deadly revolver. Up popped the Indian's head, crack went the + six-shooter; the head turned slowly, leaving the top exposed. Crack again + went the alert gun of the soldier, the ball striking the head just below + the scalp-lock and instantly jerking the body into a kneeling position. + </p> + <p> + Then all was quiet in the gloomy woods. + </p> + <p> + After a time the sergeant addressed his voice to the lonely place in + Sioux, telling the women to come out and surrender—to leave the + bucks, etc. + </p> + <p> + An old squaw rose sharply to her feet, slapped her breast, shouted “Lelah + washatah,” and gathering up a little girl and a bundle, she strode forward + to the soldiers. Three other women followed, two of them in the same + blanket. + </p> + <p> + “Are there any more bucks?” roared the sergeant, in Sioux. + </p> + <p> + “No more alive,” said the old squaw, in the same tongue. + </p> + <p> + “Keep your rifle on the hole between the rocks; watch these people; I will + go up,” directed the sergeant, as he slowly mounted to the ledge, and with + levelled six-shooter peered slowly over. He stepped in and stood looking + down on the dead warriors. + </p> + <p> + A yelling in broken English smote the startled sergeant. “Tro up your + hands, you d—— Injun! I'll blow the top off you!” came through + the quiet. The sergeant sprang down to see the Swede standing with carbine + levelled at a young buck confronting him with a drawn knife in his hands, + while his blanket lay back on the snow. + </p> + <p> + “He's a buck—he ain't no squaw; he tried to creep on me with a + knife. I'm going to kill him,” shouted the excited Bordeson. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, don't kill him. Otto, don't you kill him,” expostulated Johnson, + as the Swede's finger clutched nervously at the trigger, and turning, he + roared, “Throw away that knife, you d———Indian!” + </p> + <p> + The detachment now came charging in through the snow, and gathered around + excitedly. A late arrival came up, breathing heavily, dropped his gun, and + springing up and down, yelled, “Be jabbers, I have got among om at last!” + A general laugh went up, and the circle of men broke into a straggling + line for the return. The sergeant took the little girl up in his arms. She + grabbed him fiercely by the throat like a wild-cat, screaming. While + nearly choking, he yet tried to mollify her, while her mother, seeing no + harm was intended, pacified her in the soft gutturals of the race. She + relaxed her grip, and the brave Virginian packed her down the mountain, + wrapped in his soldier cloak. The horses were reached in time, and the + prisoners put on double behind the soldiers, who fed them crackers as they + marched. At two o'clock in the morning the little command rode into Fort + Robinson and dismounted at the guardhouse. The little girl, who was asleep + and half frozen in Johnson's overcoat, would not go to her mother: poor + little cat, she had found a nest. The sergeant took her into the + guard-house, where it was warm. She soon fell asleep, and slowly he undid + her, delivering her to her mother. On the following morning he came early + to the guard-house, loaded with trifles for his little Indian girl. He had + expended all his credit at the post-trader's, but he could carry sentiment + no further, for “To horse!” was sounding, and he joined the Orphan Troop + to again ride on the Dull-Knife trail. The brave Cheyennes were running + through the frosty hills, and the cavalry horses pressed hotly after. For + ten days the troops surrounded the Indians by day, and stood guard in the + snow by night, but coming day found the ghostly warriors gone and their + rifle-pits empty. They were cut off and slaughtered daily, but the gallant + warriors were fighting to their last nerve. Towards the end they were + cooped in a gully on War-Bon-natt Creek, where they fortified; but two + six-pounders had been hauled out, and were turned on their works. The four + troops of cavalry stood to horse on the plains all day, waiting for the + poor wretches to come out, while the guns roared, ploughing the frozen + dirt and snow over their little stronghold; but they did not come out. It + was known that all the provisions they had was the dead horse of a + corporal of E Troop, which had been shot within twenty paces of their + rifle-pits. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0015" id="linkimage-0015"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-15.jpg" + alt="15 Brave Cheyennes Running Through the Frosty Hills " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + So, too, the soldiers were starving, and the poor Orphans had only + crackers to eat. They were freezing also, and murmuring to be led to “the + charge,” that they might end it there, but they were an orphan troop, and + must wait for others to say. The sergeant even asked an officer to let + them go, but was peremptorily told to get back in the ranks. + </p> + <p> + The guns ceased at night, while the troops drew off to build fires, warm + their rigid fingers, thaw out their buffalo moccasins, and munch crackers, + leaving a strong guard around the Cheyennes. In the night there was a + shooting—the Indians had charged through and had gone. + </p> + <p> + The day following they were again surrounded on some bluffs, and the + battle waged until night. Next day there was a weak fire from the Indian + position on the impregnable bluffs, and presently it ceased entirely. The + place was approached with care and trepidation, but was empty. Two Indian + boys, with their feet frozen, had been left as decoys, and after standing + off four troops of cavalry for hours, they too had in some mysterious way + departed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0016" id="linkimage-0016"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-16.jpg" + alt="16 Through the Smoke Sprang The Daring Soldier " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + But the pursuit was relentless; on, on over the rolling hills swept the + famishing troopers, and again the Spartan band turned at bay, firmly + intrenched on a bluff as before. This was the last stand—nature was + exhausted. The soldiers surrounded them, and Major Wessells turned the + handle of the human vise. The command gathered closer about the doomed + pits—they crawled on their bellies from one stack of sage-brush to + the next. They were freezing. The order to charge came to the Orphan + Troop, and yelling his command, Sergeant Johnson ran forward. Up from the + sage-brush floundered the stiffened troopers, following on. They ran over + three Indians, who lay sheltered in a little cut, and these killed three + soldiers together with an old frontier sergeant who wore long hair, but + they were destroyed in turn. While the Orphans swarmed under the hill, a + rattling discharge poured from the rifle-pits; but the troop had gotten + under the fire, and it all passed over their heads. On they pressed, their + blood now quickened by excitement, crawling up the steep, while volley on + volley poured over them. Within nine feet of the pits was a rim-rock ledge + over which the Indian bullets swept, and here the charge was stopped. It + now became a duel. + </p> + <p> + Every time a head showed on either side, it drew fire like a flue-hole. + Suddenly our Virginian sprang on the ledge, and like a trill on a piano + poured a six-shooter into the intrenchment, and dropped back. + </p> + <p> + Major Wessells, who was commanding the whole force, crawled to the + position of the Orphan Troop, saying, “Doing fine work, boys. Sergeant, I + would advise you to take off that red scarf “—when a bullet cut the + major across the breast, whirling him around and throwing him. A soldier, + one Lannon, sprang to him and pulled him down the bluff, the major + protesting that he was not wounded, which proved to be true, the bullet + having passed through his heavy clothes. + </p> + <p> + The troops had drawn up on the other sides, and a perfect storm of bullets + whirled over the in-trenchments. The powder blackened the faces of the + men, and they took off their caps or had them shot off. To raise the head + for more than a fraction of a second meant death. + </p> + <p> + Johnson had exchanged five shots with a fine-looking Cheyenne, and every + time he raised his eye to a level with the rock White Antelope's gun + winked at him. + </p> + <p> + “You will get killed directly,” yelled Lannon to Johnson; “they have you + spotted.” + </p> + <p> + The smoke blew and eddied over them; again Johnson rose, and again White + Antelope's pistol cracked an accompaniment to his own; but with movement + like lightning the sergeant sprang through the smoke, and fairly shoving + his carbine to White Antelope's breast, he pulled the trigger. A + 50-calibre gun boomed in Johnson's face, and a volley roared from the + pits, but he fell backward into cover. His comrades set him up to see if + any red stains came through the grime, but he was unhurt. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0017" id="linkimage-0017"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-17.jpg" alt="17 This Time the Air Grew Clear " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + The firing grew; a blue haze hung over the hill. Johnson again looked + across the glacis, but again his eye met the savage glare of White + Antelope. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't got him yet, Lannon, but I will;” and Sergeant Johnson again + slowly reloaded his pistol and carbine. + </p> + <p> + “Now, men, give them a volley!” ordered the enraged man, and as volley + answered volley, through the smoke sprang the daring soldier, and standing + over White Antelope as the smoke swirled and almost hid him, he poured his + six balls into his enemy, and thus died one brave man at the hands of + another in fair battle. The sergeant leaped back and lay down among the + men, stunned by the concussions. He said he would do no more. His + mercurial temperament had undergone a change, or, to put it better, he + conceived it to be outrageous to fight these poor people, five against + one. He characterized it as “a d—— infantry fight,” and + rising, talked in Sioux to the enemy—asked them to surrender, or + they must otherwise die. A young girl answered him, and said they would + like to. An old woman sprang on her and cut her throat with a dull knife, + yelling meanwhile to the soldiers that “they would never surrender alive,” + and saying what she had done. + </p> + <p> + Many soldiers were being killed, and the fire from the pits grew weaker. + The men were beside themselves with rage. “Charge!” rang through the now + still air from some strong voice, and, with a volley, over the works + poured the troops, with six-shooters going, and clubbed carbines. Yells, + explosions, and amid a whirlwind of smoke the soldiers and Indians swayed + about, now more slowly and quieter, until the smoke eddied away. Men stood + still, peering about with wild open eyes through blackened faces. They + held desperately to their weapons. An old bunch of buckskin rags rose + slowly and fired a carbine aimlessly. Twenty bullets rolled and tumbled it + along the ground, and again the smoke drifted off the mount. This time the + air grew clear. Buffalo-robes lay all about, blood spotted everywhere. The + dead bodies of thirty-two Cheyennes lay, writhed and twisted, on the + packed snow, and among them many women and children, cut and furrowed with + lead. In a corner was a pile of wounded squaws, half covered with dirt + swept over them by the storm of bullets. One broken creature half raised + herself from the bunch. A maddened trumpeter threw up his gun to shoot, + but Sergeant Johnson leaped and kicked his gun out of his hands high into + the air, saying, “This fight is over.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SPIRIT OF MAHONGUI + </h2> + <p> + IT is so I have called this old document, which is an extract from the + memoirs of le Chevalier Bailloquet, a Frenchman living in Canada, where he + was engaged in the Indian fur trade, about the middle of the seventeenth + century, and as yet they are unpublished. + </p> + <p> + It is written in English, since the author lived his latter life in + England, having left Canada as the result of troubles with the + authorities. + </p> + <p> + He was captured by the Iroquois, and after living with them some time, + made his escape to the Dutch. + </p> + <p> + My Chevalier rambles somewhat, although I have been at pains to cut out + extraneous matter. It is also true that many will not believe him in these + days, for out of their puny volition they will analyze, and out of their + discontent they will scoff. But to those I say, Go to your microbes, your + statistics, your volts, and your bicycles, and leave me the truth of other + days. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0018" id="linkimage-0018"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-18.jpg" alt="18 This Was a Fatal Embarquation " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + The Chevalier was on a voyage from Quebec to Montreal; let him begin: + </p> + <p> + The next day we embarqued, though not without confusion, because many + weare not content, nor satisfied. What a pleasure ye two fathers to see + them trott up and downe ye rocks to gett their manage into ye boat. The + boats weare so loaded that many could not proceed if foul weather should + happen. I could not persuade myself to stay with this concourse as ye + weather was faire for my journie. Without adoe, I gott my six wild men to + paddle on ye way. + </p> + <p> + This was a fatal embarquation, butt I did not mistrust that ye Iriquoits + weare abroad in ye forest, for I had been at ye Peace. Nevertheless I find + that these wild men doe naught butt what they resolve out of their bloodie + mindedness. We passed the Point going out of ye Lake St. Peter, when ye + Barbars appeared on ye watter-side discharging their muskets at us, and + embarquing for our pursuit. + </p> + <p> + “Kohe—kohe!”—came nearer ye fearsome warre cry of ye Iriquoit, + making ye hearts of ye poore Hurron & ffrench alike to turn to water + in their breasts. 2 of my savages weare strook downe at ye first discharge + & another had his paddle cutt in twain, besides shott holes through + with the watter poured apace. Thus weare we diminished and could not draw + off. + </p> + <p> + The Barbars weare daubed with paint, which is ye signe of warre. They + coming against our boat struck downe our Hurrons with hattchetts, such as + did not jump into the watter, where also they weare in no wise saved. + </p> + <p> + But in my boat was a Hurron Captayne, who all his life-time had killed + many Iriquoits & by his name for vallor had come to be a great + Captayne att home and abroad. We weare resolved some execution & with + our gunns dealt a discharge & drew our cutlasses to strike ye foe. + They environed us as we weare sinking, and one spake saying—“Brothers, + cheere up and assure yourselfe you shall not be killed; thou art both men + and Cap-taynes, as I myself am, and I will die in thy defense.” And ye + afforesaid crew shewed such a horrid noise, of a sudden ye Iriquoit + Captayne took hold about me—“Thou shalt not die by another hand than + mine.” + </p> + <p> + Ye savages layd bye our armes & tyed us fast in a boat, one in one + boat and one in another. We proceeded up ye river, rather sleeping than + awake, for I thought never to escape. + </p> + <p> + Att near sunsett we weare taken on ye shore, where ye wild men encamped + bye making cottages of rind from off ye trees. They tyed ye Hurron + Captayne to a trunk, he resolving most bravely but dessparred to me, and I + too dessparred. Nevertheless he sang his fatal song though ye fire made + him as one with the ague. They tooke out his heart and cut off some of ye + flesh of ye miserable, boyled it and eat it. This they wished not to doe + att this time, but that ye Hurron had been shott with a ball under his + girdle where it was not seen, though he would have died of his desperate + wound. That was the miserable end of that wretch. + </p> + <p> + Whilst they weare busy with ye Hurron, they having stripped me naked, tyed + me above ye elbows, and wrought a rope about my middle. They afked me + several questions, I not being able to answer, they gave me great blows + with their fists, then pulled out one of my nails. Having lost all hopes, + I resolved altogether to die, itt being folly to think otherwise. + </p> + <p> + I could not flee, butt was flung into a boat att daylight. Ye boats went + all abreaft, ye wild men singing some of their fatal songs, others their + howls of victory, ye wild “Kohes,” beating giens & parchments, blowing + whistles, and all manner of tumult. + </p> + <p> + Thus did we proceed with these ravening wolves, God having delivered a + Chriftian into ye power of Satan. + </p> + <p> + I was nott ye only one in ye claws of these wolves, for we fell in with + 150 more of these cruels, who had Hurron captyves to ye number of 33 + victimes, with heads alsoe stuck on poles, of those who in God's mercie + weare gone from their miseries. As for me, I was put in a boat with one + who had his fingers cutt & bourned. I asked him why ye Iriquoits had + broak ye Peace, and he said they had told him ye ffrench had broak ye + Peace; that ye ffrench had set their pack of doggs on an olde Iriquoit + woman who was eat up alive & that ye Iriquoits had told ye Hurron wild + men that they had killed ye doggs, alsoe Hurrons and ffrench, saying that + as to ye captyves, they would boyl doggs, Hurrons, and ffrench in ye same + kettle. + </p> + <p> + A great rain arose, ye Iriquoits going to ye watter-side did cover + themselvs with their boats, holding ye captyves ye meanwhile bye ropes + bound about our ancles, while we stood out in ye storm, which was near to + causing me death from my nakedness. When ye rain had abated, we pursued + our way killing staggs, & I was given some entrails, which before I + had only a little parched corne to ye extent of my handfull. + </p> + <p> + At a point we mett a gang of ye head hunters all on ye shore, dancing + about a tree to which was tyed a fine ffrench mastiff dogg, which was + standing on its hinder leggs, being lashed up against a tree by its + middle. Ye dogg was in a great terror, and frantic in its bonds. I knew + him for a dogg from ye fort att Mont-royal, kept for to give warnings of + ye Enemy's approach. It was a strange sight for to see ye Heathen rage + about ye noble dogg, but he itt was nevertheless which brought ye Barbars + against us. He was only gott with great difficulty, having killed one + Barbar, and near to serving others like-wise. + </p> + <p> + They untyed ye dogg, I holding him one side, and ye other, with cords they + brought and tyed him in ye bow of a boat with 6 warriors to paddle him. Ye + dogg boat was ye Head, while ye rest came on up ye river singing fatal + songs, triumph songs, piping, howling, & ye dogg above all with his + great noise. Ye Barbars weare more delighted att ye captyve dogg than att + all of us poore Christians, for that they did say he was no dogg. Ye doggs + which ye wild men have are nott so great as wolves, they being little else + & small att that. Ye mastiff was considered as a consequence to be a + great interest. This one had near defeated their troupe & now was to + be horridly killed after ye bloody way of ye wild men. + </p> + <p> + Att camp they weare sleep most of ye night, they being aweary with ye + torture of ye Hurron Captayne previously. Ye dogg was tyed & layd nott + far off from where I was alsoe tyed, butt over him weare 2 olde men, who + guarded him of a fear he would eat away his ropes. These men weare Elders + or Priests, such as are esteemed for their power over spirits, & they + did keep up their devil's song ye night thro. + </p> + <p> + I made a vertue of necessity & did sleep, butt was early cast into a + boat to go on towards ye Enemy's countrie, tho we had raw meat given us, + with blows on ye mouth to make us ye more quickly devour itt. An Iriquoit + who was the Captayne in our boat, bade me to be of a good courage, as they + would not hurt me. Ye fmall knowledge I had of their speech made a better + hope, butt one who could have understood them would have been certainly in + a great terror. + </p> + <p> + Thus we journied 8 days on ye Lake Champlaine, where ye wind and waves did + sore beset our endeavors att times. As for meate we wanted none, as we had + a store of staggs along ye watter-side. We killed some every day, more for + sport than for need. We finding them on Isles, made them go into ye + watter, & after we killed above a score, we clipped ye ears of ye rest + & hung bells on them, and then lett them loose. What a sport to see ye + rest flye from them that had ye bells! + </p> + <p> + There came out of ye vast forest a multitude of bears, 300 at least + together, making a horrid noise, breaking ye small trees. We shott att + them, butt they stirred not a step. We weare much frightened that they + stirred nott att our shooting. Ye great ffrench dogg would fain encounter + them notwithftanding he was tyed. He made ye watter-side to ring with his + heavy voise & from his eyes came flames of fyre & clouds from out + his mouth. The bears did straightway fly which much cheered ye Iri-quoits. + One said to me they weare resolved nott to murder ye dogg, which was a + stone-God in ye dogg shape, or a witch, butt I could nott fully + understand. Ye wild men said they had never heard their fathers speak of + so many bears. + </p> + <p> + When we putt ye kettle on, ye wild man who had captured me, gave me of + meate to eat, & told me a story. “Brother,” says he, “itt is a thing + to be admired to goe afar to travell. You must know that tho I am olde, I + have always loved ye ffrench for their goodness, but they should have + given us to kill ye Algonkins. We should not warre against ye ffrench, + butt trade with them for Castors, who are better for traffic than ye + Dutch. I was once a Captayne of 13 men against ye Altignaonan-ton & ye + ffrench. We stayed 3 whole winters among ye Ennemy, butt in ye daytime + durst not marche nor stay out of ye deep forest. We killed many, butt + there weare devils who took my son up in ye air so I could never again get + him back. These devils weare as bigg as horriniacs, [moose] & ye + little blue birds which attend upon them, said itt was time for us to go + back to our people, which being resolved to do, we came back, butt nott of + a fear of ye Ennemy. Our warre song grew still on our lipps, as ye snow + falling in ye forest. I have nott any more warred to the North, until I + was told by ye spirits to go to ye ffrench & recover my son. My + friend, I have dreamed you weare my son;” and henceforth I was not hurted + nor starved for food. + </p> + <p> + We proceeded thro rivers & lakes & thro forests where I was made + to support burdens. When we weare come to ye village of ye Iriquoits we + lay in ye woods because that they would nott go into ye village in ye + night time. + </p> + <p> + The following day we weare marched into ye brough [borough] of ye + Iriquoits. When we came in fight we heard nothing butt outcryes from one + side, as from ye other. Then came a mighty host of people & payd great + heed to ye ffrench dogg, which was ledd bye 2 men while roundabout his + neck was a girdle of porcelaine. They tormented ye poore Hurrons with + violence, butt about me was hung a long piece of porcelaine—ye + girdle of my captor, & he stood against me. In ye meanwhile, many of + ye village came about us, among which a goode olde woman & a boy with + a hattchett came neere me. Ye olde woman covered me, & ye boy took me + by my hand and led mee out of ye companie. What comforted me was that I + had escaped ye blowes. They brought me into ye village where ye olde woman + fhowed me kindness. She took me into her cottage, & gave me to eat, + butt my great terror took my stum-ack away from me. I had stayed an hour + when a great companie came to see me, of olde men with pipes in their + mouths. For a time they sat about, when they did lead me to another + cabbin, where they smoked & made me apprehend they should throw me + into ye fyre. Butt itt proved otherwise, for ye olde woman followed me, + speaking aloud, whome they answered with a loud <i>ho,</i> then shee tooke + her girdle, and about me she tyed itt, so brought me to her cottage & + made me to sitt downe. Then she gott me Indian corne toasted, & took + away ye paint ye fellows had stuck to my face. A maide greased & + combed my haire, & ye olde woman danced and sung, while my father + bourned tobacco on a stone. They gave me a blew coverlitt, stockings, and + shoes. I layed with her son & did what I could to get familiarity with + them, and I suffered no wrong, yet I was in a terror, for ye fatal songs + came from ye poore Hurrons. Ye olde man inquired whether I was Afferony, a + ffrench. I affured him no, faying I was Panugaga, that is of their nation, + for which he was pleased. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0019" id="linkimage-0019"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-19.jpg" alt="19 the Omen of The Little Blue Birds " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + My father feasted 200 men. My sisters made me clean for that purpose, and + greased my haire. They tyed me with 2 necklaces of porcelaine & + garters of ye same. My father gave me a hattchett in my hand. + </p> + <p> + My father made a speech, showing many demonstrations of vallor, broak a + kettle of cagamite with a hattchett. So they sung, as is their usual + custom. Ye banquette being over, all cryed to me “Shagon, Orimha”—that + is “be hearty!” Every one withdrew to his quarters. + </p> + <p> + Here follows a long account of his daily life among the Indians, his + hunting and observations, which our space forbids. He had become meanwhile + more familiar with the language. He goes on: + </p> + <p> + My father came into ye cabbin from ye grand castle & he sat him downe + to smoke. He said ye Elders had approved after much debate, & that ye + ffrench dogg was not a witch, but ye great warrior Mahongui, gone before, + whose spirit had rose up into ye ffrench dogg & had spyed ye ffrench. + Att ye council even soe ye dogg had walked into ye centre of ye great + cabbin, there saying loudly to ye Elders what he was & that he must be + heard. His voice must be obeyed. His was not ye mocking cryes of a witch + from under an olde snake-skin, butt a chief come from Paradise to comfort + his own people. My father asked me if I was agreed. I said that witches + did not battile as openly as ye dogg, butt doe their evil in ye dark. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0020" id="linkimage-0020"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-20.jpg" alt="20 Ye Spirit Dog Strode from Ye Darkness " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + These wild men are sore beset with witches and devils—more than + Christians, as they deserve to be, for they are of Satan's own belonging. + </p> + <p> + My father dreamed att night, & sang about itt, making ye fire to + bourne in our cabbin. We satt to listen. He had mett ye ffrench dogg in ye + forest path bye night—he standing accross his way, & ye forest + was light from ye dogg's eyes, who spake to my father saying, “I belong to + ye dead folks—my hattchett is rust—my bow is mould—I can + no longer battile with our Ennemy, butt I hover over you in warre—I + direct your arrows to their breasts—I smoothe ye little dry sticks + & wett ye leaves under ye shoes—I draw ye morning mist accross + to shield you—I carry ye 'Kohes' back and fore to bring your terror—I + fling aside ye foeman's bulletts—go back and be strong in council.” + </p> + <p> + My father even in ye night drew ye Elders in ye grand cabbin. He said what + he had seen and heard. Even then the great ffrench dogg gott from ye + darkness of ye cabbin, & strode into ye fyre. He roared enough to blow + downe caftles in his might & they knew he was saying what he had told + unto my father. + </p> + <p> + A great Captayne sent another night, & had ye Elders for to gather at + ye grande cabbin. He had been paddling his boat upon ye river when ye dogg + of Mahongui had walked out on ye watter thro ye mist. He was taller than + ye forest. So he spake, saying “Mahongui says—go tell ye people of + ye Panugaga, itt is time for warre—ye corne is gathered—ye + deer has changed his coat—there are no more Hurrons for me to eat. + What is a Panugaga village with no captyves? Ye young men will talk as + women doe, & ye Elders will grow content to watch a snow-bird hopp. + Mahongui says itt is time.” + </p> + <p> + Again att ye council fyre ye spirit dogg strode from ye darkness & + said itt was time. Ye tobacco was bourned by ye Priests. In ye smoke ye + Elders beheld ye Spirit of Mahongui. “Panugaga—Warre.” + </p> + <p> + Soe my father saw ye ghost of ye departed one. He smoked long bye our + cabbin fyre. He sang his battile song. I asked him to goe myself, even + with a hattchett, as I too was Panugaga. Butt he would in no wise listen. + “You are nott meet,” he says, “you sayest that your God is above. How will + you make me believe that he is as goode as your black coats say? They doe + lie & you see ye contrary; ffor first of all, ye Sun bournes us often, + ye rain wetts us, ye winde makes us have shipwrake, ye thunder, ye + lightening bournes & kills us, & all comes from above, & you + say that itt is goode to be there. For my part, I will nott go there. + Contrary they say that ye reprobates & guilty goeth downe & + bourne. They are mistaken; all is goode heare. Do nott you see that itt is + ye Earthe that nourishes all living creatures—ye waiter, ye fishes, + & ye yus, and that corne & all other fruits come up, & that + all things are nott soe contrary to us as that from above? Ye devils live + in ye air & they took my son. When you see that ye Earthe is our + Mother, then you will see that all things on itt are goode. Ye Earthe was + made for ye Panugaga, & ye souls of our warriors help us against our + Ennemy. Ye ffrench dogg is Mahongui's spirit. He tells us to goe to warre + against ye ffrench. Would a ffrench dogg doe that? You are nott yett + Panugaga to follow your father in warre.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE ESSENTIALS AT FORT ADOBE + </h2> + <p> + THE Indian suns himself before the door of his tepee, dreaming of the + past. For a long time now he has eaten of the white man's lotos—the + bimonthly beef-issue. I looked on him and wondered at the new things. The + buffalo, the warpath, all are gone. What of the cavalrymen over at Adobe—his + Nemesis in the stirring days—are they, too, lounging in barracks, + since his lordship no longer leads them trooping over the burning flats by + day and through the ragged hills by night? I will go and see. + </p> + <p> + The blistered faces of men, the gaunt horses dragging stiffly along to the + cruel spurring, the dirty lack-lustre of campaigning—that, of + course, is no more. Will it be parades, and those soul-deadening “fours + right” and “column left” affairs? Oh, my dear, let us hope not. + </p> + <p> + Nothing is so necessary in the manufacture of soldiers, sure enough, but + it is not hard to learn, and once a soldier knows it I can never + understand why it should be drilled into him until it hurts. Besides, from + another point of view, soldiers in rows and in lines do not compose well + in pictures. I always feel, after seeing infantry drill in an armory, like + Kipling's light-house keeper, who went insane looking at the cracks + between the boards—they were all so horribly alike. + </p> + <p> + Then Adobe is away out West in the blistering dust, with no towns of any + importance near it. I can understand why men might become listless when + they are at field-work, with the full knowledge that nothing but their + brothers are looking at them save the hawks and coyotes. It is different + from Meyer, with its traps full of Congressmen and girls, both of whom are + much on the minds of cavalrymen. + </p> + <p> + In due course I was bedded down at Adobe by my old friend the Captain, and + then lay thinking of this cavalry business. It is a subject which thought + does not simplify, but, like other great things, makes it complicate and + recede from its votaries. To know essential details from unessential + details is the study in all arts. Details there must be; they are the + small things that make the big things. To apply this general order of + things to this arm of the service kept me awake. There is first the riding—simple + enough if they catch you young. There are bits, saddles, and cavalry + packs. I know men who have not spoken to each other in years because they + disagree about these. There are the sore backs and colics—that is a + profession in itself. There are judgment of pace, the battle tactics, the + use of three very different weapons; there is a world of history in this, + in forty languages. Then an ever-varying <i>terrain</i> tops all. There + are other things not confined to cavalry, but regarded by all soldiers. + The crowning peculiarity of cavalry is the rapidity of its movement, + whereby a commander can lose the carefully built up reputation of years in + about the time it takes a school-boy to eat a marsh-mallow. After all, it + is surely a hard profession—a very blind trail to fame. I am glad I + am not a cavalryman; still, it is the happiest kind of fun to look on when + you are not responsible; but it needs some cultivation to understand and + appreciate. + </p> + <p> + I remember a dear friend who had a taste for out-of-doors. He penetrated + deeply into the interior not long since to see these same troopers do a + line of heroics, with a band of Bannocks to support the role. The Indians + could not finally be got on the centre of the stage, but made hot-foot for + the agency. My friend could not see any good in all this, nor was he + satisfied with the first act even. He must needs have a climax, and that + not forthcoming, he loaded his disgust into a trunk line and brought it + back to his club corner here in New York. He there narrated the failure of + his first night; said the soldiers were not even dusty as advertised; + damned the Indians keenly, and swore at the West by all his gods. + </p> + <p> + There was a time when I, too, regarded not the sketches in this art, but + yearned for the finished product. That, however, is not exhibited + generally over once in a generation. + </p> + <p> + At Adobe there are only eight troops—not enough to make a German + nurse-girl turn her head in the street, and my friend from New York, with + his Napoleonic largeness, would scoff out loud. But he and the nurse do + not understand the significance; they have not the eyes to see. A + starboard or a port horseshoe would be all one to them, and a crease in + the saddle-blanket the smallest thing in the world, yet it might spoil a + horse. + </p> + <p> + When the trumpets went in the morning I was sorry I had thought at all. It + was not light yet, and I clung to my pillow. Already this cavalry has too + much energy for my taste. + </p> + <p> + “If you want to see anything, you want to lead out,” said the Captain, as + he pounded me with a boot. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0021" id="linkimage-0021"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-21.jpg" alt="21 the Advance " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + “Say, Captain, I suppose Colonel Hamilton issues this order to get up at + this hour, doesn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “He does.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he has to obey his own order, then, doesn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “He does.” + </p> + <p> + I took a good long stretch and yawn, and what I said about Colonel + Hamilton I will not commit to print, out of respect to the Colonel. Then I + got up. + </p> + <p> + This bitterness of bed-parting passes. The Captain said he would put a + “cook's police” under arrest for appearing in my make-up; but all these + details will be forgotten, and whatever happens at this hour should be + forgiven. I had just come from the North, where I had been sauntering over + the territory of Montana with some Indians and a wild man from Virginia, + getting up before light—tightening up on coffee and bacon for twelve + hours in the saddle to prepare for more bacon and coffee; but at Adobe I + had hoped for, even if I did not expect, some repose. + </p> + <p> + In the east there was a fine green coming over the sky. No one out of the + painter guild would have admitted it was green, even on the rack, but what + I mean is that you could not approach it in any other way. A nice little + adjutant went jangling by on a hard-trotting thoroughbred, his shoulders + high and his seat low. My old disease began to take possession of me; I + could fairly feel the microbes generate. Another officer comes clattering, + with his orderly following after. The fever has me. We mount, and we are + off, all going to stables. + </p> + <p> + Out from the corrals swarm the troopers, leading their unwilling mounts. + The horses are saying, “Damn the Colonel!” One of them comes in arching + bounds; he is saying worse of the Colonel, or maybe only cussing out his + own recruit for pulling his <i>cincha</i> too tight. They form troop lines + in column, while the Captains throw open eyes over the things which would + not interest my friend from New York or the German nurse-girl. + </p> + <p> + The two forward troops are the enemy, and are distinguished by wearing + brown canvas stable-frocks. These shortly move out through the post, and + are seen no more. + </p> + <p> + Now comes the sun. By the shades of Knickerbocker's <i>History of New York</i> + I seem now to have gotten at the beginning; but patience, the sun is no + detail out in the arid country. It does more things than blister your + nose. It is the despair of the painter as it colors the minarets of the + Bad Lands which abound around Adobe, and it dries up the company gardens + if they don't watch the <i>acequias</i> mighty sharp. To one just out of + bed it excuses existence. I find I begin to soften towards the Colonel. In + fact, it is possible that he is entirely right about having his old + trumpets blown around garrison at this hour, though it took the Captain's + boot to prove it shortly since. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0022" id="linkimage-0022"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-22.jpg" alt="22 Horse Gymnastics " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + The command moves out, trotting quickly through the blinding clouds of + dust. The landscape seems to get right up and mingle with the excitement. + The supple, well-trained horses lose the scintillation on their coats, + while Uncle Sam's blue is growing mauve very rapidly. But there is a + useful look about the men, and the horses show condition after their long + practice march just finished. Horses much used to go under saddle have + well-developed quarters and strong stifle action. Fact is, nothing looks + like a horse with a harness on. That is a job for mules, and these should + have a labor organization and monopolize it. + </p> + <p> + The problem of the morning was that we as an advance were to drive the two + troops which had gone on ahead. These in turn were to represent a rapidly + retiring rear-guard. This training is more that troops may be handled with + expedition, and that the men may gather the thing, rather than that + officers should do brilliant things, which they might undertake on their + own responsibility in time of war, such as pushing rapidly by on one flank + and cutting out a rear-guard. + </p> + <p> + Grevious and very much to be commiserated is the task of the feeling + historian who writes of these paper wars. He may see possibilities or + calamities which do not signify. The morning orders provide against + genius, and who will be able to estimate the surgical possibilities of + blank cartridges? The sergeant-major cautioned me not to indicate by my + actions what I saw as we rode to the top of a commanding hill. The enemy + had abandoned the stream because their retreat would have been exposed to + fire. They made a stand back in the hills. The advance felt the stream + quickly, and passed, fanning out to develop. The left flank caught their + fire, whereat the centre and right came around at top speed. But this is + getting so serious. + </p> + <p> + The scene was crowded with little pictures, all happening quickly—little + dots of horsemen gliding quickly along the yellow landscape, leaving long + trails of steely dust in their wake. A scout comes trotting along, his + face set in an expectant way, carbine advanced. A man on a horse is a + vigorous, forceful thing to look at. It embodies the liveliness of nature + in its most attractive form, especially when a gun and sabre are attached. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0023" id="linkimage-0023"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-23.jpg" alt="23 Jumping on a Horse " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + When both living equations are young, full of oats and bacon, imbued with + military ideas, and trained to the hour, it always seems to me that the + ghost of a tragedy stalks at their side. This is why the polo-player does + not qualify sentimentally. But what is one man beside two troops which + come shortly in two solid chunks, with horses snorting and sending the dry + landscape in a dusty pall for a quarter of a mile in the rear? It is good—ah! + it is worth any one's while; but stop and think, what if we could magnify + that? Tut, tut! as I said before, that only happens once in a generation. + Adobe doesn't dream; it simply does its morning's work. + </p> + <p> + The rear-guard have popped at our advance, which exchanges with them. + Their fire grows slack, and from our vantage we can see them mount quickly + and flee. + </p> + <p> + After two hours of this we shake hands with the hostiles and trot home to + breakfast. + </p> + <p> + These active, hard-riding, straight-shooting, open-order men are doing + real work, and are not being stupefied by drill-ground routine, or + rendered listless by file-closer prompting or sleepy reiteration. + </p> + <p> + By the time the command dismounts in front of stables we turn longingly to + the thoughts of breakfast. Every one has completely forgiven the Colonel, + though I have no doubt he will be equally unpopular to-morrow morning. + </p> + <p> + But what do I see—am I faint? No; it has happened again. It looks as + though I saw a soldier jump over a horse. I moved on him. + </p> + <p> + “Did I see you—” I began. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, sir—you see,” returned a little soldier, who ran with the + mincing steps of an athlete towards his horse, and landed standing uip on + his hind quarters, whereupon he settled down quietly into his saddle. + </p> + <p> + Others began to gyrate over and under their horses in a dizzy way. Some + had taken their saddles off and now sat on their horses' bellies, while + the big dog-like animals lay on their backs, with their feet in the air. + It was circus business, or what they call “short and long horse” work—some + not understandable phrase. Every one does it. While I am not unaccustomed + to looking at cavalry, I am being perpetually surprised by the lengths to + which our cavalry is carrying thus Cossack drill. It is beginning to be + nothing short of marvellous. + </p> + <p> + In the old days this thing was not known. Between building mud or log + forts, working on the bull-train, marching or fighting, a man and a gun + made a soldier; but it takes an education along with this now before he + can qualify. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0024" id="linkimage-0024"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-24.jpg" alt="24 a Tame Horse " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + The regular work at Adobe went on during the day—guard mount, + orders, inspection, and routine. + </p> + <p> + At the club I was asked, “Going out this afternoon with us?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is going; his horse will be up at 4.30; he wants to see this + cavalry,” answered my friend the Captain for me. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; it's fine moonlight. The Colonel is going to do an attack on Cossack + posts out in the hills,” said the adjutant. + </p> + <p> + So at five o'clock we again sallied out in the dust, the men in the ranks + next me silhouetting one after the other more dimly until they disappeared + in the enveloping cloud. They were cheerful, laughing and wondering one to + another if Captain Garrard, the enemy, would get in on their pickets. He + was regarded in the ranks as a sharp fellow, one to be well looked after. + </p> + <p> + At the line of hills where the Colonel stopped, the various troops were + told off in their positions, while the long cool shadows of evening stole + over the land, and the pale moon began to grow bolder over on the left + flank. + </p> + <p> + I sat on a hill with a sergeant who knew history and horses. He remembered + “Pansy,” which had served sixteen years in the troop—and a + first-rate old horse then; but a damned inspector with no soul came + browsing around one day and condemned that old horse. Government got a + measly ten dollars—or something like that. This ran along for a + time; when one day they were trooping up some lonely valley, and, behold, + there stood “Pansy,” as thin as a snake, tied by a wickieup. He greeted + the troop with joyful neighs. The soldiers asked the Captain to be allowed + to shoot him, but of course he said no. I could not learn if he winked + when he said it. The column wound over the hill, a carbine rang from its + rear, and “Pansy” lay down in the dust without a kick. Death is better + than an Indian for a horse. The thing was not noticed at the time, but + made a world of fuss afterwards, though how it all came out the sergeant + did not develop, nor was it necessary. + </p> + <p> + Night settled down on the quiet hills, and the dark spots of pickets + showed dimly on the gray surface of the land. The Colonel inspected his + line, and found everybody alert and possessed of a good working knowledge + of picket duties at night—one of the most difficult duties enlisted + men have to perform. It is astonishing how short is the distance at which + we can see a picket even in this bright night on the open hills. + </p> + <p> + I sat on my horse by a sergeant at a point in the line where I suspected + the attack would come. The sergeant thought he saw figures moving in a dry + bottom before us. I could not see. A column of dust off to the left + indicated troops, but we thought it a ruse of Garrard's. My sergeant, + though, had really seen the enemy, and said, softly, “They are coming.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0025" id="linkimage-0025"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-25.jpg" alt="25 the Pursuit " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + The bottom twinkled and popped with savage little yellow winks; bang! went + a rifle in my ear; “whew!” snorted my big horse; and our picket went to + the supports clattering. + </p> + <p> + The shots and yells followed fast. The Colonel had withdrawn the supports + towards the post rapidly, leaving his picket-line in the air—a thing + which happens in war; but he did not lose much of that line, I should say. + </p> + <p> + It was an interesting drill. Pestiferous little man disturbed nature, and + it all seemed so absurd out there on those quiet gray hills. It made me + feel, as I slowed down and gazed at the vastness of things, like a + superior sort of bug. In the middle distance several hundred troops are of + no more proportion than an old cow bawling through the hills after her + wolf-eaten calf. If my mental vision were not distorted I should never + have seen the manoeuvre at all—only the moon and the land doing what + they have done before for so long a time. + </p> + <p> + We reached Adobe rather late, when I found that the day's work had done + wonders for my appetite. I reminded the Captain that I had broken his + bread but once that day. + </p> + <p> + “It is enough for a Ninth Cavalry man,” he observed. However, I + out-flanked this brutal disregard for established customs, but it was + “cold.” + </p> + <p> + In the morning I resisted the Captain's boot, and protested that I must be + let alone; which being so, I appeared groomed and breakfasted at a + Christian hour, fully persuaded that as between an Indian and a Ninth + Cavalry man I should elect to be an Indian. + </p> + <p> + Some one must have disciplined the Colonel. I don't know who it was. There + is only one woman in a post who can, generally; but no dinners were + spoiled at Adobe by night-cat affairs. + </p> + <p> + Instead, during the afternoon we were to see Captain Garrard, the hostile, + try to save two troops which were pressed into the bend of a river by + throwing over a bridge, while holding the enemy in check. This was as + complicated as putting a baby to sleep while reading law; so clearly my + point of view was with the hostiles. With them I entered the neck. The + horses were grouped in the brush, leaving some men who were going + underground like gophers out near the entrance. The brown-canvas-covered + soldiers grabbed their axes, rolled their eyes towards the open plain, and + listened expectantly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0026" id="linkimage-0026"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-26.jpg" alt="26 the Attack on The Cossack " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + The clear notes of a bugle rang; whackety, bang—clack—clack, + went the axes. Trees fell all around. The forest seemed to drop on me. I + got my horse and fled across the creek. + </p> + <p> + “That isn't fair; this stream is supposed to be impassable,” sang out a + lieutenant, who was doing a Blondin act on the first tree over, while + beneath him yawned the chasm of four or five feet. + </p> + <p> + In less than a minute the whole forest got up again and moved towards the + bridge. There were men behind it, but the leaves concealed them. Logs + dropped over, brush piled on top. The rifles rang in scattered volleys, + and the enemy's fire rolled out beyond the brush. No bullets whistled—that + was a redeeming feature. + </p> + <p> + Aside from that it seemed as though every man was doing his ultimate act. + They flew about; the shovels dug with despair; the sand covered the logs + in a shower. While I am telling this the bridge was made. + </p> + <p> + The first horse came forward, led by his rider. He raised his eyes like + St. Anthony; he did not approve of the bridge. He put his ears forward, + felt with his toes, squatted behind, and made nervous side steps. The men + moved on him in a solid crowd from behind. Stepping high and short he then + bounded over, and after him in a stream came the willing brothers. Out + along the bluffs strung the troopers to cover the heroes who had held the + neck, while they destroyed the bridge. + </p> + <p> + Then they rode home with the enemy, chaffing each other. + </p> + <p> + It is only a workaday matter, all this; but workaday stuff does the + business nowadays. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MASSAI'S CROOKED TRAIL + </h2> + <p> + IT is a bold person who will dare to say that a wilder savage ever lived + than an Apache Indian, and in this respect no Apache can rival Massai. + </p> + <p> + He was a <i>bronco</i> Chiricahua whose <i>tequa</i> tracks were so long + and devious that all of them can never be accounted for. Three regiments + of cavalry, all the scouts—both white and black—and Mexicans + galore had their hack, but the ghostly presence appeared and disappeared + from the Colorado to the Yaqui. No one can tell how Massai's face looks, + or looked, though hundreds know the shape of his footprint. + </p> + <p> + The Seventh made some little killings, but they fear that Massai was not + among the game. There surely is or was such a person as Massai. He + developed himself slowly, as I will show by the Sherlock Holmes methods of + the chief of scouts, though even he only got so far, after all. Massai + manifested himself like the dust-storm or the morning mist—a shiver + in the air, and gone. + </p> + <p> + The chief walked his horse slowly back on the lost trail in disgust, while + the scouts bobbed along behind perplexed. It was always so. Time has + passed, and Massai, indeed, seems gone, since he appears no more. The hope + in the breasts of countless men is nearly blighted; they no longer expect + to see Massai's head brought into camp done up in an old shirt and dropped + triumphantly on the ground in front of the chief of scouts' tent, so it is + time to preserve what trail we can. + </p> + <p> + Three troops of the Tenth had gone into camp for the night, and the + ghostly Montana landscape hummed with the murmur of many men. Supper was + over, and I got the old Apache chief of scouts behind his own ducking, and + demanded what he knew of an Apache Indian down in Arizona named Massai. He + knew all or nearly all that any white man will ever know. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said the chief, as he lit a cigar and tipped his sombrero + over his left eye, “but let me get it straight. Massai's trail was so + crooked, I had to study nights to keep it arranged in my head. He didn't + leave much more trail than a buzzard, anyhow, and it took years to unravel + it. But I am anticipating. + </p> + <p> + “I was chief of scouts at Apache in the fall of '90, when word was brought + in that an Indian girl named Natastale had disappeared, and that her + mother was found under a walnut-tree with a bullet through her body. I + immediately sent Indian scouts to take the trail. They found the tracks of + a mare and colt going by the spot, and thinking it would bring them to the + girl, they followed it. Shortly they found a moccasin track where a man + had dismounted from the mare, and without paying more attention to the + horse track, they followed it. They ran down one of my own scouts in a <i>tiswin</i> + [An intoxicating beverage made of corn] camp, where he was carousing with + other drinkers. They sprang on him, got him by the hair, disarmed and + bound him. Then they asked him what he had done with the girl, and why he + had killed the mother, to which he replied that 'he did not know.' When he + was brought to me, about dark, there was intense excitement among the + Indians, who crowded around demanding Indian justice on the head of the + murderer and ravisher of the women. In order to save his life I took him + from the Indians and lodged him in the post guard-house. On the following + morning, in order to satisfy myself positively that this man had committed + the murder, I sent my first sergeant, the famous Mickey Free, with a + picked party of trailers, back to the walnut-tree, with orders to go + carefully over the trail and run down the mare and colt, or find the girl, + dead or alive, wherever they might. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0027" id="linkimage-0027"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-27.jpg" alt="27 Natastale " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + “In two hours word was sent to me that the trail was running to the north. + They had found the body of the colt with its throat cut, and were + following the mare. The trail showed that a man afoot was driving the + mare, and the scouts thought the girl was on the mare. This proved that we + had the wrong man in custody. I therefore turned him loose, telling him he + was all right. In return he told me that he owned the mare and colt, and + that when he passed the tree the girl was up in its branches, shaking down + nuts which her old mother was gathering. He had ridden along, and about an + hour afterwards had heard a shot. He turned his mare loose, and proceeded + on foot to the <i>tiswin</i> camp, where he heard later that the old woman + had been shot and the girl 'lifted.' When arrested, he knew that the other + scouts had trailed him from the walnut-tree; he saw the circumstances + against him, and was afraid. + </p> + <p> + “On the night of the second day Mickey Free's party returned, having run + the trail to within a few hundred yards of the camp of Alcashay in the + Forestdale country, between whose band and the band to which the girl + belonged there was a blood-feud. They concluded that the murderer belonged + to Alcashay's camp, and were afraid to engage him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0028" id="linkimage-0028"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-28.jpg" alt="28 the Arrest of The Scout " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + “I sent for Alcashay to come in immediately, which he did, and I demanded + that he trail the man and deliver him up to me, or I would take my scout + corps, go to his camp, and arrest all suspicious characters. He stoutly + denied that the man was in his camp, promised to do as I directed, and, to + further allay any suspicions, he asked for my picked trailers to help run + the trail. With this body of men he proceeded on the track, and they found + that it ran right around his camp, then turned sharply to the east, ran + within two hundred yards of a stage-ranch, thence into some rough mountain + country, where it twisted and turned for forty miles. At this point they + found the first camp the man had made. He had tied the girl to a tree by + the feet, which permitted her to sleep on her back; the mare had been + killed, some steaks taken out, and some meat 'jerked.' From thence on they + could find no trail which they could follow. At long intervals they found + his moccasin mark between rocks, but after circling for miles they gave it + up. In this camp they found and brought to me a fire-stick—the first + and only one I had ever seen—and they told me that the fire-stick + had not been used by Apaches for many years. There were only a few old men + in my camp who were familiar with its use, though one managed to light his + cigarette with it. They reasoned from this that the man was a bronco + Indian who had been so long 'out' that he could not procure matches, and + also that he was a much wilder one than any of the Indians then known to + be outlawed. + </p> + <p> + “In about a week there was another Indian girl stolen from one of my + hay-camps, and many scouts thought it was the same Indian, who they + decided was one of the well-known outlaws; but older and better men did + not agree with them; so there the matter rested for some months. + </p> + <p> + “In the spring the first missing girl rode into Fort Apache on a fine + horse, which was loaded down with buckskins and other Indian finery. Two + cowboys followed her shortly and claimed the pony, which bore a C C C + brand, and I gave it up to them. I took the girl into my office, for she + was so tired that she could hardly stand up, while she was haggard and + worn to the last degree. When she had sufficiently recovered she told me + her story. She said she was up in the walnut-tree when an Indian shot her + mother, and coming up, forced her to go with him. He trailed and picked up + the mare, bound her on its back, and drove it along. The colt whinnied, + whereupon he cut its throat. He made straight for Alcashay's camp, which + he circled, and then turned sharply to the east, where he made the big + twisting through the mountains which my scouts found. After going all + night and the next day, he made the first camp. After killing and cooking + the mare, he gave her something to eat, tied her up by the feet, and + standing over her, told her that he was getting to be an old man, was + tired of making his own fires, and wanted a woman. If she was a good girl + he would not kill her, but would treat her well and always have venison + hanging up. He continued that he was going away for a few hours, and would + come back and kill her if she tried to undo the cords; but she fell asleep + while he was talking. After daylight he returned, untied her, made her + climb on his back, and thus carried her for a long distance. Occasionally + he made her alight where the ground was hard, telling her if she made any + 'sign' he would kill her, which made her careful of her steps. + </p> + <p> + “After some miles of this blinding of the trail they came upon a white + horse that was tied to a tree. They mounted double, and rode all day as + fast as he could lash the pony, until, near nightfall, it fell from + exhaustion, whereupon he killed it and cooked some of the carcass. The + bronco Indian took himself off for a couple of hours, and when he + returned, brought another horse, which they mounted, and sped onward + through the moonlight all night long. On that morning they were in the + high mountains, the poor pony suffering the same fate as the others. + </p> + <p> + “They stayed here two days, he tying her up whenever he went hunting, she + being so exhausted after the long flight that she lay comatose in her + bonds. From thence they journeyed south slowly, keeping to the high + mountains, and only once did he speak, when he told her that a certain + mountain pass was the home of the Chiricahuas. From the girl's account she + must have gone far south into the Sierra Madre of Old Mexico, though of + course she was long since lost. + </p> + <p> + “He killed game easily, she tanned the hides, and they lived as man and + wife. Day by day they threaded their way through the deep canons and over + the Blue Mountain ranges. By this time he had become fond of the White + Mountain girl, and told her that he was Massai, a Chiricahua warrior; that + he had been arrested after the Geronimo war and sent East on the railroad + over two years since, but had escaped one night from the train, and had + made his way alone back to his native deserts. Since then it is known that + an Indian did turn up missing, but it was a big band of prisoners, and + some births had occurred, which made the checking off come straight. He + was not missed at the time. From what the girl said, he must have got off + east of Kansas City and travelled south and then west, till at last he + came to the lands of the Mescalero Apaches, where he stayed for some time. + He was over a year making this journey, and told the girl that no human + eye ever saw him once in that time. This is all he ever told the girl + Natastale, and she was afraid to ask him more. Beyond these mere facts, it + is still a midnight prowl of a human coyote through a settled country for + twelve hundred miles, the hardihood of the undertaking being equalled only + by the instinct which took him home. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0029" id="linkimage-0029"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-29.jpg" alt="29 Scouts " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + “Once only while the girl was with him did they see sign of other Indians, + and straightway Massai turned away—his wild nature shunning even the + society of his kind. + </p> + <p> + “At times 'his heart was bad,' and once he sat brooding for a whole day, + finally telling her that he was going into a bad country to kill Mexicans, + that women were a burden on a warrior, and that he had made up his mind to + kill her. All through her narrative he seemed at times to be overcome with + this blood-thirst, which took the form of a homicidal melancholia. She + begged so hard for her life that he relented; so he left her in the wild + tangle of mountains while he raided on the Mexican settlements. He came + back with horses and powder and lead. This last was in Winchester bullets, + which he melted up and recast into .50-calibre balls made in moulds of + cactus sticks. He did not tell how many murders he had committed during + these raids, but doubtless many. + </p> + <p> + “They lived that winter through in the Sierras, and in the spring started + north, crossing the railroad twice, which meant the Guaymas and the + Southern Pacific. They sat all one day on a high mountain and watched the + trains of cars go by; but 'his heart got bad' at the sight of them, and + again he concluded to kill the girl. Again she begged off, and they + continued up the range of the Mogollons. He was unhappy in his mind during + all this journey, saying men were scarce up here, that he must go back to + Mexico and kill some one. + </p> + <p> + “He was tired of the woman, and did not want her to go back with him, so, + after sitting all day on a rock while she besought him, the old wolf told + her to go home in peace. But the girl was lost, and told him that either + the Mexicans or Americans would kill her if she departed from him; so his + mood softened, and telling her to come on, he began the homeward journey. + They passed through a small American town in the middle of the night—he + having previously taken off the Indian rawhide shoes from the ponies. They + crossed the Gila near the Nau Taw Mountains. Here he stole two fresh + horses, and loading one with all the buckskins, he put her on and headed + her down the Eagle Trail to Black River. She now knew where she was, but + was nearly dying from the exhaustion of his fly-by-night expeditions. He + halted her, told her to 'tell the white officer that she was a pretty good + girl, better than the San Carlos woman, and that he would come again and + get another.' He struck her horse and was gone. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0030" id="linkimage-0030"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-30.jpg" alt="30 the Chief of Scouts " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + “Massai then became a problem to successive chiefs of scouts, a bugbear to + the reservation Indians, and a terror to Arizona. If a man was killed or a + woman missed, the Indians came galloping and the scouts lay on his trail. + If he met a woman in the defiles, he stretched her dead if she did not + please his errant fancy. He took pot-shots at the men ploughing in their + little fields, and knocked the Mexican bull-drivers on the head as they + plodded through the blinding dust of the Globe Road. He even sat like a + vulture on the rim-rock and signalled the Indians to come out and talk. + When two Indians thus accosted did go out, they found themselves looking + down Mas-sai's.50-calibre, and were tempted to do his bidding. He sent one + in for sugar and coffee, holding the brother, for such he happened to be, + as a hostage till the sugar and coffee came. Then he told them that he was + going behind a rock to lie down, cautioning them not to move for an hour. + That was an unnecessary bluff, for they did not wink an eye till sundown. + Later than this he stole a girl in broad daylight in the face of a San + Carlos camp and dragged her up the rocks. Here he was attacked by fifteen + or twenty bucks, whom he stood off until darkness. When they reached his + lair in the morning, there lay the dead girl, but Massai was gone. + </p> + <p> + “I never saw Massai but once, and then it was only a piece of his G string + flickering in the brush. We had followed his trail half the night, and + just at daylight, as we ascended a steep part of the mountains, I caught + sight of a pony's head looking over a bush. We advanced rapidly, only to + find the horse grunting from a stab wound in the belly, and the little + camp scattered around about him. The shirt tail flickering in the brush + was all of Massai. We followed on, but he had gone down a steep bluff. We + went down too, thus exposing ourselves to draw his fire so that we could + locate him, but he was not tempted. + </p> + <p> + “The late Lieutenant Clark had much the same view of this mountain outlaw, + and since those days two young men of the Seventh Cavalry, Rice and + Averill, have on separate occasions crawled on his camp at the break of + day, only to see Massai go out of sight in the brush like a blue quail. + </p> + <p> + “Lieutenant Averill, after a forced march of eighty-six miles, reached a + hostile camp near morning, after climbing his detachment, since midnight, + up the almost inaccessible rocks, in hopes of surprising the camp. He + divided his force into three parts, and tried, as well as possible, to + close every avenue of escape; but as the camp was on a high rocky hill at + the junction of four deep canons, this was found impracticable. At + daylight the savages came out together, running like deer, and making for + the canons. The soldiers fired, killing a buck and accidentally wounding a + squaw, but Massai simply disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “That's the story of Massai. It is not as long as his trail,” said the + chief of scouts. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + JOSHUA GOODENOUGH'S OLD LETTER + </h2> + <p> + THE following letter has come into my possession, which I publish because + it is history, and descends to the list of those humble beings who builded + so well for us the institutions which we now enjoy in this country. It is + yellow with age, and much frayed out at the foldings, being in those spots + no longer discernible. It runs: + </p> + <p> + ALBANY <i>June</i> 1798. + </p> + <p> + TO MY DEAR SON JOSEPH.—It is true that there are points in the + history of the country in which your father had a concern in his early + life, and as you ask me to put it down I will do so briefly. Not, however, + my dear Joseph, as I was used to tell it to you when you were a lad, but + with more exact truth, for I am getting on in my years and this will soon + be all that my posterity will have of their ancestor. I conceive that now + the descendents of the noble band of heroes who fought off the indians, + the Frenche and the British will prevail in this country, and my + children's children may want to add what is found here in written to their + own achievements. + </p> + <p> + To begin with, my father was the master of a fishing-schooner, of + Marblehead. In the year 1745 he was taken at sea by a French man-of-war + off Louisbourg, after making a desperate resistence. His ship was in a + sinking condition and the blood was mid-leg deep on her deck. Your + grandfather was an upstanding man and did not prostrate easily, but the + Frencher was too big, so he was captured and later found his way as a + prisoner to Quebec. He was exchanged by a mistake in his identity for + Huron indians captivated in York, and he subsequently settled near Albany, + afterwards bringing my mother, two sisters, and myself from Marblehead. + </p> + <p> + He engaged in the indian trade, and as I was a rugged lad of my years I + did often accompany him on his expeditions westward into the Mohawk + townes, thus living in bark camps among Indians and got thereby a + knowledge of their ways. I made shift also to learn their language, and + what with living in the bush for so many years I was a hand at a pack or + paddle and no mean hunter besides. I was put to school for two seasons in + Albany which was not to my liking, so I straightway ran off to a hunters + camp up the Hudson, and only came back when my father would say that I + should not be again put with the pedegogue. For this adventure I had a + good strapping from my father, and was set to work in his trade again. My + mother was a pious woman and did not like me to grow up in the wilderness—for + it was the silly fashion of those times to ape the manners and dress of + the Indians. + </p> + <p> + My father was a shifty trader and very ventur-some. He often had trouble + with the people in these parts, who were Dutch and were jealous of him. He + had a violent temper and was not easily bent from his purpose by + opporsition. His men had a deal of fear of him and good cause enough in + the bargain, for I once saw him discipline a half-negro man who was one of + his boat-men for stealing his private jug of liquor from his private pack. + He clinched with the negro and soon had him on the ground, where the man + struggled manfully but to no purpose, for your grandfather soon had him at + his mercy. “Now,” said he, “give me the jug or take the consequences.” The + other boat paddlers wanted to rescue him, but I menaced them with my fusil + and the matter ended by the return of the jug. + </p> + <p> + In 1753 he met his end at the hands of western Indians in the French + interest, who shot him as he was helping to carry a battoe, and he was + burried in the wilderness. My mother then returned to her home in + Massassachusetts, journeying with a party of traders but I staid with the + Dutch on these frontiers because I had learned the indian trade and liked + the country. Not having any chances, I had little book learning in my + youth, having to this day a regret concerning it. I read a few books, but + fear I had a narrow knowledge of things outside the Dutch settlements. On + the frontiers, for that matter, few people had much skill with the pen, + nor was much needed. The axe and rifle, the paddle and pack being more to + our hands in those rough days. To prosper though, men weare shrewd-headed + enough. I have never seen that books helped people to trade sharper. + Shortly afterwards our trade fell away, for the French had embroiled the + Indians against us. Crown Point was the Place from which the Indians in + their interest had been fitted out to go against our settlements, so a + design was formed by His Majesty the British King to dispossess them of + that place. Troops were levid in the Province and the war began. The + Frenchers had the best of the fighting. + </p> + <p> + Our frontiers were beset with the Canada indians so that it was not safe + to go about in the country at all. I was working for Peter Vrooman, a + trader, and was living at his house on the Mohawk. One Sunday morning I + found a negro boy who was shot through the body with two balls as he was + hunting for stray sheep, and all this within half a mile of Vrooman's + house. Then an express came up the valley who left word that the Province + was levying troops at Albany to fight the French, and I took my pay from + Vrooman saying that I would go to Albany for a soldier. Another young man + and myself paddled down to Albany, and we both enlisted in the York + levies. We drawed our ammunition, tents, kettles, bowls and knives at the + Albany flats, and were drilled by an officer who had been in her Majesty's + Service. One man was given five hundred lashes for enlisting in some + Connecticut troops, and the orders said that any man who should leave His + Majesty's service without a Regular discharge should suffer Death. The + restraint which was put upon me by this military life was not to my + liking, and I was in a mortal dread of the whippings which men were + constantly receiving for breaches of the discipline. I felt that I could + not survive the shame of being trussed up and lashed before men's eyes, + but I did also have a great mind to fight the French which kept me along. + One day came an order to prepare a list of officers and men who were + willing to go scouting and be freed from other duty, and after some time I + got my name put down, for I was thought too young, but I said I knew the + woods, had often been to Andiatirocte (or Lake George as it had then + become the fashion to call it) and they let me go. It was dangerous work, + for reports came every day of how our Rangers suffered up country at the + hands of the cruel savages from Canada, but it is impossible to play at + bowls without meeting some rubs. A party of us proceeded up river to join + Captain Rogers at Fort Edward, and we were put to camp on an Island. This + was in October of the year 1757. We found the Rangers were rough borderers + like ourselvs, mostly Hampshire men well used to the woods and much + accustomed to the Enemy. They dressed in the fashion of those times in + skin and grey duffle hunting frocks, and were well armed. Rogers himself + was a doughty man and had a reputation as a bold Ranger leader. The men + declaired that following him was sore service, but that he most always met + with great success. The Fort was garrissoned by His Majesty's soldiers, + and I did not conceive that they were much fitted for bush-ranging, which + I afterwards found to be the case, but they would always fight well + enough, though often to no good purpose, which was not their fault so much + as the headstrong leadership which persisted in making them come to close + quarters while at a disadvantage. There were great numbers of pack horses + coming and going with stores, and many officers in gold lace and red coats + were riding about directing here and there. I can remember that I had a + great interest in this concourse of men, for up to that time I had not + seen much of the world outside of the wilderness. There was terror of the + Canada indians who had come down to our borders hunting for scalps—for + these were continually lurking near the cantanements to waylay the unwary. + I had got acquainted with a Hampshire borderer who had passed his life on + the Canada frontier, where he had fought indians and been captured by + them. I had seen much of indians and knew their silent forest habits when + hunting, so that I felt that when they were after human beings they would + be no mean adversaries, but I had never hunted them or they me. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0031" id="linkimage-0031"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-31.jpg" alt="31 Not Much Fitted for Bush-ranging " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + I talked at great length with this Shankland, or Shanks as he was called + on account of his name and his long legs, in course of which he explained + many useful points to me concerning Ranger ways. He said they always + marched until it was quite dark before encamping—that they always + returned by a different route from that on which they went out, and that + they circled on their trail at intervals so that they might intercept any + one coming on their rear. He told me not to gather up close to other + Rangers in a fight but to keep spread out, which gave the Enemy less mark + to fire upon and also deceived them as to your own numbers. Then also he + cautioned me not to fire on the Enemy when we were in ambush till they + have approached quite near, which will put them in greater surprise and + give your own people time to rush in on them with hatchets or cutlasses. + Shanks and I had finally a great fancy for each other and passed most of + our time in company. He was a slow man in his movements albeit he could + move fast enough on occassion, and was a great hand to take note of things + happening around him. No indian was better able to discern a trail in the + bush than he, nor could one be found his equal at making snow shoes, + carving a powder horn or fashioning any knick-nack he was a mind to set + his hand to. + </p> + <p> + The Rangers were accustomed to scout in small parties to keep the Canada + indians from coming close to Fort Edward. I had been out with Shanks on + minor occasions, but I must relate my first adventure. + </p> + <p> + A party... (here the writing is lost)... was desirous of taking a captive + or scalp. I misdoubted our going alone by ourselvs, but he said we were as + safe as with more. We went northwest slowly for two days, and though we + saw many old trails we found none which were fresh. We had gone on until + night when we lay bye near a small brook. I was awakened by Shanks in the + night and heard a great howling of wolves at some distance off togther + with a gun shot. We lay awake until daybreak and at intervals heard a gun + fired all though the night. We decided that the firing could not come from + a large party and so began to approach the sound slowly and with the + greatest caution. We could not understand why the wolves should be so bold + with the gun firing, but as we came neare we smelled smoke and knew it was + a camp-fire. There were a number of wolves running about in the underbrush + from whose actions we located the camp. From a rise we could presently see + it, and were surprised to find it contained five Indians all lying asleep + in their blankets. The wolves would go right up to the camp and yet the + indians did not deign to give them any notice whatsoever, or even to move + in the least when one wolf pulled at the blanket of a sleeper. We each + selected a man when we had come near enough, and preparing to deliver our + fire, when of a sudden one figure rose up slightly. We nevertheless fired + and then rushed forward, reloading. To our astonishment none of the + figures moved in the least but the wolves scurried off. We were advancing + cautiously when Shanks caught me by the arm saying “we must run, that they + had all died of the small-pox,” and run we did lustilly for a good long + distance. After this manner did many Indians die in the wilderness from + that dreadful disease, and I have since supposed that the last living + indian had kept firing his gun at the wolves until he had no longer + strength to reload his piece. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0032" id="linkimage-0032"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-32.jpg" alt="32 the March of Rogers's Rangers " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + After this Shanks and I had become great friends for he had liked the way + I had conducted myself on this expedition. He was always ar-guying with me + to cut off my eel-skin que which I wore after the fashion of the Dutch + folks, saying that the Canada indians would parade me for a Dutchman after + that token was gone with my scalp. He had.... (writing obliterated). + </p> + <p> + Early that winter I was one of 150 Rangers who marched with Captain Rogers + against the Enemy at Carrillion. The snow was not deep at starting but it + continued to snow until it was heavy footing and many of the men gave out + and returned to Fort Edward, but notwithstanding my exhaustion I continued + on for six days until we were come to within six hundred yards of + Carrillion Fort. The captain had made us a speech in which he told us the + points where we were to rendevoux if we were broke in the fight, for + further resistence until night came on, when we could take ourselvs off as + best we might. I was with the advance guard. We lay in ambush in some + fallen timber quite close to a road, from which we could see the smoke + from the chimneys of the Fort and the Gentries walking their beats. A + French soldier was seen to come from the Fort and the word was passed to + let him go bye us, as he came down the road. We lay perfectly still not + daring to breathe, and though he saw nothing he stopped once and seemed + undecided as to going on, but suspecting nothing he continued and was + captured by our people below, for prisoners were wanted at Headquarters to + give information of the French forces and intentions. A man taken in this + way was threatened with Death if he did not tell the whole truth, which + under the circumstancs he mostly did to save his life. + </p> + <p> + The French did not come out of the Fort after us, though Rogers tried to + entice them by firing guns and showing small parties of men which feigned + to retreat. We were ordered to destroy what we could of the supplies, so + Shanks and I killed a small cow which we found in the edge of the clearing + and took off some fresh beef of which food we were sadly in need, for on + these scouts the Rangers were not permitted to fire guns at game though it + was found in thir path, as it often was in fact. I can remember on one + occassion that I stood by a tree in a snow storm, with my gun depressed + under my frock the better to keep it dry, when I was minded to glance + quickly around and there saw a large wolf just ready to spring upon me. I + cautiously presented my fusee but did not dare to fire against the orders. + An other Ranger came shortly into view and the wolf took himself off. We + burned some large wood piles, which no doubt made winter work for to keep + some Frenchers at home. They only fired some cannon at us, which beyond a + great deal of noise did no harm. We then marched back to Fort Edward and + were glad enough to get there, since it was time for snow-shoes, which we + had not with us. + </p> + <p> + The Canada indians were coming down to our Forts and even behind them to + intercept our convoys or any parties out on the road, so that the Rangers + were kept out, to head them when they could, or get knowledge of their + whereabouts. Shanks and I went out with two Mohegon indians on a scout. It + was exceedingly stormy weather and very heavy travelling except on the + River. I had got a bearskin blanket from the indians which is necessary to + keep out the cold at this season. We had ten days of bread, pork and rum + with a little salt with us, and followed the indians in a direction + North-and-bye-East towards the lower end of Lake Champlain, always keeping + to the high-ground with the falling snow to fill our tracks behind us. For + four days we travelled when we were well up the west side. We had crossed + numbers of trails but they were all full of old snow and not worth + regarding—still we were so far from our post that in event of + encountering any numbers of the Enemy we had but small hope of a safe + return and had therefore to observe the greatest caution. + </p> + <p> + As we were making our way an immense painter so menaced us that we were + forced to fire our guns to dispatch him. He was found to be very old, his + teeth almost gone, and was in the last stages of starvation. We were much + alarmed at this misadventure, fearing the Enemy might hear us or see the + ravens gathering above, so we crossed the Lake that night on some new ice + to blind our trail, where I broke through in one place and was only saved + by Shanks, who got hold of my eel-skin que, thereby having something to + pull me out with. We got into a deep gully, and striking flint made a fire + to dry me and I did not suffer much inconvenience. + </p> + <p> + The day following we took a long circle and came out on the lower end of + the Lake, there laying two days in ambush, watching the Lake for any + parties coming or going. Before dark a Mohigon came in from watch saying + that men were coming down the Lake. We gathered at the point and saw seven + of the Enemy come slowly on. There were three indians two Canadians and a + French officer. Seeing they would shortly pass under our point of land we + made ready to fire, and did deliver one fire as they came nigh, but the + guns of our Mohigons failed to explode, they being old and well nigh + useless, so that all the damage we did was to kill one indian and wound a + Canadian, who was taken in hand by his companions who made off down the + shore and went into the bush. We tried to head them unsuccessfully, and + after examining the guns of our indians we feared they were so disabled + that we gave up and retreated down the Lake, travelling all night. Near + morning we saw a small fire which we spied out only to find a large party + of the Enemy, whereat we were much disturbed, for our travelling had + exhausted us and we feared the pursuit of a fresh enemy as soon as morning + should come to show them our trail. We then made our way as fast as + possible until late that night, when we laid down for refreshment. We + built no fire but could not sleep for fear of the Enemy for it was a + bright moonlight, and sure enough we had been there but a couple of hours + when we saw the Enemy coming on our track. We here abandoned our + bear-skins with what provissions we had left and ran back on our trail + toward the advancing party. It was dark in the forest and we hoped they + might not discover our back track for some time, thus giving us a longer + start. This ruse was successful. After some hours travel I became so + exhausted that I stopped to rest, whereat the Mohigans left us, but Shanks + bided with me, though urging me to move forward. After a time I got + strength to move on. Shanks said the Canadians would come up with us if we + did not make fast going of it, and that they would disembowel us or tie us + to a tree and burn us as was their usual way, for we could in no wise hope + to make head against so large a party. Thus we walked steadily till high + noon, when my wretched strength gave out so that I fell down saying I had + as leave die there as elsewhere. Shanks followed back on our trail, while + I fell into a drouse but was so sore I could not sleep. After a time I + heard a shot, and shortly two more, when Shanks came running back to me. + He had killed an advancing indian and stopped them for a moment. He kicked + me vigorously, telling me to come on, as the Indians would soon come on + again. I got up, and though I could scarcely move I was minded diligently + to persevere after Shanks. Thus we staggered on until near night time, + when we again stopped and I fell into a deep sleep, but the enemy did not + again come up. On the following day we got into Fort Edward, where I was + taken with a distemper, was seized with very grevious pains in the head + and back and a fever. They let blood and gave me a physic, but I did not + get well around for some time. For this sickness I have always been + thankful, otherwise I should have been with Major Rogers in his + unfortunate battle, which has become notable enough, where he was defeated + by the Canadians and Indians and lost nigh all his private men, only + escaping himself by a miracle. We mourned the loss of many friends who + were our comrades, though it was not the fault of any one, since the Enemy + had three times the number of the Rangers and hemmed them in. Some of the + Rangers had surrendered under promise of Quarter, but we afterwards heard + that they were tied to trees and hacked to death because the indians had + found a scalp in the breast of a man's hunting frock, thus showing that we + could never expect such bloody minded villiains to keep their promises of + Quarter. + </p> + <p> + I was on several scouts against them that winter but encountered nothing + worthy to relate excepting the hardships which fell to a Ranger's lot. In + June the Army having been gathered we proceeded under Abercromby up the + Lake to attack Ticonderoga. I thought at the time that so many men must be + invincible, but since the last war I have been taught to know different. + There were more Highlanders, Grenadiers, Provincial troops, Artillery and + Rangers than the eye could compass, for the Lake was black with their + battoes. This concourse proceeded to Ticondaroga where we had a great + battle and lost many men, but to no avail since we were forced to return. + </p> + <p> + The British soldiers were by this time made servicible for forest warfare, + since the officers and men had been forced to rid themselvs of their + useless incumbrances and had cut off the tails of their long coats till + they scarcely reached below thir middles—they had also left the + women at the Fort, browned thir gun barrells and carried thir provisions + on their backs, each man enough for himself, as was our Ranger custom. The + army was landed at the foot of the Lake, where the Rangers quickly drove + off such small bodies of Frenchers and Indians as opposed us, and we began + our march by the rapids. Rogers men cleared the way and had a most + desperate fight with some French who were minded to stop us, but we + shortly killed and captured most of them. We again fell in with them that + afternoon and were challenged Qui vive but answered that we were French, + but they were not deceived and fired upon us, after which a hot skirmish + insued during which Lord Howe was shot through the breast, for which we + were all much depressed, because he was our real leader and had raised + great hopes of success for us. The Rangers had liked him because he was + wont to spend much time talking with them in thir camps and used also to + go on scouts. The Rangers were not over fond of British officers in + general. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0033" id="linkimage-0033"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-33.jpg" alt="33 the Storming of Ticonderoga " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + When the time had come for battle we Rangers moved forward, accompanied by + the armed boatmen and the Provincial troops. We drove in the French + pickets and came into the open where the trees were felled tops toward us + in a mighty abbatis, as though blown down by the wind. It was all we could + undertake to make our way through the mass, and all the while the great + breast-works of the French belched cannon and musket balls while the limbs + and splinters flew around us. Then out of the woods behind us issued the + heavy red masses of the British troops advancing in battle array with + purpose to storm with the bayonet. The maze of fallen trees with their + withered leaves hanging broke their ranks, and the French Retrenchment + blazed fire and death. They advanced bravely up but all to no good + purpose, and hundreds there met their death. My dear Joseph I have the + will but not the way to tell you all I saw that awful afternoon. I have + since been in many battles and skirmishes, but I never have witnessed such + slaughter and such wild fighting as the British storm of Ticondaroga. We + became mixed up—Highlanders, Grenadiers, Light Troops, Rangers and + all, and we beat against that mass of logs and maze of fallen timber and + we beat in vain. I was once carried right up to the breastwork, but we + were stopped by the bristling mass of sharpened branches, while the French + fire swept us front and flank. The ground was covered deep with dying men, + and as I think it over now I can remember nothing but the fruit bourne by + the tree of war, for I looked upon so many wonderous things that July day + that I could not set them downe at all. We drew off after seeing that + human valor could not take that work. We Rangers then skirmished with the + French colony troops and the Canada indians until dark while our people + rescued the wounded, and then we fell back. The Army was utterly + demoralized and made a headlong retreat, during which many wounded men + were left to die in the woods. Shanks and I paddled a light bark canoe + down the Lake next day, in the bottom of which lay a wounded British + officer attended by his servant. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0034" id="linkimage-0034"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-34.jpg" alt="34 Paddling the Wounded British Officer " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + I took my discharge, and lived until the following Spring with Vrooman at + German Flats, when I had a desire to go again to the more active service + of the Rangers, for living in camps and scouting, notwithstanding its + dangers, was agreeable to my taste in those days. So back to Albany I + started, and there met Major Rogers, whom I acquainted with my desire to + again join his service, whereat he seemed right glad to put me downe. I + accordingly journeyed to Crown Point, where I went into camp. I had bought + me a new fire-lock at Albany which was provided with a bayonet. It was + short, as is best fitted for the bush, and about 45 balls to the pound. I + had shot it ten times on trial and it had not failed to discharge at each + pull. There was a great change in the private men of the Rangers, so many + old ones had been frost bitten and gone home. I found my friend Shanks, + who had staid though he had been badly frosted during the winter. He had + such a hate of the Frenchers and particularly of the Canada Indians that + he would never cease to fight them, they having killed all his relatives + in New Hampshire which made him bitter against them, he always saying that + they might as well kill him and thus make an end of the family. + </p> + <p> + In June I went north down Champlain with 250 Rangers and Light Infantry in + sloop-vessels. + </p> + <p> + The Rangers were.... (writing lost).... but it made no difference. The + party was landed on the west side of the Lake near Isle au Noix and lay + five days in the bush, it raining hard all the time. I was out with a + recoinnoitering party to watch the Isle, and very early in the morning we + saw the French coming to our side in boats, whereat we acquainted Major + Rogers that the French were about to attack us. We were drawn up in line + to await their coming. The forest always concealed a Ranger line, so that + there might not have been a man within a hundred miles for all that could + be seen, and so it was that an advance party of the Enemy walked into our + line and were captured, which first appraised the French of our position. + They shortly attacked us on our left, but I was sent with a party to make + our way through a swamp in order to attack their rear. This we + accomplished so quietly that we surprized some Canada indians who were + lying back of the French line listening to a prophet who was incanting. + These we slew, and after our firing many French grenadiers came running + past, when they broke before our line. I took a Frenchman prisoner, but he + kept his bayonet pointed at me, all the time yelling in French which I did + not understand, though I had my loaded gun pointed at him. He seemed to be + disturbed at the sight of a scalp which I had hanging in my belt. I had + lately took it from the head of an Indian, it being my first, but I was + not minded to kill the poor Frenchman and was saying so in English. He put + down his fire-lock finally and offered me his flask to drink liquor with + him, but I did not use it. I had known that Shanks carried poisoned liquor + in his pack, with the hope that it would destroy any indians who might + come into possession of it, if he was taken, whether alive or dead. As I + was escorting the Frenchman back to our boats he quickly ran away from me, + though I snapped my fire-lock at him, which failed to explode, it having + become wet from the rain. Afterwards I heard that a Ranger had shot him, + seeing him running in the bush. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0035" id="linkimage-0035"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-35.jpg" alt="35 the Capture of The French Grenadier " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + We went back to our boats after this victory and took all our wounded and + dead with us, which last we buried on an island. Being joined by a party + of Stockbridge Indians we were again landed, and after marching for some + days came to a road where we recoinnoitered St. John's Fort but did not + attack it, Rogers judging it not to be takeable with our force. From here + we began to march so fast that only the strongest men could keep up, and + at day-break came to another Fort. We ran into the gate while a hay-waggon + was passing through, and surprised and captured all the garrison, men + women and children. After we had burned and destroyed everything we turned + the women and children adrift, but drove the men along as prisoners, + making them carry our packs. We marched so fast that the French grenadiers + could not keep up, for their breeches were too tight for them to march + with ease, whereat we cut off the legs of them with our knives, when they + did better. + </p> + <p> + After this expedition we scouted from Crown Point in canoes, Shanks and + myself going as far north as we dared toward Isle au Noix, and one day + while lying on the bank we saw the army coming. It was an awesome sight to + see so many boats filled with brave uniforms, as they danced over the + waves. The Rangers and Indians came a half a mile ahead of the Army in + whale-boats all in line abreast, while behind them came the light Infantry + and Grenadiers with Provincial troops on the flanks and Artillery and + Store boats bringing up the Rear. + </p> + <p> + Shanks and I fell in with the Ranger boats, being yet in our small bark + and much hurled about by the waves, which rolled prodigious. + </p> + <p> + The Army continued up the Lake and drove the Frenchers out of their Forts, + they not stopping to resist us till we got to Chamblee, where we staid. + But the French in Canada had all surrendered to the British and the war + was over. This ended my service as a Ranger in those parts. I went back to + Vroomans intending to go again into the indian trade, for now we hoped + that the French would no longer be able to stop our enterprises. + </p> + <p> + Now my dear son—I will send you this long letter, and will go on + writing of my later life in the Western country and in the War of + Independence, and will send you those letters as soon as I have them + written. I did not do much or occupy a commanding position, but I served + faithfully in what I had to do. For the present God bless you my dear son. + </p> + <p> + JOSHUA GOODENOUGH. <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CRACKER COWBOYS OF FLORIDA + </h2> + <p> + ONE can thresh the straw of history until he is well worn out, and also is + running some risk of wearing others out who may have to listen, so I will + waive the telling of who the first cowboy was, even if I knew; but the + last one who has come under my observation lives down in Florida, and the + way it happened was this: I was sitting in a “sto' do',” as the “Crackers” + say, waiting for the clerk to load some “number eights,” when my friend + said, “Look at the cowboys!” This immediately caught my interest. With me + cowboys are what gems and porcelains are to some others. Two very + emaciated Texas ponies pattered down the street, bearing wild-looking + individuals, whose hanging hair and drooping hats and generally bedraggled + appearance would remind you at once of the Spanish-moss which hangs so + quietly and helplessly to the limbs of the oaks out in the swamps. There + was none of the bilious fierceness and rearing plunge which I had + associated with my friends out West, but as a fox-terrier is to a yellow + cur, so were these last. They had on about four dollars' worth of clothes + between them, and rode McClellan saddles, with saddle-bags, and guns tied + on before. The only things they did which were conventional were to tie + their ponies up by the head in brutal disregard, and then get drunk in + about fifteen minutes. I could see that in this case, while some of the + tail feathers were the same, they would easily classify as new birds. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0036" id="linkimage-0036"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-36.jpg" + alt="36 About Four Dollars Worth of Clothes Between Them " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + “And so you have cowboys down here?” I said to the man who ran the + meat-market. + </p> + <p> + He picked a tiny piece of raw liver out of the meshes of his long black + beard, tilted his big black hat, shoved his arms into his white apron + front, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Gawd! yes, stranger; I was one myself.” + </p> + <p> + The plot thickened so fast that I was losing much, so I became more + deliberate. “Do the boys come into town often?” I inquired further. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, 'mos' every little spell,” replied the butcher, as he reached + behind his weighing-scales and picked up a double-barrelled shot-gun, + sawed off. “We-uns are expectin' of they-uns to-day.” + </p> + <p> + And he broke the barrels and took out the shells to examine them. + </p> + <p> + “Do they come shooting?” I interposed. + </p> + <p> + He shut the gun with a snap. “We split even, stranger.” + </p> + <p> + Seeing that the butcher was a fragile piece of bric-a-brac, and that I + might need him for future study, I bethought me of the banker down the + street. Bankers are bound to be broad-gauged, intelligent, and + conservative, so I would go to him and get at the ancient history of this + neck of woods. I introduced myself, and was invited behind the counter. + The look of things reminded me of one of those great green terraces which + conceal fortifications and ugly cannon. It was boards and wire screen in + front, but behind it were shot-guns and six-shooters hung in the handiest + way, on a sort of disappearing gun-carriage arrangement. Shortly one of + the cowboys of the street scene floundered in. He was two-thirds drunk, + with brutal, shifty eyes and a flabby lower lip. + </p> + <p> + “I want twenty dollars on the old man. Ken I have it?” + </p> + <p> + I rather expected that the bank would go into “action front,” but the + clerk said, “Certainly,” and completed this rather odd financial + transaction, whereat the bull-hunter stumbled out. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0037" id="linkimage-0037"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-37.jpg" alt="37 a Cracker Cowboy " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + “Who is the old man in this case?” I ventured. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's his boss, old Colonel Zuigg, of Crow City. I gave some money to + some of his boys some weeks ago, and when the colonel was down here I + asked him if he wanted the boys to draw against him in that way, and he + said, 'Yes—for a small amount; they will steal a cow or two, and pay + me that way.'” + </p> + <p> + Here was something tangible. + </p> + <p> + “What happens when a man steals another man's brand in this country?” + </p> + <p> + “He mustn't get caught; that's all. They all do it, but they never bring + their troubles into court. They just shoot it out there in the bresh. The + last time old Colonel Zuigg brought Zorn Zuidden in here and had him + indicted for stealing cattle, said Zorn: 'Now see here, old man Zuigg, + what do you want for to go and git me arrested fer? I have stole thousands + of cattle and put your mark and brand on 'em, and jes because I have stole + a couple of hundred from you, you go and have me indicted. You jes better + go and get that whole deal nol pressed;' and it was done.” + </p> + <p> + The argument was perfect. + </p> + <p> + “From that I should imagine that the cow-people have no more idea of law + than the 'gray apes,'” I commented. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's about it. Old Colonel Zuigg was a judge fer a spell, till + some feller filled him with buckshot, and he had to resign; and I remember + he decided a case aginst me once. I was hot about it, and the old colonel + he saw I was. Says he, 'Now yer mad, ain't you?' And I allowed I was. + 'Well,' says he, 'you hain't got no call to get mad. I have decided the + last eight cases in yer favor, and you kain't have it go yer way all the + time; it wouldn't look right;' and I had to be satisfied.” + </p> + <p> + The courts in that locality were but the faint and sickly flame of a taper + offered at the shrine of a justice which was traditional only, it seemed. + Moral forces having ceased to operate, the large owners began to brand + everything in sight, never realizing that they were sowing the wind. This + action naturally demoralized the cowboys, who shortly began to brand a + little on their own account—and then the deluge. The rights of + property having been destroyed, the large owners put strong outfits in the + field, composed of desperate men armed to the teeth, and what happens in + the lonely pine woods no one knows but the desperadoes themselves, albeit + some of them never come back to the little fringe of settlements. The + winter visitor from the North kicks up the jack-snipe along the beach or + tarponizes in the estuaries of the Gulf, and when he comes to the hotel + for dinner he eats Chicago dressed beef, but out in the wilderness + low-browed cow-folks shoot and stab each other for the possession of + scrawny creatures not fit for a pointer-dog to mess on. One cannot but + feel the force of Buckle's law of “the physical aspects of nature” in this + sad country. Flat and sandy, with miles on miles of straight pine timber, + each tree an exact duplicate of its neighbor tree, and underneath the + scrub palmettoes, the twisted brakes and hammocks, and the gnarled + water-oaks festooned with the sad gray Spanish-moss—truly not a + country for a high-spirited race or moral giants. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0038" id="linkimage-0038"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-38.jpg" alt="38 Fighting over a Stolen Herd " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + The land gives only a tough wiregrass, and the poor little cattle, no + bigger than a donkey, wander half starved and horribly emaciated in search + of it. There used to be a trade with Cuba, but now that has gone; and + beyond the supplying of Key West and the small fringe of settlements they + have no market. How well the cowboys serve their masters I can only guess, + since the big owners do not dare go into the woods, or even to their own + doors at night, and they do not keep a light burning in the houses. One, + indeed, attempted to assert his rights, but some one pumped sixteen + buckshot into him as he bent over a spring to drink, and he left the + country. They do tell of a late encounter between two rival foremen, who + rode on to each other in the woods, and drawing, fired, and both were + found stretched dying under the palmettoes, one calling deliriously the + name of his boss. The unknown reaches of the Everglades lie just below, + and with a half-hour's start a man who knew the country would be safe from + pursuit, even if it were attempted; and, as one man cheerfully confided to + me, “A boat don't leave no trail, stranger.” + </p> + <p> + That might makes right, and that they steal by wholesale, any + cattle-hunter will admit; and why they brand at all I cannot see, since + one boy tried to make it plain to me, as he shifted his body in drunken + abandon and grabbed my pencil and a sheet of wrapping paper: “See yer; ye + see that?” And he drew a circle O, and then another ring around it, thus: + (O). “That brand ain't no good. Well, then—” And again his knotted + and dirty fingers essayed the brand I O. He laboriously drew upon it and + made E-O which of course destroyed the former brand. + </p> + <p> + “Then here,” he continued, as he drew 13, “all ye've got ter do is this—313.” + I gasped in amazement, not at his cleverness as a brand-destroyer, but at + his honest abandon. With a horrible operatic laugh, such as is painted in + “The Cossack's Answer,” he again laboriously drew (+) (the circle cross), + and then added some marks which made it look like this: S(+)S. And again + breaking into his devil's “ha, ha!” said, “Make the damned thing whirl.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0039" id="linkimage-0039"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-39.jpg" alt="39 in Wait for an Enemy " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + I did not protest. He would have shot me for that. But I did wish he was + living in the northwest quarter of New Mexico, where Mr. Cooper and Dan + could throw their eyes over the trail of his pony. Of course each man has + adjusted himself to this lawless rustling, and only calculates that he can + steal as much as his opponent. It is rarely that their affairs are brought + to court, but when they are, the men come <i>en masse</i> to the room, + armed with knives and rifles, so that any decision is bound to be a + compromise, or it will bring on a general engagement. + </p> + <p> + There is also a noticeable absence of negroes among them, as they still + retain some <i>ante bellum</i> theories, and it is only very lately that + they have “reconstructed.” Their general ignorance is “miraculous,” and + quite mystifying to an outside man. Some whom I met did not even know + where the Texas was which furnishes them their ponies. The railroads of + Florida have had their ups and downs with them in a petty way on account + of the running over of their cattle by the trains; and then some + long-haired old Cracker drops into the nearest station with his gun and + pistol, and wants the telegraph operator to settle immediately on the + basis of the Cracker's claim for damages, which is always absurdly high. + At first the railroads demurred, but the cowboys lined up in the “bresh” + on some dark night and pumped Winchesters into the train in a highly + picturesque way. The trainmen at once recognized the force of the + Cracker's views on cattle-killing, but it took some considerable “potting” + at the more conservative superintendents before the latter could bestir + themselves and invent a “cow-attorney,” as the company adjuster is called, + who now settles with the bushmen as best he can. Certainly no worse people + ever lived since the big killing up Muscleshell way, and the romance is + taken out of it by the cowardly assassination which is the practice. They + are well paid for their desperate work, and always eat fresh beef or + “razor-backs,” and deer which they kill in the woods. The heat, the poor + grass, their brutality, and the pest of the flies kill their ponies, and, + as a rule, they lack dash and are indifferent riders, but they are + picturesque in their unkempt, almost unearthly wildness. A strange effect + is added by their use of large, fierce cur-dogs, one of which accompanies + each cattle-hunter, and is taught to pursue cattle, and to even take them + by the nose, which is another instance of their brutality. Still, as they + only have a couple of horses apiece, it saves them much extra running. + These men do not use the rope, unless to noose a pony in a corral, but + work their cattle in strong log corrals, which are made at about a day's + march apart all through the woods. Indeed, ropes are hardly necessary, + since the cattle are so small and thin that two men can successfully + “wrestle” a three-year-old. A man goes into the corral, grabs a cow by one + horn, and throwing his other arm over her back, waits until some other man + takes her hind leg, whereat ensues some very entertaining Graeco-Roman + style. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0040" id="linkimage-0040"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-40.jpg" alt="40 a Bit of Cow Country " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + When the cow is successful, she finds her audience of Cracker cowboys + sitting on the fence awaiting another opening, and gasping for breath. The + best bull will not go over three hundred pounds, while I have seen a + yearling at a hundred and fifty—if you, O knights of the riata, can + imagine it! Still, it is desperate work. Some of the men are so reckless + and active that they do not hesitate to encounter a wild bull in the open. + The cattle are as wild as deer, they race off at scent; and when “rounded + up” many will not drive, whereupon these are promptly shot. It frequently + happens that when the herd is being driven quietly along a bull will turn + on the drivers, charging at once. Then there is a scamper and great + shooting. The bulls often become so maddened in these forays that they + drop and die in their tracks, for which strange fact no one can account, + but as a rule they are too scrawny and mean to make their handling + difficult. + </p> + <p> + So this is the Cracker cowboy, whose chief interest would be found in the + tales of some bushwhacking enterprise, which I very much fear would be a + one-sided story, and not worth the telling. At best they must be + revolting, having no note of the savage encounters which used to + characterize the easy days in West Texas and New Mexico, when every man + tossed his life away to the crackle of his own revolver. The moon shows + pale through the leafy canopy on their evening fires, and the mists, the + miasma, and the mosquitoes settle over their dreary camp talk. In place of + the wild stampede, there is only the bellowing in the pens, and instead of + the plains shaking under the dusty air as the bedizened vaqueros plough + their fiery broncos through the milling herds, the cattle-hunter wends his + lonely way through the ooze and rank grass, while the dreary pine trunks + line up and shut the view. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0041" id="linkimage-0041"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-41.jpg" alt="41 Cowboys Wrestling a Bull " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE STRANGE DAYS THAT CAME TO JIMMIE FRIDAY + </h2> + <p> + THE “Abwee-chemun” [Algonquin for “paddle and canoe.”] Club was organized + with six charter members at a heavy lunch in the Savarin restaurant—one + of those lunches which make through connections to dinner without change. + One member basely deserted, while two more lost all their enthusiasm on + the following morning, but three of us stuck. We vaguely knew that + somewhere north of the Canadian Pacific and south of Hudson Bay were big + lakes and rapid rivers—lakes whose names we did not know; lakes + bigger than Champlain, with unnamed rivers between them. We did not + propose to be boated around in a big birch-bark by two voyagers among + blankets and crackers and ham, but each provided himself a little + thirteen-foot cedar canoe, twenty-nine inches in the beam, and weighing + less than forty pounds. I cannot tell you precisely how our party was + sorted, but one was a lawyer with eyeglasses and settled habits, loving + nature, though detesting canoes; the other was nominally a merchant, but + in reality an atavie Norseman of the wolf and raven kind; while I am not + new. Together we started. + </p> + <p> + Presently the Abwees sat about the board of a lumbermen's hotel, filled + with house-flies and slatternly waiter-girls, who talked familiarly while + they served greasy food. The Abwees were yet sore in their minds at the + thoughts of the smelly beds up-stairs, and discouragement sat deeply on + their souls. But their time was not yet. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast they marched to the Hudson Bay Company's store, knowing as + they did that in Canada there are only two places for a traveller to go + who wants anything—the great company or the parish priest; and then, + having explained to the factor their dream, they were told “that beyond, + beyond some days' journey”—oh! that awful beyond, which for + centuries has stood across the path of the pioneer, and in these latter + days confronts the sportsman and wilderness-lover—“that beyond some + days' journey to the north was a country such as they had dreamed—up + Temis-camingue and beyond.” + </p> + <p> + The subject of a guide was considered. + </p> + <p> + Jimmie Friday always brought a big toboggan-load of furs into Fort + Tiemogamie every spring, and was accounted good in his business. He and + his big brother trapped together, and in turn followed the ten days' swing + through the snow-laden forest which they had covered with their dead-falls + and steel-jawed traps; but when the ice went out in the rivers, and the + great pines dripped with the melting snows, they had nothing more to do + but cut a few cords of wood for their widowed mother's cabin near the + post. Then the brother and he paddled down to Bais des Pierres, where the + brother engaged as a deck hand on a steamboat, and Jimmie hired himself as + a guide for some bush-rangers, as the men are called who explore for pine + lands for the great lumber firms. Having worked all summer and got through + with that business, Jimmie bethought him to dissipate for a few days in + the bustling lumber town down on the Ottawa River. He had been there + before to feel the exhilaration of civilization, but beyond that clearing + he had never known anything more inspiring than a Hudson Bay post, which + is generally a log store, a house where the agent lives, and a few tiny + Indian cabins set higgledy-piggledy in a sunburnt gash of stumps and + bowlders, lost in the middle of the solemn, unresponsive forest. On this + morning in question he had stepped from his friend's cabin up in the + Indian village, and after lighting a perfectly round and rather yellow + cigar, he had instinctively wandered down to the Hudson Bay store, there + to find himself amused by a strange sight. + </p> + <p> + The Abwees had hired two French-Indian voyagers of sinister mien, and a + Scotch-Canadian boy bred to the bush. They were out on the grass, engaged + in taking burlaps off three highly polished canoes, while the clerk from + the store ran out and asked questions about “how much bacon,” and, “will + fifty pounds of pork be enough, sir?” + </p> + <p> + The round yellow cigar was getting stubby, while Jimmie's modest eyes + sought out the points of interest in the new-comers, when he was suddenly + and sharply addressed: + </p> + <p> + “Can you cook?” + </p> + <p> + Jimmie couldn't do anything in a hurry, except chop a log in two, paddle + very fast, and shoot quickly, so he said, as was his wont: + </p> + <p> + “I think—I dun'no'—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, how much?” came the query. + </p> + <p> + “Two daul—ars—” said Jimmie. + </p> + <p> + The transaction was complete. The yellow butt went over the fence, and + Jimmie shed his coat. He was directed to lend a hand by the bustling + sportsmen, and requested to run and find things of which he had never + before in his life heard the name. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0042" id="linkimage-0042"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-42.jpg" alt="42 the Lawyer Had Become a Voyager " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + After two days' travel the Abwees were put ashore—boxes, bags, rolls + of blankets, canoes, Indians, and plunder of many sorts—on a pebbly + beach, and the steamer backed off and steamed away. They had reached the + “beyond” at last, and the odoriferous little bedrooms, the bustle of the + preparation, the cares of their lives, were behind. Then there was a + girding up of the loins, a getting out of tump-lines and canvas packs, and + the long portage was begun. + </p> + <p> + The voyagers carried each two hundred pounds as they stalked away into the + wilderness, while the attorney-at-law “hefted” his pack, wiped his + eyeglasses with his pocket-handkerchief, and tried cheerfully to assume + the responsibilities of “a dead game sport.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot lift the thing, and how I am going to carry it is more than I + know; but I'm a dead game sport, and I am going to try. I do not want to + be dead game, but it looks as though I couldn't help it. Will some + gentleman help me to adjust this cargo?” + </p> + <p> + The night overtook the outfit in an old beaver meadow half-way through the + trail. Like all first camps, it was tough. The lean-to tents went up + awkwardly. No one could find anything. Late at night the Abwees lay on + their backs under the blankets, while the fog settled over the meadow and + blotted out the stars. + </p> + <p> + On the following day the stuff was all gotten through, and by this time + the lawyer had become a voyager, willing to carry anything he could + stagger under. It is strange how one can accustom himself to “pack.” He + may never use the tump-line, since it goes across the head, and will + unseat his intellect if he does, but with shoulder-straps and a tump-line + a man who thinks he is not strong will simply amaze himself inside of a + week by what he can do. As for our little canoes, we could trot with them. + Each Abwee carried his own belongings and his boat, which entitled him to + the distinction of “a dead game sport,” whatever that may mean, while the + Indians portaged their larger canoes and our mass of supplies, making many + trips backward and forward in the process. + </p> + <p> + At the river everything was parcelled out and arranged. The birch-barks + were repitched, and every man found out what he was expected to portage + and do about camp. After breaking and making camp three times, the outfit + could pack up, load the canoes, and move inside of fifteen minutes. At the + first camp the lawyer essayed his canoe, and was cautioned that the + delicate thing might flirt with him. He stepped in and sat gracefully down + in about two feet of water, while the “delicate thing” shook herself + saucily at his side. After he had crawled dripping ashore and wiped his + eye-glasses, he engaged to sell the “delicate thing” to an Indian for one + dollar and a half on a promissory note. The trade was suppressed, and he + was urged to try again. A man who has held down a cane-bottom chair + conscientiously for fifteen years looks askance at so fickle a thing as a + canoe twenty-nine inches in the beam. They are nearly as hard to sit on in + the water as a cork; but once one is in the bottom they are stable enough, + though they do not submit to liberties or palsied movements. The staid + lawyer was filled with horror at the prospect of another go at his + polished beauty; but remembering his resolve to be dead game, he abandoned + his life to the chances, and got in this time safely. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0043" id="linkimage-0043"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-43.jpg" + alt="43 It is Strange How One Can Accustom Himself to 'pack' " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + So the Abwees went down the river on a golden morning, their double-blade + paddles flashing the sun and sending the drip in a shower on the glassy + water. The smoke from the lawyer's pipe hung behind him in the quiet air, + while the note of the reveille clangored from the little buglette of the + Norseman. Jimmie and the big Scotch backwoodsman swayed their bodies in + one boat, while the two sinister voyagers dipped their paddles in the big + canoe. + </p> + <p> + The Norseman's gorge came up, and he yelled back: “Say! this suits me. I + am never going back to New York.” + </p> + <p> + Jimmie grinned at the noise; it made him happy. Such a morning, such a + water, such a lack of anything to disturb one's peace! Let man's better + nature revel in the beauties of existence; they inflate his soul. The + colors play upon the senses—the reddish-yellow of the birch-barks, + the blue of the water, and the silver sheen as it parts at the bows of the + canoes; the dark evergreens, the steely rocks with their lichens, the + white trunks of the birches, their fluffy tops so greeny green, and over + all the gold of a sunny day. It is my religion, this thing, and I do not + know how to tell all I feel concerning it. + </p> + <p> + The rods were taken out, a gang of flies put on and trolled behind—but + we have all seen a man fight a five-pound bass for twenty minutes. The + waters fairly swarmed with them, and we could always get enough for the + “pot” in a half-hour's fishing at any time during the trip. The Abwees + were canoeing, not hunting or fishing; though, in truth, they did not need + to hunt spruce-partridge or fish for bass in any sporting sense; they + simply went out after them, and never stayed over half an hour. On a point + we stopped for lunch: the Scotchman always struck the beach a-cooking. He + had a “kit,” which was a big camp-pail, and inside of it were more dishes + than are to be found in some hotels. He broiled the bacon, instead of + frying it, and thus we were saved the terrors of indigestion. He had many + luxuries in his commissary, among them dried apples, with which he filled + a camp-pail one day and put them on to boil. They subsequently got to be + about a foot deep all over the camp, while Furguson stood around and + regarded the black-magic of the thing with overpowering emotions and + Homeric tongue. Furguson was a good genius, big and gentle, and a woodsman + root and branch. The Abwees had intended their days in the wilderness to + be happy singing flights of time, but with grease and paste in one's + stomach what may not befall the mind when it is bent on nature's doings? + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0044" id="linkimage-0044"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-44.jpg" alt="44 Down the River on a Golden Morning " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + And thus it was that the gloomy Indian Jimmie Friday, despite his + tuberculosis begotten of insufficient nourishment, was happy in these + strange days—even to the extent of looking with wondrous eyes on the + nooks which we loved—nooks which previously for him had only + sheltered possible “dead-falls” or not, as the discerning eye of the + trapper decided the prospects for pelf. + </p> + <p> + Going ashore on a sandy beach, Jimmie wandered down its length, his hunter + mind seeking out the footprints of his prey. He stooped down, and then + beckoned me to come, which I did. + </p> + <p> + Pointing at the sand, he said, “You know him?” + </p> + <p> + “Wolves,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—first time I see 'em up here—they be follerin' the deers—bad—bad. + No can trap 'em—verrie smart.” + </p> + <p> + A half-dozen wolves had chased a deer into the water; but wolves do not + take to the water, so they had stopped and drank, and then gone + rollicking-together up the beach. There were cubs, and one great track as + big as a mastiff might make. + </p> + <p> + “See that—moose track—he go by yesterday;” and Jimmie pointed + to enormous footprints in the muck of a marshy place. “Verrie big moose—we + make call at next camp—think it is early for call.” + </p> + <p> + At the next camp Jimmie made the usual birch-bark moose-call, and at + evening blew it, as he also did on the following morning. This camp was a + divine spot on a rise back of a long sandy beach, and we concluded to stop + for a day. The Norseman and I each took a man in our canoes and started + out to explore. I wanted to observe some musk-rat hotels down in a big + marsh, and the Norseman was fishing. The attorney was content to sit on a + log by the shores of the lake, smoke lazily, and watch the sun shimmer + through the lifting fog. He saw a canoe approaching from across the lake. + He gazed vacantly at it, when it grew strange and more unlike a canoe. The + paddles did not move, but the phantom craft drew quickly on. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0045" id="linkimage-0045"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-45.jpg" alt="45 a Real Camp " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + “Say, Furguson—come here—look at that canoe.” + </p> + <p> + The Scotchman came down, with a pail in one hand, and looked. “Canoe—hell—it's + a moose—and there ain't a pocket-pistol in this camp,” and he fairly + jumped up and down. + </p> + <p> + “You don't say—you really don't say!” gasped the lawyer, who now + began to exhibit signs of insanity. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—he's going to be d——d sociable with us—he's + coming right bang into this camp.” + </p> + <p> + The Indian too came down, but he was long past talking English, and the + gutturals came up in lumps, as though he was trying to keep them down. + </p> + <p> + The moose finally struck a long point of sand and rushes about two hundred + yards away, and drew majestically out of the water, his hide dripping, and + the sun glistening on his antlers and back. + </p> + <p> + The three men gazed in spellbound admiration at the picture until the + moose was gone. When they had recovered their senses they slowly went up + to the camp on the ridge—disgusted and dum-founded. + </p> + <p> + “I could almost put a cartridge in that old gun-case and kill him,” sighed + the backwoodsman. + </p> + <p> + “I have never hunted in my life,” mused the attorney, “but few men have + seen such a sight,” and he filled his pipe. + </p> + <p> + “Hark—listen!” said the Indian. There was a faint cracking, which + presently became louder. “He's coming into camp;” and the Indian nearly + died from excitement as he grabbed a hatchet. The three unfortunate men + stepped to the back of the tents, and as big a bull moose as walks the + lonely woods came up to within one hundred and fifty feet of the camp, and + stopped, returning their gaze. + </p> + <p> + Thus they stood for what they say was a minute, but which seemed like + hours. The attorney composedly admired the unusual sight. The Indian and + Furguson swore softly but most viciously until the moose moved away. The + Indian hurled the hatchet at the retreating figure, with a final curse, + and the thing was over. + </p> + <p> + “Those fellows who are out in their canoes will be sick abed when we tell + them what's been going on in the camp this morning,” sighed Mr. Furguson, + as he scoured a cooking-pot. + </p> + <p> + I fear we would have had that moose on our consciences if we had been + there: the game law was not up at the time, but I should have asked for + strength from a higher source than my respect for law. + </p> + <p> + The golden days passed and the lake grew great. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0046" id="linkimage-0046"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-46.jpg" alt="46 Rough Water " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + The wind blew at our backs. The waves rolled in restless surges, piling + the little canoes on their crests and swallowing them in the troughs. The + canoes thrashed the water as they flew along, half in, half out, but they + rode like ducks. The Abwees took off their hats, gripped their double + blades, made the water swirl behind them, howled in glee to each other + through the rushing storm. To be five miles from shore in a seaway in + kayaks like ours was a sensation. We found they stood it well, and grew + contented. It was the complement to the golden lazy days when the water + was glass, and the canoes rode upsidedown over its mirror surface. The + Norseman grinned and shook his head in token of his pleasure, much as an + epicure might after a sip of superior Burgundy. + </p> + <p> + “How do you fancy this?” we asked the attorney-at-law. + </p> + <p> + “I am not going to deliver an opinion until I get ashore. I would never + have believed that I would be here at my time of life, but one never knows + what a —— fool one can make of one's self. My glasses are + covered with water, and I can hardly see, but I can't let go of this + paddle to wipe them,” shrieked the man of the office chair, in the howl of + the weather. + </p> + <p> + But we made a long journey by the aid of the wind, and grew a contempt for + it. How could one imagine the stability of those little boats until one + had tried it? + </p> + <p> + That night we put into a natural harbor and camped on a gravel beach. The + tents were up and the supper cooking, when the wind hauled and blew + furiously into our haven. The fires were scattered and the rain came in + blinding sheets. The tent-pegs pulled from the sand. We sprang to our feet + and held on to the poles, wet to the skin. It was useless; the rain blew + right under the canvas. We laid the tents on the “grub” and stepped out + into the dark. We could not be any wetter, and we did not care. To stand + in the dark in the wilderness, with nothing to eat, and a fire-engine + playing a hose on you for a couple of hours—if you have imagination + enough, you can fill in the situation. But the gods were propitious. The + wind died down. The stars came out by myriads. The fires were relighted, + and the ordinary life begun. It was late in the night before our clothes, + blankets, and tents were dry, but, like boys, we forgot it all. + </p> + <p> + Then came a river—blue and flat like the sky above—running + through rushy banks, backed by the masses of the forest; anon the waters + rushed upon us over the rocks, and we fought, plunk-plunk-plunk, with the + paddles, until our strength gave out. We stepped out into the water, and + getting our lines, and using our long double blades as fenders, “tracked” + the canoes up through the boil. The Indians in their heavier boats used + “setting-poles” with marvellous dexterity, and by furious exertion were + able to draw steadily up the grade—though at times they too + “tracked,” and even portaged. Our largest canoe weighed two hundred + pounds, but a little voyager managed to lug it, though how I couldn't + comprehend, since his pipe-stem legs fairly bent and wobbled under the + enormous ark. None of us by this time were able to lift the loads which we + carried, but, like a Western pack-mule, we stood about and had things + piled on to us, until nothing more would stick. Some of the backwoodsmen + carry incredible masses of stuff, and their lore is full of tales which no + one could be expected to believe. Our men did not hesitate to take two + hundred and fifty pounds over short portages, which were very rough and + stony, though they all said if they slipped they expected to break a leg. + This is largely due to the tump-line, which is laid over the head, while + persons unused to it must have shoulder-straps in addition, which are not + as good, because the “breastbone,” so called, is not strong enough. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0047" id="linkimage-0047"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-47.jpg" alt="47 the Indians Used 'setting-poles' " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + We were getting day by day farther into “the beyond.” There were no traces + here of the hand of man. Only Jimmie knew the way—it was his + trapping-ground. Only once did we encounter people. We were blown into a + little board dock, on a gray day, with the waves piling up behind us, and + made a difficult landing. Here were a few tiny log houses—an outpost + of the Hudson Bay Company. We renewed our stock of provisions, after + laborious trading with the stagnated people who live in the lonely place. + There was nothing to sell us but a few of the most common necessities; + however, we needed only potatoes and sugar. This was Jimmie's home. Here + we saw his poor old mother, who was being tossed about in the smallest of + canoes as she drew her nets. Jimmie's father had gone on a hunting + expedition and had never come back. Some day Jimmie's old mother will go + out on the wild lake to tend her nets, and she will not come back. Some + time Jimmie too will not return—for this Indian struggle with nature + is appalling in its fierceness. + </p> + <p> + There was a dance at the post, which the boys attended, going by canoe at + night, and they came back early in the morning, with much giggling at + their gallantries. + </p> + <p> + The loneliness of this forest life is positively discouraging to think + about. What the long winters must be in the little cabins I cannot + imagine, and I fear the traders must be all avarice, or have none at all; + for there can certainly be absolutely no intellectual life. There is + undoubtedly work, but not one single problem concerning it. The Indian + hunters do fairly well in a financial way, though their lives are beset + with weakening hardships and constant danger. Their meagre diet wears out + their constitutions, and they are subject to disease. The simplicity of + their minds makes it very difficult to see into their life as they try to + narrate it to one who may be interested. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0048" id="linkimage-0048"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-48.jpg" alt="48 Trying Moments " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + From here on was through beautiful little lakes, and the voyagers rigged + blanket sails on the big canoes, while we towed behind. Then came the + river and the rapids, which we ran, darting between rocks, bumping on + sunken stones—shooting fairly out into the air, all but turning over + hundreds of times. One day the Abwees glided out in the big lake + Tesmiaquemang, and saw the steamer going to Bais des Pierres. We hailed + her, and she stopped, while the little canoes danced about in the swell as + we were loaded one by one. On the deck above us the passengers admired a + kind of boat the like of which had not before appeared in these parts. + </p> + <p> + At Bais des Pierres we handed over the residue of the commissaries of the + Abwee-Chemun to Jimmie Friday, including personally many pairs of + well-worn golf-breeches, sweaters, rubber coats, knives which would be + proscribed by law in New York. If Jimmie ever parades his solemn + wilderness in these garbs, the owls will laugh from the trees. Our simple + forest friend laid in his winter stock—traps, flour, salt, tobacco, + and pork, a new axe—and accompanied us back down the lake again on + the steamer. She stopped in mid-stream, while Jimmie got his bundles into + his “bark” and shoved off, amid a hail of “good-byes.” + </p> + <p> + The engine palpitated, the big wheel churned the water astern, and we drew + away. Jimmie bent on his paddle with the quick body-swing habitual to the + Indian, and after a time grew a speck on the reflection of the red sunset + in Temiscamingue. + </p> + <p> + The Abwees sat sadly leaning on the after-rail, and agreed that Jimmie was + “a lovely Injun.” Jimmie had gone into the shade of the overhang of the + cliffs, when the Norseman started violently up, put his hands in his + pockets, stamped his foot, said, “By George, fellows, any D. F. would call + this a sporting trip!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SOLEDAD GIRLS + </h2> + <p> + “TO-NIGHT I am going down to my ranch—the Soledad—in my + private car,” said the manager of the Mexican International Railroad, “and + I would like the Captain and you to accompany me.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain and I were only too glad; so in process of time we awoke to + find our car sidetracked on the Soledad, which is in the state of + Coahuila, Mexico. The chaparral spread around, rising and falling in the + swell of the land, until it beat against the blue ridge of the Sierra + Santa Rosa, miles to the north. Here and there the bright sun spotted on a + cow as she threaded the gray stretches; a little coyote-wolf sat on his + haunches on a near-by hill-side, and howled protests at his new-found + companions; while dimly through the gray meshes of the leaf-denuded + chaparral we could see the main ranch-house of the Soledad. We were + informed at breakfast by the railroad manager that there was to be that + day a “round-up,” which is to say, a regular Buffalo Bill Show, with real + cowboys, ponies, and cattle, all three of them wild, full of thorns, and + just out of the brush. + </p> + <p> + The negro porters got out the saddles of the young women, thus disclosing + their intention to ride ponies instead of in traps. We already knew that + they were fearless horseback-riders, but when the string of ponies which + were to be our mounts was led up by a few Mexicans, the Captain and I had + our well-concealed doubts about their being proper sort of ponies for + young girls to ride. We confided in an imperturbable cowboy—one of + those dry Texans. He said: “Them are what we would call broke ponies, and + you fellers needn't get to worryin' 'bout them little girls—you're + jest a-foolin' away good time.” Nevertheless, the broncos had the lurking + devil in the tails of their eyes as they stood there tied to the wire + fencing; they were humble and dejected as only a bronco or a mule can + simulate. When that ilk look most cast down, be not deceived, gay brother; + they are not like this. Their humility is only humorous, and intended to + lure you on to their backs, where, unless you have a perfect understanding + of the game, the joke will be on you. Instantly one is mounted, the + humility departs; he plunges and starts about, or sets off like the wind, + regardless of thorny bushes, tricky ground underfoot, or the seat of the + rider. + </p> + <p> + The manager's wife came out of the car with her little brood of three, and + then two visiting friends. These Soledad girls, as I call them, each had a + sunburst of yellow hair, were well bronzed by the Mexican sun, and were + sturdy little bodies. They were dressed in short skirts, with leggings, + topped with Tam o' Shanters, while about their waists were + cartridge-belts, with delicate knives and revolvers attached, and with + spurs and <i>quirts</i> as accessories. They took up their men's saddles, + for they rode astride, except the two visitors, who were older and more + lately from Chicago. They swung their saddles on to the ponies, showing + familiarity with the <i>ladigo</i> straps of the Texas saddles, and + proudly escaping the humiliation which alights on the head of one who in + the cow-camps cannot saddle his own “bronc.” Being ready, we mounted, and + followed a cowboy off down the road to the <i>rodeo-ground.</i> The + manager and Madam Mamma rode in a buckboard, proudly following with their + gaze the galloping ponies which bore their jewels. I thought they should + be fearful for their safety, but after more intimate inspection, I could + see how groundless was such solicitude. + </p> + <p> + I must have it understood that these little vaquero girls were not the + ordinary Texas product, fed on corn-meal and bred in the chaparral, but + the much looked after darlings of a fond mother. They are taken South + every winter, that their bodies may be made lithe and healthy, but at the + same time two or more governesses crowd their minds with French, German, + and other things with which proper young girls should be acquainted. But + their infant minds did not carry back to the days when they had not felt a + horse under them. To be sure, in the beginning it was only a humble + donkey, but even before they knew they had graduated to ponies, and while + yet ten years old, it was only by a constant watch that they were kept off + unbroken broncos—horses that made the toughest vaqueros throw down + their hats, tighten their belts, and grin with fear. + </p> + <p> + From over the hills came the half-wild cattle, stringing along at a trot, + all bearing for the open space in the waste of the chaparral where the <i>rodeo</i> + occurred, while behind them followed the cowboys—gay desert figures + with brown, pinched faces, long hair, and shouting wild cries. The + exhilaration of the fine morning, the tramp of the thousands, got into the + curls of the three little Misses Golden-hairs, and they scurried away, + while I followed to feast on this fresh vision, where absolutely ideal + little maids shouted Spanish at murderous-looking Mexican cow-punchers + done up in bright scrapes and costumed out of all reason. As the vaqueros + dashed about hither and thither to keep their herds moving in the + appointed direction, the infants screamed in their childish treble and + spurred madly too. A bull stands at bay, but a child dashes at him, while + he turns and flees. It is not their first <i>rodeo,</i> one can see, but I + should wish they were with mamma and the buckboard, instead of out here in + the brush, charging wild bulls, though in truth this never were written. + These bulls frequently charge men, and a cow-pony turns like a ball off a + bat, and a slippery seat in the saddle may put you under the feet of the + outraged monarch of the range. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0049" id="linkimage-0049"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/ct-49.jpg" + alt="49 the Half-wild Cattle Came Down from The Hills " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + Driving down to the <i>rodeo-ground,</i> we all stood about on our ponies + and held the herd, as it is called, the young girls doing vaquero duty, as + imperturbable of mien as Mr. Flannagan, the foreman. So many women in the + world are afraid of a dairy cow, even gathering up their skirts and + preparing to shriek at the sight of one eating daisies. But these young + women will grow up and they will be afraid of no cow. So much for a + Soledad education. + </p> + <p> + The top-ropers rode slowly into the dust of the milling herd, scampered + madly, cast their ropes, and came jumping to us with a blatting calf + trailing at their ropes' end. Two men seized the little victim, threw him + on his back, cut a piece out of his ear with a knife, and still held him + in relentless grip while another pressed a red-hot branding-iron on his + side, which sizzled and sent up blue smoke, together with an odor of + burned flesh. The calves bawled piteously. There was no more emotion on + the faces of the Soledad girls than was shown by the brown cowboys. They + had often, very often, seen this before, and their nerves were strong. + Some day I can picture in my mind's eye these young girl vaqueros grown to + womanhood, and being such good-looking creatures, very naturally some + young man will want very badly to marry one of them—for it cannot be + otherwise. I only hope he will not be a thin-chested, cigarette-smoking + dude, because it will be a sacrilege of nature. He must undoubtedly have + played forward at Princeton or Yale, or be unworthy. + </p> + <p> + As we stood, a massive bull emerged from the body of the herd, his head + thrown high, tail stiff with anger, eye rolling, and breath coming quick. + He trotted quickly forward, and, lowering his head, charged through the + “punchers.” Instantly a small Soledad girl was after him, the vaqueros + reining back to enjoy the strange ride with their eyes. Her hat flew off, + and the long curls flapped in the rushing air as her pony fairly sailed + over the difficult ground. The bull tore furiously, but behind him swept + the pony and the child. As we watched, the chase had gone a mile away, but + little Miss Yellowcurls drew gradually to the far side of the bull, + quartering him on the far side, and whirling on, headed her quarry back to + her audience and the herd. The rough-and-ready American range boss sat + sidewise in his saddle and thought—for he never talked + unnecessarily, though appreciation was chalked all over his pose. The + manager and madam felt as though they were responsible for this wonderful + thing. The Mexican cowboys snapped their fingers and eyes at one another, + shouting quick Spanish, while the American part of the beholders agreed + that it was the “limit”; “that as a picture,” etc.; “that the American + girl, properly environed “; “that this girl in particular,” etc., was a + dream. Then the bull and the girl came home; the bull to his fellows, and + the girl to us. But she didn't have an idea of our admiration, because we + didn't tell her; that would have been wrong, as you can imagine. Ten years + will complicate little Miss Yellowcurls. Then she could be vain about such + a thing; but, alas! she will not be—she will have forgotten. + </p> + <p> + THE END <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Crooked Trails, by Frederic Remington + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CROOKED TRAILS *** + +***** This file should be named 7867-h.htm or 7867-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/8/6/7867/ + +Produced by Eric Eldred, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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