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DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
Dedication 
 
 To my father, W. H. Sanders, and 
 others who have helped make the '"to- 
 days" possible, this book is dedicated. 
 
THE AUTHOR 
 Some Twenty Years Ago 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 by 
 WILLIAM PERRY, SANDERS 
 
 The day is done and the darkness, 
 Falls from the wings of night 
 
 As a feather is wafted downward 
 From an eagle in his flight. 
 
 — Longfellow. 
 
 LOS ANGELES, U. S. A. 
 GRAFTON PUBLISHING CORPORATION 
 
 1918 
 

 COPYRIGHT, 1918 
 
 by 
 
 WILLIAM PERRY SANDERS 
 
 Santa Monica, California 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
^ 485^t 
 
 Preface. 
 
 I HAVE earnestly tried to draw a few 
 ''pen-pictures'' of things belonging to 
 the "yesterdays'' or days gone by. As 
 the motto of today is ''Look forward, 
 'not back," probably from the fact that 
 Lot's wife was converted into a sack, no, a pillar 
 of salt from looking backward, I have for the 
 safety and convenience of my reader provided 
 a "periscope," i. e. my memories. 
 
 The six articles are offered in the order in 
 which the principals have "passed out," as nearly 
 as possible. 
 
 This book is respectfully submitted, not as a 
 rhetorical masterpiece replete with flowery phrases 
 in precise arrangement, but rather as a compila- 
 tion from painful experience and observation. 
 Nothing of a misleading or objectionable nature 
 will be found herein ; in the words of the immortal 
 country physician, who generally said of his medi- 
 cines, "It won't hurt you if it don't do you no 
 good." 
 
 —The Author. 
 
The Passing of the Buffalo 
 
 HE articles which are being written 
 of buffalo hunters and hunting remind 
 me of an incident of which my father 
 once told me and which I have no rea- 
 son to doubt or dispute, as I have known 
 my father for something like forty years and can 
 truthfully say that I have found what he has told 
 me during that time to be "straight goods," gen- 
 erally speaking. He said ''We were generally 
 too busy and the distance was too great for our 
 own outfit to attempt to haul out "our hides'* 
 so we usually made arrangements with some 
 reliable freighting outfits to make the trip out to 
 our camp once or twice a year, bringing out sup- 
 plies to us and taking back the hides which we 
 had taken, and had all stretched, dried and stacked, 
 ready for transportation to the outside world 
 which lay far beyond the distant horizon. Such 
 a freighter was George Guinn, who was hauling 
 to Fort Griffen, Texas, for me at the time of the 
 odd "happenstance" of which I speak. The trip 
 was of course, a most hazardous undertaking, as 
 the country was very thinly settled indeed with 
 
14 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 no roads whatever for the greater part of the 
 distance, which at this time was about four hun- 
 dred miles, as the crow flies. The Indians were 
 ever on the alert, and did not sneeze at anything 
 like an ox-train of supplies if the trip was out; 
 if it was an in-bound trip the noble red men 
 would kill any unwary freighter, just to see him 
 kick, while his wagons would go up in smoke. 
 
 On this particular trip George had been having 
 some trouble with his understudy in the "bull- 
 whacking" science, and when one morning Friday 
 used an entire box of axle dope at one greasing of 
 the wagon wheels, Guinn, whose temper was 
 rather ''hair-triggered'' anyway, promptly fired 
 him. He told him he could take his clothes and 
 go, or in more modern parlance he advised him 
 to ''beat it.'' This left the transportation company 
 rather short on help but long on profanity of 
 which George Guinn kept a most wonderful sup- 
 ply. He afterward said that if he hadn't had 
 a good use of "caustic" words that he could never 
 have coaxed those cattle through . those many 
 miles of Indian infested country with help, much 
 less alone. He had four heavy wagons, eight 
 cattle to the wagon; his solution of the difficulty 
 of handling so many wagons alone was to chain 
 the lead cattle of three of his units to the rear 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 15 
 
 of the wagon ahead, so it was a case of ''Let's 
 go'' when he started his leading Baldwin locomo- 
 tive. He had a pony which he rode up and down 
 the procession, exhorting, blaspheming and hand- 
 ing out his bouquets of curses with a free 'hand 
 to his respective oxen, and backing up his decis- 
 ions with a long heavy whip which he wore curled 
 around his neck, which was the prevailing style 
 at that time. His chief difficulty came at night 
 when it was time to pitch his lonely camp, and 
 un-yoke the tired cattle. The best he could do on 
 this proposition was to let the oxen loose in pairs, 
 never removing the heavy yokes for nearly two 
 weeks. Of course the cattle could graze and rest 
 after a fashion, but not with any great satisfac- 
 tion. To prevent the pairs of oxen from straying 
 away and being lost he used a very loud toned 
 bell, one bell to each couole of promenaders, the 
 bell being secured around the neck of one of the 
 steers by a strong strap of leather. We saw the 
 dust of his train from our camp, while he was 
 several miles out; in fact we had been watching 
 the point of the compass from which he would 
 come for more than a week, and were becoming 
 quite anxious, wondering if he had met the fate 
 which had befallen so many freighters. When 
 we saw that it was Guinn's train and not another 
 
16 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 passing herd of buffalo, I saddled my pony and 
 rode out to meet him and deliver the keys of our 
 fair city, which was also good practice even at 
 that date. When I came up to within something 
 like a half mile of the "on-rushing train" I sud- 
 denly became conscious of a most unearthly jangle 
 and clatter, which I could not figure out. After 
 a time Guinn came riding up, covered with 
 dust and a style of profanity which would have 
 made a pirate pause in wonder or despair. As 
 the oxen went plodding seriously on their way 
 toward our nearby camp I discovered the cause 
 of the fearful din ; each pair of oxen was decorated 
 with a bell, the ''clapper'' of which was not muff eled 
 or tied but was adding its ''silvery" tone to the 
 great chorus. When I asked Guinn if that was 
 to keep him from being lonesome he explained 
 that he had been muffling the bells during the 
 day, but on this morning he made an extra early 
 start, as he wished to get in that night and had 
 not taken the time to "close his cut-out." 
 
 Upon looking into the wagons, I noticed quite a 
 number of logs and asked George what was the 
 idea, as we had plenty of wood, and it looked to 
 me as though he had plenty of freight without 
 the wood. He said, "That's to make them walk 
 on their toes" and explained that unless cattle 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 17 
 
 walk at a steady pull, that they are inclined to 
 hold back, thus bruising the heel, which is quite 
 soft, and rendering them sore footed in a very 
 short time. Verily, every man to his trade; but 
 within the next few days I showed him a few of 
 the fine points of buffalo hunting, and we were 
 quits. I remember the first day we went out that 
 we located a herd and after carefully crawling 
 up to shooting distance, Henry Street shot and 
 killed the first buffalo dead in his tracks; this is 
 necessary to secure a "stand." The remaining 
 buffalo in the herd at once stopped and turned 
 facing us. -This was too much for Guinn, who 
 thought that we were about to be charged. He 
 leaped to his feet, while Street hurriedly said in 
 an undertone, ''Sit down, George ; Tve got a stand 
 on them.'' George very ungraciously replied 
 
 ''Stand be d d, Fm going to camp,'' which he 
 
 did by the shortest route, while the herd thundered 
 away in the opposite direction. 
 
 After resting his power plant for about ten 
 days Guinn concluded that he was ready for 
 another session, and as I had a man who did not 
 care for the beauties of our simple, butterfly life, 
 but made known his wish to go back with the 
 returning freighter, George was ready to receive 
 his cargo of hides. The dried hides were piled 
 
18 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 in high stacks in what we called the '*hide yard'' 
 which was simply a level stretch of ground where 
 we pegged or stretched the hides upon the ground 
 to dry, which they usually did in from five to 
 eight days. A wagon would be drawn up along- 
 side one of the piles of hides and their last ride 
 would be on. As dried hides are very springy 
 and refuse to lie compactly, unless compressed, 
 it was necessary to do this in order to get a load 
 as to weight as well as bulk. The method was to 
 put quite a number of hides on the wagon, pass 
 a long chain across the top, and fasten it around 
 the hub of a huge wheel on either side. The oxen 
 would then be started up and as the chain was 
 wound around the hubs, the strain became tre- 
 mendous and the hides were reduced to a very 
 compact bundle. They would be tied securely and 
 another lot piled on after which our "compressor'' 
 would be called into action again. 
 
 This performance would be repeated until the 
 desired load was secured. Guinn was aboard the 
 wagon on this morning, placing the hides to his 
 satisfaction ; we had the regulation pile aboard and 
 were using the log-chain compressor. At this 
 point the oxen must have laid out some extra 
 muscle, for suddenly the chain parted with a snap 
 and instantly the air was filled with a small cloud 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 19 
 
 of flying buffalo hides, with Guinn in the midst. 
 Fortunately for him, enough of the hides beat 
 him back to terra-firma to break the force of his 
 fall, but he was badly shaken up at that. We 
 rushed forward, expecting to find him badly hurt, 
 and found him receiving company on his Bunch 
 of hides and very pale indeed for royalty. I 
 yelled, "Are you hurt^ George?'' He replied, "No, 
 I guess not ; but say, I took a trip up near where 
 they say Heaven is, and now I'm back down here 
 in hell." 
 
 Poor old George. He is now sleeping in a 
 lonely grave far up on the side of the Magdalena 
 Mountains, in New Mexico, and may he be in that 
 Heaven he mentioned, if that be possible, and 
 may the person who so fouly murdered him be 
 in the other place. He had a very good mining 
 claim up near the mountain top; near by was 
 his cabin where he lived all alone. When he had 
 not been seen for several weeks an investigation 
 was made and Guinn was found near his mine 
 shaft, shot in the back and most likely with his 
 own rifle, as that and all his other possessions 
 were missing. It was impossible to move him, 
 so he is resting there to music furnished by the 
 wind sighing through the trees, accompanied by 
 the howl of the distant coyote." 
 
20 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 A CLOSE CALL 
 
 At another time the sight of his old ''buffalo 
 gun'' caused him to tell me of another incident, 
 which I think might safely be said to be a close 
 call. In speaking of this adventure of a by-gone 
 day my father said : 
 
 "I very rarely relate anything concerning the 
 old days on 'the buffalo range' as most people of 
 today v^ould be inclined to doubt what I had to 
 say, and might intimate that I was trying to make 
 myself interesting at the expense of truth. For 
 instance, it would be hard at this date to convince 
 the general public as to the immensity of the 
 herds of buffalo that w^ould pass continually day 
 and night for perhaps a week at a stretch. These 
 herds would extend as far as the eye could see, 
 and in a level country at that. The few old timers 
 w^ho are left will bear me out in this. Then would 
 come a morning when there was not a buffalo 
 in sight, with the possible exception of a few 
 scattering cripples or poor conditioned animals, 
 known to the hunting profession as 'scalawags.' 
 
 I recall very clearly one incident of my hunting 
 career of which I carry a constant reminder or 
 memento. I started out one morning on my daily 
 hunt, as mine was the task of finding and killing 
 the buffalo, to be followed later by professional 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 21 
 
 skinners, who removed the hides and hauled them 
 in to camp in wagons where they were stretched 
 upon the ground and held in that position until 
 dry, by long wooden pins. When perfectly dry 
 the hides were ready to be hauled to the nearest 
 point of civilization which was generally from 
 four to five hundred miles. The first and most 
 important matter after finding a herd of suitable 
 size was to secure a ''stand.'' This was accom- 
 plished by crawling very carefully as near as 
 possible to the herd of grazing, resting or slowly 
 traveling animals. Great care had to be taken to 
 keep the buffalo always to the windward, as their 
 sense of smell was most wonderfully keen but 
 their eyesight was poor, partly from the fact that 
 they always wore a great mop of long hair, liber- 
 ally caked with mud, which covered most of the 
 head. After getting into good shooting distance, 
 from two to three hundred yards, came the critical 
 stage of the game as it was absolutely necessary 
 to drop the first two or three buffalo fired at dead 
 in their tracks. The entire herd would then stop, 
 if traveling, and stand staring stupidly about, 
 apparently in no wise excited. If you were care- 
 less or excited and merely wounded the first one, 
 away he would dash with the entire herd following 
 in a cloud of dust. At this point the hunter would 
 
22 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 spend some time in either blaspheming his gun 
 or kicking himself, which was certainly more 
 honest. 
 
 Everything went well on this particular morn- 
 ing; I found a herd not many miles from camp 
 and soon secured a good stand by killing the first 
 one outright. It was then simply a case of marks- 
 manship, and they used to tell me that I w^as a 
 fine shot, which was partly true no doubt, as I 
 certainly had plenty of practice. With an occa- 
 sional clean miss, which is to be preferred to 
 several wounded, I killed the entire bunch which 
 numbered about two hundred. At least I thought 
 that they were all dead and was walking up to 
 where they lay scattered about ; when I was within 
 a few yards of the nearest, an enormous bull sud- 
 denly scrambled to his feet and stood swaying his 
 head from side to side. It afterward developed 
 that this fellow had been stunned by a high shot 
 across the top of the neck. A wound of this nature, 
 across the sinews of the neck, is quite similar to 
 the prize-fighters ''hook to the jaw'' only this is 
 more so. Now don't believe the ''movies"; a 
 wounded buffalo will fight and sometimes seemed 
 to welcome the opportunity. I was surprised and 
 rather embarrassed at being so close to "his nibs" 
 but immediately threw my rifle up for a quick 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 23 
 
 shot. I pulled for his shoulders, a dead shot, but 
 in the flurry of the moment took poor aim or 
 else he swung around suddenly as I pressed the 
 trigger; at any rate the bullet struck him back 
 of the shoulders, through the lungs. This is a 
 fatal shot but does not necessarily produce instant 
 death. He got his bearings about then and with 
 head down and tail up, charged me. I was using 
 a single shot, 22 pound, Sharps 50 calibre rifle, 
 which handled a 500 grain ball and required a 
 handful of black powder, the only kind known at 
 that time. I loaded the cartridges myself at odd 
 t'mes in camp. A modern high powered rifle 
 of the repeating type, with steel jacketed bullets 
 would have been handy just then but I did not 
 have time to wait. There was not a tree within 
 miles, and before I could even get the shell out 
 of the gun the ton of vengeance was upon me. 
 I dropped the useless gun and tried some fast 
 foot work, but this didn't help long, as the buffalo 
 was the very quickest large animal that I have 
 ever seen. This customer could dodge and turn 
 just as quick as I could. At one time I actually 
 had him by the tail but was quickly flung loose 
 as he furiously swung about, and as I fell sprawl- 
 ing, was at his mercy. He immediately sprang 
 over me and began trying to gore me, but a most 
 
24 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 thoughtful Providence did not place a buffalo's 
 horns at the same angle as the domestic bovines 
 but turned them straight up — a fact to which I 
 owe my life. Snorting and puffing in my face, 
 and smashing me terrible jolts with his heavy 
 head, this party didn't seem to realize that he 
 was doing more execution with his hoofs than 
 with his horns, as he trampled all over my arms 
 and legs, tearing the flesh from the bones in 
 many places; my left shoulder was broken, my 
 face stepped into once at least while my clothes 
 were in rags. That was the busiest buffalo I ever 
 saw. These pleasantries went on for about ten 
 minutes, I should judge, though it seemed ten 
 years, while he was bleading to death from the 
 shot which had torn through his lungs. The blood 
 was gushing down into my face and in fact all 
 over me, which didn't help matters any. Finally, 
 when I had about lost consciousness under the 
 strenuous massaging which I was receiving, I 
 noticed the huge body above me beginning to 
 sway, but wasn't just sure of that even, as the 
 whole universe seemed to be whirling around. 
 However, I soon saw that he was actually dying 
 and he came crashing to the earth I managed to 
 roll to one side. * * * When I next regained full 
 consciousness I was lying with my hands and part 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 25 
 
 of my face in a little puddle of muddy rain water, 
 where I had evidently crawled in my agony. After 
 a bit I tried to stand upright but the pain which 
 this caused was such as to turn me sick and almost 
 blind. I lay around the water-hole trying to drink 
 the hot, muddy water until afternoon when the 
 boys came out to begin skinning, and found me, 
 more dead than alive. 
 
 It was many a weary day before I shouldered 
 my rifle again, as medical attention was out of 
 the question. I have had several close calls but 
 don't think that I have ever been nearer death. 
 
■||||^H|H 
 
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 1 "^ 
 
 ^^^^^^^^^^^^H 
 ^^^^^^^1 
 
 
The Passing of the Indian 
 
 [0 much is being written of the passing 
 of *'mile-posts'' or things that have at 
 different periods in the history of our 
 great country played really important 
 parts in the struggle for supremacy, 
 that it would not be a square deal to overlook our 
 ''red brothers'' who certainly had their side of the 
 story ; their grievance, if you please. It has been 
 my observation that there are two sides to every- 
 thing, unless indeed it is some of the structures put 
 up by the moving picture concerns for photo- 
 graphic work. Such buildings generally have a 
 Queen Anne front and a Mary Jane back. 
 
 The subject of the Indian is a deep one and has 
 been treated by writers who are so greatly my 
 superior, that I will not attempt to go far under 
 the surface at any time so th^t my suffering read- 
 ers will not be in any danger of losing either 
 breath or consciousness. My effort will be to place 
 before you a few brief stories as told to me by 
 my father and based upon his buffalo hunting ex- 
 periences, from 1871 to 1878. These stories are 
 true, though it is very doubtful if that will carry 
 
28 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 any extra weight, in this day of our screen efforts 
 with "Deadly Diamond Dick'' in the foreground, 
 a six-shooter in either fist, spouting death and de- 
 struction in all directions, while the ''bloodthirsty 
 red-skins lie in heaps,'' all ready to bale for mar- 
 ket. To the old timers who are left these fearful 
 sights of carnage must be tiring in the extreme. 
 
 There is nothing to surpass the motion pictures 
 as long as they cling to the right idea, and without 
 doubt they can appeal to the emotions of the public 
 to a much greater extent than the press; there 
 is practically no limit to the good lessons which 
 may be placed before us, and I earnestly petition 
 the producers to lay off the ''blood and thunder" 
 and the offensive stuff and give us good wholesome 
 instructive pictures. 
 
 Father and I have had many arguments over 
 the Indian question, and in the main I suppose 
 he was right. He said that he would have 
 fought too, had conditions been reversed, with 
 people coming in and taking away the lands which 
 they had always considered their own, killing their 
 buffalo and other game and driving them away 
 to the far frontier. I remember that his pet 
 phrase was "The Indian is the only true born 
 American." Just for the sake of argument I 
 would remark "No more so than the coyote." 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 29 
 
 Personally, I have no quarrel with the Indian 
 as he has always treated me what I considered 
 right, i. e. by letting me strictly alone. I have at 
 different periods in my lifetime lived near the 
 reservations of the Zunis, Navajos and the worst 
 of all, the Apaches. In my native state the Com- 
 manches used to keep the Rangers guessing, and 
 almost made life a burden for them. Where I 
 lived in New Mexico was very near the favorite 
 stamping ground of our old friend, Geronimo, and 
 later the famous Apache Kid. We are glad to 
 know that they have all been relegated to the 
 rear. 
 
 I remember very distinctly, and shall never 
 forget **as long as I remember'' one of my intro- 
 ductions to the "true born American.'' This was 
 at the tender age of thirteen, and I am certain that 
 I did not grow any more for as much as six 
 months, if fright will stop the growth of a boy. 
 
 My people had gone to town, twelve miles away, 
 for the mail and supplies leaving me to watch 
 the ranch that it should not run away. The near- 
 est neighbors were just that same twelve miles 
 distant, a fact of which I was well aware and the 
 knowledge afforded me no satisfaction. How- 
 ever, I was due to receive company. I suddenly 
 heard a most unearthly yelling, and looking down 
 
30 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 the road, some two or three hundred yards away 
 I saw a dozen or more Indians on horse-back and 
 coming like as if his Satanic Majesty was im- 
 mediately in the rear. My hair at once sought 
 safety by attempting to take flight, but we had 
 been companions too long to part so easily. I had 
 heard that Indians always went scalp hunting in 
 this fashion, handing out their war whoops to ter- 
 rify their victims ; it was having great results in 
 my case. I didn't know^ what to do as I had no 
 place to run to and was not feeling well enough to 
 fight. I presently gathered up enough of my scat- 
 tered wits to remember something ; over in a cor- 
 ner of the room was a 40-65 Winchester, which 
 was indifferently leaning against the wall. I lost 
 no time in gathering the hardware to "my wildly 
 beating heart'' as the movies would say. How- 
 ever, I wasn't certain that they had committed 
 the *'overt act" and I did not wish to precipitate 
 matters so I decided on a watchful, waiting game. 
 I was on perfect speaking terms with that Win- 
 chester, as I had shortly before shot an antelope 
 through the heart, off hand at one hundred and 
 twenty-five yards, but on that occasion my general 
 condition had been much better and I was not 
 having this trouble with my hair. 
 
 All of these things happened 'practically imme- 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 31 
 
 diately'' and the enemy was upon me. No doubt 
 I presented a very heroic figure, as I stood there 
 with an uncommonly white face and a guilty look, 
 possibly. The Indians appeared to find something 
 amusing in the atmosphere, or perhaps their sense 
 of humor was greater than mine for they were 
 grinning when they pulled up their ponies with a 
 grand flourish. It developed that they had been 
 trying out the speed of their ponies for their 
 own satisfaction, certainly not for mine. 
 
 They tried to make speech with the ''statue of 
 liberty'' by passing out many grunts and signs, 
 but I was deaf, dumb and blind so replied ''No 
 sabe." Finding that my sense of hearing and 
 speech was again in working order they tried 
 me in Spanish as nearly all the Indians speak 
 this language, as in fact do most people who have 
 lived in the land of "manana.'' They finally man- 
 aged to convey the big idea that they were on a 
 still hunt after tobacco, sugar, coffee or anything 
 with a kick to it; that may be the reason why 
 they are so foolishly fond of "firewater.'' The 
 tame Indian is the most brazen beggar in the 
 v/orld, and it developed that these were tame. 
 When I regained my sense of sight I discovered 
 that many of them had their fangs drawn, possibly 
 by Father Time. They didn't look good to me, 
 
32 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 however, and not to be caught asleep at the switch 
 I maintained my graceful position, while I made 
 known the fact that it would be most displeasing 
 to my dignity for any of them to enter the yard. 
 After killing some more or less valuable time, of 
 which they appeared to have an unlimited supply, 
 and it really seemed ages to me, the wagon from 
 town pulled around the corral. Oh joy ! Oh Jona- 
 than! I felt as though I had brought up an 
 alligator or something equally distressing. To 
 preserve peace on earth, good will toward men, 
 ourselves in particular, the folks passed out the 
 tribute and the ''piece conference'' was at an end. 
 I have been slightly gray about the temples ever 
 since that session. 
 
 My father told me that it was quite customary 
 and good form to build up a good fire in camp 
 at night, and then take the bedding and retire to 
 some nearby bunch of trees or brush. This was 
 by way of protection from a surprise party, as it 
 was no easy matter to crawl up on a hunter, whose 
 sleep was of a necessity, what might be termed 
 in the "hair trigger class.'' It was much healthier 
 to be a light sleeper. Ye hunter must have been 
 more careless at other times, however, in proof 
 of this observation I will quote from one of my 
 fathci's reminiscences. He said: 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 33 
 
 '*I was in camp on the Tongue River, in the 
 Devil Mountain Fork country, and was getting 
 breakfast one morning all the other men being 
 out after the horses. I remember that I was bend- 
 ing over the ''dutch oven'' turning the frying meat, 
 when suddenly a voice just behind me said "How, 
 John." Now my name wasn't John and I had 
 no reason to butt in, but looking over my shoulder 
 I saw about ten feet away the biggest, dirtiest, 
 ugliest Indian I had ever beheld. My loaded 
 Sharp's rifle was leaning against a wagon wheel 
 and beyond the fire, some twenty feet away. I 
 cleared the fire and covered the distance in about 
 two leaps, snatched up my gun and wheeled ready 
 for business. I found his nibs, Man-afraid-to- 
 wash, holding up one hand, palm outv/ard, as with 
 a slight grin he proclaimed, "Me good Injun." He 
 certainly didn't look the part, but as he had omit- 
 ted to knock me in the head when he had every 
 opportunity, I couldn't argue the point with him. 
 With many preliminary grunts and false starts 
 and with many signs and elaborate drawings on 
 the ground, he gave me to understand that he 
 was looking for horses. I replied, "Yes, me no 
 see um." I didn't know just what he had up his 
 arm (he had no sleeve) so I passed him a cup 
 of coffee and after he had gulped it down I gave 
 
34 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 him to understand that his presence was *'ne coko 
 domo/' He gravely stalked away and I ran to 
 the top of a small knoll to the rear of our camp to 
 have a *'look-see." I saw the main band passing 
 doAvn into a ravine about a mile away, and they 
 moved as though they had pressing business fur- 
 ther along the line. This single warrior had no 
 doubt been appointed a committee of one to inves- 
 tigate the column of smoke which must have been 
 rising from our camp fire. The fact that he must 
 have reasoned that I would not be alone in the 
 wilderness, and that he couldn't just figure out 
 where the others were probably saved my life. 
 My eyesight was very keen in those days, and I 
 had just a minute before, so it seemed to me, 
 raised up and looked all around me as was the 
 buffalo hunter's most common practice. It had 
 been discovered that men would live longer by 
 so doing. On this occasion I must have been 
 frying meat longer than I thought, and the com- 
 bination of the Indian 'moccasins' and general 
 cleverness was hard to beat on the 'pussy foot' 
 game at any time." 
 
 Now I am wondering if perhaps my father's 
 hair stood on end for just a minute or so, as 
 visions of death by tortue flashed before his eyes. 
 It may be that I inherited my unruly locks. 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 35 
 
 In speaking of another incident he said, ''One 
 day when hunting had been bad for some time 
 I was out on foot and traveling across a strip of 
 level country with rough ravines on either side 
 at a distance of perhaps two miles away. I was 
 making for the head of one of these canyons, 
 hoping to find some deer shooting there as we 
 were out of fresh meat. I presently made out a 
 number of objects at some distance, which I soon 
 discovered to be Indians mounted on ponies and 
 moving so as to head m.e off from the canyon; 
 no doubt the idea was to settle my case out in 
 the open country. They probably thought that 
 they had me, and if I had become panic stricken 
 and tried to run my hair would have soon been 
 adorning some brave's tepee. I saw at once what 
 I was up against and realizing that I could not 
 possibly make the shelter of the rough places, I 
 seated myself upon the ground and placed my 
 'rest sticks' in position for some close shooting. 
 
 (Rest sticks were two selected sticks of some 
 light but strong wood, which were tied loosely 
 near one e:^d and when opened out after the 
 fashion of shears they formed an ideal rest for 
 a rifle which weighed some twenty-two pounds. 
 This was especially desirable when shooting stead- 
 ily for some time at a herd of buflfalo, when accur- 
 
36 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 acy was desirable, as even one wounded animal 
 would sometimes stampede the entire herd.) 
 
 There had been a number of hunters killed in 
 the vicinity where I was hunting as the Indians 
 coveted the good accurate shooting rifles with 
 which the buffalo hunters were armed, and no 
 doubt they had a special grievance against us. 
 I made out ten Indians by now, coming directly 
 toward me in single file. Making sure that ''Old 
 Reliable'' was ready for instant service, I was 
 tempted to see how many of the line I could kill 
 at one shot, but up to this time I had never killed 
 an Indian, so I was inclined to give them the 
 benefit of the doubt. Taking off my hat I waved 
 for them to go around me, giving them to under- 
 stand that I didn't care to make their acquaint- 
 ance at close quarters. After a brief parley among 
 themselves they swung off the course and passed 
 at a distance of some three hundred yards. I 
 could have easily killed the entire band and have 
 always regretted that I did not, as they killed 
 two hunters that evening not many miles away 
 from my neighborhood. I am sure it was this 
 same bunch, as the outfit's cook, who escaped, 
 afterward told me that he counted ten Indians 
 in the band. 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 37 
 
 There was at this time a frontier post or fort 
 out in this wild country. It was really more of a 
 supply station for hunters and a place of refuge 
 to which the few white people could turn when 
 the Indians were out on the war-path. The build- 
 ing was made of the article popularly known as 
 the ''adobe'' and the outpost was known as the 
 ''Dobe Walls.'' 
 
 A great band of Commanches undertook at one 
 time to wipe this place off the map but unfortun- 
 ately for them they made their attack at a time 
 when there were a number of buffalo hunters 
 sheltered there. Among the hunters was Billy 
 Dixon, a crack shot and a man to whom the word 
 fear was unknown. 
 
 The Indians started the ball at their usual time, 
 just about daybreak, as it is a well known fact 
 that we sleep soundest at that time. The Indians 
 were no doubt wise to this ''slumberous" fact; I 
 can think of no other good and sufficient reason 
 why they should pull off their surprise parties at 
 such an unseemly hour. On this occasion there 
 was a negro sleeping just outside the walls in a 
 wagon as it was summer and very hot inside the 
 adobe fortress. The Indians killed the negro 
 but not before he had raised the alarm and the 
 fight was on. The "Redskins" soon discovered 
 
38 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 that they had gotten into the wrong pew, after 
 a number of their braves had been killed outright, 
 while they were able to do but little damage in 
 return. The Indian is no fool ; he will often tamper 
 with the buzz-saw but he wants it to be idle when 
 he dees it 
 
 The hunters inside actually shot a particularly 
 energetic Indian off the roof over the kitchen, 
 where he was industriously digging a hole in the 
 dirt roof in order to get a pot shot at the men 
 below. Nearly every time one of the heavy Sharps 
 would crack some brave would get a through ticke 
 to the happy hunting gix)und, and as this was not 
 on the program, the Indians soon drew back over 
 a nearby ridge to *^ake medicine" or devise means 
 of getting at the hunters. They were having 
 a big war dance and gereral pow-wow, bj^ the 
 sounds when Dixon climbed up on one of the 
 walls and remarked, "I'll just send them my com- 
 pliments," and elevating his rifle he pulled the 
 trigger. After about half a minute the pow-wow 
 broke up in great confusion, and then all was 
 still as death. After waiting a couple of hours 
 and rot hearing further from the meeting of the 
 red brotherhood, several of the boys rode out as 
 scouts to look into the long silence. They found 
 the little ravine deserted, with not an Indian in 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 39 
 
 sight. It afterward developed that Dixon's chance 
 shot was a lucky one, as the heavy bullet had 
 struck a brave squarely between the eyes, and 
 the warriors could not stand that as they had no 
 doubt thought themselves safe from the dreaded 
 rifles. A couple of years later an Indian who was 
 present at the fight was telling of it and he said 
 "Shoot um today; kill um tomorrow/' 
 
 When out hunting I always wore two double 
 belts filled with cartridges to the number of three 
 hundred or thereabout. The cartridges in one 
 of these belts I never used for ordinary purposes, 
 such as shooting at buffalo or wolves, but reserved 
 them for the entertainment of the Commanches. 
 Many hunters had been killed through careless- 
 ness, by shooting their last cartridge in the excite- 
 ment of trying to kill all the buffalo in sight. The 
 Indians would watch him from some far hiding 
 place and when the shooting ceased would come 
 up on the hunter. If he was fortunate he would 
 be killed outright, but if he was reserved for tor- 
 ture he was indeed playing in hard luck, as the 
 Commanches were most ingenious and could devise 
 some most devilish forms of torture. One of 
 their favorite pastimes was to take a sharp knife 
 and gently slice the skin or sole off the bottom 
 of their victims' feet and then compel them to 
 
40 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 walk over the grass, rocks and sticks which might 
 be handy. Tying and leaving a luckless hunter to 
 die in a nest of infuriated ants was another little 
 pleasantry of theirs. , I didn't approve of either 
 custom or anything else which they might think 
 of and was fully determined not to be taken alive. 
 I preferred to be like the story which an old 
 hunter told me shortly after I went on the buffalo 
 range. He said that once while out hunting, a 
 band of Indians who were on the war-path had 
 seen him and immediately started for him. This 
 was out in the open country where he had no 
 chance to make a stand, so he at once made for 
 shelter in a nearby canyon, which looked to be 
 rough. He rode hurriedly down into the gorge, 
 with an occasional bullet kicking up the dirt near 
 while the war whoops sounded uncomfortably 
 close. Upon reaching the bottom of the ravine 
 he looked on both sides for a place where he could 
 hope to make some resistance against the odds 
 which were against him, but seeing no such place 
 he rode at full speed up the canyon with the 
 Indians not far behind. He told me that the fur- 
 ther he went up toward the head of the gorge that 
 the steeper the sides became and that finally he 
 rode into a "box canyon'' with no way out except 
 back the way he had come and that was filled 
 with Commanches, thirsty for his blood. The foxy 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 41 
 
 old hunter paused at this point to fill his pipe, and 
 as he did not resume his story to relieve my 
 suspense, I incautiously inquired ''And what hap- 
 pened then?'' He sadly answered, ''Well, they 
 killed me/' I had every reason to believe that 
 he was exaggerating, and I am sure that I wanted 
 to kill him, forthwith." 
 
 From general observation and statistics, we 
 know that the Indian is very much on the decline. 
 The Eastern tribes, the Iriquois, Mohawks, and 
 many other tribes have entirely vanished, while 
 in the middle West the Cherokees and Wyandottes 
 are rapidly disappearing. Here are also found 
 the Kiowas, Commanches, Modocs, and other 
 tribes of more or less prominence. In the far 
 West we have the Apaches, Navajos, Mohaves and 
 many other tribes, while the North and South 
 have their tribes. In traveling through Oklahoma, 
 the evidences of inter-marriage are quite common, 
 and "very satisfactory," apparently. However, 
 there are a number of tribes that will require 
 some renovation before our people will take much 
 stock in them. In this class would be found the 
 Navajos, Piutes, Seminoles and several others. 
 Beyond doubt the Indian has been of some service 
 to the country, and while he formerly retarded 
 the advancement of civilization, he is making some 
 amends at this late day. 
 
THE "HALF CIRCLE CROSS RANc.H 
 Magdalina Mountains in the distance 
 
The Passing of the Antelope 
 
 HE most graceful of all the creatures, 
 which have passed from our Western 
 country into the ''yesterdays/' is the 
 antelope. With its beautiful buff-and- 
 white markings and its love for the 
 solitude of the great plains, it is not closely allied 
 with any of the other North American animals, 
 the nearest perhaps being the deer, but the na- 
 tures, customs, and general habits of the two 
 animals are as different as day and night. 
 
 While the deer is generally found in the fast- 
 ness of some deep, dark glen except when feeding, 
 where the trees and shadows abound, the antelope 
 will almost invariably be found right out where 
 the sun is shining brightest and where he can 
 go scurrying away for the distant horizon on short 
 notice. While the deer makes his ''get-away'' by 
 a series of tremendous, awe-inspiring leaps and 
 bounds, well suited to clear bushes and boulders, 
 of ordinary size, the antelope advertises his depar- 
 ture by a steady, honest-to-goodness run as a 
 horse runs, and without any frills whatsoever. 
 He can do a mile in — something "flat," I have 
 
44 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 never heard of their actual time being taken, but 
 they make a fast horse appear to be going in the 
 other direction. 
 
 It is true, we had stories of cow-boys roping 
 antelope, which might happen in a surprise attack, 
 or in the case of one being severely wounded, but 
 I am certain that it never happened in the case of 
 full grown, able bodied antelope in a straight-away 
 chase by a single rider. I have roped young 
 antelope and wounded ones, and my experience 
 is that an antelope with three legs still in com- 
 mission, is more than enough for the ordinary 
 cow-horse. 
 
 Now hold your hat. * * * One morning I was 
 riding across our range, looking for horses, and 
 as it was almost all prairie, one could see for 
 miles in all directions. Suddenly a young antelope 
 sprang up out of the grass where its mother had 
 concealed it, no doubt, as their peculiar coloring 
 made concealment an easy matter. I had never 
 "roped'' an antelope, other than wounded ones, 
 and as I was riding ''Gold Dust," he of the dirt 
 removing qualities, we at once gave chase. The 
 average cow-pony seemed to like to ''run'' anything 
 and would follow its windings like a hawk after 
 his prey. Uncoiling my rope from the saddle 
 horn, I made ready for an early "throw" at that 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 45 
 
 flying streak of long outstretched neck and thin, 
 white legs. There was very little body in evidence. 
 The surprise was ours, we in the rear, or the 
 party of the second part. We didn't pull up as 
 promptly as was customary when chasing cattle. 
 At the end of the first mile or so our gain was 
 nothing to ''brag'' of. In the meantime we had 
 been traveling some, wind singing a la Caruso, 
 while cactus, badger and prairie dog holes flew 
 toward the rear as though sent for. Finally, by 
 taking a number of short cuts, and by carrying 
 Gold Dust across several wash-outs on my long- 
 handled spurs, we drew up on our quarry, to the 
 great relief of my charger, perhaps. The rest 
 was easy, when you know how, and the holding 
 was easier, as there was very little resistance in 
 the trembling, lamb like creature on the negative 
 end of the lariat. However, the little chap had 
 good lungs and how he did bleat! Dismounting 
 and holding the rope in my hands I drew the 
 shrinking antelope up to me and took the rope 
 from its neck which seemed too delicate for any- 
 thing so coarse. I knelt down and piit my arms 
 around the little body to prevent any sudden leave 
 taking, while I admired the wonderful markings 
 and coloring, especially on the neck; however, I 
 doubt if that admiration society was mutual. Gold 
 
46 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 Dust stood near by, puffing like a Southern Pacific 
 mogul, his ears cocked forward and probably won- 
 dering what manner of calf that could be, with 
 the distressing voice. 
 
 I was pretty well pleased with life in general 
 those days and as I sat there I looked about me, 
 pondering on the ''how, why and wherefore/' 
 Through the crystal clear distance I could see 
 the blue Ladrone Mountains, and to the East the 
 Lemitars; across the plains to the South the 
 purple Magdalenas towered majestically, while 
 the foot-hills of the Bear Mountains were only 
 a mile or so away at my back and looked just 
 ordinary brown, by reason of their nearness. A 
 great plain, entirely surrounded by mountains of 
 blues, purples and browns while overhead a sky 
 of real blue put the others to shame. By now the 
 antelope was readjusting some views of life, per- 
 haps, on finding that I did not eat him right away 
 as he was flipping first one ear, then the other, 
 while he stamped his feet and "sized'' us up. It 
 was customary to in some way mark the ears or 
 put some distinguishing mark on anything so 
 captured, for future reference, but I could not do 
 that, but unclasped my arms and in a surprisingly 
 short time the little fellow melted or blended into 
 the waving brown grass. 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 47 
 
 On the great San Augustine Plains in New 
 Mexico there were, prior to 1888, thousands of 
 antelope to be seen at all times, in bands of a few 
 hundred to several thousand. They were much 
 more common than cattle. During the Winter of 
 '88 there came an unusual snowfall of several feet, 
 and as the feed was covered deep and the snow 
 did not melt rapidly, the antelope as well as cattle 
 and horses perished by thousands. 
 
 That was the beginning of the end for the ante- 
 lope, seemingly, as while there are a few small 
 bands to be seen in certain localities, they are 
 very few and will soon be entirely extinct, except 
 the few in parks and game preserves. 
 
 I remember very distinctly, the first antelope 
 I killed, which was when I was thirteen. I was 
 said to be a good shot, ''for a boy," but this killing 
 of the prong-horn may have been an accident, 
 though I know that my intentions were ''plumb 
 fatal.'' This was a lone buck, running his very 
 best at 125 yards while I took a snap shot at him 
 off hand with a 45-65 Winchester, the ball passing 
 through him from his "slats" on one side, striking 
 his heart and out the opposite shoulder. No, I 
 wouldn't have traded places with Grover Cleve- 
 land just then; in fact I have always been a 
 Republican, anyway, and believe in letting the 
 tariff strictly alone. 
 
48 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 Since that time I have killed many antelopes, 
 but that wonderful elation has been somewhat 
 lacking, like the lines in the old school book, 
 
 'That swelling and that feeling of the heart, 
 
 You ne'er can feel again/' 
 
 The barbed-wire fence of our so-called civiliza- 
 tion was one of the antelope's greatest enemies, 
 as they would often be cut almost in two when 
 traveling at express speed and happening to col- 
 lide with a three or four wire fence. If they were 
 fortunate enough to strike the fence squarely they 
 would generally break through, but if they ran 
 against the fence ''slantingly" the barbs on the 
 wire would cut and tear into their flesh like a 
 circular saw cutting sugar pine. 
 
 It is said that great minds run in the same chan- 
 nels, — I wonder. Now for example. The ante- 
 lopes had a peculiarity of trying to pass across in 
 front of you, or would even change his course or 
 line of travel to conform, to some extent, with 
 yours. Just why I am not ready to explain. Take 
 their very name; I could never figure out why 
 they should be called "antelope" unless we should 
 go into Latin, or poker, and take the word "ante" 
 meaning before and "lope," to just fly. At any 
 rate they were generally to be found at the head 
 of the class, and the more you pressed their line 
 of flight the flatter the "trajectory" became. 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 49 
 
 I was jogging along on my favorite horse one 
 fine day, not necessarily in June. While I don't 
 care anything about crowned heads or royalty, 
 now less than ever, I had named this steed 
 'Trince'' and he was everything the name implies, 
 with most of the common princely short-comings 
 cut out. 
 
 Prince was the most satisfying horse I have 
 ever ridden, and I am told that I have ridden 
 several, quite out of the rocking-horse class. How- 
 ever, this is not shedding enough blood ; now hold 
 your bonnet once more. As I rode in toward the 
 ranch and while yet several miles out I observed 
 (I beg your indulgence for using the 'T' so much, 
 but there was really no one else present to "lay 
 it onto'') a band of antelope standing looking at 
 me, from some 800 yards distance. As we were 
 out of fresh meat at the ranch this was a tempta- 
 tion almost equal to Eve and the '^pippin." I knew 
 it would be a waste of time and ammunition 
 besides quite a strain on my rifle, to attempt kill- 
 ing one at that distance, as they were mere cream- 
 colored specks, seemingly suspended in mid-air. 
 their slender legs not being in evidence. As they 
 were almost in my line of march, I rode anglingly, 
 so as to pass them at some 200 yards, with their 
 permission. They permitted my clumsy pretext 
 
50 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 for about one minute, then away they, sailed, but 
 as usual so as to pass in front of me though at a 
 great distance. I went them one better, let Prince 
 out and did some flying myself, and at almost 
 right angles to their course, which was subject to 
 change without notice. But I did notice that they 
 couldn't permit me to do anything like that, as 
 they at once changed their line of flight which 
 was just what I expected. Of course they beat 
 me to the point where our lines would form a 
 junction, but only by a scant hundred yards. I 
 quickly stopped Prince, sprang to the ground yank- 
 ing my rifle, a 35-250 cal. Winchester from the 
 scabbard as I did so. The velocity of this gun's 
 projectiles was considerable, enough to overtake 
 an antelope anyway, or in technical terms the bul- 
 let was said to ramble along at some 2500 feet 
 per second. At the first shot the leader, a vener- 
 able buck, lost step, threw up his head and crashed 
 to the ground in a rolling heap, while the remain- 
 der rushed onward. My second shot was a beau- 
 tiful miss, tearing up some perfectly good sod over 
 and far beyond. Realizing that "opportunity" 
 wouldn't be with me all day but would soon be 
 in the next township, I settled down to my "knit- 
 ting," brought the ivory front sight down to just 
 in front of the vice-president, and pulled the trig- 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 51 
 
 ger. Almost instantly there was a dull thud, 
 something like striking a pillow with your 
 clenched fist, if you ever do anything so cowardly ; 
 some do, some don't. 
 
 Antelope number two plowed up the soil much 
 as the other had done while the air was filled 
 with brick-colored hair. The antelope's hair is 
 very coarse almost like grass, and comes out read- 
 ily, literally by handfuls. 
 
 At another time I had shot and wounded a great 
 buck, and after watching him lie down, I rode 
 into the ranch for a pack-horse, thinking to find 
 the antelope dead on my return. My nephew 
 asked to go back with me, so we put a pack-saddle 
 on a gentle horse, Leland saddled up a horse for 
 himself and we were off. Riding up near where 
 the ''dead'' antelopes were we were somewhat sur- 
 prised to see one rise stiffly from the ground, and 
 go slowly loping away. I told the boy that I- 
 would just rope ''that party," so we tied our pack- 
 horse to a convenient soap-weed, I took down my 
 cable and the neck-tie party was on, as we thought. 
 However, before we got in roping distance our 
 horses were completely "winded" while that buck 
 continued to lope along in front. Leland, being 
 much lighter, had ridden closer to the prong-horn 
 than I could get, but I saw it was no use 30 drew 
 
 } 
 
52 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 up short and at the crack of the rifle the antelope 
 suddenly put on more steam, then rolled along the 
 ground. As I came walking up, quite well pleased 
 with my "deadly eye'' Leland said, ''Say, Uncle 
 Will, you look a little out. That bullet whistled 
 right by my ear." 
 
 That buck's noble head now adorns our living 
 room, another of our barbaric, civilized customs. 
 As I look up at his soft dark eyes, the taxiderm- 
 ists' best effort I suspect, I can fancy there is some 
 reproach there, or he seems to be looking across 
 his beloved plains which he will see no more, but 
 we may be in the same boat on that. 
 
 Without doubt, the antelope was the most un- 
 assuming of all animals, lacking the aggression 
 one would expect to find when they were put upon 
 the defensive. They made less show of resistance 
 than some Belgian hares, so it really sounds rather 
 hollow and empty to even mention killing such 
 harmless creatures, but they were fair eating and 
 would sustain life for quite a while. Even though 
 I am now living in sunny, Southern California, I 
 would say in the words of the poet, 
 
 ''Give me a home where the buffalo roam. 
 
 Where the deer and the antelope play." 
 
o 
 o 
 
 >< 
 
 6 
 g 
 
 Q 
 < 
 
 bi 
 
 h 
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 g 
 
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The Passing of the Great Trail Herd 
 
 J MILD form of epidemic has struck the 
 country in the way of pen efforts to 
 portray the passing beyond the horizon 
 of things of common interest to all, 
 from the buffalo to the wild pigeon. As 
 I am a believer in the middle course I select as 
 my subject that almost extinct animal, the cow- 
 boy. Please do not misunderstand me; by ''cow- 
 boy'' I mean the real 18 karat. Simon-pure article. 
 I do not refer in any wise to the ''movie article'' — • 
 the "Spring Street" or "Broadway cowpunchers," 
 with due apologies to Tom Mix, W. S. Hart and 
 a few others now engaged in the making of mov- 
 ing pictures, who are the "clear quill." The imi- 
 tation leather puncher from away back in Missouri 
 or Arkansas is the chap who gives me that tired 
 feeling. When one of these fellows receives an 
 accidental kick, while feeding the family cow, he 
 feels that at last he is a real cowboy and must 
 go West and show them just how it should be 
 done. To the delight of an audience of "hay-mak- 
 ing" friends he demonstrates the fine points of 
 the profession, using as his aid some sleepy old 
 
56 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 nag generaily used on the milk route but promoted 
 with great honor for this occasion. ''Alkali Pete'' 
 generally mounts his fiery steed from the wrong 
 side, the same being the right side, of the suffering 
 horse. He does this wonderful stunt without ever 
 touching the reins or "lines'' as he would call 
 them. Verily, the mighty is due to connect with 
 some awful tumbles when he reaches the land of 
 ''manana," by the silvery Rio Grande, in the land 
 of the black gramma. 
 
 With your kind indulgence I will attempt to 
 tell you how it used to be done some twenty 
 years ago. I say ''doen" advisedly, as while 
 perhaps I don't know so much about it, I once 
 had a dear old aunt who did. 
 
 In using the terms ''trail" and ''trail-herd" I 
 would explain that in the old days railroads 
 were not so common as now and as a natural 
 consequence, freight rates were a great deal 
 higher. (I recall that our old rate from Magda- 
 lena. New Mexico to Kansas City was $110.00 
 per thirty-six foot car, the larger cars being 
 unknown at that time. This charge did not in- 
 clude the two feedings enroute.) As a result 
 m^any raisers or speculators made a practice of 
 driving or "trailing" their herds across the 
 country. This generally took weary months, 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 57 
 
 depending of course on the destination and the 
 ability and general condition of the men, horses, 
 cattle and the grass and water were to be con- 
 sidered. These were the main ingredients and 
 when well mixed and taken according to direc- 
 tions they made a m.ost pleasing combination to 
 the owner. 
 
 In the fall of 1895 my father contracted for 
 two thousand head of Mexican steers through 
 Taylor & Brown, live stock brokers of El Paso. 
 They located and bought the cattle for us in 
 the State of Chihuahua, Mexico. In December 
 we took our outfit down to Deming, New Mex- 
 ico, to receive the herd, which was a sight to 
 gladden the soul of an artist. Those steers were 
 all shapes and sizes and all the colors of the 
 rainbow, from beautiful blues and slate colors 
 to equally beautiful duns, jersey creams and 
 browns with bay points. Ages from one to 
 twenty-one and with horns from a foot to a yard 
 in length. These cattle cost us from $6.00 to 
 $10.00 per head, horns thrown in, and they 
 were worth it, as we later sold them in Northern 
 Texas for $18.50 and no extra charge for the 
 horns. 
 
 Upon tallying out the steers we discovered 
 that the Mexican is a ''strong counter'' and that 
 
58 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 instead of the contract number we had twenty- 
 seven hundred head. After looking at the fear- 
 ful and wonderful colorings again we hadn't 
 the heart to spoil the blends and combinations, 
 so took all of them. 
 
 Placing the cattle in the Deming railroad 
 yards, we immediately got busy engraving our 
 monogram on the steers' ribs or just anywhere 
 we could find a spot not already inscribed. Most 
 of those Mexican brands were real nightmares 
 and looked very much like the line of the Mex- 
 ican Central, which runs from El Paso to Mexico 
 City. Our trade mark was a ''half circle cross'' 
 which we preferred to place on the left side, 
 about midway between the North and South 
 poles. After several days of hard work we 
 finally got them all properly labelled and were 
 ready to set sail, and even the steers seemed will- 
 ing as they stepped bravely forth never to re- 
 turn. 
 
 In December the New Mexican climate gets 
 quite breezy and exhilirating as the altitude 
 ranges from four to seven thousand feet above 
 warm weather. Our first bit of ''fun" came 
 at the point where we had to ford (No ; no rela- 
 tion) the Rio Grande or in plain English, the 
 "Big River". Some particularly reckless poet 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 59 
 
 has referred to this stream as "the silvery Rio 
 Grande''. I would say for his benefit that mud 
 and silver do not make a pleasing combination. 
 It is an absolute fact that you can dip up a pail- 
 ful of the article which slides between the banks, 
 leave it stand for a couple of hours and draw- 
 off equal parts of water and sediment or just 
 mud. I have done that same thing many times 
 but in the excitement of the moment the ''silver'' 
 always got by me ; just a different point of view, 
 no doubt, but I earnestly yearned for the pres- 
 ence of that poet. Our 'Vaqueros" called the 
 stream the ''Big Muddy", with many embellish- 
 ments, before we got the last of the steers 
 across. The Rio Grande has a large reputation 
 for quicksand, deep holes, floating trees and in 
 season, from November to May, ice is furnished 
 in large chunks to visitors. Woe to the thought- 
 less or reckless puncher who ventured in clad 
 in full regalia i. e. boots and spurs, leggins, six- 
 shooter, belt and cartridges. If once separated 
 from his horse it was very likely that there 
 would be a vacancy in the "happy family". 
 
 After many incidents more or less interesting 
 and exciting, we were all across and in "the 
 promised land," which was in this case Dona 
 Ana County. As some of the cattle were not 
 
60 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 very strong, which did not speak well for our 
 exercise-and-cold-bath treatment and as the 
 weather was very bad, we made arrangements 
 to stop near Engle, New Mexico, for a month or 
 two, and pitched our tent near a great lake of 
 rain-water. The range surrounding was en- 
 closed by what had once been a wire fence, 
 and covering part of what was known as the 
 Waddingham Grant. Both the ''grant" and the 
 fences were in a sad way at this time for want 
 of some one with energy enough to keep 
 them up. 
 
 Our duties now were simply a matter of 
 watching our charges to keep their feet from 
 wandering from the paths that led to and from 
 the lake. It was a most inspiring sight on one 
 of our very rare, warm mornings to see our 
 parishioners trailing solemnly in to take on 
 water at our fountain of youth. They would 
 roll in from all points of the compass, following 
 the trails and strung out in Indian file. At a 
 distance they looked like miniature freight 
 trains, and quite a mixed train at that, as some 
 looked like Barnes' circus cars while others 
 might ''pass'' as funeral cars and done in deep- 
 est black. 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 61 
 
 After partaking of our hospitality to the ex- 
 tent of six or eight gallons, certain of the 
 stronger steers would get to feeling quite pug- 
 nacious, after the manner of some men when 
 they have been looking upon the ''drink/' How- 
 ever, this was all good natured and after raking 
 a few hairs from his comrades' ribs ye warrior 
 would hike for the salt lick, or he might, for 
 diversion, test the strength of his neck and 
 horns in trying to twist down some particularly 
 promising soap-weed. 
 
 After about two months of this butterfly life, 
 the weather improved and the steers became 
 stronger so we rounded up and on the 15th 
 of March, 1896, were ready to head North. 
 
 It was on the last night before we started 
 that I experienced my first stampede. 
 
 The steers had been very restless all evening 
 at being restrained from roaming at will over 
 their range; they couldn't seem to realize that 
 this was another case like Longfellow's immor- 
 tal ''Exile of the Arcadians" and they were not 
 inclined to suffer our interference. There were 
 three of us on first guard, a post to which I was 
 assigned in consideration of the fact that I was 
 the junior member of the happy band. I recall 
 that it was shortly before midnight when sud- 
 
62 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 denly the air was filled with a roar and tremor 
 equal to that caused by the passing near of a 
 heavy freight train. Even the ground seemed 
 to be vibrating and trembling ; I know that I was, 
 and think I can speak for my horse. Of course 
 I knew what was coming and so did that wise 
 wild cow pony, a veteran of many stampedes. I 
 had often heard the boys telling of their experi- 
 ence when '*the whole herd just got up and flew, 
 right now'' but this was my initiation to the 
 pleasure and mysteries of this rank in the cow 
 punching science. Those who are 'Veil in- 
 formed'' along this line tell me that in case the 
 herd comes your way that there is nothing to do 
 but ride like the very ''old scratch" was after 
 you, trusting to Providence and luck to keep 
 your horse out of prairie dog, badger and rat 
 dens, fallen logs, washouts and many other 
 things which seem to get in a puncher's way 
 when he is in a real hurry. My half brother, 
 Albert Steele, and my guardian angel after our 
 mother died when I was seven years of age, 
 dashed by and yelled "Lets go, kid." I heard 
 him the very first time and we rode madly to 
 the outer edge of the sea of tossing Mexican 
 sabres, "from a foot to a yard in length," or 
 was it two yards? Well, never mind. After 
 getting on the outside of the flying steers it was 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 63 
 
 an easy matter to ride up beside the leaders and 
 gradually swing them about in a wide sweep 
 and finally let them have their run out in **mill- 
 ing'' or running around in a huge circle. Each 
 animal appears to think that the other fellow 
 is going in the right direction to get away and 
 they follow his lead without question, at least 
 I don't think any are asked. During one of 
 these wild bursts of speed the cattle seem to 
 become panic stricken, as our own kind will 
 when someone foolishly yells 'Tire.'' Cattle are 
 almost as unreasonable as people and will run 
 over anything which happens to be handy, from 
 a fence to a cow puncher. Since that time I 
 have been in many serious stampedes, but they 
 were not appreciated like that first; I know I 
 remembered very distinctly all the unrighteous 
 things I had ever, at any time, been guilty of. 
 
 Next morning I expanded several inches when 
 the boys in speaking of the stampede in my hear- 
 ing said, *'Billy rode to them like an old timer." 
 I felt that I had very little more to learn. That 
 '"highbrow" who spoke of ignorance being bliss 
 really said something. 
 
 On the next morning we started North, 
 headed for the headquarters ranch near Mag- 
 dalena and about one hundred miles away. The 
 
64 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 third night out the herd ran again just before 
 daybreak. This was brought about by the boys 
 on guard trying to hold them on the bed-ground 
 until light enough to see good, while the steers 
 thought it was time to be gathering that early 
 worm ; no, they only eat grass. Yours truly was 
 far away, wandering among roses, poison ivy, 
 cactus or something pleasant, anyway, when our 
 cook, who was starting breakfast, rudely yelled 
 ''Look out boys: here they come.'' The latter 
 part of his oration was delivered from the high- 
 est part of the chuck wagon. We stood not upon 
 the order of our going but flung back the ''tarps'' 
 from our faces and dived in all earnestness, for 
 that same chuck wagon, ''practically immedi- 
 ately." From my perch I looked down on that 
 same sea of horns, from a foot — well, let it go; 
 anyway I don't think that wagon had ever 
 seemed so small. They would have surely run 
 over us but for the camp fire and the fact that 
 one of the guards dashed up beside the leaders 
 and in choice Castillian begged them to beware 
 of the sour dough. After a very long minute he 
 swung them to one side to our great relief. By 
 now we were getting quite cool for "we were 
 thinly clad." However, we saw most of the 
 herd pass in grand review — enough tons of fran- 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 65 
 
 tic steers to have trampled us out of counten- 
 ance. When the old cook climbed down, grum- 
 bling on the incompetence of bone-headed cow- 
 punchers in general and ''three brave guards- 
 men'' in particular, and viewed a would-have- 
 been batch of biscuits there was an uproar al- 
 most equal to the stampede. Poor old Cookie. 
 
 Before reaching the home ranch we had an- 
 other bath in the ''big muddy" to the evident 
 disgust of the steers and I can't say that we 
 really enjoyed the dip. I had the great satisfac- 
 tion of seeing a very anxious look on the cook's 
 face during the crossing at this point. The 
 wagon tongue or handle, just as you please, had 
 been broken a short time before and we had 
 done up the fracture with a very antiseptic 
 dressing and bound with strips of rawhide. 
 Great stuff when dry but inclined to stretch 
 when wet. Our worthy chef got as far as the 
 middle of the stream where the water was 
 deepest, when the tongue came loose and as 
 his control was gone, the schooner started down 
 stream with a much excited skipper at the 
 wheel. I don't suppose that a bunch of happy, 
 grinning punchers made his mind any easier. 
 After a time we rode in, made fast our tug boats 
 and dragged the mixup into shallow water, and 
 
66 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 O the things he said ! Someone once said some- 
 thing about laughing after awhile and you'll 
 laugh more, or near that. Anyway, cookie had 
 his revenge very shortly. Our **horse-wrangler" 
 or herder got an overdose of mud on the brain 
 and let the saddle horses roll in a nice soft 
 patch of clay, and then they visited a flourishing 
 cockle-burr field where they adorned their 
 manes and tails with a most wonderful collec- 
 tion. Each rider had a *'mount'' of four horses, 
 which were under his special supervision and 
 no one else could ride one of the so-called 
 mount without a special dispensation. We had 
 a real interesting time scraping clay and pulling 
 burrs, as some of the horses had ideas of their 
 own on the subject. Of course the old cook 
 gave us much wholesome advice, when his eyes 
 would happen to wander to a certain splice in 
 the wagon tongue. The boss tied a tin can onto 
 that horse wrangler and I was reduced in the 
 ranks to fill the vacancy caused by his departure. 
 This ruffled my dignity considerably but before 
 it became chronic we picked up a real wrangler 
 in the person of Ben Mitchell. Of Spanish des- 
 cent, born and raised in Southern Texas, Ben 
 was the best man with horses I ever saw, and a 
 very fine roper. He spoke splendid English, "as 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 67 
 
 the cowpuncher speaks it/' and even better 
 Spanish. Woe to the Mexican who might be 
 careless in giving us directions as to roads, 
 trails, river crossings, etc. Ben would always 
 ask these questions in ^'United States;'' if the 
 answer was acceptable to Mitchell well and 
 good, but if the Mexican should arouse his 
 ^'Spanish" he would hand out a line of *'Es- 
 panol" which would leave the poor Mexican sim- 
 ply paralyzed. He would probably hear words 
 that he never knew existed, and most likely 
 never heard again. 
 
 We reached the ranch about the first of 
 April and after making a few changes in our 
 crew and cutting out a number of the weakest 
 cattle we were ready to begin the long grind. 
 Our crew was made up of six riders, a cook and 
 a horse wrangler. Jack Best, was the boss and 
 the best handler of cattle, horses and men that 
 I have seen anywhere ; Jim Ewing was cook and 
 Mitchell horse jingler. These were all stars of 
 the first magnitude. The rest, Sam Houston, 
 John May, Ed Balzer, Albert Steele and myself 
 were all gems of the regulation twenty candle 
 power. 
 
 Early one morning we headed the herd 
 toward distant Texas and after skirting the 
 
68 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 base of the Ladron (thief) Mountains and fol- 
 lowing down the winding Salado for two days, 
 we came again and for the last time to our old 
 friend, the Rio Grande. That river was get- 
 ting to be a habit with us, but Cookie didn't 
 care as he had a new handle in his chariot. In 
 the meantime the weather had moderated con- 
 siderably and most of the ice had melted which 
 resulted in quite a rise in the water stage. To 
 those who have never seen a herd of cattle ford- 
 ing a deep stream it must be very interesting to 
 see a long line of horns and noses stretching 
 from bank to bank, the cattle on the far shore 
 shaking and trembling from the cold bath, while 
 those on the near bank are being pressed closer 
 and closer to the water by the heartless cowboys. 
 There was an old renegade living near the 
 stream who was authority on the currents, chan- 
 nels, quicksand and other data, who volunteered 
 to act as pilot and we appointed him at once 
 with honor. As we were crossing the last of the 
 cattle our official guide must have gotten his 
 wires crossed, as he rode off into a deep hole 
 and for about half a minute there was nothing 
 to be seen of horse or rider while his hat went 
 sailing gayly away on the swift stream. Pres- 
 ently up came the submersibles, blowing water 
 like porpoises. 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 69 
 
 Next morning we bade a hasty farewell to the 
 land of the big mosquito and stale vegetable 
 smells, and laid a course due Northeast, passing 
 through Abou Pass where the Belen **cutoff'' 
 of the Santa Fe now runs. During this period I 
 contrived to get the ear on the North side of 
 my head frosted, as we experienced one of those 
 very cold piercing winds popularly known in 
 Texas as a ''Norther." I was very tender in 
 those days. 
 
 After about a week we came to a little Mex- 
 ican settlement styled Punta de Agua, meaning 
 the point or end of water. This was great news 
 to us, as the cattle hadn't had a square drink 
 since leaving the Rio Grande. This looked very 
 unpromising as it was only a dinky trickling 
 stream with a few small puddles of standing 
 water. Here was the hardest looking bunch of 
 Mexicans I ever had the misfortune to behold at 
 one sitting; they were one eyed, pock-marked 
 frightfully from smallpox, while their manly 
 countenances bore plain evidence of the free 
 •use of knives, or barbed wire, in many a melee. 
 This bunch had a wide-spread reputation of be- 
 ing an all around bad bunch of cattle and horse 
 thieves and had figured in many killings. Not 
 many years before a trail herd had passed 
 
70 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 through there and the boss had killed two of 
 the prize man-eaters. We were not looking for 
 trouble so were inclined to parley, with both 
 feet on the soft pedal. The ''alcalde'' or Mayor 
 gave us permission to water in their creek, 
 which they had captive, so we at once turned 
 in the thirsty cattle. 
 
 Within a very few minutes things began to 
 happen ; those Mexican steers appeared to 
 think that they had reached home again and 
 made it a point to visit the different little 
 ''casas'' and corn patches, without showing any 
 partiality whatsoever. This city boasted of an 
 irrigation system along one side of the ravine 
 which looked to have been made by the old 
 women of the town with sticks or perhaps a fire 
 shovel ; most certainly not with a steam shovel. 
 What those energetic charges of ours did to that 
 ''acequia'' was a plenty. 
 
 We very soon had the entire population buz- 
 zing about our ears like a bunch of angry hor- 
 nets, and many were the things they promised 
 to do to us, but we proposed to ''be at the do- 
 ing.'' After a parley during which our horse 
 wrangler was the main speaker and did great 
 execution with his flowery phrases, with the 
 ginger left out on this occasion, they decided 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 71 
 
 to let US go for and in consideration of the sum 
 of twenty-five dollars which we gladly paid. 
 We lost no time in heading the, cattle East 
 where water was and Mexicans were not. 
 
 In the meantime the cook had not been 
 slighted ; he had driven the chuck wagon up the 
 creek above where we were trying to water the 
 .herd, and finding a promising looking pool of 
 water he was proceeding to fill a barrel which 
 we always carried for emergencies. Presently 
 an angry citizen spied our busy cook and he lost 
 no time in demanding that he empty the water 
 back forthwith if not sooner. This was a new 
 stunt to Jim but he finally agreed and was draw- 
 ing the water from the barrel when the Mex- 
 ican became impatient and fell to kicking one of 
 the cook's team in the *'short ribs and apple 
 sauce.'' This was too much for Ewing, who 
 loved his ''bosses" next to his pet ''dutch oven." 
 Jim at once dropped the water bucket, and be- 
 ing a big fellow he gathered "Santa Ana" up by 
 the shirt collar and proceeded to shake him out 
 of his clothing. We expected this to result in a 
 riot call being turned in but Jim climbed up on 
 the wagon after making sure that there was 
 nothing more to come off, while ye warrior made 
 for his castle, presumably after his heavy artil- 
 lery. I repeat it; we left. 
 
72 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 We next passed through a characterless coun- 
 try and the second day came to the Estancia 
 Springs where there was an abundance of good 
 water, running out into troughs. The steers 
 had all the water they wanted and we were 
 happy once more. 
 
 Along about this time I began to see the fine 
 points of the game. When the cattle had eaten 
 all the sage brush, grass, etc., that they felt the 
 occasion required, they were ready and willing 
 to take a little stroll, and we were always glad 
 to accommodate them, during business hours. 
 Ab Steele and Sam Houston were our ''point- 
 ers'' and their duty was to head or point the 
 leaders, which were always the biggest, strong- 
 est cattle ''in the way in which we should go." 
 The boss would give his instructions to the 
 "pointers'' and all the rest had to do was to 
 "keep them coming;" when the leaders stopped, 
 everything stopped. When they were allowed 
 to proceed the "swing" and "flank men" got 
 busy throwing them on the trail, to be followed 
 finally by the best man on the job, the "drag" 
 man, on whose care and judgement the very 
 weakest of the cattle at the rear depended. In 
 John May I think we had the best "drag man" 
 who ever went up the trail ; he knew the disposi- 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 73 
 
 tion of most of his patients, had almost all of 
 them named very appropriately, and would not 
 allow a ''flank'' man to charge his position or 
 excite his protegees in any way. Sometimes in 
 open country we would have the herd strung 
 out for more than a mile, all plodding solemnly 
 Eastward and knocking out a trail from five to 
 ten yards wide and many inches deep in dust. 
 
 After a half day vacation at Estancia Springs 
 we again set forth, the ''pointers'' holding them 
 a little North of East, with the intention of strik- 
 ing the Blanco Canyon which through its wind- 
 ings of forty miles leads down to the Pecos 
 River. While in the "brakes" near the head of 
 the Blanco we encountered one of the worst 
 late storms I have ever seen; this one took the 
 form of high, bitterly cold winds, with sleet and 
 snow thrown in for good measure. The bliz- 
 zard struck us about four o'clock in the after-, 
 noon, and as our "Chihuahuas" were from a 
 warm country they wanted to turn back to that 
 dear Mexico right away, quick. We were in a 
 thinly timbered country, with scrub pinion and 
 cedar growing in small groves which would only 
 cover a few acres. I saw a bunch of steers mak- 
 ing a bee-line for the land of the tamale, and 
 as there were none of the other boys in sight I 
 
74 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 rode hurriedly down to head them off. I was 
 told that this was the correct thing to do, but 
 while riding across a shelf of sloping rock, 
 which w^as slippery with sleet, my horse's feet 
 flew from under him and he landed on his back 
 at the foot of the incline, with the horn of the 
 saddle buried in the ground up to the cantle 
 while one of his hind legs was twisted under 
 him so that I was sure, later, that it must be 
 broken. I landed in a heap about twenty feet 
 further on. I at once gathered myself up and 
 ran back to ''John" the pride of my ''mount;'' 
 I can remember yet the way he looked up at 
 me out of his soft brown eyes as though to say 
 "You're a real lemon." I was ready to agree 
 to anything, but here I was afoot, the steers 
 getting away, night coming on and not a man 
 in sight. I whipped out my "frog-sticker," cut 
 the horn-string which held my saddle rope in 
 place, and hurriedly making a loop slipped it 
 over my inverted steed's forelegs. I then got 
 down below and pulled with all vengeance. Aft- 
 er several desperate pulls I finally flopped old 
 John over on his side where after several efforts 
 he managed to regain his feet. The leg of which 
 I had been suspicious was not broken, "but bad- 
 ly bent," and ever after he would limp after an 
 extra hard ride. 
 
76 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 That night was a terror to cowpunchers and 
 evildoers in general. Next morning we found 
 our saddle horses scattered far and near, but 
 mostly far, while John May found twelve of his 
 prize pupils frozen to death on the bed ground. 
 The cutting North wind moderated some during 
 the day but it was still bitterly cold when night 
 came on. The cattle had walked and milled all 
 day, eating very little so were in no condition to 
 tackle another bad night. However, the boss 
 was equal to the emergency. Just before night 
 we came to a grove of trees, the most of which 
 were dead and many had fallen. This piece of 
 timber covered about fifteen or twenty acres, I 
 should judge. Jack sent in a couple of men who 
 made small fires throughout the grove and then 
 we turned the cattle in. It may not sound plaus- 
 ible but it is an absolute fact that those steers 
 took to our little fires like a bear after honey. 
 Next morning we noticed quite a number bear- 
 ing scorched spots from being hooked or crowd- 
 ed against the fires. We had been standing 
 three guards of three and one-quarter hours 
 each, two men to the guard, the cook and horse 
 wrangler being exempt. We compromised at 
 this point by setting two guards of six hours 
 each, three men to the guard. After a very 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 77 
 
 long day that was the longest, coldest six hours 
 of my life. 
 
 The weather moderated rapidly after this, 
 which was about the last storm of that Spring. 
 Two or three days later we struck Blanco 
 Canon. Blanco means *'white," but why they 
 should have called this place white is beyond 
 me, as that was an intensely dark place at night, 
 being very deep and heavily fringed with timber 
 along the edges. I had a splendid ''night 
 horse'' kept especially for night guard as he 
 was gentle, sure footed and wide awake to keep 
 us out of dog holes, cactus, fallen timber, etc. 
 In this particular Blanco or ''white'' canyon I 
 found my prize horse sadly at fault on a very 
 dark cloudy night when a puncher is apt to think 
 of one of his old school-day recitations which 
 begins "Twinkle, twinkle, little star; how I won- 
 der where you are." On this night it grew dark- 
 er and darker on my guard; I knew that I 
 couldn't see anything, but supposed my horse 
 could, as usual. Presently I found out differ- 
 ently, as my steed lost his bearings evidently, 
 for by the sound of things we collided violently 
 with an ex-citizen of Chihuahua, Mexico. We 
 reared backwards, dodged and side-stepped as 
 the rules provide for on such occasions, while 
 
78 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 the steer gave a subdued bellow, sprang to his 
 feet, as evidenced by the noise and stood there 
 trying to pierce the gloom and no doubt bless- 
 ing me in choice Spanish. The steers v^ere 
 more reasonable by this time, or that little side 
 issue would have been more than enough to 
 have set them tearing through the atmosphere. 
 We followed the Blanco right down to the 
 Pecos which we struck at Anton Chico. (Little 
 Anthony; shades of Cleopatra!) After taking 
 on a fresh stock of provisions, mostly soda, 
 bacon and beans, we forded the river just be- 
 low the city and our pointers laid a course 
 for the Palomas Tanks. We forgot to touch 
 wood or cross our fingers just at this point as 
 we experienced quite a run of extra bad luck. 
 First my brother and a most important mem- 
 ber of the glad circle by reason of his being 
 **right pointer,'' was kicked by a horse of bad 
 manners. He did a thorough job at that. 
 Albert was riding on the chuck wagon when 
 the cook's four became excited at something 
 by the roadside and whirling suddenly they 
 smashed the front end of the chuck wagon be- 
 yond repair. As a grand finale, the horse 
 wranglers' bunch of saddle horses took fright 
 at something out in the brush (the boys were 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 79 
 
 confident that it was a bear; I know that the 
 smashup was) and away went the entire bunch 
 of horses, seventeen of them getting away. It 
 took us two weeks to get them all back, as they 
 split up in small bunches. 
 
 We sent a man on to the S — T ranch and bor- 
 rowed a wagon of them until we reached their 
 ranch. To cap the climax we had a fight even 
 in our well ordered family. Sam Houston who 
 was red-headed to a dangerous degree, and 
 Irish, became most quarrelsome and aggressive ; 
 he had at different times read the '*riot act'' to 
 all, from the boss down to the horse-jingler. 
 
 One evening when we were drifting the herd 
 slowly up to the bed ground, which was gen- 
 erally two or three hundred yards from camp, 
 Sam came dashing up to my humble station on 
 the flank and proposed to show me a hurry up 
 swing, Southern Texas style. The idea didn't 
 appeal to me and I invited him to get back up 
 on the point where he belonged. This resulted 
 in a ''talkfest" during which he gently inserted 
 a hand under a large handkerchief which I was 
 wearing about my neck, and after giving the 
 said kerchief a few turns, I was wheezing like 
 a real Ford. My brother from his position on 
 the other point, saw that we were pulling off 
 
80 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 something not included in the program, so he 
 loped back and invited Sam to ''jar aloose/' 
 While arguing this phase of the case ye warrior 
 made a pass at Albert, who is one of those left- 
 handed parties, ''south paws'' I believe the base 
 ball fans call them. At any rate he landed 
 repeatedly and at will on poor Sam's physiog- 
 nomy so that he soon looked as though he had 
 fallen on a picket fence. Then down came the 
 boss, who looked the field of battle over, took 
 the evidence in the case, smelled of the blood, 
 sized up the locks of hair adorning the near-by 
 mesquite bushes and fired Sam forthwith. I 
 have never worn another handkerchief, except 
 in my pocket. 
 
 After some delay we reached the S — T head- 
 quarters, where they killed the fatted calf in 
 our honor and even gave us half to remember 
 them by. There was good grass in this part of 
 the world so we visited with the S — T boys for a 
 couple of days; then we hired another man, pro- 
 moted one of our men to the vacant post of left 
 pointer, and setting a course due East we pulled 
 for the San Howe Tank, near the Texas line. 
 
 There was great rivalry among the cowboys 
 of the different trail herds and outfits, each 
 swearing that his was the only genuine and all 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 81 
 
 others were cheap imitations. All this was in 
 good nature of course. Nearly every outfit had 
 one extra fast horse of which they took espe- 
 cially good care; then when several outfits got 
 together they would pull off some real classy 
 races, the punchers backing their respective 
 horses for all they could beg or borrow. 
 
 Near the San Howe Tank we passed another 
 herd, Eastward bound like ourselves; this 
 proved to be a 'Titchfork'' herd from the lower 
 Pecos country. Their boss came and looked 
 us over and we evidently failed to impress him 
 favorably, for as he was starting back to his 
 outfit he remarked, with his nose in the air, that 
 we had ^'better get our moose off the trail or 
 they would get stepped on when the Pitchfork 
 got going." We handed out the sarcastic grin, 
 and let our cattle graze, as we knew that was 
 the proper method of raising steam, and we 
 knew just what those ^'walking picture galle- 
 ries'' could do when filled with the essentials. 
 In about an hour there was much activity in 
 the camp of the enemy, so the boss gave the 
 pointers the "high sign" and we were off in a 
 cloud of dust. Our steers fell in line like 
 trained soldiers and struck out with that pe- 
 culiar camel-like swing which trail cattle ac- 
 
82 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 quire only under good tutors and after much 
 practice and drilling. The Pitchfords failed to 
 walk on us or even travel in our dust, to our 
 great satisfaction. Along in the afternoon one 
 of our men had occasion to go back a short dis- 
 tance, just to satisfy our curiosity, (to be hon- 
 est) ; he found the boss of **all the Pitchforks''' 
 and all his men behind their cattle and with 
 ropes and slickers were trying for more speed. 
 This was a foolish thing to do, as it crowded 
 the weaker cattle up among the strong where 
 they were hooked and bumped around to the 
 detriment of the entire herd. We toddled right 
 on our way and never saw them again. 
 
 We passed Endee, New Mexico, on this day 
 and were told that the Texas line was only five 
 miles away. However, this meant half a day's 
 travel as we only figured on from ten to twelve 
 miles per day, which doesn't sound like speeding 
 in this day of the swift automobile and **Ford." 
 
 Next morning we crossed the line, after inter- 
 viewing an Inspector of the Cattle Sanitary 
 Board, who has an eye for diseases but his main 
 specialty is for brands other than those appear- 
 ing on the manifest or passport which is pro- 
 duced by the boss. Shortly afterward we 
 climbed up on that vast tableland known as the 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 83 
 
 *'Stake Plains'' where you may look in any direc- 
 tion until your eyes grow dim without seeing a 
 tree or any living thing. It is quite different now 
 no doubt. 
 
 We were now informed that we would have 
 to drive sixty-five miles without water, and as 
 the days were getting long and hot, it being the 
 latter part of May, we were much concerned. 
 This meant a matter of at least four days and 
 nights without water which may do for the 
 camel but not for ordinary cattle. However, 
 ours were not of the ordinary variety, so we de- 
 cided to tackle it; Hobson's choice as there was 
 nothing else to do. We were told on good au- 
 thority that **Dead Horse Lake" would be the 
 next watering. The sugar trust, the same be- 
 ing my father who had just ridden out from 
 Amerillo and joined us, and the boss went into 
 secret session with the result that we did very 
 little driving during the day when it was hot 
 but as soon as night came we laid our course 
 by the North Star and advised our Sherwin 
 Williams paint samples to ''dig out." After two 
 days and nights of this frivolous life the pace 
 began to tell on all concerned, but most upon 
 the steers. We managed to keep our horses 
 supplied from the scattering, one burro-power 
 wells which we would find at long intervals. 
 
84 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 The cattle began to take on that hollow, 
 drawn look, with eyes sunken far back in their 
 heads; if a little breeze should start up they 
 would turn facing it and run out their tongues 
 and bawl. ^'Nothing like that in Mexico." They 
 were too thirsty to graze any more and certainly 
 did hand us out some punishment by causing 
 us to be in the saddle almost continually. Some- 
 times when it settled down a trifle hotter than 
 common, we would declare a truce and a puncher 
 could learn wearily on his horse's neck and tell 
 him just what was thought of steers anyway, and 
 it might be that he could snatch about forty winks. 
 Then just as you began to dream of feather beds, 
 great streams and lakes of water, clear and cold 
 and with green fields on both sides and not a steer 
 in sight; at this point some long-legged, brindle 
 ox would experience an extra sharp pang of thirst, 
 or perhaps a breeze would spring up from the 
 direction of some distant windmill. Away would 
 go the "weather observer'' and the entire bunch 
 at his heels. This would call out all hands to con- 
 vince them that it was just another bad dream, 
 and that they must practice watchful waiting and 
 patience in this land of the far horizon and few 
 drinks. 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 85 
 
 Some days it was hot ; the next day would per- 
 haps be pronounced just a little more so. One day 
 it was 105 in the shade, and no shade in sight, as 
 we passed through a little weed overgrown town 
 called La Plata, meaning more silver. We couldn't 
 seem to get away from the silver. William Jen- 
 nings should be right at home in that locality. 
 
 This was all a country of very deep wells, bum 
 windmills and the scarcity of water was the most 
 interesting thing I noticed. There was an abun- 
 dance of fine ''buffalo gVass'' in this country, but 
 we were all too busy "to eat much,'' as the cattle 
 were in torture by now, some.of them going blind 
 and hooking savagely at anything near them 
 which happened to move. Needless to say the 
 other cattle gave them a wide berth, but the thirst 
 crazed steers held together from sound and force 
 of habit. I certainly did pity those poor, tortured 
 wretches. 
 
 Many miles short of "the lake with the dead 
 horses" we struck up with a real windmill which 
 had a storage tank in connection, but they were 
 not prepared for so much company at once as they 
 only had two small troughs. We were desperate 
 by now and the steers had been for some time, so 
 we began watering the starving cattle shortly after 
 nightfall. Had we turned in the entire herd there 
 
86 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 would have been a riot and the troughs would have 
 been speedily trampled into the earth, so we had to 
 water them in small bunches of about a hundred 
 to a table or, I should say, at a time. The cattle 
 that were being watered were no trouble to us, 
 as you couldn't have pried them away from those 
 troughs with a crowbar ; neither did the ones that 
 had been watered give us any concern, as they at 
 once fell to collecting that long-delayed feed, but 
 the main herd certainly did deal us misery in 
 large doses. They were so near that water that 
 they could almost taste it, and they seemed to 
 think that they should all sit at the first table. 
 
 This was a long weary all night session for all 
 hands; just as the sun appeared beyond the edge 
 of those endless plains we turned the last bunch on 
 the water and made a bee-line for camp, ignoring 
 the cook with his solicitous offer of breakfast or 
 "coffee at least.'' We consigned him to that 
 locality where steam heat and coffee are unknown, 
 unrolled our beds and fell dead. 
 
 Along in the afternoon we came alive and found 
 our subjects feeling much better; a few were still 
 grazing, but most of them were resting like our- 
 selves. It was certainly amusing to watch some 
 of those steers ''handle that water question." They 
 already looked like balloons, but occasionally some 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 87 
 
 cautious old chap would scramble to his feet and 
 walk hurriedly down to the troughs just to see if 
 after all it was just- another bad dream, perhaps, 
 he would thrust his nose deep into the water and 
 after taking a sip or two would stand gazing at 
 the reflection of his handsome visage. He may 
 have been thinking as did the Irishman who stood 
 looking into the mirror the morning after a big 
 'Vake'' and remarked, ''Begorra, I must have had 
 a great time/' 
 
 We rested there all the balance of that day, 
 starting out again next morning, and if that coun- 
 try experienced a drouth afterward I would not 
 be surprised, considering the vast quantity of 
 water which we carried away. 
 
 We were now approaching Amarillo from the 
 Southwest. (This word is Spanish and signifies 
 ''yellow," but whether applied to their people or 
 our cattle, I could not determine.) The surround- 
 ing country was even at that time fairly thickly 
 settled ; by now no doubt they are raising straw- 
 berries, garlic and sweet peas all over that historic 
 ground. What we raised has never been classed 
 with vegetables as yet, I believe. 
 
 The approaches to Amarillo from all directions 
 led through long lanes ; it may be that our ''Chi- 
 huahuas'' thought we were getting them onto a 
 
88 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 queer formation. Many of these lanes extended 
 for miles with an occasional off-set of perhaps 
 forty acres, used for holding or passing of herds. 
 We were going in on such a lane and as the cattle 
 were getting thirsty again, we were traveling on 
 the "high gear.'' Some people will laugh just 
 here, perhaps, but I cannot tell a lie. It is an abso- 
 lute fact that cattle can smell water which is miles 
 away when the wind is setting right, and they 
 advertise the fact by running out a tongue as long 
 as the arm, just to show a heartless cowboy how 
 very dry they are. 
 
 All of the boys but one were riding in front to 
 keep the steers from running when we drew up to 
 one of these lane switches. Here we found *'Mary 
 and the lambs,'' about fifteen hundred nice, fat 
 woolies, headed for the market at Amarillo. Just 
 to show us that he didn't take dust off ''any bunch 
 of bow-legged cowpunchers," Robinson and his 
 man Friday hazed their flock right out on the 
 main line ahead of the lions, the same being our 
 steers, while he later referred to ''jackasses," 
 which I couldn't understand. Our boss rode for- 
 ward and advised him to wait a bit, as we were 
 working under a full head of steam and were 
 liable to blow up at any minute. The gentle shep- 
 herd looked pityingly up at old Jack but rolled the 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 89 
 
 wool right out in front of us— a clear case of 
 sheep ''rushing in where angels fear to tread/' 
 We had to check the onward rush of the steers at 
 once or trample the mutton chops under foot; 
 however, this was not a success, as the mile long 
 line of hurrying steers at once began to pile up on 
 the front ranks and tearing holes in the narrow 
 lane through which a ''dread-nothing'' could pass 
 with comfort. The man with the crook began to 
 see by now that he had gotten into the wrong pew. 
 I doubt very much if he ever at any time saw a 
 harder looking bunch of cattle, horses or men. To 
 relieve the situation and prevent any undue em- 
 barassment, Jack rode near ye shepherd, comment- 
 ing freely upon his probable ancestry and his final 
 destination, and advising him to climb a pole as 
 we "couldn't hold them any longer." That was the 
 busiest shepp-man I have ever seen, and I have 
 seen several, a fact of which I am not proud, how- 
 ever. At the end of that section we came to an- 
 other switch into which the sheep were hurried, 
 nor could we persuade them to travel in our com- 
 pany any further. 
 
 We were now on the main Southern Texas trail, 
 with great herds in sight at all times; sometimes 
 we could see six or eight at one time, as that was 
 certainly a level, monotonous country. 
 
90 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 Across the Texas plains our herd rolled on. 
 
 And sweet was the music of the cowboy's song. 
 
 About a mile from Amarillo there was a great 
 lake of real water, not that optical delusion known 
 to the profession as ''mirage.'' Many times every 
 day we saw what looked to be bodies of water, and 
 some so real that you could almost hear the frogs 
 jump in at your approach. In a short time the 
 lake of ''hot air" would vanish, leaving just a 
 waste of plains, nothing more. 
 
 We rested at Amarillo several days, meeting 
 dozens of punchers from the different herds in 
 port, each riding his top horse and loudly pro- 
 claiming that his was the only outfit worthy of 
 notice, after all. You could see them riding down 
 Amarillo's main steet, dressed in real clean clothes, 
 with equally clean faces and their necks adorned 
 with the gaudiest handkerchiefs to be had. There 
 was one exception to that handkerchief craze, I 
 remember. Even old Jim, our dearly beloved and 
 often hated cookie, felt the festivity of the occa- 
 sion, for he at once washed his face threw our 
 traps from the wagon and made a hurried trip into 
 town, coming back with a fresh supply of beans, 
 bacon and soda and oh joy! Oh Jonathan! a 
 bunch of dried peaches and prunes. To properly 
 celebrate our entry into this land he undertook to 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 91 
 
 build US a kind of dried fruit proposition with an 
 outer covering of rawhide or dough, while the 
 inside was filled with a fearful combination of 
 dried fruits. During the construction of this 
 masterpiece the cook waxed quite sentimental and 
 rolling his eyes up at me he croaked, more or less, 
 musically, 
 
 ''Can she bake a chicken pie, Billy boy, Billy boy ; 
 Can she bake a chicken pie. Charming Billy." 
 
 By this time I felt that I was a star of great 
 brilliance and could not afford an ordinary cook 
 to take any liberties with me whatever, so I told 
 Cookie what I had heard of the climate in the 
 Imperial Valley, mounted my steed and rode away 
 in great indignation. However, I ate some of that 
 deadly combination, just to appease old Jim, and 
 I am more or less alive to tell the story ! 
 
 I once heard a remark about ''a youngster will 
 sometimes say something when they don't know 
 it,'' or perhaps it was ''out of the mouths of 
 infants." Any way a gay band of us were riding 
 down an Amarillo street on one of those fine May 
 mornings and it may have been Sunday, as the 
 bells were shouting something which I couldn't 
 understand. As we passed a cozy looking little 
 home with lilac and asparagus growing up over 
 the door, a pig-tailed, ten-year-old Miss climbed 
 up on the front gate and toothlessly warbled, 
 
92 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 ''My sweetheart's a cowboy, 
 
 He's gone up the trail ; 
 Vm looking for a letter 
 In the very next mail/' 
 
 Conversation lagged after we had passed on, 
 and when we had ridden up to a "hitching post" 
 and anchored our horses, I followed several of the 
 boys into a hotel office where they borrowed enve- 
 lopes and paper and retiring to a quiet corner the 
 great literary effort was on, judging by the corru- 
 gated brows. (Of course they were writing to 
 Mother, Aunt Jane or brother Tom.) 
 
 We saw many Texas Rangers here ; I think this 
 organization would compare very favorably with 
 the Northwest Mounted Police, as they are cer- 
 tainly a terror to evildoers. Since the Indian has 
 become domesticated they haven't kept the Rang- 
 ers on the jump as in the early days, and time 
 seemd to be of no object to the number stationed 
 at Amarillo. 
 
 After leaving Amarillo ''the yellow," we fol- 
 lowed a line of railroad, passing through many 
 small towns, where we were regarded as some- 
 thing in the line of a circus, as our coming was 
 heralded by the newspapers. One editor in par- 
 ticular stated that if "we ever tried to ship those 
 steers that we would have to have cars made to 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 93 
 
 order, as no ordinary car had doors wide enough 
 to admit the horns which our herd had on exhibi- 
 tion/' The boss and one of the boys called on this 
 editor, but ''he was out ;'' no doubt a search would 
 have "found him in and found him out." 
 
 We had now come to the season of the Texas 
 thunder-storm, of short duration but great vio- 
 lence. We soon became wise to those storms, as 
 the natives early advised us that if a heavy bank 
 of clouds should appear in the Northwest at night- 
 fall that we could figure on a storm before morn- 
 ing, and we found this to be so. This was some- 
 thing new to us, as while it sometimes accidentally 
 rained in New Mexico, we could never depend 
 on it. 
 
 Those who have never experienced an electrical 
 storm in the open I would advise to try one with- 
 out any delay. Along about midnight the moon 
 and stars would suddenly disappear and it would 
 become intensely dark. Talk about ''darkest 
 Africa ;'' if it can be any darker than Texas, I am 
 not going there. The "heavenly artillery" would 
 shortly advise us to sit up and take notice, while 
 the lighting would stab down into the earth on all 
 sides with blinding intensity. After a flash it 
 would be impossible to see for half a minute, then 
 the thunder would come like a blow in the face. 
 
94 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 while the rain came down in torrents. Cattle are 
 easy to hold after they once get wet, as they 
 huddle close together and stand without sound, 
 patiently waiting ''till the sun shines, Nellie." 
 When you can see balls of ''fire'' or electricity on 
 your horse's ears and on the ends of the steers' 
 horns you can depend that it is really dark and 
 your hand will be invisible even if held within 
 three inches of your face. I have often wondered 
 how it was that punchers are not more often 
 struck by lightning; it must be that they are 
 "not as black as they are painted." On the other 
 hand, they tell you that the good die young. I 
 used to ponder on the subject quite a bit, while on 
 my lonely guard, and I believe that some of the 
 Creator's greatest sermons are open to mankind, 
 right out under the stars and the canopy of 
 Heaven. We were not allowed to ride together on 
 guard, as this was equal to "riding one horse," and 
 a neglect of duty. Consequently we had much 
 time for the "big thoughts" and could ask the 
 "how, why and wherefore" to our heart's content, 
 just so we asked these things of ourselves. 
 
 By now we were entirely recovered from the 
 effects of our long, dry drives and were more in 
 a position to enjoy life. It was certainly great to 
 ride slowly around the resting herd and hear them 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 95 
 
 give forth immense, ^'soulful'' sighs of peace on 
 earth and good will toward cowpunchers in gen- 
 eral. On some of these clear, starlight nights 
 when the great Dipper was doing business up at 
 the old stand near the North Star and the Seven 
 Sisters were trying to keep from falling into Job's 
 Coffin, while The Milky Way sparkled like a neck- 
 lace of ''rhinestones," some of the boys on guard 
 would rise to the occasion. After a few whistles 
 and preliminary starts in different keys, they 
 would burst forth into real song of the nightingale 
 class. Sometimes a tenor voice would tremblingly 
 proclaim, 
 
 "Last night as I lay on the prairie, 
 I looked up at the stars in the sky ; 
 
 And wondered if ever a cowboy. 
 
 Would drift to that Sweet Bye and Bye.'' 
 
 From the far side of the sleeping herd a husky 
 voice would demand, in no uncertain tone, 'Take 
 back your gold, for gold can never buy me." At 
 another time an "angelic" voice might wonder, 
 falteringly, "Are there any stars in my crown?" 
 His mate on guard would maliciously warble back, 
 "NO ; NOT ONEr 
 
 If a fellow was so unfortunate as to be awake 
 during the time he was supposed to be asleep, and 
 hear some of these "singfests" he would sometimes 
 
96 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 experience a tightening of the throat and a ting- 
 ling of the eyelids of which the others would never 
 know, as the only emotion a cowboy is supposed to 
 exhibit is joy or perhaps bravado. However, I 
 have known several punchers who were almost 
 human. 
 
 After many eventful days we reached Canadian 
 City, on the bank of the Canadian river. This 
 stream is second to the Rio Grande in the matter 
 of treachery as regards quicksand and deep holes, 
 and of a beautiful chocolate color. As Longfellow 
 might say, the Canadian resembles the Rio Grande 
 "just as the mist resembles the rain.'' 
 
 The season of general rains was now on in full 
 blast, and even working a little overtime, it 
 occurred to us. The Canadian was bank full and 
 still rising, freely punctuated with drifting logs 
 and uprooted trees. The old-timers advised us to 
 *'make haste slowly," so we camped nearby until 
 we could confer with our counsel in Ireland. The 
 next day another herd appeared and followed our 
 example by ''pitching their tent and grazing their 
 cattle on a thousand hills." (The hills, weren't 
 there, but it sounds all right, so with your permis- 
 sion we will include the hills, as they are handy to 
 have around during high water.) 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 97 
 
 The boss of this herd came over to size us up 
 and to find out when we proposed to make "the 
 voyage/' He was particularly keen to see us get 
 busy, hoping, no doubt, to profit by our experience. 
 We were rather sensitive just then on the subject 
 of short excursions on the water, and after a num- 
 ber of his questions, we told him that the road was 
 always open, and much more to the same tune. He 
 gave us up in despair and finally tackled the cook, 
 thinking perhaps that he was feminine to- the 
 extent that he couldn't keep a secret, but he didn't 
 know that old clam like we did. Cookie very con- 
 fidentially told the *'main squeeze" that we had 
 decided to go around the river, a little stroll of 
 some five hundred miles out of our way. This 
 stunned the boss, so that he withdrew to the 
 shelter of his own fig tree to await developments. 
 Early one morning we stripped for action, as the 
 water conditions did not improve, but kept getting 
 higher. The boss told the pointers that they could 
 ''fire when ready," and the big swim was on. Our 
 variegated swans just sailed across the stream to 
 our great glee and pride and to the utter discom- 
 fiture of the other outfit. Not to be outdone they 
 they immediately made ready and plunged in, 
 losing twenty head of steers and two good horses. 
 We offered consolation by saying, ''We told you 
 about eating those sour grapes." 
 
98 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 We now struck out in a Northerly direction for 
 Higgins, Texas, a small town just one mile from 
 the Oklahoma line. The grass was splendid now 
 while the water just around in pools waited to 
 be noticed. We were constantly in dread of letting 
 a ''prairie fire get out," which an outfit near us 
 actually did. 
 
 This is a very grave offense in that country, 
 very often followed by an early visit from the 
 Rangers. We usually took a shovel and made a 
 fire guard, on a small scale, first before lighting 
 our campfire. Then when we had burned off the 
 grass within the enclosure, we placed the fire in 
 the center of the small clearing and had no further 
 concern. Many times on guard at night we could 
 see the glare from some great fire, which was 
 often started by the engines on the railroads and 
 even by lightning. 
 
 We reached the Box T. pasture on "a balmy 
 morning in June,'' the twentieth to be exact. More 
 than six months, and the longest ever, had rolled 
 by since we had adopted this bunch. As this was 
 our journey's end we were overjoyed and wel- 
 comed the Box T. boss, Dick Barton, like a long- 
 lost brother. 
 
 There is water in all creeks of any respectability 
 in Texas, when you get off the Stake Plains where 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 99 
 
 the creeks grow. We struck the head of such a 
 creek, Wolf Creek, I think Dick called it, but we 
 didn't mind a bit as we were some ''bears'' our- 
 selves. We soon came to some deep blue holes of 
 water, and fish all around the edges, gaping and 
 trying to make out what we were. We soon con- 
 vinced them that a pelican hadn't anything on us. 
 Cattle and all other troubles, either real or imag- 
 inary, were forgotten while we hurriedly rigged up 
 some tackle and got busy hauling out those little 
 perch and catfish. 
 
 We worked the cook overtime with his "dutch- 
 oven," and there wasn't any "Paradise lost" 
 around there just then. We turned the cattle 
 loose, as we were now in a real pasture, and as 
 there were no long guards to disturb our thoughts 
 and slumbers, we were happy. 
 
 I might mention in passing that while "going 
 up the trail" I had been given first guard, and as a 
 special distinction, I was permitted to get up when 
 the cook did, just before daylight, to help the horse 
 wrangler round up his charges and un-hobble such 
 as were too energetic and had to be restrained 
 from leaving the country by "hobbling." (If 
 in doubt, see Webster.) Even yet at times I have 
 visions of old Jim yanking back the "tarp" from 
 my face and can hear his gentle voice saying, 
 
100 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 ''Hosses, Billy/' I was partly repaid by hearing 
 him once remark to some of the boys that ''he is 
 the easiest kid to wake I ever see." That may be, 
 but I know that the common idea is that young 
 people do not tire like those who are older. Forget 
 that, as I have been around some older persons 
 who made me very weary right away. 
 
 We rested up on Wolf Creek for a number of 
 days, and then having given the new nurses "the 
 combination,'' we left those Chihuahua orphans 
 and headed back toward that distant Magdalena, 
 many hundreds of miles to the southwest. 
 
 We crossed the Pecos far to the South of our 
 previous crossing, and passed Fort Sumner on 
 July 3rd. At this place we were pointed out the 
 grave of ''Billy The Kid," as he was known, his 
 real name being William H. Boney. At the tender 
 age of twenty-one he had a record of twenty-one 
 men whom he had killed, or an average of one a 
 year. It will be recalled by old-timers that he was 
 killed at Sumner by Pat Garrett, another famous 
 gun-fighter, who was later killed in New Mexico. 
 
 At any rate, the Kid is sleeping there, awaiting 
 the final summons, and they told us that for many 
 years his grave had been haunted by a beautiful, 
 sad-eyed Spanish senorita. 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 101 
 
 After several weary weeks in the saddle, during 
 which time we had many exciting ''happen- 
 stances/' we finally pulled into the home ranch, 
 "the missing found, the fallen rise/' 
 
 Some six weeks later we gathered a herd off our 
 own ranges, and went right back over the same 
 general route as before, landing in Northern Texas 
 late in November. 
 
 Longfellow, in his beautiful poem, *'Evan- 
 geline,'' has written, "Waste are those pleasant 
 farms, and the farmers forever departed/' It is 
 even so with the trail herds and the cowboys, 
 largely. Even our little band is widely scattered ; 
 several of them are at rest beneath the sod, wait- 
 ing the call to the final "Great Roundup," far out 
 on the "Crystal Sea." 
 
^}ilv 
 
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 \<j*:riculttire. 
 
 
 f'^.Ui ■///.. Ui 
 
 DIFFERENT BRANDS 
 
The Passing of the Cowboy 
 
 OR introducing my subject, I will 
 explain that the word ''cowboy'' as used 
 in the sense in which I will use it, does 
 |i not signify a creature like the ancient 
 Greek myth, Pegasus the winged half 
 man, half horse. By ''cowboy'' I mean he of the 
 broad sombrero, high-heeled boots and long- 
 handled spurs, whose trade was cinching saddles, 
 and pulling bridle reins. 
 
 This party was often referred to as a "cow- 
 puncher," no doubt from the "prod-poles," which 
 were freely used when the cattle were being 
 loaded, and many unruly steers were often liter- 
 ally "punched" right up the chute and into the car, 
 while the door of the car was hurriedly slid into 
 place. 
 
 "Cow-slave" was another term of endearment, 
 but not often used in this land of the free. I might 
 add, and this may cause some surprise, that the 
 cowboy was part human, though some may doubt 
 this statement. 
 
 I remember once hearing a nice precise lady 
 say "Those awful, impossible cowboys! Do you 
 
104 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 know, Mrs. Grahammer-Steaurt, that they will 
 actually lie right down on their fronts and drink 
 from some stream until they can scarcely stand, 
 and some will even permit their horses to drink 
 from the same source." She might have truthfully 
 stated that when they rose up from the deep 
 draught of clear, cold water, some would commit 
 the heinous crime of wiping the mouth with the 
 back of the hand. There were exceptions ;a few 
 had handkerchiefs. 
 
 The cowboy was most generally a gentleman 
 where the gentler sex was concerned, and while 
 he might use words which would raise blisters, 
 when safe in the fastness of the hills and the occa- 
 sion seemed to require such treatment, his general 
 conduct was much more chivalrous than we hear 
 of among *'the upper ten.'' He might and gener- 
 ally did, if the supply of ''tanglefoot'' held out, 
 when striking town after a long siege in the silent 
 places, get ''all lit up." I heard oi;ie puncher sum 
 up the whole situation. Filling up his first glass 
 he held it up and looking through it he remarked, 
 "There are a thousand reasons why I shouldn't 
 drink that poison, but I can't remember one of 
 them just now, so here's looking at you." He 
 would risk his money against the other fellow's 
 in poker, monte, roulette, mumble-peg or horse- 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 105 
 
 racing, or he might bet on just how far a certain 
 frog could jump. Their forms of amusement were 
 quite limited, in fact, I never have heard of a 
 Y. M. C. A. for weary soul-starved cowboys. 
 Their entertainment and enlightenment was left 
 to the saloons, and these worked heroically thirty- 
 six hours a day to meet the burden imposed upon 
 them by this charitable work. 
 
 This reminds me of the embittered cowboy who 
 had at one time seen the inside of a school-house ; 
 this sometimes happened in their tender youth, 
 ''back home.'' This fellow tried desperately to 
 couple his thoughts into a train and while I don't 
 remember his song, the substance was that he was 
 in town on a Sabbath morn, but he didn't know 
 that it was Sunday, as all days were the same to 
 him. Hearing a bell tolling, he couldn't figure out 
 what it meant, so strolled over and noticing others 
 going inside he slowly walked in, hat, leggings, 
 boots and spurs. After a long minute he removed 
 his hat and whispered to himself, 
 
 ''It makes me think of olden times, 
 
 Way back in Tennessee; 
 When mother used to go to church, 
 With little sis and me." 
 
 He hesitatingly sat down upon a bench, while 
 the be-starched, be-ruffled lady who sat thereon, 
 
106 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 at once arose and moved to the other side of the 
 room. Remarking on this he said that "they 
 seemed to think my leggings, some horrid wicked 
 thing." 
 
 I am not exactly trying to defend or excuse the 
 cowboy, as he was often inexcusable, but there was 
 the other side, the fact that there were no home 
 ties, no one to care, for he was only a wandering, 
 homeless cowboy. Here today, gone tomorrow. 
 His worldly goods often consisted of a saddle, 
 bridle and spurs, often not even those. If he was 
 in the aristocrat class he might own in addition 
 a saddle horse, and sometimes an extra horse, on 
 which his "sougans'' and "war-bag,'' plainly, his 
 bed and few clothes, could be packed and tied on 
 with a "diamond hitch.'' Some class. 
 
 The ranks of the cowboy were recruited from 
 men in all walks of life, to whom the "wanderlust 
 spirit" had beckoned, or they might be (and often 
 were) boys who had gotten into some minor trou- 
 ble or "scrape" back home and took delight in 
 being on "the dodge." A few were real honest- 
 to-goodness bad men, gun-fighters with assumed 
 names and very quiet manners, who were just as 
 safe to take liberties with as a coiled rattlesnake. 
 These chaps were most generally quiet, watchful 
 men, with a six-shooter always in attendance and 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 107 
 
 carried 'Texas style/' in a holster under the left 
 arm. Such a man had nothing to say of his past, 
 exploits or prowess, but the fellow who was con- 
 tinually ''blowing'' about his ability, courage and 
 skill was filed in the harmless "pigeon-hole" on 
 the theory that babbling brooks are not very deep. 
 
 This dispensation of hot-air is practiced in 
 many professions, among which might be found 
 the book agent and real estate merchant, but the 
 cowboy is master of the science. During the day 
 on some long ride or "drive," or in the evening 
 around the campfire, he of the "leather lungs and 
 unlimited gall" was in his glory. 
 
 This brings to my mind a time when we were 
 rounding up our range, and our regular cook being 
 in town on a 'fspree," we were somewhat handi- 
 capped as we were short-handed anyway, and 
 could not spare a rider to act as "chef." This hon- 
 orable position did not carry the honor which you 
 might suppose — -in our case we voted that home 
 did not amount to much without a mother, or at 
 least a cook. Very few men really wanted to cook, 
 but all felt certain that they had a special gift in 
 the riding line. 
 
 I sent into town for a good cook, pronto, and 
 about noon out came a livery rig bearing a party 
 who had some difficulty in climbing out over the 
 
108 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 wheel. He finally reached earth, thumped his 
 chest and proclaimed that he was ''some cook, but 
 a better rider/' I soon discovered that he had a 
 most wonderful "jag" on board and had brought 
 along enough embalming fluid to keep him pickled 
 for a week at least. I asked him, brutally, if he 
 could cook. 
 
 Looking scornfully about he said, "I can loeat 
 anything I have seen around here. Why I used to 
 cook for forty men and shoe all the horses in be- 
 tween meals to keep from getting lonesome." The 
 seventy-five points which he went down in my esti- 
 mation, added to the twenty-five demerits which I 
 had already mentally tacked onto him settled the 
 case. I humbly invited him to partake of our 
 lowly culinary effort, as it was that time of day, 
 and then to return to town with the returning 
 liveryman, as I was certain that his talent would 
 be wasted on us. 
 
 Cowboys were divided into several classes, as is 
 most often the case in all lines. Some would be 
 noted for fine roping, others excelled in riding and 
 the handling of ''bad ones." Still another would 
 stand out in relief for his ability to drink all the 
 ''tanglefoot" in sight and get away with it. 
 
 A very few would be noted for their indiffer- 
 ence to hard labor about the ranch, such as build- 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 109 
 
 ing corrals, mending fences, cutting wood or 
 repairing water-troughs. Don't think that the 
 cowboy was necessarily lazy ; if there is anything 
 harder or more tiring than to sit on the hurricane 
 deck of a Spanish pony for twenty hours at a 
 stretch, without rest, food or water, I don't care 
 to meet up with it. The boys would ride from "A 
 to Z" at any time of the day or night, or would 
 cheerfully roll the two into one, but felt it beneath 
 their dignity to do anything on foot; in fact, the 
 high-heeled boots were not suited for long-winded 
 "Marathons." 
 
 In the roping class were men who could ride 
 into a corral full of "milling," bawling, hooking 
 cattle and bring forth any one of them, by the 
 head, around the neck, or by either one or both 
 hind feet. Just any way to please. This sounds 
 easy, and looks perfectly simple, but it isn't. The 
 would-be roper would go riding in, swinging a loop 
 big enough to encircle the whole herd, "scaring" 
 and putting the cattle into an uproar. When he 
 finally secured his consent to "throw" he would 
 likely get from one to three heads and feet in his 
 "what-not." Then the boss would hand him some 
 left-handed compliments. 
 
 The branding fire was usually built in one cor- 
 ner of the corral, or if a round corral, near the 
 
110 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 center. The ''frame'' of this fire was made of 
 large logs, preferably of green oak, so it wouldn't 
 burn down too soon. In between was smaller dry 
 wood, and where the ''business" end of the long- 
 handled branding irons were thrust. After the 
 fire had been burning "and fanned by the breeze" 
 for about half an hour, one of the "branders" 
 would pick up a "gunny-sack" to protect his hands, 
 pull out an iron from the fire and if it looked white 
 he would yell "Hot irons. '^ The roper would be all 
 ready, with his saddle tightly "cinched" on some 
 strong gentle horse, and with his rope shortened 
 by almost half to keep from losing time handling 
 so much rope, which was not needed in the con- 
 fines of an ordinary corral. Riding near some 
 solemn-eyed calf, the artist would flip his loop 
 with a Quick snap, and turn for the fire, with the 
 calf settine back behind, bawling and plowing up 
 the ground with his outstretched feet. Out from 
 the fence would dart a couple of "flankers," who 
 always worked in pairs, each pair anxious to 
 demonstrate the superiority of their method of 
 "going to the earth with them." When the calf 
 was flopped on the ground, one "flanker" climbed 
 on the patient's head while the other grabbed a 
 piston-like hind leg, sat down flat and hune on like 
 grim- death. The rope was quickly jerked off by 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 111 
 
 the man at the head, while the roper yelled "Half 
 circle cross,'' or perhaps, "Double H," for the 
 benefit of the brander, who would be hurrying for- 
 ward with a sizzling iron in hand. It was pretty 
 awful, of course. Yes, we were brutes, but it was 
 soon over and felt better when it stopped hurting. 
 
 Branding seemed necessary, as we had no other 
 means of identifying our cattle from the other fel- 
 low's. There was also an earmark, but this was 
 subject to change without notice, as was the brand 
 also, sometimes. 
 
 Branding is harder, dustier, more dangerous 
 and exciting work than harvesting ever was, as 
 some of the cows would resent the liberties taken 
 with their calves and would often charge us with 
 lowered horns and bawling "bloody murder." I 
 have seen some beautiful handicap races for the 
 fence, which seemed "so near and yet so far." 
 However, the bulls were the most dangerous, and 
 we generally banished them from our "branding 
 bees." 
 
 I have enlarged on the riding art elsewhere, but 
 I may say that all cow-punchers were supposed to 
 be able to ride well, or at least show that they 
 could "set in a wagon without the sideboards on." 
 Some took great pride in their riding, never miss- 
 ing an opportunity to ride any horse that looked 
 
112 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 as though he would ''pitch." By ''pitch/' I don't 
 refer to any sticky, black substance, but in this 
 sense it applies to the gyrations of some double- 
 action, end-swapping ball of horse flesh. When a 
 rider reached the "slick riding" class, when he 
 could calmly sit in the saddle smoking a cigarette 
 during these evolutions, without "pulling leather" 
 or "choking the saddle-horn," or hanging back on 
 a "bucking strap," then there was hopes of him 
 some day making a real rider. Confidence was a 
 most valuable asset, but just because a puncher 
 , said that he could "ride any horse that wore hair," 
 it didn't necessarily follow that he could. 
 
 Many "broncho twisters" were hurt in riding 
 mean horses ; esnecially if the horse had a touch of 
 "loco" he was dangerous, as in that event he was 
 as likely to fall straight backward as to go for- 
 ward. 
 
 I remember one cold winter morning, when the 
 ground was frozen and rang hollowly, like a muf- 
 fled gong when the horse's "iron-clad feet passed 
 over it; on this particular morning the "double 
 H" horse-wrangler saddled a "locoed skate" and 
 climbed on deck. The old cow-horse gave a snort 
 or two, trying to get his head so that he could 
 demonstrate his style of "pitching," but the 
 "wrangler" was new to our country and not wise 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 113 
 
 to ''locoed'' horses. Instead of letting him pitch, 
 he pulled the horse up short, so they went over 
 backward, the ''cantle'' of the saddle striking the 
 boy and breaking a leg up near his body, while as 
 second course, the horse stepped all over him when 
 he arose minus his rider. While the young 
 puncher lay there groaning, the boss came running 
 up and whipped out his knife, to rip up the unfor- 
 tunate cowboy's pant's leg, before the swelling 
 began. The boy at once yelled pleadingly, "Don't 
 cut ihy leg off. Brown ; don't cut it off." I don't 
 know where this chap was from, but this imme- 
 diate operation stuff struck us as something new. 
 We carried him into the ranch house, tore the 
 sides from a ''White King" soap box and soon had 
 some wonderful antiseptic splints on the job. By 
 the liberal application of "mustang liniment" 
 (mustang meaning to be or make wild) , we had 
 him going in about two months, but that leg was 
 an inch or so shorter than the other. Such was 
 the history of the cow-country; Red Cross of 
 today was unheard of, at least by us. 
 
 As to the next class, the "boozefighter," I think 
 we will touch lightly on this point, as such a party 
 was no credit or honor to the profession, and very 
 poor entertainment, except to himself. He would 
 likely get up "the morning after," feel tenderly 
 
114 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 of his throbbing head and say, '1 sure must have 
 had one great time/' These fellows who made 
 "nose paint'' a specialty, were divided into at least 
 three classes ; the unsteady ''warrior," who would 
 glaringly proclaim, 'Tm the outfightenist son-of- 
 a-gun unhung;" class two held the bar-top orator, 
 while the third was the heart-broken chap who 
 insisted in hanging onto your neck and weeping 
 into your shirt bosom. The latter was as tiresome 
 as the first. Some of these men claimed to be 
 working in the prohibition cause, and were smiply 
 trying to drink up all the liquor to keep, as they 
 said, "some other fellow from having to drink it." 
 Many of the boys would come in from the wilds 
 after an absence of several months ; all hands 
 always came in at shipping time, at least. After 
 the cattle were loaded into the cars and headed for 
 Colorado or Kansas, the common and proper thing 
 to say was, "Let's go get something to cut the 
 dust ; my throat feels like a piece of old rawhide." 
 That was the beginning for some, and the end 
 came when their last "quarter" was gone and they 
 were kicked out into the street. The gimlet-eyed, 
 diamond-encrusted gambler was always in evi- 
 dence, and his business always looked up at ship- 
 ping time. Sometimes the card and roulette games 
 would run uninterruptedly for two or three days 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 115 
 
 and nights, when the hollow-eyed punchers would 
 be ''broke/' while the equally hollow-eyed gambler 
 counted his harvest through blurred eyes. Some 
 of the "non-drink'' punchers made the gambler's 
 position quite trying, as they "kept cases" on him 
 too closely for any cheating to be done. Cheating 
 was a serious malady, and the remedy was gener- 
 ally quick and most effective. Some of the sober 
 "lambs" would sometimes shear the "lion," but 
 this was a rare occurrence. 
 
 I remember one morning, after one of these 
 miserable "jamborees," one of the boys got slowly 
 up from his bed, and a most woe-begone picture he 
 made. The old cook, a kind-hearted chap, with 
 an exterior like a chestnut-burr, solicitously asked 
 the "world-weary" puncher to have some break- 
 fast, or "some coffee at least." The cowboy said 
 in a subdued voice, "Well, Cookie, give me about 
 ten grains of oiatmeal and put some stickers on to 
 keep it down ; and say. Cookie, look pleasant if you 
 can, because I feel like hell this morning." 
 
 We had yet another class of the "cow-punching 
 science," and this branch was never crowded. This 
 was the "brush-hands" division, and was made up 
 of a few reckless dare-devils who had the rare 
 ability of being able to ride just a little faster in 
 among thick brush, fallen timber and washouts 
 
116 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 than they could out in the open country. Wild 
 cattle generally grazed in some glade, handy to a 
 rough, thickly timbered country. At the first 
 alarm away they would fly, with rocks rattling 
 and brush '*a Dopping/' Then ye brush-hand 
 would let out his steed and when the cattle came 
 to some small onening, the puncher would be 
 there waiting for them, or he might have his roue 
 on the biggest, ''rollickesf' steer in the bunch, 
 "right around his eauator.'' In a few minutes the 
 "near'' brush-hands would come stringing in 
 unloading brush and limbs from about their necks 
 while thev nursed sundry bruises and scratches 
 and fluently "cussed" cattle in general and wild 
 ones in particular. 
 
 Some of the feats of horsemanshio which a top 
 "brush-hand'' unconcernedly Dulled oflf almost 
 every day would make the "movie" or circus stunts 
 look like "two-bits." The hills and trees tell no 
 secrets, except to the few who are right there to 
 look and listen ; without doubt the most wonderful 
 voice in the world is that of the wind when it sighs 
 through the pines just at night- fall. Many reck- 
 less cowboys are sleeping the eternal sleep there 
 in the hills contrary to the dying cowboy's song. 
 Bury me there on the lone prairie, 
 Where the wild coyote may howl o'er me. 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 117 
 
 The puncher was generally the most cheerful 
 and care free of men ; you would think, to hear him 
 talk, whistle, sing and yell that he had nothing on 
 his mind but his hat. I am certain that politics or 
 the heathen in Africa lost him no sleep, The 
 cowboy was almost invariably an optimist, but 
 there were a few scattering ''grouches/' Some 
 happy puncher, with his ''John B'' pushed way 
 back on his head, might pause from his whistling 
 or singing long enough to inquire, ''Ain't she a fine 
 large day, old-timers?'' The natural born pessi- 
 mist, he with both hands full' of wet sawdust, 
 would come out of his shell long enough to gloom- 
 ily say, "Aw, I don't know ; I'll betche it's raining 
 somewhere." Even the old cook had his little line 
 of good cheer. When we were honored with com- 
 pany in the person of some "tenderfoot," and our 
 "chuck" was ready for attention. Cookie would 
 sudenly yell, "Climb the wagon-wheel, stranger; 
 I'm going to turn these 'savages' loose." (He 
 didn't always say "savages," but let it go at that.) 
 
 This was a stock joke, and no outfit was com- 
 plete without it. I remember one trustful chap 
 actually started to climb up out of danger, to the 
 great glee of the watching punchers, who felt 
 quite complimented in being thought fierce. The 
 cook might then walk over to the "company" and 
 
118 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 gently ask in his very best manner, while he wiped 
 his hands on a near-white dish towel, '*Will you 
 have tea or coffee?'' If the guest fell for coffee, 
 all right; but if he should say, '1 would like a cup 
 of weak tea, if you please,'' Cookie would snap, 
 **Like hell : you'll drink coffee. That's all we got." 
 And so it went. 
 
 The cowboy, the Simon-pure article, belongs to 
 the yesterdays, largely. There are a few small 
 herds of cattle left, but conditions are very differ- 
 ent to the old days. The '^cowboy" of today wears 
 a straw hat, bib overalls and high-toppeed miners' 
 shoes, while he recklessly pitch-forks the hay out 
 to a few gentle old '^bossies." 
 
 In pondering on the final Great Round-up, a 
 verse from the ''Cowboy's Prayer" comes to my 
 mind — 
 ''Last night as I lay on the prairie, 
 
 I looked up at the stars in the sky ; 
 And wondered if ever a cowboy. 
 
 Would 'drift' to that Sweet Bye-and-Bye." 
 
 And when our time shall come, Tom, and we are 
 
 called to go, 
 I hope they'll lay us where we "played," just 
 
 twenty years ago. 
 
 — Anonymous. 
 
The Passing of the Cow-pony 
 
 HE passing of the cowboy has been 
 reviewed elsewhere, but very little has 
 been said of his most faithful companion 
 on many a wild chase, viz.; the cow- 
 pony. Inasmuch as "these twain" are 
 as nearly inseparable as is possible in this uncer- 
 tain life we live, deserving of almost equal honors, 
 or at least notice, ye cowboy is immortalized ( ?) 
 in verse and song while the power which gets him 
 there and back is ignored. A very clear case of 
 "class legislation." 
 
 The cow-horse generally used in the West was 
 of a rather light build, or at least they seemed so 
 to those who were accustomed to heavy horses. 
 The surprise came after a hard day's ride through 
 the mountains with the eternal brush, ravines, 
 washouts, beds of sliding rock, etc., always in 
 attendance. The tough, wiry pony would come in 
 stepping high while the steed of the stranger 
 from "the States" perhaps, would be "all in." It 
 was a proven and well known fact that the lighter 
 horse could travel farther in less time and arrive 
 in better condition than his well-bred cousin from 
 
122 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 Kansas or Missouri. On our ranches we preferred 
 horses weighing from 800 to 950 pounds, with 
 good straight legs and back, and not too high in 
 the withers. Color was of no importance, though 
 personally I preferred a dark bay or black, the 
 greys being at the foot of the list, as they were 
 hard to keep in the original color. Sweat and the 
 dyes from the Navajo saddle blankets generally 
 converted the grey horse into a regular walking 
 sunset, after about one hard day's ride. 
 
 These horses were for the most part raised on 
 our own ranges, or at least in the surrounding 
 country nearby. Almost every outfit in the old 
 days had their bunch of "broom-tails,'' as the 
 bunches of mares and colts were affectionately 
 spoken of. We found that the horses raised right 
 on the ground were superior to any which might 
 be imported, as in the case of New Mexico, they 
 seemed to absorb just enough of the Spanish to put 
 some ginger into them, or it may be that they lived 
 nearer to His Satanic Majesty there. At any rate 
 they were always on the job and would bear watch- 
 ing, especially when you had every reason to think 
 that they must be completely ''played out." 
 
 We used to get some good horses from Colorado, 
 but they were a trifle too heavy and clumsy ; they 
 couldn't jump as high as our horses could by sev- 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 123 
 
 eral feet, especially when taking the morning "ex- 
 ercise/' 
 
 The cow-pony's education generally began when 
 he was from three to four years old, usually taking 
 several seasons to turn out an all around good cow- 
 horse, as he would forget quite a bit of his primary 
 work during the long winter months when he was 
 at liberty to roam among the hills at his pleasure. 
 
 It was desirable to break him gentle, so he 
 wouldn't ''pitch," but if he just couldn't forget or 
 forswear that pleasure, well, it didn't matter 
 greatly. Boys will be boys. However, and it 'was 
 to be insisted on, he must learn to stand when his 
 rider dismounted and dropped the bridle reins 
 upon the ground. It was equally important that 
 he know all about "roping" and holding anything 
 which might be roped, from a mesquite bush to a 
 brindle bull, while his rider dismounted and at- 
 tended to the customer. At this point in the games 
 he was expected to set back on the rope, which was 
 always fastened securely to the saddle horn, and 
 he was not expected to try to "quit the fiats," drag- 
 ging the bull and leaving his rider. This would 
 be quite a contract and bad form, anyway. The 
 horse, after a few experiences of being turned 
 loose with a yearling on the end of the rope, was 
 very likely to discover that if he permitted his 
 
124 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 victim to run to the end of the rope straight out to 
 one side, the chances were in favor of him hitting 
 the sod on his back, and he soon learned to keep 
 his head and eyes on the plunging, bav^ling animal 
 at the other end of the rope. 
 
 Most of the well-broken horses would stand for 
 hours or as long as the reins were trailing on the 
 ground only wandering away a few yards, nib- 
 bling at the bunches of grass. 
 
 In some of the *'blood and thunder'' stuff we 
 sometimes read the trusty steed always comes 
 when ''Alkali Ike'' whistles, but it's not so in real 
 life, outside of perhaps a few trained circus horses, 
 with a long whip in attendance. We had a ''post- 
 graduate" class of horses, known as "whip broke," 
 — you were supposed to snap the fingers, either 
 hand, and he was supposed to march cheerfully up 
 and stick out his nose for the bridle to be put on, 
 or it was intended that this prize pupil would fol- 
 low you about the corral at your pleasure. I have 
 made them do those same things, when I had the 
 whip, but soon discovered that ye wise old scout 
 knew just when I didn't have the whip; then he 
 would dash in back of the other horses and was 
 the meanest one in the bunch to catch. Who wants 
 to carry a whip all the time, anyway? 
 
 The general idea and practice prevailing was 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 125 
 
 that a puncher must walk into the horse corral 
 with a half-inch manilla cable, and with a couple 
 of California twists (apologies) dash it upon his 
 mount's shrinking neck, no matter if the horse 
 was twenty-four years old, gray in the service, 
 and gentle. Many outfits practiced this spectac- 
 ular stunt, but we always frowned upon the cus- 
 tom, when dealing with fairly gentle horses. We 
 preferred to ''walk up'' to them, and slip on the 
 bridle without any fuss or flurry. 
 
 Of course, there 'were horses that had to be 
 roped, and sometimes it took seven men and the 
 cook to drag them forth ; at such times much hard 
 language was indulged in, and of course all looked 
 forward to interesting developments very shortly. 
 After the bridle, saddle blankets and saddle were 
 belted, buckled and laced into place, you would 
 naturally expect to see the horse somewhat 
 reduced, but it would be the contrary. That horse 
 would be swelled up to about twice his normal size 
 (some rage), and the few steps he might be per- 
 mitted to take would be stiff-legged, as though all 
 of his pins were of wood. This was done to en- 
 courage the puncher into climbing aboard, when 
 he would discover that every leg was double com- 
 pound jointed, three speeds to the great forward 
 and reverse satisfaction of the horse and the 
 glee of the watching cowboys. 
 
126 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 I recall one incident, having to do with riding, 
 which struck me as a clear case of misplaced con- 
 fidence. Johnnie Davenport had saddled up a long- 
 legged bay, under protest from both sides. This 
 horse had a reputation of being able to "go up 
 among the clouds,'' and Johnnie rather stood in 
 awe of his high-stepping qualities ; he said that it 
 always made him seasick to see, even a girl shake 
 a tablecloth. After getting the horse saddled, 
 Davenport hesitatingly climbed on deck, and pro- 
 ceeded to ease the horse away, instead of introduc- 
 ing him to the spurs ''right now." This easing 
 process is known as "letting the hammer down," 
 and sometimes saves a premature departure. The 
 wily old cow-horse started meekly away, and after 
 a few deep breaths, Johnnie decided that all bets 
 were off for that day and announced, "Oh, I've got 
 him faded all right; he knows who's who.'" The 
 horse may have understood, and decided to reverse 
 the opinion just handed down. At any rate he 
 promptly stuck his head between his front feet, 
 humped his back like a mad cat and began taking 
 twenty-foot stiff-legged jumps, calculated to let a 
 puncher know that there is a storm upon the deep. 
 After about three of these terrific jumps had 
 struck Davenport, he discovered that his transpor- 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 127 
 
 tation had run out, and "he came back to us/' 
 Raising up on one elbow and looking after the 
 fleeing horse, he stated, ''He throwed me.'' This 
 was quite apparent to the wildly enthusiastic audi- 
 ence ; there was no argument or draw decision on 
 that point. To set Johnnie at ease and relieve him 
 from embarrassment, I heard one of the punchers 
 remark : ''A certain party rides about like a sack 
 of salt I once saw stuck up on an old "skate." I've 
 got a dear old maiden aunt who could beat that 
 kind of riding without half trying." 
 
 Nearly every morning, when starting out, we 
 would have the treat of seeing some puncher earn- 
 estly riding his very best, as it was quite disgrace- 
 ful to be thrown or "throwed." A horse that could 
 "pile up" several good riders acquired a reputa- 
 tion like a successful prize-fighter; in fact, we 
 called professional riders "broncho fighters," 
 "broncho busters," or "peelers." Some very cun- 
 ning horses would not "pitch" just at first, when 
 you expected them to, but later in the day, when 
 your thoughts were miles away, probably intent 
 on a certain gingham apron, sleeves rolled up, 
 dimples on the elbows, etc., a bird would suddenly 
 fly up or a jackrabbit would spring forth in im- 
 mense bounds, and the dance was on. This unpre- 
 paredness stunt often ended to the very eminent 
 
128 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 satisfaction of the horse, no doubt, judging from 
 results. 
 
 After passing through all these frivolous stages, 
 some horses that developed extra intelligence, 
 speed, and quickness and settled down to steady 
 work, were trained as "cutting" or "chop horses." 
 Such a horse was used for cutting out from the 
 great herds whicTi were -rounded up, the cattle 
 desired to be held; steers, strays, beef cattle or 
 cows and calves, as the case might be. Some of 
 the "chop horses" became marvels of intelligence. 
 I have ridden horses that a cow could no more out- 
 dodge than she could "shake her skin." Once the 
 horse saw just which animal you were after, when 
 you came to the edge of the herd where the cattle 
 were not packed so densely, he would do the rest 
 by a series of quick jumps, ahead, back and on 
 both sides. The "cut" or cattle already separated, 
 was always held as near as possible to the main 
 herd; when the cow or steer saw this delegation 
 they generally loped over to them and gave no fur- 
 ther trouble. The wise old horse would then 
 drop into a walk or fox-trot and swing back to the 
 herd for another passenger. 
 
 Most of the big outfitters kept "chop horses" 
 especially for cutting, and needless to say, they 
 were the best horses on the ranches. Steady cut- 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 129 
 
 ting out was wearing work both on horse and 
 rider, so that frequent changes were necessary. 
 The worst of all was cutting out cows and calves, 
 as the cow might be ready or in the notion to go 
 and the calf was not, or vice versa. It was desir- 
 able to cut them out together, so that the cow's 
 brand could be duplicated on the calf when the 
 branding was being done. 
 
 The ro^er was careful not to rope a calf until 
 he was sure of the brand on the cow claiming that 
 particular calf. Then he would flip his ever-ready 
 loop on the unsuspecting calf, pull for the corner 
 where the branding fire was, yelling to the man 
 doing the branding, ''Square and compass,'' or it 
 might be ''Mule shoe," C — N," "Cross-eyed D," or 
 any of the many other brands in use on the ranges. 
 
 But I wander from my subject — ^the horse and 
 not the cow or cowboy was to be in the limelight 
 this time. 
 
 Great was the pleasure and satisfaction in 
 rounding up the saddle horses in the spring for 
 the first roundup, and to find them with their 
 heavy winter coats of shaggy hair shed off, leaving 
 them sleek and shining. Proudly would they trot 
 along toward the ranch, playfully nipping at each 
 other, or pausing to take a bite at some particu- 
 larly-tempting bunch of grass ; then hurriedly lop- 
 
130 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 ing after the bunch while you could hear the "roll- 
 ers' ' in their nostrils, as they blew violently to 
 relieve the tickling caused by the long grass. (The 
 grass wasn't always long, but the ''rollers'' rolled 
 on just the same.) In the early spring, and the 
 first green thing to show was a lemon, which na- 
 ture had handed us and known as ''loco." This 
 plant was most pleasing to the eye, with its bright 
 green and wistiria-colored blossoms, and was 
 much sought after by horses and even cattle, after 
 the long dry months. This was particularly the 
 case once they had acquired the "loco habit." The 
 result was much the same as when the cpwboys 
 imbibed the "near" or "squirrel whiskey," com- 
 monly dispensed, and which seemed to make them 
 want to climb trees or especially some other punch- 
 er's neck. 
 
 This "loco" was a curse to us, and was freely 
 cursed, as a good horse would in a very short time 
 be ruined, and while with proper care and atten- 
 tion he might recover somewhat, he was always 
 seeing things which were not, and a rope lying on 
 the ground evidently looked the size of a log for, 
 in stepping over anything of that nature he would 
 lift his feet high in the air or, even jump over. 
 (Take my advice, don't go in for loco unless train- 
 ing for the high hurdles.) 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 131 
 
 I remember distinctly a horse that was in my 
 ''mount;'' this old veteran was named ''Gold 
 Dust/' Why, I never discovered, unless he was 
 related to the famous "twins." At any rate he 
 could certainly make the dirt fly. Gold Dust knew 
 as much about the trade, or perhaps more than I 
 did, and often I would leave it to him on a quick 
 decision in some mix-up with a washout, cactus 
 bed, or concealed badger or prairie dog hole. 
 
 There was a certain big four-year-old steer on 
 our range that I had a standing grievance against, 
 either real or imaginary, and I had on several 
 occasions promised him certain things. One fine 
 morning we met, and conditions being about right 
 for his chastisement, I took down my rope to 
 practice "fore-footing" him. To rope a fleeing 
 animal by the front feet and stop your horse sud- 
 denly results in a most awful tumble for the 
 "ropee." 
 
 Gold Dust was in great spirits, I wasn't feeling 
 so bad myself, while the steer "gayly" ripped up 
 the sod with his flying hoofs, and pelted my face 
 with pebbles. We very soon pulled up on the run- 
 ning ox, close on the left side. Making a fair-sized 
 loop I made a pass across his back and slightly 
 ahead of him. By the instant tug on my "Mc- 
 Carty" I knew that he was nominated, so started 
 
132 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 to swing to the left and stop, as Hoyle provides. 
 Just at this point in the game a healthy cedar tree 
 rose up between us, Gold Dust and I taking to 
 one side while the steer preferred the other. When 
 we came to tiie end of the rope there were things 
 doing ^'practically immediately.'' After we had 
 picked ourselves up, we took an inventory of stock 
 and found that aside from a bad shake-up, we on 
 our side were still in the ring. Going around the 
 tree we found the steer with a broken leg; then 
 we didn't feel quite so gay. 
 
 Many and varied were the names given their 
 mounts by the cowboys, the only limit being the 
 scope of the imagination of the sponsors. Some 
 horse might be named after a friend, and called 
 ''John/' or "Bill;" some were named for their 
 looks, but the majority were named for their pecu- 
 liarities or characteristics, and they are as varied 
 as we could expect to find in the human family. A 
 very easy riding, pacing pony might be called 
 "Ladies' Fancy," — another with a forbidding eye 
 would be known as "Tiger-Eye." A good reliable 
 horse might have a "moniker," such as "King 
 Pin." We had no limit, from "Angel's Serenade," 
 which indicated a sleepy little dun-colored pacer, 
 to "Devil's Dream," a wiry, double-action black 
 and more familiarly known as "Nick." 
 
DAYS THAT ARE DONE 133 
 
 Had Shakespeare tried out the merits of some 
 of our horses, I think he would have readily agreed 
 that between ''Angel's Serenade'' and "Devil's 
 Dream," there is all the difference we may expect 
 to find in Paradise and — well, that other place 
 where cowboys are expected to foregather. While 
 the name may not make any material difference, it 
 cuts quite a figure, like the clothes on a man's back. 
 The cow-pony was without question the most faith- 
 ful friend the cowboy could ever have. It was a 
 common sight in the cattle country to see a long 
 line of patiently waiting horses ''parked" in front 
 of one of the many saloons, where they would 
 stand for hours at a stretch, and not tied. Inside 
 the saloon the riders would probably be deep in 
 the science of the noble game of poker, or they 
 might have reached the stage where they would 
 be loudly proclaiming, from a precarious perch on 
 the bar or a pool table that "I'm the oiitfightenist, 
 oMtsJiootenist, outridenist son-of-a-gun this side of 
 Bitter Creek; I'm a wolf when I walk I growl. 
 Every time I spit it starts a fire." To emphasize 
 his point one might reel out to his horse, and climb 
 aboard, expecting to find steam right up to the 
 standard, even though the boiler hadn't been 
 stoked for hours. The "knight" might ride 
 directly forward into the saloon door, up to the bar 
 
134 DAYS THAT ARE DONE 
 
 and yell, "Ho slaves! Bring on my poison/' He 
 might pull for another saloon, always conveniently 
 located, or he might strike out for camp, with the 
 throttle wide open. 
 
 This was the rule, but there were exceptions, 
 men who thought first of their horses, and if there 
 was any doubt about the eating process, they gave 
 the horse the benefit of the doubt, going hungry 
 themselves that their horse might be watered and 
 fed. 
 
 Alas! The ''long shadow has fallen'' and the 
 day has arrived when the art of good riding is 
 about past. It doesn't require much science to 
 stick onto a ''flivver," as long as it stays "butter 
 side up." 
 
 It's a case of 
 -^ Good-bye my little Annie, 
 My pony won't stand. 
 Good-bye to old "Paint," 
 Farewell to "Cheyenne." 
 
 — The Cowboy's Lament.