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YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

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Gift of
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COW-BOYS AND COLONELS.

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Cow-boys and Colonels

NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY ACROSS THE
PRAIRIE AND OVER THE BLACK
HILLS OF DAKOTA.

From "Dans les Montagnes Rocheuses" of Baron
E. de Mandat-Grancey

WITH ADDITIONAL NOTES NOT CONTAINED IN
THE ORIGINAL EDITION

BY
WILLIAM CONN

LONDON
GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OKEDEN & V/ELSH
(SUCCESSORS TO NEWBERY AND HARRIS)
WEST CORNER ST PAUL'S CHURCHYARD
1887.

INTRODUCTION.
There was a time when the primaeval dwellers on the
downs of St Germain, or of caves in the great hills of
Montmartre and Chaumont — ground now occupied by
Parisians in magnificent houses — came to hunt the bear
and the beaver along the marshy banks of the Seine
and over the spot where now proudly rises the Grand
Opera of Paris. About the same epoch, and certainly
also when Great Britain was a part of the mainland of
Europe, and not yet an island, the great continent of
North America bore no resemblance to the aspect it
assumes at the present moment. An immense fresh
water inland sea, of a form almost triangular, occupied
the centre, bordered on the north by the hills of
Canada, on the west by the Rocky Mountains, and
on the east by the Alleghany Range, this sheet of water
of shallow depth flowed into the Atlantic by the
Falls of Niagara, and into the Gulf of Mexico by the
Mississippi.

vi Introduction.
The rocky bottom of the Niagara wearing away by the
incessant friction of the rapid waters, and the barrier on
the south having been probably broken down by some
convulsion, this sea gradually subsided, and at last
drained out, leaving an immense plain, in some parts
sandy, marshy almost throughout, and barely undulated
by the movements of the submarine currents that flowed
over its bed for so many ages. Of this wide expanse of
waters no more remains than the five great lakes that
separate the United States from Canada, now discharged
by the river St Lawrence. The work of degradation
and subsidence is still going on, it appears, for their
level is lowering very sensibly.
The first Europeans who inhabited these plains,
already traversed by the trappers, were the French
missionaries, and they gave to this vast extent of land
of nearly two hundred thousand square leagues, the
name of Prairie, which the Americans have retained.
The topographical vocabulary, besides, is almost wholly
French : a hill, for instance, is a butte, a cascade a saut,
a tributary stream ^.fourche, &c.
At some epoch undetermined, following a subter
raneous convulsion, an island, almost round, about a
hundred miles across, rose all at once, not far from the
Rocky Mountains, in this immense inland sea. An
eruption, forcing its way through the various horizontal

Introduction. vii

strata, lifted portions of them, fractured in the form of
rings, around the crater that served as a vent. Each of
these beds or strata, on coming laterally to the surface,
naturally carried with it the minerals it contained, and
from this singular displacement there resulted a series
of concentric zones, each containing its special riches.
On following a certain radius, the traveller traverses, in
a few hours, beds of coal, deposits of petroleum, mines
of gold, copper, and silver. If, on the contrary, he takes
a circular course, keeping along any one of the several
systems or beds that are met with at every step, he will
come back to the point from which he started, and see
an almost uninterrupted continuation of the same
mineral. This singular country remained a long time unknown ;
it was far removed from trre settled abodes of man, and
indeed, as if lost in, the heart of the Prairie ; but its
approaches were guarded by numerous aud warlike
tribes of Indians. It is now only about five or six years
since the Americans took possession of it, at the end of
a sanguinary war, in which they had not been always
conquerors. At present the Black Hills of Dakota are
becoming the centre of an agglomeration of mines,
farms, and pastures, all growing daily in importance,
and attracting around them a large population.
Having been drawn to this country through affairs,

Vlll

Introduction.

in which we were interested, we thought that the narra
tive of the rapid journey there and back we have just
accomplished would not be uninteresting to those who
have not visited this remarkable spot of the North
American continent.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

Departure from Chicago — Pullman Cars and their Occupants — A
Railway Refreshment Room — The Prairie and the Cow-boys —
The Colonels — The Missouri — The Stage Coaches — The Sioux
— Willow Creek — An Emigrant ....

CHAPTER II.
The Cheyenne — The Cattle Ranches — Passing a River — The
International Hotel — Rapid City — Justice in America —
American Manners — The First Bivouac — M'Donnell's Ranch
— A Farmer of Dakota — Homestead, Pre-emption, and Free
Claims— The Forest System— Hilly-Ranch . 45

CHAPTER III.
Average Prices of Provisions in the Black Hills— The Percheron
Horses in America — Uncle Sam's Mine — Galena — The
Colonel's Fighting Men — The American Women — The Sirens
of Deadwood— Wild Bill .... 105

CHAPTER IV.
The Great Mines of Deadwood— What the Absence of Policemen
Costs— Caledonia— A Soiree at Deadwood — The Jesuits in
America ...••• '43

CHAPTER I.
DEPARTURE FROM CHICAGO — PULLMAN CARS AND THEIR
OCCUPANTS — A RAILWAY REFRESHMENT ROOM — THE
PRAIRIE AND THE COW-BOYS— THE COLONELS — THE MIS
SOURI — THE STAGE COACHES — THE SIOUX— WILLOW CREEK
— AN EMIGRANT.
When one has tramped two whole days over the
miry roads to which the municipality of Chicago gives
the name of streets, and has assisted at the transforma
tion of a few hundreds of fat pigs into hams and bacon,
which is, as everybody knows, the great business of
the place, he feels impatient enough to get away from
the unaccustomed proximity of so many styes. It is
therefore with the most decided satisfaction that my
friend and travelling companion, Monsieur Bouverie,
and I prepare to quit the Grand Pacific Hotel, and
say adieu for a few weeks to American civilisation.
It seems, in fact, that we are going to plunge into
sheer savagery: at least we have ground for antici
pating as much from what we hear around us. At
New York, for instance, when we spoke of our project
of going to Deadwood, Dakota, our friends of the Union
Club lifted their arms to Heaven in invocation for
our safety. This morning we have been in the office of
A

Colonels and Cow-boys.

the hotel to settle our accounts, to give our address,
and take our railway tickets. The clerk is a Canadian,
and, since our arrival, has done all he can to manifest
his attachment to " the French of the Old Country "
we represent. On speaking to him about Deadwood,
he reflected a moment, then questioning the other clerk,
a Yankee with a long beard :
"Jim," said he, "here are two gentlemen going to
Deadwood, Dakota. What is it that has occurred at
Deadwood lately? Haven't the Indians scalped the
whole population ? "
"No," said Jim, throwing himself back in his chair
and lifting his eyes to the ceiling with an air of deep
meditation. " It is in Colorado where that took place,
it was not in Dakota."
" Then the cow-boys have taken possession of the city,
and burnt the whole of some quarter."
" No ; that was in Montana."
" Well, at all events, I am sure something has happened
at Deadwood."
"Ah yes, you are right. It is a flood : I remember
now. The river has overflowed and carried away all
the city. It was last month."
" Ah ! after all, it is now some weeks since that. The
post-office must be restored and reopened. Messieurs,
you take your tickets to Deadwood, do you not ? Forty-
nine dollars each ; thirty-six hours of railway and as much
by coach across the Prairie. The omnibus will take
you as far as the North- Western. Messieurs, allow me

Departure from Chicago.

to shake hands and say good-bye. Always happy to
see Frenchmen. Ah, here is the map of the railway."
We say good-bye to this good man, and we wriggle
with some difficulty into an omnibus already three-
quarters filled with our guns, travelling trunks, and
saddles. While it is taking us to the station, we glance over the
map that has just been handed to us. fin America, every
railway company publishes, in the form of a guide, a
map, a mere puff, in which the relative position of the
chief cities is strangely modified in such a manner as to
lead the uninformed traveller to suppose that the line
in question is the only one that conducts him to the
place where he desires to go. Upon the cover of this
one is displayed, in large type, the following advice : —
" To the explorer !
To the pioneer ! !
To the labourer ! ! !
To the hunter ! ! ! !
To the tourist ! ! ! ! !
To the miner ! ! ! ! !
To everybody !!!!!!!
It is made known that :
If one wishes to succeed in cattle breeding,
If one wishes to have good harvests,
If one seeks for a delightful climate,
And wonderful situation !
He should never leave the country traversed by
The North-Western Railway.

Colonels and Cow-boys.

Let him say this to himself! ! !
for:
In Europe the mortality is I in 42.
In the Eastern States it is 1 in 88.
In the Far West it is 1 in 120."
I translate for Monsieur Bouverie this audacious puff.
" Ah, my friend ! " he exclaimed, " what a consoling
science statistics is. Since all the inhabitants of Dead-
wood have just been drowned, there is no one in the far
West to die for the next ten years. Without this, the
averages would be exceeded. And these good people
of New York to tell us that our journey was dangerous,
forsooth ! "
Fortified by this reflection that unites so happily
philosophy and arithmetic, we rush into a Pullman car,
and this speedily carries us far away from the good city
of Chicago.
The Pullman car is one of the rare public conveni
ences of which the Americans have an indisputable
right to be proud. When one can find a place in one
of them — and there are some in almost every train — he
travels much more comfortably than on our most luxu
rious lines in Europe. They are carriages more than
twenty-five yards long. In the centre of each side are a
dozen little sofas, facing one another in couples ; each of
these sofas corresponds with a place, and two of them
constitute what is . called a " section." Joined together
during the night, they form an excellent bed, furnished
with sheets and pillows always perfectly clean. Another

Pullman Cars and their Occupants. 5
bed, hidden in the partition during the day, comes out
from a sort of cupboard to spread itself at three feet
horizontally over the first, and to receive the second
traveller. The front and back of the carriage are occupied by a
smoking-room and dressing-rooms, always plenteously
supplied with iced water, soap, and towels. In many
trains there are, besides, a restaurant and a kitchen, but
this supreme luxury is not often met with except in
the East : beyond Chicago we have only buffets, and the
American refreshment room deserves special mention.
Three times a day, at very odd hoars, the train stops
suddenly at a certain spot in some village. Then at
the door of some house, more or less distant from the
station, a gentleman shows himself, ringing vigorously a
great bell. Here passengers hurry into a large room,
where there are several tables covered with red cloths
always very dirty.
Then a girl, generally very plain, comes up to you
with a serious look, and rapidly utters the following
words, which are always the same :
"Boiled beef, roast beef, salt beef, bacon, potatoes,
cabbage, tea, coffee."
This is the bill of fare. It is quite useless to make a
choice, for whatever you say, the result is the same. In
about five minutes the same young lady returns with a
dozen saucers, with which she forms a triple crown
around your plate without saying a word. This initial
ceremony having been performed, she disappears with

Colonels and Cow-boys.

a calm, dignified air, and you see nothing more of
her, But it is just at this moment when you must see, 6r
rather not see, the Americans at work. Armed with
their forks, they thrust these at random into five or six
saucers, transferring their contents into their plate,
then, having thoroughly mixed the whole, they swallow
this hotch-potch with the aid of their knives in the
twinkling of an eye. With a providential eye for
accidents that might happen with the inexperienced, 1
the said knives are always blunted by usage and so not
so dangerous as they seem.
On the day of our departure we dined at Sparta. I
was struggling painfully with some substance which
might have been beef or the flesh of some other animal,
when I heard Monsieur Bouverie suddenly utter an
exclamation as if he had been stung by a wasp. Facing
us was an old gentleman of respectable appearance, who
had begun by first taking a slice of bacon, which he
carefully cut into little bits, to this he then added a
little cream, a few heads of asparagus, a poached egg,
some raw tomatoes, the juice of a preserved peach, and
pepper and salt in abundance ; at last he saturated the
mess with black treacle, and swallowed the whole with
evident satisfaction, just as my friend's cry of distress
made me turn my head. The spectacle was so repul
sive that it made me shudder.
But the country where one eats so coarsely is
decidedly charming. On leaving Chicago, the line,

Pullman Cars and their Occupants. 7
quitting the prairie, rises in the north on entering
Wisconsin. Coming out of the marshy plains of
Illinois, we see chains of little mountains covered with
magnificent oak and fir woods, separated from each
other by pretty verdant valleys of admirable fertility.
This country, which only Indians inhabited fifty years
ago, is now as densely populated as many provinces
of France, at least along the line ; for the absence of
roads must, as a consequence, barely permit the exist
ence even of a few villages in the interior. The water
courses are mighty and magnificent. Standing upon
the platform of the carriage we constantly see every
where sheets of water and even lakes, on which
numerous little boats are steaming away in every
direction. About nine, we cross the Mississippi at Winona, but
unluckily the darkness hides almost everything from
our view. We remain only a few minutes in a station
brilliantly illuminated by the electric light, and then,
the train going on its way, we take to our beds.
When we awake the next morning we find the
aspect of the country quite changed. We have entered
into the prairie ; not the well-cultivated prairie around
Chicago, but the prairie in all its immensity and naked
wildness. Here the work of colonisation is only just
beginning, and in the vicinity of the stations only may
be seen, here and there, far away and apart, little
wooden houses with clearings around them. Every
where else the eye wanders without any object to

8 Colonels and Cow-boys.

arrest it over an immense plain, hardly varied with a
mound or a hill, and covered with thick grass, reflecting
singular blue tints as it undulates under the passing
breeze.* Water is scarce: a few hollows filled with
muddy pools trailing slowly their tortuous courses
towards the Missouri ; in other places the water, having
no outlet, forms swamps, from which constantly rise
long flocks of ducks.
The impression produced is gloomy in the extreme ;
for, evident as it is that incalculable riches are hidden
in these monotonous plains, how many years more
will our agriculturists of Europe, weighed down with
burdens accumulated through many centuries of
civilisation, be able to continue struggling against the
invasion of products from this free land ? An impulse
has now been given to the movement, and to arrest
it is out of the question. Good, however, will result
from it, still not before fifty years hence, when the
value of our lands will have been depreciated at least
one half, and the half of our peasants have been forced
to emigrate. And in this interval, what suffering !
We must not close our eyes to the inevitable con
sequences ; unless a total change takes place in the
system of our customs duties the struggle will be
fruitless, and every year that passes away will see the
ruin of one branch or another of our agricultural
* Blue grass (Andropogon furcatus). It is the best summer fodder
known in America. The hay is always superior. This grass is con
spicuous on the rich limestone land of Kentucky and Tennessee.

Pullman Cars and their Occupants. 9
industry. First the corn and next the wine, for
California is beginning to send its wines to Bordeaux,
after having sent us the phylloxera, and then it will
be the rearing of live stock. Every line of railway
that opens in the Far West, opens at the same time a
new wound.
It is interesting to examine the manner in which the
American government favours this movement. Some
times, as in the case of the Union Pacific, the great
artery that first traversed the Continent, it gives directly
a subsidy to the company, though lately it has not
proceeded in this manner.
As soon as the course of the line is settled, the zone
to be run over is divided into little squares, having
their base along the line a mile in length, each being
called " a section." The company, by the terms of the
concession, becomes the proprietor of the half of these
lands, the other half remaining with the government.
During the first years especially, the only benefits
the shareholders can hope to realize, arise from the sale
and rise in value of these lands ; the company therefore
uses every means to attract immigration thither.
The settler, as he is called, generally comes to choose
his land in autumn. Upon a simple declaration, they
give him a run, almost gratuitous, over the line. As
soon as he has made his choice he goes in quest of the
company's agent. If he has no money, as it unluckily
happens in most cases, they give him a credit of five or
six years. The land is sold to him at the rate of from

io Colonels and Cow-boys.

one to five dollars the acre. He must still have a
house, agricultural implements, and live stock; all these
are furnished, to him by special establishments. These
expenses, however, are relatively considerable : a house
costs from 350 to 500 dollars ; a milch cow, 25 to 30
dollars ; a good pair of horses, 100 or 150 dollars. But
in the spring, about the 1 5th of April, he has only to
turn the turf of the prairie and throw down a few
handfuls of oats, to garner, about the end of July, 25
to 40 bushels per acre. After the first year, they sow
wheat, that returns from 20 to 40 bushels the acre,
and this with a simple turn of the soil, without even a
spadeful of manure. They showed us lands that had
given as much as twenty-five successive harvests of
corn by this simple treatment, without any appreciable
depreciation of the soil — a black alluvial earth, in which
not a stone can be seen.
To feed his cattle in winter, the new farmer may cut
as much grass for hay as he thinks proper ; and if he
has need of a little ready-money for his current ex
penses, he has only to go to his neighbours to work
a while, and he will earn two dollars a day. At the end
of the first year something comes in, and if his visits to
the bar at the station have not been immoderate, the
farm and stock should, at the end of four or five years,
be entirely his own, freed from all debt.
At Tracy, where we arrived at nine in the morning,
we were obliged to leave our Pullman car, which pro
ceeded no further. The compartment in which we are

CTHE OTHER PLACES ARE OCCUPIED BY MEN BESPATTEKED "WITH MUD UP TO THEIR EARS." Page n.

Pullman Cars and their Occupants. 1 i
now installed contains a class quite special, entirely dif
ferent from that we had been accustomed to see in the
East. Four or five women of very mysterious bearing
occupy one corner ; they seem to be under the surveil
lance of a stern-looking couple. The other places are
occupied by men bespattered with mud up to their ears,
habited in well-worn flannel shirts, and with their
breeches tucked in great long boots. They are all in
veterate tobacco-chewers. There are a few women and
some groups of children. At every station men with
their hands full of prospectuses rush into the carriages :
they are land agents, and come up to us offering farms.
One of these pushing men of business is pestering me
to buy a whole quarter of a town with some sounding
name, Athens or Paris, I forget which. He spreads out
before me the plan. I see there grand avenues inter
sected by innumerable streets, and the whole well
sprinkled with squares, two public gardens, seven or
eight railway stations, churches and chapels by the
dozen, and ten or twelve banks. When he is quite con
vinced I am not going to buy anything of him, he
admits, pleasantly enough, that there are only one
hundred and fifty inhabitants in this city, who are
dwelling in about fifty wooden sheds ; but he asserts
that in two years there will be more than twenty thous
and, and this is not at all impossible. The children begin
frolicking at once, and make their d/but by. shooting
adroitly a ball into the eye of the gentleman, the vendor
of the city, who smiles graciously, for it is well under-

1 2 Colonels and Cow-boys.

stood that in America all the children are charming.
After this comes my turn, and I immediately open the •
window behind me, hoping that the ball will conse
quently roll into the prairie. The wickedness of my
proceeding is instantly detected, and the young gentle- ^
man, a terrible seven-year-old urchin, springs forward
to close it without my permission. I oppose, and away
he goes, rapping out an oath with a resonance that seemed
to gratify his vengeance.
Every moment some one in passing along the passage
reserved through the middle of the carriage, stumbles f
and jostles against us : they tread on our toes also, and
without a word of apology. But for all that they are
in one respect superior to the ill-bred class among us,
inasmuch as they consider it quite natural that others
should treat ¦ them in the same mode. One of my
friends was travelling lately in a saloon car ; all at
once he was startled at seeing two great feet stretched
out on each side of his face ! But his neighbour behind
him was merely putting himself at his ease. To have
shown any indignation, of course, would not have been
comme ilfaut from a Yankee point of view, and besides
useless. Fortunately he finds an easy chair unoccupied
behind this amiable Yankee, takes possession of it, and
returns the compliment precisely in the same way.
The other kept as still as a mouse with the most per
fect composure.
Here is another incident of the same kind that was
related to me. Two travellers, the one French and the

Pullman Cars and their Occupants. 1 3
other American, were sitting face to face in a tramway.
The American, who was chewing tobacco as usual,
began spitting, with remarkable dexterity too, through
the open window; beside the Frenchman. The latter,
feeling annoyed and getting irritated, would have his
revenge, but sets about it so unskilfully that he hits his
antagonist plain in the face. Naturally, he was over
whelmed with confusion and apologies,, which were
received by the Yankee with very good grace, who
calmly took his handkerchief and applied it as if he
were wiping away a drop of rain, remarking at the same
time with a somewhat patronising tone, "All right,
stranger ! I guess you are a beginner ! "
These people are very coarse, because they have
never been taught to be otherwise ; but for all that,
they are in many respects superior in behaviour to
people of the same class in France. Their attitude
towards women is admirable. Not an obscene word
in their presence ever escapes their lips. Moreover,
equality with them is so thoroughly ingrafted in their
minds, that one never sees, as in France, that sullen
hostility so often manifested by the man in blouse
towards the man in frock coat. This observation, how
ever, though quite true with respect to the West, would
at least be subject to some reservation regarding the
states of the East, which are becoming rapidly
Europeanised. Around the stations are already grouped a few
houses and each of these sends forth its contingent of

14 Colonels and Cow-boys.

sickly-looking ragamuffins who come, dabbling through
the mud with their naked feet, to look at the train.
The population of these villages is throughout of the
same character. Two or three grocers, a few dry-goods
stores, shoeing smiths, saddlers, one or two little
chapels which do not look as if they were frequented,
and hardly ever any butchers or bakers. In America
they eat nothing but bacon. As for bread, everyone.
makes at home for each meal balls of a sort of un-
fermented paste, baked in a stove, as a substitute!
Accordingly, especially in the West, nine Americans
out of ten who have reached the age of twenty are
afflicted with chronic gastritis.*
But there are some things never wanting — an hotel
for instance, and then a collection of " saloons." It is
under this fine name that the public houses and taverns
are known, and it is here where the best part of the
profits of the farms around changes hands. Before the
doors endless files of agricultural machines, thrashers,
harvesters, mowers, all painted in bright colours, are
displayed. Their employment, which with us in France
is only yet exceptional, is quite the rule here. The
well-levelled soil of the prairie, besides, seems specially
adapted to their use.
As we proceed on our way the number of our travel
ling companions diminishes in the same ratio. At one
of the last stations two cow-boys get into the train.
* The Author's ideas are here a little too strong for the facts of
the case.

Pullman Cars and their Occupants. 1 5
With their bossy felt hats set off with tarnished gold
lace, their great boots bristling with Mexican spurs,
and their girdles furnished with a brace of Colts' re
volvers, cartridges, and a murderous, big knife, these
" boys" have the look of actual bandits. These in our
company behave very well, but it is not always so with
these gentry. A few weeks ago a drunken cow-boy,
intent on indulging, it seems, in one of their favourite
pastimes, shot away the cigar from an inoffensive neigh
bour with a ball from his revolver. Thereupon the
guard blew out his brains with his pistol on the spot ;
the body was cast out on the line, and everything thus
promptly settled without bier, bell, or burial.
These cow-boys are the plague of the West. Re
cruited generally from among men too idle to work in
the mines or on the farms, passing their life on the
prairie, day and night in the saddle, watching their
herds, constantly at war with the Indians, they make
their appearance in the towns only on pay days, when
they invariably get drunk and become a terror to the
inhabitants, who, on the other hand, get as much profit
out of them as they can, regarding them as very proper
subjects for exploitation. The newspapers, romances,
and tales are full of their exploits. Now and then one
hears that a troop of cow-boys have taken possession of
a little town on the frontier and pillaged the inhabi
tants, or that, solely from mere wantonness and wild
spirits, they had driven all the population to a certain
spot, and there forced them to dance for hours together

1 6 Colonels and Cow-boys.

before them for their diversion, sending bullets into the
calves of their legs if the performance did not proceed |
with sufficient animation. Then some fine day a Vigi
lance Committee is formed, who take three or four
unlucky individuals by mere chance, and hang them at
the first tree they come to, the others continuing their
exploits a little further off. After all, they are the best
boys in the world in the estimation of the saloon
keepers, whose fortunes they make.
Our neighbours draw near and begin talking with us.
The brakeman also comes up, and salutes us with the
well-worn phrase, " Well, stranger, how do you like the
country ? " The conversation then becomes general.
They tell us all about the five women who are ensconced \
in the end of the carriage. They are gay women, as I
they call them, under the protection of an old gentle- .j
man, who has the sanctified look of a methodist
preacher. They travel all through the country, remain
ing a fortnight in each town, where in certain hotels
they are received gratuitously.
The brakeman brings us some bad news ; he is not
quite sure whether we shall arrive or not at Pierre this
evening. Yesterday a bridge broke down by the passage
of a train, and they don't know whether it is yet
restored. Accidents of this kind are too common here
to produce much impression on the people. If one
only understood the way in which the line is made he
would be surprised that accidents did not occur more
frequently. This morning, on passing, we saw some

Railways. 1 7

work of this kind going on, where they were busy in
laying down a short line across the prairie to join some
coal mines recently discovered.
A steam scooping-machine was placed on a truck, and
the scoop, cutting into the rich soil, ploughed out a
trench through every intervening rise it encountered on
its' course. In proportion as its work of levelling had
been supplemented and accomplished by the aid of
seven or eight men, for a length of a few yards, they
laid down the sleepers and rails that were brought up
by three or four other waggons in the rear. The loco
motive placed behind made then a few steps in ad
vance, and the same operation was resumed for another
stretch. On certain lines they have laid down and
completed by such means ten miles in a day, but, to
use a vulgar expression, they had to " sweat hard " to
reach this limit.
When they meet with a small water-course they span
it with an open timber-work bridge. They rarely put
down any ballast ; I have seen it merely on the lines of
the Eastern States, and then the Companies do not fail
to make it well known to the public, that they may
profit accordingly. The rail is simply built up, and
when the jolts are rather too rough they fill in a little,
and gradually everything settles down. The main
point is that the line be opened as soon as possible.
If the permanent way is rather loose, the rolling
stock, on the other hand, is admirable for its solidity
and even elegance. The personnel also appear to me to
B

1 8 Colonels and Cow-boys.

be very good. I am surprised to learn, however, that"
notwithstanding the hard work exacted from their em
ploye's, their remuneration is not at all liberal. If we
take into account the difference of the value of money,
and of the fact that the companies provide neither
pensions nor a fund in case of sickness, it must be
*
admitted that they are not so well paid as in France.
An engineman earns from sixteen to twenty pounds a
month. It is true that this pay corresponds with a
daily course of a hundred miles, and that every addi
tional course of the same length carries the right to
receive another day's pay. A few of them get forty
pounds a month sometimes, but these lucky individuals
are not numerous.
It is getting dark as we arrive at the place of the
accident. We are close by the Missouri, which a few
days previously had overflowed its banks. A little
bridge had not only been carried away, but the waters
have so undermined the permanent way, that, over a
length of forty or fifty yards, it has fallen five or six feet
below its original level. The immense locomotive lying
on its side, like a horse fallen in the shafts, has almost
disappeared in the soft mud of the rivulet. A little
further on, half-a-dozen waggons, loaded with wood, are
piled up over each other, with their wheels in the air.
A score of men are at work, and the way in which they
repair the mischief done is characteristic. Every sleeper
is brought up to the required level by means of wooden
posts piled up under its extremities which rest on the

Railways. 1 9

still soft mud. The contents of the waggons have
furnished this material. The work is not yet finished ;
we have, therefore, plenty of time to visit the scene of
the accident.
It is here where we see the Indians for the first time.
There are two clad in their great red blankets, with their
arms crossed, and they look on the busy people around
them without moving.
One of our travelling companions remarked to me ;
" See those long lazy louts ! They have only to stoop
to earn honestly two or three dollars, but they like
better lying, and picking, and stealing ! "
It appears to me that this reflection explains the in
stinctive antipathy between the two races. These men,
tall and strong as they are, will not work ; they are re
pulsively ugly, and have a sinister look. Certain
animals, the rhinoceros and hippopotamus, for instance,
seem to belong to an era anterior to ours ; and these
men with their large features, stern and immovable,
seem to be wanting in some inexplicable finishing touch,
which suggests the same idea of imperfection. We fancy
we see conjured up before us specimens of prehistoric
man. Besides, there is nothing attractive in their costume.
They have breeches of buff leather ; their long, black,
stiff hair is half hidden under pointed felt hats, for
they no longer wear the famous scalp lock, ornamented
with eagle's plumes, which the imaginative Fennimore
Cooper has so much overdone in his romances. They

20 Colonels and Cow-boys.

have not, however, abandoned the custom of scalping
" the pale faces," and when a young warrior can find an
emigrant dead drunk in some ditch, and not too bald, he
feels it very gratifying, and considers it a duty, more
over, to carry off his scalp, an exploit that procures him
the esteem of his chiefs and the love of all the young
squaws of his tribe. He will also have encountered the
risk of being hanged like a dog by the friends of the
scalped, if he should take it into his head, as it some
times happens, to boast of his prowess in their hearing
when it is his turn to be groggy.
It is dark when the brakeman calls out the familiar
" all aboard," and we rush into our carriages ; for in this
country they never wait an instant for loiterers. But
we could very easily have overtaken the train on its
way, for as far as Pierre the permanent way is so
uncertain that we proceed very leisurely. On the
left, we see in the darkness the stars reflected on a
great sheet of water stretching far away out of sight.
The Missouri has not yet drawn back within its normal
geographical limits, for when we arrived at the station
about ten o'clock, the locomotive was immersed up to
the springs. Before us the lights of a town, were every
where glittering, and yet not a single house stood on
the spot three years ago. It is inhabited by the
labourers and mechanics, who came here for the con
struction of the railway, and these have raised it. At
present it contains 2500 inhabitants, and among these
five or six newspapers are edited and published.

Colonels. 2 1

An imitator of M. Boltin has even just published a
Pierre directory, containing the names, titles, and pro
fessions of his fellow citizens. I deliberately use the
word title, because a pestering urchin having absolutely
compelled me to buy this interesting work, I notice
therein with pleasure that the taste for these distinc
tions is far from dying out among the people of the
West. Among 1500 names there are 800 colonels,
and 200 or 300 majors or judges. The others appear
to be satisfied with the title of captain ; they are, no
doubt, people of a modest and retiring disposition,
for whom I have the warmest regard, as if through
instinctive sympathy.
Of course among all these good folks, there is
probably not one who has even a remote claim to
such a title. Nothing is more amusing than to ask an
American, travelling in Europe and calling himself
Colonel or Major, in what regiment he has served.
However recently he may have " hailed from the other
side," the question generally makes him feel very
uncomfortable. I remember one who used to call
himself Colonel F  . I put to him my usual question.
He replied with commendable candour :
" I have never served. I had an elder brother who
never served any more than I have. But as he had a
very military look, they used to call him the General.
Being younger, I naturally took the rank of Colonel!'
A considerable portion of this brilliant staff encum
bered the platform of the depdt (station). Some of

22 Colonels and Cow-boys.
them, no doubt, belonged to the corps of bridge toll-
gatherers, for a footway had been thrown over six
inches of water that interrupted the road to the grand
hotel of Pierre. It is a great wooden booth that looks
as if it were the rendezvous of another series of
colonels, judging from the collection of faces, not very
reassuring, that encumber the grand room when we
enter therein with our portmanteaus on our backs, for
the most ragged of these valiant warriors would not
condescend to earn twenty cents at this work.
The hotel proprietor, a kind of colossus embellished
with formidable moustaches, is reposing behind his bar
from the fatigues of the day, with both feet stuck up
on the said bar, above the level of his head. He is
also a Colonel, for a traveller passing before us
addresses him with this title. He makes us sign our
names on the register, which he pushes before us
without disturbing his comfortable posture ; then he
deigns to summon a captain, whom the fortunes of war
have reduced to the grade of waiter, and who leads
us rather sulkily into a little room fitted up with a
big bed, where he leaves us with the intimation that
the bed is quite big enough for two. These surprises
are some of the delights reserved for travellers ' in
America. However little cramped they may be for
space, even in the best hotels, they propose to you in
a perfectly unconcerned manner to sleep two in a
bed. Sometimes, however, on complaining persistently,
a more congenial arrangement is possible. But at

Colonels. 23.
Pierre it was just as impossible to obtain a second bed
as to get a dinner, and accordingly with empty
stomachs we had to try to sleep, side by side, as
well as we could, to the roaring of a raging storm
as it brought down another flood on the already
inundated roads.
"Take an Englishman, and take away all his good
qualities, and you will have a Yankee."
This definition, not very flattering, comes from an
English traveller, one too prone perhaps to grumble
at everything. Entirely false so far as it concerns
men, it becomes a striking truth when applied to
institutions — to the cooking and to the stage-coaches,
for instance. What admirable descriptions Dickens
and Thackeray have given us of these journeys on the
top of a coach by the side of a jolly stout driver, whose
instructive conversation left no one ignorant of the
interesting details of the private life of every dweller
along the roadside ! The four high-mettled horses,
well harnessed, flew on the wings of the wind between
the hawthorn hedges. At the entrance of the villages,
on the sound of the horn, the fowls scampered away
scared, and the women caught up hurriedly their
children straying in the way: and then, at the
changing, the fat ostler was seen lolling against the
kitchen door, through which one caught a glimpse of
a spit turning a substantial sirloin before a cheerful
bright fire.

24 Colonels and Cow-boys.

This was the mail-coach of the past in England or
the malle-poste in France, and on passing the Atlantic
we find the institution singularly decayed. The
Americans, however, not very exacting in what per
tains to comfort themselves, declare that a journey in
a mail-coach in the Far West is one of the most
painful trials to which the members of poor humanity
can be made to undergo. It was, therefore, with a
resignation, not deprived of anxiety, that, on the day
after our arrival at Pierre, we made our way towards
the ticket-office of the mail-coach that was to take
us from Pierre to Deadwood, across the two hundred
miles of prairie that separated the two towns.
At first sight, the equipage standing in the middle
of the inundated road looked anything but attractive.
It was a kind of tumbril, summarily suspended and
perched on two pairs of very high wheels ; the whole
being covered with a double fold of canvas. Two or
three porters were occupied in heaping up a lot of
cases and other baggage in the interior, reserving for
us but a very small space in the middle. As soon as
we took our places there, a cow-boy doing duty as
.driver mounted the box ; another, enjoying the name
of " conductor," sat beside him, and four horses of good
appearance, standing up to their knees in water, set the
heavy machine in motion without much pulling. In
about ten minutes they stopped on the banks of the
Missouri, which the rise, rather steep, had hindered our
seeing till then.

The Missouri. 25

This very muddy and rapid river is not less than 800
yards across. The clear, bright day enables us to see
distinctly a range of green hills bordering the opposite
side, broken in certain places by abrupt and rather high
precipices, known here by the name of bluffs. In win
ter, during four or five months, the passage is made
over the ice, which in this latitude acquires a consider
able thickness. During summer the company makes
use of a little steam ferry-boat of a very primitive kind,
and this is now quite ready to receive us. Our horses,
well broken to this manoeuvre, trot on board without the
least hesitation, and in twenty minutes we reach a little
creek on the right shore, protected against the current
by the hulk of a steamboat, which the last break-up of
the ice had thrown on the bank — a wreck that no one
seemed to consider worth appropriating.
Hardly had we got aboard than a serious discussion
arose. One of our four horses was lame in the foot, and
the question was whether we should continue, or return
and take another. Then four or five loungers come up
and give their advice. But the conference, that threat
ened to become interminable, is cut short by a man on
horseback, who gallops off to the nearest bluff, and soon
returns with news that gives unanimous satisfaction.
He arrives from Willow-Creek, the first stage, sixteen
miles from here. The storm of last night was accom
panied with such a flood that a bridge has been carried
away, and he had much trouble to get across by swim
ming. And then again, there has been no coach from

26 Colonels and Cow-boys.

Deadwood for two days, and probably similar accidents'!
have taken place elsewhere. It is decided, in this
dilemma, that we repass the river to take orders from
the superintendent.
There, two hours pass away in pourparlers. The
superintendent, who at the same time is a large share
holder of the company, is in a rage with everybody, and
swears like a pilot in a storm, in which he is exactly
imitated by his subordinates — a fact that proves to us
again how poor the English language is in good round
oaths. It is really extraordinary, since the Americans
have been working at it, that people so inventive have
not been able to perfect it in this respect, and that they
should remain so far behind other nations, such as the
Mexicans or the Germans. If we remember how the
Tudors used to swear, the English have certainly not
advanced in this accomplishment.
At last they come to an important decision : they
leave behind half of the load, and then we shall be ac
companied by a waggon carrying a boat to take us
across the creeks. The notion seems to us rather
original, and we welcome the arrangement all the
more, inasmuch as we have more room to stretch our
legs. Our third passage across the river is accomplished as
happily as the two preceding. This time we have a
companion. He is an old Indian, lame, and covered
with ignoble rags, who seems idiotic, but who, neverthe
less, is a personage of some importance, for he is at-

Sioux. 2 7
tended on the river bank by a dozen of his tribe, well
armed. All these Indians are Sioux. It seems that this name,
by which they are known to the whites, is a corruption
of the French word saoul, which the old trappers gave
them on account of their decided taste for the* divine
bottle. This explanation, at least, is given by the Pere
de Smet. They call themselves " Dacotahs," which, in
their language, means " cut-throats ; " they have, there
fore, not much to lose in changing their name. All the
territory we are going to cross, between the Missouri
and the Cheyenne, forms part of the reserve, conceded
to them by the treaty of 1877, which was concluded at
the end of a long war — one in which the American Go
vernment was really not in the right, and their troops
not invariably successful ; for " Sitting Bull," their great
chief, after having beaten two or three detachments of
the Federal army, was able to retire into Canada, where
he remained two years, and did not return to his own
country till at the conclusion of negotiations with the
American Government, carried on on the footing of re
cognised belligerents.
According to the terms of the treaty, which guar
anteed to the Indians absolutely the property of this
country, the whites have no right to raise therein any
permanent establishment : they cannot cultivate there
any land, nor introduce into the country, even for per
sonal use, any fermented liquor. Special functionaries,
named Indian agents, who have at their command a

28 Colonels and Cow-boys.

certain number of Indians duly armed and organised,
are empowered to execute these regulations which are
to some extent observed. But the unfortunate Indians
will not long enjoy the tranquillity that this treaty '
should ensure them, for the Government is already
exercising a pressure on them to force them to give
up this territory to enable the North-Western to carry
its line from Pierre to Deadwood. It is said that nego
tiations have already terminated, and that Congress
will be asked to sanction a new treaty. The Sioux feel
themselves at present too much hemmed in by the
rising wave of civilisation to think of recommencing
the struggle, and they will be obliged probably to go
in search of a fresh refuge in the plains further north.
The policy of the Americans with regard to the
Indians is, in general, abominable, its object being their
extermination. The representatives at Congress, far
from disavowing it, excuse themselves by saying that
it is the only way of dealing effectually with the Indian
question. Now this is absolutely false. When the
French established themselves in Canada, they found
tribes there of the same race as these. Our Colonial
Government showed itself a faithful observer of treaties
and did not hesitate to punish publicly and rigor
ously any whites guilty of any injustice towards the
"savages," as they were and are still called even in
official language though the term was not used in a
derogatory sense. This policy was not slow in being
duly recompensed. During all the wars we had to

Sioux. 29
sustain against the English, the savages were always
our faithful allies, in spite of the efforts that were made
to detach them from our cause ; and later, after our
defeat, when the English conquest had become defini
tive, seeing that their new masters observed towards
them the old traditions, they maintained with them the
most friendly relations. Not only not a single Indian
war has burst forth, but the old tribes, while preserving
nominally their organisation, are so thoroughly obliter
ated in the white population, that it is now difficult, it
seems, to find Indians of a race absolutely pure.
Many have definitely abandoned a nomadic life to
become farmers. At the last census their number rose
to 1,100,000, and they owned 6000 head of horned
cattle and 15,000 horses. At present the grand
hereditary chief of the tribe of the Tortoises, the
descendant of the .famous Chingachgoock, whose ex
ploits have been sung by Fennimore Cooper, exercises
the profession of notary in the city of Quebec.
Nothing of this kind has taken place in the United
States, but the fault proceeds from the institutions
much more than from the sentiments of the people.
Instability, the inevitable condition of a Democratic
Government, is not a quality that gives security for the
obligations of a treaty. Those who have signed it are
soon replaced by others who, having nothing to gain,
see in it merely its burdens. This is what constantly
happens. The administration that concluded treaties
with the Indians acted, no doubt, in good faith ; but.

30 Colonels and Cow-boys.

at the end of short intervals, often a few months only,
new difficulties arose. As is frequently the case, the
reserved territory, which was thought to be of no value,
was found to contain some mine. Emigrants flocked
there, and the Indians naturally resisted the invasion;
shots were exchanged on each side ; the Federal troops
intervened, and, after a few months' skirmishing, a new
treaty was imposed on the Indians, who often found
themselves forced to go very far away to occupy a
new reserve, which was soon destined to become the
object of fresh contestations.
There were other difficulties besides, that presented
themselves. The nomadic Indians lived almost ex
clusively on the flesh of buffaloes ; now, on the one
hand, the buffalo, chased incessantly everywhere by the
white trappers, who every year kill some thousands
solely for their skin, is beginning to disappear ; and, on
the other, the reserves, smaller and smaller as they are,
into which the Indians are thrown back, are carefully
selected among territories the poorest in pasturage, and
into these the buffaloes naturally never come. It has,
therefore, been necessary in the later treaties to stipu
late for the regular distribution of food and clothing.
It is the Indian agents who have this duty to perform.
But this administration, like all others in the United
States, is recruited from political favourites, who
obtain these places as a recompense for their services,
and who know they will only keep them so long as
their party is in the ascendant. They, therefore, only

Sioux. 3 1
think of making their fortune as quickly as possible.
It is estimated that they will succeed in appropriating
more than half of the credits open for the Indians. But a
moment invariably comes when these, dying of hunger,
procure food at the expense of the farmers of the frontier.
All the Indian wars have begun in this way. At the time
we were in America, the Government was obliged to
send an important expedition, commanded by a general,
against the Apaches, a great tribe on the Mexican
frontier, who, exasperated by the depredations of the
agents, rose in a mass and devastated a whole district
of Texas with fire and sword.
These wars are much more serious than is imagined.
The Indians always find money to buy arms, and whites
also ready to sell them to them. They all have repeat
ing Winchester rifles ; they have besides a great number
of horses of a special breed, which they well know how
to turn to the best account. I have heard American
officers maintain that they constitute the most formid
able irregular cavalry in the world, and this, indeed, may
well be true. In their engagements with the regular
troops they have often had the advantage. It has been
often said that their number is diminishing rapidly, but
this is much contested. The census returns prove that
among many tribes the population is stationary, and
that it has a tendency even to increase. That of the
Sioux is estimated at about forty thousand souls ; there
is nothing to prove that they have ever much surpassed
this total. The Pere de Smet, who lived among them for

32 Colonels and Cow-boys.
about forty years, estimates their number at about sixty
thousand, but other reports do not bear out his state
ment. In spite of their numerous faults, among which must
be reckoned cruelty and inaptitude for work, these
people certainly do not deserve all the evil that has been
said of them by the Americans, and the example of
Canada shows what could have been done with them
under a more humane policy. On some points, however,
the work of their transformation has been undertaken
not without success ; at the beginning of this century
particularly when some Jesuits, having insinuated them
selves among them, lived a long while under their tents.
One of them, the Pere de Smet, who died a few years
ago at Yankton, had been able to acquire an extra
ordinary influence over them. It may be affirmed that
he educated the greater number of their chiefs, and
notably the famous Sitting Bull. The Americans
themselves admit that many imminent massacres have
been prevented by him. The souvenirs of this man who
did so much good are still fresh and vivid. They have
given his name to one of the last depdts of the railroad
before arriving at Pierre, as well as to one of the richest
mines of the Black Hills.
After his death, the examination of his papers re
vealed that this missionary, so well informed, had long
known the existence of their valuable deposits of min
erals and precious metals, the discovery of which was
to be the cause of so many misfortunes to his dear

Indians. 33

Indians, and having a presentiment of these evils, he had
accordingly resolved never to speak of his great treasure-
trove. Since his death, the hostilities that have taken
place, and the forced emigrations that have followed as
a consequence, have obliterated nearly every trace of
his work. Many Indians, however, are still nominally
Catholic. And what will be the future of this race ? — a race in
which the French feel it a duty to interest themselves
especially, for they have been, during more than a
century, their faithful allies, when fortune has smiled on
them, and equally so when she has frowned on them.
There is at the present moment a portentous transforma
tion working itself out in the West. The plains, till now
reserved for the buffaloes and the Indians, are invaded
by herds led there by the American cow-boys. It is the
pastoral life succeeding the savage life of the hunter,
there, as formerly in many other lands of the old con
tinent. To make use of an expression much affected
by the Americans, and which is very a propos, the Far
West is destined to become the manufactory of meat,
where a great part of the civilized world will come for
their supplies. It seems to me that the Indians should
easily find a place in this new social state.
The wild warrior who resists absolutely any attempt
at culture, would easily form himself, I think, to a
pastoral life, and would very advantageously replace
the cow-boy. This idea of mine is not at all Utopian.
Besides the Creeks and the Cherokees, tribes of the
C

34 Colonels and Cow-boys.
south-east, which have entirely entered on the road to
civilization, they are beginning to speak of several
tribes or portions of tribes who are proprietors of many
herds of cattle. Others, desirous of following their
example, are soliciting the government to supply them
with reproducers instead of rations.
If the missionaries could only resume their work, I
believe it would be in their power to favour most
signally this transformation ; especially, if the Federal
government employed them as intermediate agents, for
its direct influence for good is very feeble at present, so
great is the corruption of the official agents now stand
ing in the way.
The company enjoying the concession of the service
of the mail coach between Pierre and Deadwood — a
service for which they receive a grant of ten thousand
dollars — pretends that the journey is made in thirty-
six hours. Its friends affirm that this has happened
once in four years. On the other hand, many people
have told me that they have never been less than four
days on the road, and often eight or ten : the distance,
besides, is no more than two hundred miles, and the
returns should be sufficiently remunerative, for the fare
is twenty dollars each, and the baggage paid for at the
rate of ten cents per pound ; but, then, we must admit
that the absence of any trace of a road inevitably gives
rise to much uncertainty.
And hardly are we on our way when difficulties
begin to spring up. On the west of the Missouri, the

X

Coach Travelling. 35
general level of the prairie rises a little, and attains an
average height of about a thousand feet above the sea-
level. In order to reach this elevation we are obliged
to ascend hills covered with black mud — called gumbo-
in the country — into which the wheels sink almost to
the axles. It is so tenacious that it fills up the inter
vening spaces between the spokes, and has to be con
stantly cleared away with a shovel. Our horses, of
course, can only get on at walking pace, but they draw
the coach with remarkable spirit, and this, too, without
a touch of the whip, for I noticed a fact which has often
struck me since, and this is the admirable tenderness of
the Americans for their teams. I make another remark
flattering to our national amour propre. I was admiring
our leaders for the beauty of their form and their vigour,
which were much superior to the shaft pair, and asked
the " conductor " if they were not of French origin, and
he informed me that they were half-blood Percherons.
The Americans justly appreciate this admirable breed,
and they are beginning to import every spring some
hundreds of these Norman stallions.
We again fall in with a few little troops of Indians :
one of them is on march for a change of encampment ;
the men are on horse-back leading, wrapped in their
red blanket, which covers even a part of their face.
They all have a Winchester slung across the pommel
of their saddle. Behind them come the women, also
mounted ; on each side of their horses are attached
bundles of long poles, their ends trailing on the ground,

36 Colonels and Cow-boys.
bearing the leathern tent folded up and the domestic
utensils. These ponies are thin, but they seem good ;
they are rather less than the Algerian horses, which they
resemble a little.
Further off a warrior has halted on the side of a hill,
and five or six horses are feeding on the buffalo grass
around. The man stretched out, flat on his chest on a
skin, is following us with his eye while smoking a pipe
without moving. His two squaws are squatting beside
him. One quite young, fifteen at most, is holding an
infant totally naked, to whom we give a small coin.
The husband continues impassable : he is a fine young
fellow of about twenty-five, and has quite the look of a
gipsy. About two o'clock we come up to an encampment of
cow-boys : they are employed by the mail-coach com
pany, for they have also a waggon service that conveys
an enormous quantity of goods from Pierre to Dead-
wood in fifteen or sixteen days. Last year this traffic
exceeded 23,000 tons. Their day's work is already
finished, and the oxen are pasturing around. Every
team consists of eight or nine pair. There are always
two, and often three waggons, hooked on one after the
other. By these means the weight is distributed over
many wheels, and in the passage over difficult spots
they may be easily separated. The men united under
a tent are having their dinner. They invite us at once
to share their repast, composed of bacon, haricot beans,
and coffee. We accept it with eagerness, for we are

Coach Travelling. 37
dying of hunger, and, at the rate we are progressing,
no one could form any idea when our turn would come
to dine. I wish to give two dollars to the head man —
boss as he is called — but he positively refuses, and looks
even offended at it. This is one of the good points of
the Far West and of America in general : gratuities
and pourboires are quite unknown here.
At last, about four, we arrived at Willow Creek.
The creek — the generic name of water courses — is, for
the moment, really a river, twenty-five or thirty yards
across, running between two muddy banks which are
rather steep. There is hardly more depth than four or
five feet of water, though the current is still very rapid ;
but the flood must have been tremendous. Beside us
is a coach, unloaded and abandoned. When we reach
the other bank its conductor comes up to us, loudly
lamenting that there were no means whatever of taking
it across last evening. The travellers, however, had
managed to cross on a sort of raft, since carried away.
They are now waiting at the station for a coach to
arrive from Deadwood, and then they will change. We
begin by unloading the boat that has brought us over
the stream, and, after a long discussion, it is decided
that the coach be drawn across where fordable. I can
hardly believe what I hear, for the banks are inclined
at least fifty degrees without any gradual rise on ap
proach, and yet these men consider the operation in
question quite simple.
They send us four horses from the station, which are

38 Colonels and Cow-boys.

put in before ours, then, without a cry, without a lash of
the whip, our postillion leads, with wonderful precision,
his eight horses, guided with long reins, quite regularly
to the bank. With a mere word of encouragement the
noble animals proceed steadily, gliding on all fours, one
after the other, the coach, firmly dragged, descending at
their heels.
The coach and team once launched into water, there
is a moment of intense confusion. The leaders and
second pair, overthrown and carried on by the current,
fall one on the other, with their legs caught in the
traces. The men leap also into the water, and lift
their heads to prevent their drowning, the wheels of the
vehicle meanwhile gradually submerging, and the coach
beginning to disappear. In this dilemma a man comes
forward, and, with the end of a long chain in hand, he
plunges down and fastens it to the pole. The horses
are then attached to the other extremity, and the car
riage, rising again from beneath the stream, climbs in
its turn the other bank.
It was a success, but for all that the horses had run
too great a risk to encourage a repetition of the exploit;
they therefore decided on leaving the second carriage
on the other side, which would serve the travellers
coming from Deadwood. Our baggage was brought
over in a boat and reloaded on a waggon, and we then
made our way a-foot to the station, having only a few
hundred yards to march.
There we found the unfortunate travellers awaiting

Coach Travelling. 39
us, who, having started twenty-four hours before us,
were in great distress for want of conveyance. There
were six or seven, and among them two women. One
of these was immediately recognised by our travelling
companion, Mr Morgan, who hastened to introduce us
to her in due form. She was, it seems, the chief artist
of the lyric troop of Deadwood, Miss Sally Rodgers, and
appeared not to have suffered much from a sleepless
night. The stations, however, are not particularly invit
ing for a sojourn, and to look at them one would not
suppose that they formed an important item in the
capital of the company. All those we have seen are
nothing but long sheds of rough planks, serving as
stables for fifteen or twenty horses, forming the relay.
One of the extremities, separated from the rest by a
partition, serves as a lodging for the postillions, and
travellers too, who have the ill-luck to be detained
there. Just as we are setting out, a rather warm discussion
keeps them well occupied. This having ended, the
two conductors coolly informed us that we have to
follow on foot the waggon conveying our luggage. In
the end we yield, on the promise that they will find
place for us in the first carriage coming from Deadwood.
High words have already been exchanged. At all
events, there being no alternative than to remain at
Willow Creek for some time longer, we start in a
tolerably good humour. The ground at once becomes
a little firmer, and we are again in the open prairie.

40 Colonels and Cow-boys.

We have plenty of companions on our way at present,
for all the travellers by the other coach have joined us.
I ask them to explain to me why trees have not found
their way into soil so rich. Opinions are divided as to
the reason. Some attribute it to the fires the Indians
light there periodically, and remark, in support of their
opinion, that the shores of the creeks are often covered
with a certain vegetation, the trees, willows, or Canada
poplars becoming there protected by the swampy lands
around them ; but the general opinion is that the upper
layer of the soil, the gumbo, is impregnated with alkaline
salts, which hinder all arborescent vegetation. When
they desire to plant trees, they find it necessary to
plough the soil, and give it some months' exposure to
the rain, that it may be well washed ; after this prepara
tion the young trees thrive wonderfully well.
These people are all rich farmers or ranchmen. Their
conversation is interesting, and they discuss with much
animation an event that has recently taken place. It
was a debateable point lately to choose between the
cities that piqued themselves on the honour of becoming
the capital of the State of Dakota. Each county has
nominated its delegates, who have met within the last
few days. Since the first meeting it was admitted that
their choice could hardly fall on any others than Pierre
or Bismarck — the latter a town recently founded on the
North- Western line. The advantage conferred by the
preferences consists in this: the tribunals and the seat of
the government about to become united there, the men

Coach Travelling. 41
of the long tongue, barristers, and politicians of every
class, would flock to the chosen capital immediately,
thereby augmenting the population, and this would pro
duce a corresponding rise in the price of land. A syn
dicate of proprietors was immediately formed in each
town, and it was with the help of good, ringing, solid
dollars that they were enabled to come to a prompt
decision. Proceedings of this kind, unfortunately, are not rare
in Europe ; but those who take an active part in them
hide them at least from the world, and those who talk
about them blame their authors. But here everybody
considers operations of this nature quite regular. The
discussion turns on a question of figures. They are all
agreed in opinion that the people of Pierre, who have
not had the upper hand in these biddings, have only got
what they deserved; they should have offered- more.
As to the delegates, they have only done their business.
We meet with a convoy of five or six carts drawn by
horses, with a score of cows and a few fillies following
at liberty browsing along the way. It is an emigrant
travelling with his family. The mother drives the first
cart, from which we see peeping out the fair heads of
three or four bairns too young to walk : three lads and
two tall lasses, with flaxen hair uncombed, their legs
and feet quite bare, follow the file. The father, a little
aged, with a gun on his shoulder, and his cheek puffed
out with an enormous quid, brings up the rear.
I begin talking with him by praising his teams.

42 Colonels and Cow-boys:

" Yes, indeed ! stranger," said he, " they are really
fine animals. I take care of them, for they have still
500 miles to go to take us into the Yellowstone."
" And where do you come from ? "
" From Arkansas ; and it is two months we have been
on the march."
" But why do you go so far ? Is not the land good
here ? "
" There are some, perhaps, who think it good : that
depends on what you are going in for. For wheat, it is-
too dry:> See how it cracks."
" And are all these children your own ? "
" I guess they are, all of them ; we have already ten.
We reckon on making up two dozen."
" The deuce, you do ! I can only congratulate you.
And your wife ? Is she not afraid to travel like this,
quite alone, in plain Indian country, with all her little
ones ? "
" Oh ! she is well used to that. We have had a farm
for fourteen years in Arkansas, but that State is getting
too populous. The newspapers say there are good
lands in the Yellowstone. We have sold out, and that
is the long and short of it."
I take it into my head to make him talk politics.
The result of their educational system is that they have
all the same instruction — one, moreover, very superfi
cial, for at fourteen they all pass from theory to the
exercise of some trade or profession ; but they all read
an enormous quantity of matter in the newspapers, and

Coach Travelling. 43
they well remember the style and the phrases, there
fore the pettiest farmer never hesitates to discuss the
most complicated questions of political economy.
My man explains to me that he belongs to a party
who finds that the creditors of the State, having already
received, in the form of interest coupons, more than
they have lent, all that they take up now is stolen
money. "Precisely," I replied; "there is among ourselves
a certain Monsieur Proudhon, who has already found
out that."
He has never heard of Proudhon, but he develops at
some length his demonstration. "The country is in
the hands of a party of aristocrats, who oppress the
people, and crush them systematically with taxes, in
order to keep them in misery."
As I had already heard this at Belleville,1 I left my
good man with the hope that he might find in the
Yellowstone less oppressive aristocrats than those of
Arkansas, and I went on to rejoin Monsieur Bouverie,
who was walking in advance.
As it was getting dark, my travelling companion
called my attention to the strange appearance of the
country. One often sees in summer dried-up ponds in
farmyards — the black mud there forming the bottom
is traversed by a lot of little streams, which hollow out
* Belleville is a suburb of Paris, where the disciples of Socialism prin
cipally reside, and Gambetta, who was deputy for this arondissement,
found it no easy matter to pacify these restless spirits.— W. C.

44 Colonels and Cow-boys.
gutters in it, and by these the soil passes away ; at the
end of a few days it cracks and becomes covered with
vegetation. Now, this is precisely the prairie, since the
time when the waters of the great inland sea ran oft*
and left millions of acres dry, which for ages they had
covered with fertile mud, that now furnishes so much
riches. At midnight we at last arrive at Lance Creek, having
come fifteen miles afoot. Everyone apparently was
sound asleep. At length, however, by dint of shouting
and outrageous taunting, we succeeded in rousing an
Irishman, the sole guardian of the station, who deigned
to consent to give us some potatoes, accompanied with
rancid bacon, the only nourishment known in the coun
try. Just as we are preparing to do honour to this
frugal repast, the door opens, and a dozen individuals,
as famished as we are, come to share it. They were
the travellers coming from Deadwood, and they had
been six days on the road. We set out again, each
party on our" way, at one in the morning.

CHAPTER II.
THE CHEYENNE — THE CATTLE RANCHES— PASSING A RIVER—
THE INTERNATIONAL HOTEL— RAPID CITY— JUSTICE IN
AMERICA— AMERICAN MANNERS— THE FIRST BIVOUAC—
M'DONNELL'S RANCH — A FARMER OF DAKOTA — HOMESTEAD,
PRE-EMPTION, AND FREE CLAIMS— THE FOREST SYSTEM —
HILLY-RANCH.
THE second day passed almost as badly as the first.
The two coaches kept company, so that they might be
enabled to lend one another their teams in moments
of difficulty. At frequent intervals we fell in with
creeks just as deep as" the first one. Sometimes the
carriage overturned in the mud, and then it took two or
three hours work to pull it out again. We began to
dread the endless prairie, and, to make things worse,
we were daggers drawn with the conductor, Stuart,
who, absolutely captivated with the charms of Miss
Sally Rodgers, seemed bent on prolonging the journey
as much as possible. We passed the second night on
a heap of half-rotten hay. The third evening, while
they were taking the horses out of the coach at a
station, we wandered away a little in the interval to
have a shot at some wolves that showed themselves on
the horizon, and, on returning, we found the horses of

46 Colonels and Cow-boys.
the relay unharnessed, and every preparation made for
resting the night. Stuart, who was sauntering about
the neighbourhood, told us very coolly that we should
wait till to-morrow to cross the Cheyenne, from which
we were only a dozen miles. On this we lost all
patience, and we made such a row that he at last
decided on putting in the horses, swearing all the time
that he should hold us responsible for anything that^
might happen. As the Cheyenne is very wide and
rapid, it is decidedly rash to attempt the passage by
night. But the other coach having started, and his fine
project having accordingly been frustrated, he could
hardly refuse to set off likewise, though, in reality, he
was quite right. The old French trappers were the
people who named this river the Chienne, which the
Americans have since transformed into Chayenne or
Cheyenne. It is formed of two tributaries, the Belle-
Fourche, or North Fourche, and South Fourche, which,
taking their source near one another in the west of the
Black Hills, run around the base of the mountain mass,
unite on the east on the same parallel, and, keeping an
easterly course, pour their waters into the Missouri,
Collecting on the way all the streams from the moun
tains, it is subject to sudden floods which swell out
the ordinary course by several yards in a few hours.
The fords, therefore, are always dangerous.
We arrive at the shore about midnight. A brilliant
moonlight fortunately lights up the great stream, three

Coach Travelling. 47
or four hundred yards wide, as clear as day. In the
discussion the postillion had sided with- us, and now
does not flinch at the moment of trial. But here he
seems less confident of his task, and goes down to
reconnoitre the ford. Generally the men of the station
on the other bank mark out with signal lights the line
to be taken on crossing, because the banks of sand and
gravel, constituting the ford, are often shifting. But this
evening, in spite of our shouting and shots from our
revolvers, no one appears. At last the postillion dis
covers a place where a pebble bottom seems to indicate
shallow water. The water, in fact, has fallen so much
as to hardly reach out seats, but the current is so strong
that the carriage, taken athwart, is carried with the
stream. Fortunately our brave horses hold on well,
and, in the end, we arrive without accident on the other
side. And here we are at last out of Indian territory. We
hoped that the refreshment rooms would be better
supplied, but in this we are deceived. There is nothing
but the omnipresent bacon on the table, followed, as
usual, by potatoes. It is impossible to obtain even a
bottle of beer. They tell us very gravely that fermented
drinks are prohibited by the company. The Americans
recognise the frailty of human nature in general and of
their own in particular; accordingly, so soon as two
among them find themselves invested with any kind of
authority, their first care is to enact Draconian laws in
order to hinder the poor devils who have the ill-luck to

48 Colonels and Cow-boys.
be thirsty from drinking at their discretion. Thus all
travellers are made to suffer for the misconduct of a
few, instead of putting these into the stocks as our
ancestors would have done. A few years ago the State
of Illinois was just on the point of passing a law, want
ing but eight or ten votes, that was to declare the act
of having taken in public any fermented beverage
whatever, a felony subject to a heavy fine. It was the
Catholics who succeeded in rejecting it, for if it had
passed, a priest would have been liable to a fine of one
hundred dollars every time he celebrated the mass.
The Americans start from the principle that every
man enjoying the liberty to drink gets drunk. It must
perhaps be granted that it is true among them. In
New York they even go a little further in quite another
order of ideas. If you ask for a private room in a
restaurant, the waiter will tell you with a frown that it
is forbidden to give one to fewer than five persons.
Can these Americans be so dissolute, and feel their
sense of propriety so feeble, that they are driven to
take such precautions! And yet, how they moralise
when they come to Europe. At Paris it often happened
for me to dine at a restaurant, in a cabinet particulier,
with Americans of both sexes, and I am happy to say
.that my sense of decorum never had cause to feel
embarrassed. June the 2jth. — About one in the morning we quit the
inhospitable banks of the Cheyenne. In order to reach

WE DECIDE ON ABANDONING THE VEHICLE AT RAPID CITY.'

Page 49.

Coach Travelling. 49
Deadwood we have still a hundred miles to travel.
During the last four days we 'have been on the road we
have accomplished only one hundred arid four. The
prospect of remaining perhaps three more days cooped
up in this abominable vehicle, or of being forced to
follow it afoot, seems to us so distasteful, that we decide
on abandoning it at Rapid City, the first city of the
Black Hills, from which we are only forty-five miles
distant, and where we can communicate by telephone
with Mr Gifford F. Parker, the person we are come to see.
Besides, since our animadversions last evening, our
intercourse with the conductor has become so acrimon
ious, that if we would avoid entering into the country
with an open quarrel, which, considering the habits of
the people here, might be rather serious, we should da
well to mind what we are about.
We interchange our reflections on this matter in the
thick of a very dark night. The jolts are so sensible
that every moment we are putting the solidity of the
carriage roof to the test at the expense of our heads.
Then to add to our discomfort, we are assailed by a
swarm of mosquitoes, consequently, on reading again
our notes, I find this written portion of our journey
bristling with sharp strokes and constellated with dots,
placing thereby our mental irritation on record.
At Shoon's, where we arrive at day-break, they in
form us that there is nothing to eat, but console us
by intimating that a little later they should find a ranch
where we can breakfast. The country is a little more
D

50 Colonels and Cow-boys.

attractive, a few poplars lifting their heads now along
the creeks. At the end of another hour of a fresh series
of jolts, they pull up in the middle of a bare plain. At
the door of a hovel, standing isolate thereon, an elderly
man appears, smoking his pipe ; we then enter into a
room poorly indeed furnished, though clean, where a
woman is boiling potatoes and frying bacon, the sicken
ing odour of which has been pursuing us for the last
three days. While we are eating, turning our morsels
with a recoiling tongue, I ask Mr Morgan if he knows
who these people are, whose distinguished air, in spite
of their evident wretchedness, puzzles and interests me
singularly. He tells me that the husband is an old
major in the Household Guards of Her Majesty Queen
Victoria, who, at the end of a course of numerous adven
tures, is come to hide his head in this hole with his wife
and daughter — a young lady who, perhaps, has assisted
at the splendour of Her Majesty's drawing-rooms. He
lives by trafficking in furs with the Indians. I have,
in my wandering life, already fallen in with a large
number of these men, waifs and strays of society, who,
after having fallen always lower and lower, though not
often from their own fault, close in obscurity and misery,
in a foreign land, an existence brilliantly commenced.
None of these has inspired me with more compassion
than the poor hermit of Shoon's Ranch.
A fresh passenger comes to join us just as we are start
ing. It is a man of about fifty, with a countenance
lighted up with energy and two honest blue eyes, that

Coach Travelling. 51
look at us straight in the face, and which prepossess us
in his favour at once. He wears the costume of rich
ranchmen, set off with a pair of revolvers and a silver-
mounted bowie-knife. He comes up to us mounted on
a rather fine horse, which half disappears under an enor
mous Mexican saddle. On setting his foot on the
ground, he fastens the bridle to the pommel, and giving
the animal a touch with his whip, it gallops off at once
to rejoin the troop to which it belongs.
Our new acquaintance, whom they call Colonel
W  , is evidently a man of importance, to judge
from the manner in which he is received. Morgan in
forms us that he has gained in different speculations a
large fortune, and that he is the proprietor of more than
ten thousand bullocks. He passes his life in riding from
herd to herd, overlooking his cow-boys.
The heat is now becoming quite suffocating — one of
our horses, consequently, can hardly draw himself along ;
he has been touched, I suspect, with sunstroke. The
postillion jumps down from his seat and sticks his
bowie-knife nearly an inch deep into the animal's
palate. I was quite ignorant of this method of bleed
ing, but it seems to me quite efficacious. After dis
charging a moderate quantity of blood, mingled with
foam, the animal is so far relieved that it is able to re
commence its course. Naturally, we can only move
forward at walking pace, and we are soon invited even
to get down and walk. We avail ourselves of the op
portunity of having a shot at some of those birds that

52 Colonels and Cow-boys.

the Americans call woodcocks, and which are served up
under this name in the restaurants of New York. But,
in fact, they have neither the woodcock beak — theirs
being curved — nor, certainly not, the flavour, for it is
a very poor sort of game. The unlucky birds run in
couples along the side of the road and await their fate
with indifference.
After having peppered away with the prospect of
something better than bacon for dinner, I begin talking
with, the Colonel, who, by-the-bye, from the first has
called me Captain, a rank not at all calculated to give
me a high opinion of my appearance. He speaks
about that production of cattle which, for the last few
years, is taking such a development, that it at once
raises grave questions of political economy ; for if it is
such an incalculable source of profit for America, it con
stitutes henceforth for us as great a loss, and threatens
the sole remaining branch of our agricultural industry,
that has so far kept its ground.
Since the end of the American war, the vast prairies
of Texas have become the pasture lands of immense
numbers of horned cattle ; but it is only since the open
ing of the Union-Pacific that they have thought of turn
ing the plains, to which it gives access, into a breeding-
ground for cattle, and which, until then, had only fed
herds of buffaloes and troops of wild horses.*
* A few figures will give an idea of the importance and rapidity of the
movement produced : —
In 1868 there were not, on the lands conceded to the Union-Pacific

Ranches. 53

When two or three partners, having at their command
about 20,000 dollars, desire to embark in a speculation
of this kind, one of them goes into Texas to buy there
a thousand two-year-old animals, taking care to have a
bull to every fifty cows. The price is generally 16 dol
lars a head — the seller undertaking to conduct the herds
by stages into the North.*
During this time the other partners go in search of a
vacant ranch.-f- The plain should be covered with an
abundance of grass of good quality. It is very im
portant that a considerable portion contain buffalo-
grass, which has the property of drying standing, with
out rotting, and constitutes for winter an excellent
forage, which the animals eat through the snow. The
ranch should also be indented with some little valleys,
to afford a refuge from the inclemency of snowstorms.
Company, 20,000 head of cattle. In 1883 the official returns reported
the presence of 700,000 bullocks, 30,000 horses, and 45,000 sheep.
In 1876 the whole space comprised between the two forks of the
Cheyenne and the Black Hills was entirely inhabited by the Indians,
whose only domestic animals were a few horses.
In 1878 there were 100,000 bullocks in the mountains, and especially
in the prairies at their base.
In 1882 there were 500,000.
In the spring of 1883 this figure was carried to 800,000,
I speak only of Dakota. In Nebraska, and the States or territories
around,— Colorado, Montana, and Wyoming,— the proportion is, perhaps,
still more considerable.
* These figures would now be no longer exact. It would be necessary
to reckon on 25 dollars a head. (July 1884.)
t The word "ranch" is of Mexican origin, and generally signifies the
plain whereon the cattle pasture, but it is applied also to the little dwel
ling built thereon.

54 Colonels and Cow-boys.

It is for this reason that the ranches situated at the
base of mountains are so much appreciated. . Finally, ^
as a matter of course, water is needed, and in abund
ance. With regard to the extent, it is calculated that 20,000
acres of average prairie are required to feed loop ;
animals. This is about eight times as much as would
be necessary in France, with good grass ; but it must
not be overlooked that in this country, where the work
of man has done nothing for the shortcomings of
Nature, there are many spots where grass does not
grow. In fact, I have often seen some portions of
prairie equal to the best lands of Normandy.
When the ranch is once chosen, it may be acquired
on making the demand to the government, which claims
payment for it at the rate of 1 dollar 25 cents per acre.
It is asserted, even, that a few gratuities, judiciously
distributed, procure a great reduction in price ; but
hardly anyone resorts to this medium, because it is
found to be too costly.
It often happens that the run of the springs and
water-courses admits of another plan of procedure,
which consists in simply becoming the owner of a strip
of land on each side of the rivulets in such a way as to
become owner also of all the approaches thereto. One
is thus proprietor, in fact, of the whole plain, because if
herds were brought there by any other breeder, they
could not be maintained without water.
But the Americans, who are, in general, very practical

Ranches. 55

and much opposed to round-about ways,. find this means
still very complicated. The most common practice
hitherto is to occupy the land by right of first occu
pant, advertising in the newspapers, which are full of
these announcements, that such a party has established
itself at such a place, and has taken such a brand for
his cattle. Naturally, also, rights so elementary occa
sion many disputes, and the difficulties are settled by
the revolver — the ultima ratio of the interested, and
sometimes this assumes the proportion of a little war.
Lately, two ranchmen in Montana quarrelled about a
stream : their cow-boys entered the lists, and took
sides for their respective patrons. There were cavalry
charges, six or seven men thrown on the ground killed
or wounded, and the vanquished thereupon disappeared
with their herds. Excepting the revolvers, not then
invented, matters passed much in the same way in the
time, of Abraham, proving once more that there is
nothing new under the sun.
When the herd is once established on the ranch, there
is nothing to do but to let it increase and multiply,
and this they hasten to arrive at with the most laudable
zeal: for all that, they must be kept. It is here, in
this pursuit, where the favourite hero of the modern
romancers of America appears — the inevitable cow-boy.
A disciple of M. Le Play, should he wander in the
Far West, will one day, perhaps, be tempted to give a
monograph of the cow-boy. It would, doubtlessly, be
interesting to the world, though presenting to him some

56 Colonels and Cow-boys.
difficulties, because the cow-boy, for reasons best known
to him, moves generally in the world under a -purely
fanciful name. Many are natives of Tqxas, and a few
others come from Europe. I have heard of one who
was even a clerical member of the Anglican Church!
In general, their origin is rather mysterious, and they
by no means like questions on the subject.
If these ill-starred mortals, however, have any pecca
dilloes on their conscience, they are always well ex
piated by the kind of life they lead. It is calculated
that five of them are required for a herd of iooo to
1500 head. Each of them is furnished with six horses
for their use. Constantly in the saddle from morning
till night or from night till morning, they have only
three nights out of five they can call their own, for two
of them watch all night ; and often, when the proximity
of another herd or a storm renders the animals restless,
all are obliged to be on the alert. They seldom come
together except in the morning, and. then near a
waggon that brings their provisions. Every day they
move from place to place to economise the pasturage,
constantly riding around the flanks of their herd, bring
ing up with a stinging lash of their stock-whip any
straying beast, and stopping only in their rounds to
change horses ; no sooner are they re-mounted than they
are off again in a constant gallop. When one thinks
well of the life these men lead, and this too for a petty
pay of forty dollars a month, he cannot much wonder
at the orgies with which they celebrate their pay-days.

Ranches. 5 7

Every year, generally about autumn, they bring the
whole herd together in a narrow valley. The calves of
the year are then marked with a red-hot iron with the
brand of the owner : then they put aside any bullocks
^bearing a strange brand, and all those that have be
come three-year-olds in the spring. The former are
conducted to a central dep6t, fixed by the syndicate,
where every ranchman comes to claim his own cattle ;
the latter are driven to the nearest railway station, and
then conveyed to the great markets of the East, Saint
Louis and Chicago.
Hitherto the profits have been enormous, though
during the first three years nothing is returned, for
they sell only beasts that are becoming four-year-olds.
But when this term of three years is once passed, the
return for the capital is about 40 per cent, from the
beginning, and the capital goes on always augmenting,
because the herd doubles in number nearly every three
years. The losses arising from cold or accidents do not
rise to the rate of 8 per cent. In short, a bullock of
four years, which weighs living from 11 00 to 1600
pounds, has cost no more than five dollars, and sells for
fifty on the average.
But these brilliant results will not be slow in shrink
ing to more modest proportions, in consequence of the
occupation of the ranches which are becoming scarce in
some districts, and these must be paid for in earnest, if
the ranchmen are bent on having them. Certain large
companies are already entering on this road. They are

58 Colonels and Cow-boys.

especially English who go into these speculations.
Many landlords of England have lately become owners
of immense domains, which they let out in due course to
ranchmen. They speak particularly of the Duke of
W  , who bought at a single bid six hundred
thousand acres.
All this flesh-food serves for the consumption of the
East, but it is employed chiefly in the preparation of
those canned meats that now flood the whole world.
During the last few years, the exportation of live bul
locks and beef to England and France has been carried
on on a very large scale. On taking into account the
losses, it is estimated that on selling the meat at sixty
centimes or sixpence per pound very large profits are
made.* The Governments, however, that feel the
danger, especially in England, have thrown so many
impediments in the way of this trade, that it is not quite
so active at present; but it is certain that it will be
resumed before long, and in such proportions that it will
be expedient to take a decisive course, which will either
encourage or impede it. Perhaps, however, it will be
advisable for France to take a middle course, to consist
in permitting the introduction only of lean beasts that
would be fattened subsequently at home. The graziers
buying their beasts at a much lower price, might then
well be content with a proportionately lower price for
meat without thereby incurring any loss.
* In 1883, the Port of Glasgow alone received 49,000 carcasses of
American bullocks, brought over in ice, the whole of which was consumed
in the neighbourhood.

Ranches. 59

Thanks to our incredible ignorance of what is going
on in foreign countries, these questions, serious as they
are, seem to occupy the attention of no one among us.
We have no adequate idea of the figures that represent
the extent of the business on this side of the Atlantic.
A single butcher of Chicago, Mr Armour, whose
establishment we visited last June, had already killed
and prepared since the beginning of the year 450,000
pigs, and they kill there also 300 bullocks a day.
In the early days of the enterprise, cattle stealing was
common enough, but owing to precautions taken, it is
now almost unknown. Every thief caught in the act is
immediately hanged without any form of trial. The
syndicates, moreover, keep agents at all the principal
stations, who, advised by telegraph of the consignments,
verify on passage every mark, and immediately seize
any animal bearing a suspicious brand. The expenses
of prosecution are covered by an annual subscription of
10 dollars per 10,000 dollars of capital. Finally, the
ranchmen take a last protection — one very effective,
though accompanied with disagreeable consequences for
the public. They refuse absolutely to supply the local
butchers, for fear that the regular sale of one of their
beasts would afford facilities for the theft of many
others ; for if their brand were once in the open market,
it would be very difficult to recognise which were stolen
and which sold, and, consequently, to detect the thief.
And this it is that explains why butcher's meat is so
scarce in the country, and why they live on bacon and

60 Colonels and Cow-boys.
canned meats ; and again how policies, affecting a whole
community, may bring about changes in the habits of a
people. Monsieur Bouverie having, in his turn, got tired of
the sport of bagging pseudo-woodcocks, came up to join
me, and since in such heat trudging along under a fierce
sun is neither invigorating nor pleasant, we lag behind
our companions and then slyly slip into the carriage,
with the innocent design of indulging there in a gentle
nap. But, unluckily, Conductor Stuart, having spied us
out, takes it into his head to remonstrate insidiously,
by beginning to complain of the fatigue of his horses.
This gives rise to a fresh scene, in which we insist so
vigorously on our rights, that he goes off grumbling to
rejoin the Colonel, who heroically continues his way a-
foot. But all our attempts to sleep are in vain, and this we
quickly find out, for no sooner do we begin to nod than
a tremendous jolt sends us up in the air, and we come
down on the floor of the carriage. With our poor heads
leaning against the canvas covering, we gaze bewilder-
ingly on the endless green plain and dusty track.
" Just look there," exclaims Monsieur Bouverie all at
once. " See how the Colonel and Stuart are laughing
together, as they eye us so mischievously. One would
say that they are putting their heads together to play
us some trick."
At this moment the carriage stops abruptly, and we
find ourselves on the banks of a rather broad creek.

Crossing a Creek. 6 1
" Now then, Captain ! " the Colonel cries out to me,
" you must get out. Come down here to us ; we have a
boat, and I will get you across."
We are so thoroughly uncomfortable in the carriage,
and being glad of a pretext to quit it without seeming
to yield, we hasten to get out of it. Stuart and the
Colonel lead us on a few hundred yards, and show us a
canoe hidden in the rushes. It is the trunk of a pine
hollowed out, about two yards long.
" Is it in that we are going across ? " I ask.
" Certainly," replied the Colonel ; " and it is I who
am going to pilot you over."
" Much obliged ; give me the paddle and I will go
alone. I have no wish to be with another in that
galore.'' " Nonsense ! " cried the Colonel, laughing, " you will
see." I am fool enough to yield, and I take my seat aft, the
Colonel kneeling down in the fore part : in eight or ten
strokes with the paddle we are on the other side. On
landing, he jumps up briskly arid springs ashore, giving
the canoe such an impetus that it capsizes. Happily I
suspected a trick, for I had seen him give Stuart a wink,
with a triumphant smile. With one hand I seize the
branch of a willow, and with the other his leg, sending
him rolling into the middle of the stream. With this
coup degr&ce, I leap ashore scarcely splashed.
I almost danced in triumph. On the opposite bank I
saw Monsieur Bouverie shaking his sides with out-

62 Colonels and Cow-boys.
rageous laughter, and the temptation, little generous as
it was, to chaff my vanquished antagonist was irresistible.
" Now then, Colonel," I said, sitting calmly on the
bank, " you see what it is to indulge in little jokes of
this sort on people. Take a good, hearty draught of
that cool water, Colonel ; it will do you a world of good."
But he swallowed too much of it, I fear, the unhappy
man ; for, encumbered with his boots, and his spurs,
and his pistols, he was turned over two or three times
by the current, and seemed to be buffeted about so
badly that I had already thrown off my coat and pre
pared myself to leap into the water ; but at this moment
he was enabled to seize a jutting branch of a tree, and
to swing himself on land. He ran directly up to me,
holding out his hand.
" By Jove ! 'tis well done, Major," he cried, shaking
my hand so heartily that it was nearly disjointed.
" You are a good 'un ! I have only got just what I de
served. We will have a milk-punch together when we
get to Rapid City."
" Do you hear him now ? " called out Monsieur
Bouverie from the other side. "He calls you Major,
at present : your exploit has raised you in his estima
tion." "Don't trust yourself with Stuart, he is going to
throw you into the water also."
" Pooh-pooh ! Let him try, and we'll see who will
have the last laugh."
Just as we expected ; he was hardly in the middle of

Crossing a Creek. 63
the stream when Stuart capsized the canoe, and then
threw himself into the water to swim ashore; but at
this moment, Monsieur Bouverie, putting both hands on
his shoulders from behind, gave him so vigorous a push
that it sent him to the bottom. At ten yards lower
down his face, red and convulsed, reappeared above
water, but the unsparing Monsieur Bouverie, who was
waiting for him, recommenced the operation without
giving him time to collect himself. Having been satis
fied, my friend gave a few bold strokes and joined me,
leaving our conductor to have a chase after his immense
hat, already carried some distance down the stream.
The Colonel was wringing his clothes while Stuart
rejoined us in a very bad humour.
" We must be off," he said, shaking himself like a
Newfoundland dog. " We are late."
" Whether we are late or not, it is all the same to
me. But this I know, we don't stir an inch till I have
changed everything from head to foot. Tell them then
to open my portmanteau."
It was a rare sight. It is related of Goethe that he
made one of his friends one day walk about in a
meadow quite naked that he might realize more fully
in his imagination the aspect of the terrestrial paradise.
Stuart, the driver, the Colonel, and I were just in the
same picturesque condition on the prairie. But it was
one not at all to the taste of Stuart, who swore like a
trooper, declaring he would start and leave Monsieur
Bouverie behind to his fate.

64 Colonels and Cow-boys.

"Oh! oh!" exclaimed my friend when I told him
what was said. " We will see to that. Tell him if he
stirs an inch I will send a bullet through the first horse
that moves."
He looked so droll, brandishing his revolver, with as
little costume as Ajax, the son of Telamon, that the
Colonel and I laughed till tears started in our eyes.
The Colonel now sided entirely with us. In about half-
an-hour, Monsieur Bouverie, decked out daintily in
white linen, with his moustaches curled like a masher's,
declared himself ready to start, and the mail-coach re
sumed its way.
We soon catch a glimpse of a range of mountains
covered with pine, with others faintly rising behind,
depicting their outlines on the pale greyish blue of the
horizon. Altogether it is precisely like an island we
sight in the middle of the ocean, and this is the first
view we get of the Black Hills. About seven o'clock,
after having crossed a pretty river, which is Rapid
Creek, we make our entry into Rapid City, and the
carriage at last stops at the door of the International
Hotel. The first aspect is characteristic. The dinner, appa
rently, is just over. All the frequenters, great strapping
fellows, with long uncombed beards, are sitting in little
groups of six or seven around the pillars that support
the upper floor, smoking and chewing tobacco with the
gravity of an ecclesiastical council in moments of tran
quillity. All their feet are elevated in the air, resting

Hospitality. 65

against the wooden pillars at an altitude that leads the
spectator to apprehend a serious fall head over heels.
These people are by no means talkative. Now and then,
however, escapes from a nose — for here they speak
only through this organ — some phrase invariably be-
ginning with, / guess, and others reply, You bet, in a
¦confident tone, and this is followed by a silence. All
these nature's noblemen, as they call themselves, smile
a little at the sight of the Colonel, who is evidently
" one of our prominent citizens," and give him a warm
greeting. Feeling we are rather in the way among these inti
mate acquaintances, we begin by informing Stuart of
our decision, and invite him to unload our luggage,
and then we go to look for the hotel proprietor. He
is a tall Irishman called M'Carthy, and, verily, one of
the best fellows to be found anywhere. He scans me
from head to foot for a moment without a word, then
all at once he asks :
" Colonel, aren't you the French baron Parker is
expecting?" " How quickly one is promoted in this country ! "
whispered Monsieur Bouverie. " Here you are colonel
already." " Is Parker here ? "
" No ; but he was here this morning, and will return
this evening. Colonel, you are welcome ; come and
take something."
These so far are our beginnings of the life in the Far
E

66 Colonels and Cow-boys.

West. I am writing my notes in a room, tolerably
clean, beside a bed, rather inviting, and whereon I am
going to repose with delight from the jolts of that
execrable mail-coach. I rise in due course, refreshed
for the dinner of which I cannot say much in praise.
The milk punch, however, offered to us by our worthy
host was delicious.
June the 28th. — This morning I was awakened by two
knocks at my door, and presently entered a fine young
fellow in a blue shirt and high boots up to his knees,
whom I did not directly recognise. It was that good
fellow Parker, of whom I shall have much to say.
I introduced him immediately to Monsieur Bouverie,
to whom he could not make himself well understood,
for, four or five years sojourn at Saigon, and another
as long at Paris, have still left him his rather fantastic
French; though this does not prevent them from be^
coming excellent friends.
After I had finished dressing, we went into business
matters. Parker finds himself at the head of two
groups of properties ; one, the Little Rapid Creek, thus
named from a tributary of the river that we crossed
last evening, is an undertaking of mines and forests;
the other, quite to the south of the Black Hills, is of a
more miscellaneous character. It involves cattle that
are increasing, a city that is rising, and a railway that
is extending ; and we will say something of these when
we get there.

Preparations. 67

In the interval we draw up our plans. In the first
place, it will be necessary to buy horses, and then we
shall go to Deadwood, the centre of all business of the
country. We shall remain there long enough to visit
the principal works and manufactories ; then traversing
the country in its whole length from north to south,
we shall go and stay awhile, first at Little Rapid
Creek and next at Cascade, to reach again, through
the desert of Alcali, the line of the Union Pacific
Railway, this time at the town of Sydney. Parker
entreats us not to take with us either guide or servant,
because it is the law of the country that the first comer
who discovers a mineral lode in any property what
ever, becomes the proprietor on a simple claim to it.
One is therefore very cautious in taking a stranger in
his journey through the country.
Having now settled our plans, we begin putting
them into execution, and under Parker's guidance we
beat up the town to provide ourselves with horses.
In about five minutes some are brought to us from
all quarters. Nearly all of them are ponies which,
they say, come from Oregon; they are nice little
animals, about 13I hands high, admirably built;
and among them it is only rather difficult to choose.
Out of twenty-five or thirty shown to us, not one is
unsound. In France they are quite right in saying
that it is the hard roads that ruin the horses' legs.
Here, God knows what the cow-boys make theirs go
through, and yet I have never seen a windgall nor a

68 Colonels and Cow-boys.
vessicon. They assert also, though it seems to me an
exaggeration, that there is not a broken-winded horse
in the country, and that all those having arrived here
in this state have been cured. Many are restive :
at a moment, when the least expected, they will
put their head between their fore-legs, bring their
feet together, raise their back into a hump, which
no girth is strong enough to resist, and then leap
on all fours till the cavalier comes to the ground,
which he infallibly does in due course. This amiable
trick of buck-jumping, as it is called, is also practised
by the Australian horses, but I have not seen it
elsewhere. Monsieur Bouverie has, at first sight, taken a fancy
to a little dun-coloured mare, which in fact is one of
the prettiest little things to be seen anywhere, in spite
of the frightful tatooing that disfigures her, for here
they brand horses as well as cattle with the red hot
iron. We pay fifty dollars for her to the seller, an old
farmer, who says good-bye to his pet so touchingly,
that I begin to suspect its genuineness, remembering
similar demonstrations of the Norman horse-dealers
when they part with an animal which they had never
hoped to get rid of.
As I do not find among them one sufficiently high
to carry easily the 85 kilogrammes of bone and flesh
constituting my portly personage, without reckoning
* " Buck jumpers " are not so very rare in England, and are probably
well known to most of our principal horse dealers. — W. C.

Preparations. 69

the supplementary kilogrammes represented by my
saddle, my courier's bag, and my gun, I decide on going
in the afternoon to see a troop of horses which they
tell me is in the neighbourhood. We return to our
hotel, loitering on the way.
The town of Rapid City, which counts 400 inhabi
tants, is beginning to enter into its second period, that
is to say, there are already two houses of brick. The
others are mere wooden sheds, the oldest, the log-
houses, being trunks of pine unplaned and put to
gether, and the more recent dwellings of plank.
Among the latter are a few belonging to occupiers,
who pique themselves on their taste for architecture.
They have on the frontage a false story, that is
merely a simple facade, in which are pierced mock
windows. What would Mr Ruskin say about this?
It appears that this adds a great deal to the im
portance of the proprietor.* There is always a wooden
footway along the street.
The hotel is crowded. Besides those in the Far
* This simple fact singularly reveals the character of the inhabitants.
It shows that they estimate the value of things by what other people
think of them, and not by their intrinsic worth. On the other hand,
from an aesthetic point of view they are now probably too familiar with
the deceptive imitation for it to produce disgust, just as we tolerate wall
papers and grained doors, we are most accustomed to, that look wonder
fully like oak and marble. It seems that close imitations of real things
can only become beautiful when we are perfectly habituated to them.
This perhaps may explain the hostile criticism at first provoked by the
tinted Venus. Imitations intentionally deceptive, however, must lose all
their effect on being detected. The moral element would be wanting.
" Rien de beau que le vrai." — W. C.

70 Colonels and Cow-boys.
West who do no cooking at home — and these are the
immense majority, coming here to dine — there are
others, it seems, brought here by the Courts, now
being held. We dine with the presiding judge, and a
score of lawyers who follow him. In France, it
would appear to us somewhat extraordinary to see a
president d'assises dining at a table d'hdte with the
bar and the judges. But here, these free and easy
habits shock no one. All these people address one
another with the title of " Colonel " with the most
perfect ease and affability.
After dinner we take a carriage, which conducts a
Mr H  , one of the " prominent citizens " of the
city, who most courteously offers to pilot us in our
search of, horses. We traverse one or two charming
little valleys, where we admire the beautiful rivulets
and pines, arid then a very rudimentary sort of brewery;
but wherever we look for horses, not one is to be
seen. At last we learn that the troop has been led away
to the North. This information is given us by a cow
boy we meet on our way, a very characteristic speci
men. His costume consists of a grey felt hat, holed
through and turned up a la Don Cesar de Bazan, with a
golden end well tarnished and rubbed, a red shirt and
an Indian buff-leather breeches with long fringe hang
ing from the seams. These breeches have the pecu
liarity of being destitute of a seat, and held on to the
girdle merely by the front piece and a kind of scarf

Preparations. '7 1

that passes between the legs. The Indians ride like
this on bare skin, probably not very tender, but I must
not forget to mention that this individual had on a
pair of drawers, though this too is likely enough spared
the friction on the ranch.
While he is talking with us I examine the horse. It
is a fine grey animal about \\\ or 1 5 hands high, with
splendid limbs, and looks as if it could carry with
perfect ease the weight of an enormous Mexican
saddle, a lasso of plaited thong, and of the rider
decked out with his revolvers and cartridges. He has
already done seventy-five miles a-day without appear
ing the least fatigued. Unfortunately, the owner
positively refuses to part with him.
We return to dine at the hotel ; then, in spite of
Parker's remonstrances, who maintains that it is not
prudent, we go into the saloon of the hotel. The bar
keeper, in his shirt sleeves, stands behind the counter.
A great trough filled with ice is at hand, and with the
help of this he makes all the drinks, bearing extra
vagant names, that the customers come up and ask
for — gum. ticklers, corpse-revivers, and so forth. But the
majority of these tipplers ask only for whisky, which
they swallow glass after glass, standing at the bar,
without winking or uttering a word. All these gentry
have a gallows look, but for all that they are quite
polite. Many draw near us : some of these, Canadians,
speak of the " vieux pays ; " others want to sell us
some mines, — for every one of these has a sample of

72 Colonels and Cow-boys.

some mineral in his pocket. The old man who has
sold us the dun mare treats us as old acquaintances.
He tells me he has come here on a law suit: a pig
worth two or three dollars had got into his fields, and
wounded itself there, by accident, he affirms. The
owner commenced legal proceedings against him, and
these have been going on for three months. At last
he has found a lawyer who undertakes to conduct his
case for fifty dollars, and it is in order to pay him that
he has sold me his mare. Another, who has apparently
taken a drop too much, tells us that he is an English
man. He deeply regrets the good ale and gin of Old
England, but he has emigrated because he was obliged
to bow down so much to the nobles ! In the interval
he has turned his hand to every trade, and has gained
just enough to live ; but at last he is going to make his
fortune, for he has found a mine. Then, having groped
in his pockets, he pulls forth the specimens of his
treasure. These people, in short, manifest no unfriendliness
towards us, and those who speak to us are polite and
even cordial. We do not see many revolvers, yet for
all that assassinations are frequent ; but I believe they
are almost all the result of pot-house brawls between
armed men. The judge tells us that Rapid City is
kept in admirable order. The police regulations are
so severe that the simple act of firing in the town any
firearm whatever is punishable with a fine of ten dollars.
But when I ask him whose duty it is to arrest the cul-

Preparations. y$

prit, he admits that the only personage duly authorised
for this purpose is the Sheriff, who lives at about sixty
miles hence — that is, at Deadwood. Thereupon, I am
edified. June 2gth, Friday. — I have often heard related of a
shipowner, a free-thinker, who, determined to protest
against the superstition about Friday, had a ship laid
down on the stocks on a Friday, waited for a Friday
to launch her, named her "The Friday," had a crew
of thirteen ; sailed on a Friday for her first voyage and
never returned ; and this greatly troubled the ship
owner in the first place as owner, unless he had over-
assured her, but at all events as a free-thinker.
I think of this well-authenticated story in recognising
that it was on a Friday that we definitely quitted our
well-beaten path, and that, so far, we have not marched
from one success to another.
Last night, poker — the favourite game of the
Americans — probably was not favourable to the
cow-boy we met yesterday, for this morning at day
break he came to Parker to offer him his grey horse
for seventy-five dollars, which he at once accepted for
me. I am going to see my new acquisition at the
livery stable, where it is standing. It is probably the
first time this hardy animal has ever entered a stable.
He stands perfectly still at the end of his tether, but in
a state of consternation that is quite amusing. They
give him some oats. This also is quite unknown to

74 Colonels and Cow-boys.
him ; but after a while, making up his mind to taste it,
he seerris to take to it like a Highland crofter.
Then we go from store to store to make our last
acquisitions. Fortunately, we have brought our saddles
from France, but then we want spurs. We look at
these — wonderful works of art that come from Mexico,
and ornamented with rowels quite an inch in diameter.
Our friends, the Canadians, continue loading us with
civilities, and they come from all quarters to wish us
good-bye. One of them went to his farm last evening
to fetch his younger brother in order to present him
to me.
Every moment the French words taken in an English
sense mingle with his Norman patois : one would fancy
he was an English actor playing the role of a peasant
of Moliere.
"When my mother heard he had come from some
French noblemen of the old country, she pressed us
very much to tell you to come to our house."
" Thank you very much' : if we can do so, we will
not fail. Where do you live ? Is it faf from here ?"
" Oh ! no. I have taken a farm on the creek not far
off. It is excellent land."
" And everything goes on well ? Are you married ? "
" Married ! Ah ! ah ! Ben sur non that I am not
married. With whom do you think one can get married
in this country. In the first place, it is much shorter
to get unmarried than to get married. When I want
to get married I shall go to look for a wife in our

Preparations. 75

parish near Montreal, and then I shall bring her into
the States. Here there are no Catholics but the Irish,
and I do not much like the Irish."
On re-entering our hotel, I ask M'Carthy to show me
a place where I can write a few letters while waiting
for the luncheon. He leads me very obligingly into
a sort of drawing-room, on the door of which is written,
Ladies' Room. Then follows a fresh adventure. In
another minute I become conscious that someone is
reading over my shoulder. I turn round briskly and
see a tall fair girl, one of the two or three ladies who
sometimes condescend to wait at table.
" Well ! My dear, does it amuse you what I am
•writing here ?"
" But I can't read very well," she replies, with an air
of vexation. " You write so small ! "
" Ah ! Had I known it, I should certainly not have
neglected to write larger. But perhaps you do not
know French ? "
"No, I don't know French. Is it French you are
writing there ? "
"Yes."
" Ah ! but I know only Swedish and English." And
then she disappears with the conviction probably that
I am rather disobliging in making use of a language
she does not understand.
At luncheon we find one of our Canadian friends.
He is a painter and grainer, and is so proud of his work,
an imitation of mahogany on the panels of the doors of

76 Colonels and Cow-boys.
the Court-house, that he cannot rest till we have in
spected his work of art. We therefore hurry over a
poor meal to gratify him.
In America the first outlay incurred in a rising town
is for a school and a court-house, and the first forms
the lawyers and politicians that encumber the second.
The " Rapid Citizens " have not yet a school, but they
have a court-house that cost 15,000 dollars, not yet
paid for, and, quite possibly, never will be in the
opinion of our friend the painter, who is waiting for
six or seven hundred for his work. It is a great build
ing in brick, with a French roof or mansard-roof — the
perfection of architectural art in the estimation of the
Far West. We arrive here just as the Court is sitting.
The judge, our acquaintance of yesterday, is seated in
a rocking-chair behind a green table. On his right are
the men of the jury in their shirt sleeves, because it
happens to be rather warm. On the left a lawyer is
standing up pleading his cause, hemming and hawing
over it most painfully. The judge, the jury, and the
bar have each a large jug of iced water at hand, and
they quench their thirst with large draughts every five
minutes. I ask to be enlightened on the case. It is a scene
of national manners and customs, and one rather curious.
In a tavern quarrel one man has beaten another almost
into a pulp. The next day, the aggressor, becoming a
little sober, gets himself prosecuted by an obliging friend
before a local judge. The friend complains of having

A WARNING TO HORSE STEALERS.

The Court-House. 77
been hustled a little ; the judge condemns the delinquent
in a fine of two dollars, and each party goes his way.
Two days afterwards, the actual victim of the assault
comes before another judge and states his case. The
defendant, duly summoned, arrives, admits candidly
the facts, but produces an office copy of the judgment
that has already condemned him, and goes his way, con
fident of his sound demur, for no one can be tried twice
for the same offence — non bis in idem- This is all the
Latin they learn in America, but they know well how to
apply it.
It appears, however, that this Norman of Dakota has
not the merit of having originated this artful manoeuvre.
The same proceeding had been resorted to lately, with
complete success, in New York. It was even in this
case more piquant, inasmuch as the pot-valiant aggressor
was himself a judge. In the great metropolis of the
East, the complainant did not press his case and did
well. The Dakotian, a pig-headed passionate fellow,
was determined to appeal, but he will certainly have to
pay the costs.
All this seems very natural to the Americans. In
the old States, the judges are nominated on their election
for a period varying from two years to life. They have
a very low salary, and, besides, they are obliged to re
linquish, at least ostensibly, the practice of their pro
fession during their term t of office. Then again, their
election always costs them dear, and they undertake, like
all other functionaries, to hand over to the fund of their

78 Colonels and Cow-boys.
party their first year's salary. They must therefore
make their fortune in four years, and the suitors well
recognise this exigency.*
In the territories like Dakota, the judges are appointed
directly by the President of the United States for a
period of four years. The choice therefore is not so bad ; ,
at most they are reproached with having gained their
position for electoral services.
Our friend, the painter, has not made us a present of
one of his artistic panels, but he has made us dance
through the court-house from top to bottom, introduciug
us here and there with the most perfect freedom, and
we cannot refrain from testifying to the imperturbable
good humour of all those functionaries of the law. We
enter into the chamber of the Recorder without even
warning. He shakes our hands with a heartiness that
almost dislocates the wrist, and asks us how we like the
country — a phrase that inevitably proceeds from every
mouth. A little further on we meet the Sheriff—
another elected functionary. He is a kind of magistrate
invested with various functions, from that of the bum-
bailiff to the hangman. In fact he is the undertaker of
the police of a county, and is paid in proportion to the
services he renders ; so much for the arrest of a murderer,
so much for his hanging, so much for summoning, on
subpoena, a witness. If it is a question of having bought
police, or hired hangmen, he pays for them out of his
own pocket, but this proceeding is so little to his taste
* This is absolutely untrue— if elected for ten years, why make their
fortune in four ? — W. R. B.

The Court- House. 79
that he invariably does the work himself, without feel
ing ashamed of it. The office too is no sinecure. In
this territory, though the fees and charges are not very
high, the Sheriff of Deadwood last year netted 75,000
[dollars.* I was told this by a judge to whom I have just been
Introduced — judge, at least, according to the unknown
individual who, in presenting me, addressed him as
judge ; but then another comer called him colonel, and
a third professor. This is the way these titles are
bandied about. " You must be somebody," says their
countryman, Emerson ; " then you may do this or that,
as you will." But the wonder is when they are known,.
as in the majority of cases, to be supposititious, that
they do not lose their dignity and become ridiculous,
and consequently distasteful. This morning I was on
the point of stirring up a quarrel with the boots of the
hotel. As he appeared to me to occupy the last grade
of the social scale, I took it into my head to call him
corporal, but he indignantly protested, and declared that
he was a captain.
At last, about noon, we had our horses out of the
livery stable, in order to try our hands at loading a pack-
saddle, When one has been all his life a gentleman
farmer or a naval officer, like Monsieur Bouverie and
me, this art is not perfectly understood, especially when
the equilibrium of such unaccommodating objects as a
* The sum of 375,000 francs is given by tbe Author, which would be
about 75,000 dollars, and it seems almost incredible. [This is untrue. —
W. R, B.]

80 Colonels and Cow-boys.
photographic apparatus and two Winchester rifles have
to be well maintained on the backs of two half-wild
animals. We get there without unduly exciting the
idle curiosity of all the bakers around us. In America,
they call the habitual man-about-town the lounger —
baker. I leave to a more learned etymologist than my-j
self the care of discovering whether there is not in this?
term an ironical allusion to the way in which they make
the execrable bread we are forced to eat everywhere
in the country.* Parker, who travels in the fashion of
the country, that is, without luggage, is already perched
upon his Mexican saddle, while we are contending with
unmanageable buckles. At last he gives the signal to
start, which we do in an imposing canter, opening our
way through a crowd of admiring colonels.
To-night we are to sleep at Fort Meade, having a
letter of introduction to the commander from General
Sherman. ' We press our horses into a gallop along one of the
three or four valleys leading out of Rapid City. The
country around is charming. The end of the valley is
occupied by a tributary of the Rapid, which runs through
magnificent natural meadows, where some fine cows,
much like our Norman breed, are up to their knees in
sainfoin. Then there are fine woods of birch, oak, and
willow, grouped here and there in such masses of ver
dure, that one would suppose the ground was laid out
for an English park. Over all this rise hills covered
* If loafer be derived from loaf, may not baker have been suggested
and adopted as a synonym ? — W. C.

Off Again. 81

with a magnificent forest of Scotch fir. What is called
the road is nothing but the wheel-track left on the
elastic turf by a few passing vehicles. We see here two
or three farms. In a snug nook, a log-house, low and
well-smoked, used now as a barn and stable, recalls the
humble commencement of the squatter. It was about
four years ago that he built this hovel to shelter his
family, that had then just traversed the prairie in a
great, covered waggon. And then, when he had estab
lished himself, he passed many a long night, with his
hand on the Winchester, listening to the howling of the
wolves around his dwelling ; and when this ceased, he
remained in painful doubt as to whether they had not
fled at the approach of the red-skins. They point out
to us, half-way up the hill, a white stone, marking the
spot where five men were scalped by the Sioux in 1879.
And then at the end of two years they had done
well. The farmer has abandoned the already half-de
cayed log-house, and has constructed, facing it, a pretty
little house of plank, painted white, with a verandah
and a bow window. Through the open windows we
can distinguish the carpet covering the floor, and a
piano — the inevitable piano. We French are often re
proached with not being colonists ; but if our colonies
often showed spectacles of this kind, I think we should
soon become colonists*
* It has often been said that the English make colonies with colonists,
the French colonies without colonists, and the German colonists without
colonies. F

82 Colonels and Cow-boys.
I have decidedly made a good acquisition in purchas
ing Jean-Leblanc — the name we have given to my grey
horse. He keeps well ahead of all the others in spite
of the weight he carries. His pace is neither a trot
nor a gallop, but much nearer to a gallop, and some
moments he ambles along ; at all events, he goes five
or six miles an hour, and this is the important point.
We have hardly passed the last farm when Monsieur
Bouverie's dun mare overtakes me, fleeing, like an ante
lope, without a rider, with a Mackintosh and the leg of
a photographic apparatus flapping between her legs. I
start immediately in chase. She plunges into the thick
of the firs, and here we are in a mad pursuit over the
great slabs of slate that strew the ground. Jean-Le
blanc seems to understand the business so well, and
takes to it with so much spirit, that I let him have his
head, wondering every moment if he will select a com
fortable spot to go head over heels. At last, I lose
sight of the fugitive, which, according to the amiable
trick of runaway horses, has allowed me to approach
twice or thrice, just near enough to touch her. I re
turn now with some difficulty to the skirt of the wood,
where I find Mr Parker, and this gentleman goes off in
pursuit of the mare. It appears that she started while
the unlucky rider was in the act of adjusting his pack.
He has just come up, gathering on his way, with a most
melancholy air, all his nick-nacks scattered along the
track. But this does not hinder him from putting the
best face on the affair, and declaring that it was a lucky

PARKER LEADS US THROUGH THE FOREST.

Page 83.

On the Road. 83

thing the accident did not happen after we had left far
behind every inhabited spot.
At the end of another hour .Parker returns. His in
sinuating ways, with the beau-sexe in general, seem
to have had some influence over the dun mare, who
allowed herself to be caught. But this animal is really
a little too wild, and, I fear, will give us further trouble.
At last we resume our way. Parker leads us through
the forest, assuring us that, in spite of our misfortunes,
we shall arrive at some inhabited spot by night-fall.
I will not undertake to say. how many fearfully steep
hills we have scaled, nor how many brooks we have
forded. Whatever the difficulties may be, the scenery
is everywhere lovely, especially in crossing a number
of little valleys and ravines, ensconced between hills
covered with pines.
This country has by no means the wild and grandiose
character that one expects — I know not why — to find
here. It has the smiling and congenial aspect of the
little valleys of Switzerland and Savoy. A painter
here would put in the foreground a little shepherd with
a pointed hat, playing the Pans des vaches, and not a
Sioux in war paint, with a ring in his nose.
About seven o'clock, our good leader, Parker, can
didly confesses that he is lost. We find ourselves on
the bank of a river, which, judging from its importance,
should be the Rapid Creek, or, at all events, one of its
main tributaries. The waters rush forth, foaming, from
a narrow gorge, which they have scooped out at the

84 Colonels and Cow-boys.
foot of a rock, and this, on our side, completely bars the
valley. The rays- of the sun at present light J up no
more than the tops of the pines. We fancy, however,
we can distinguish on the other side something like a
passage leading up the valley, and it would be only
necessary it seems to get across the stream, but herein
lies all the difficulty. It is at least fifteen yards from
bank to bank, but we can form no opinion of its depth,
and the rapidity of the current by no means tempts us
to feel our way to the other shore. The horses, good
judges generally in such cases, appear to remonstrate
strongly against the attempt ; but Jean-Leblanc, an
animal apparently ready for any emergency, consents
to advance one or two paces. In an instant the water
rises above the girths, and, being almost carried along
by the current, he turns back briskly from the treacher
ous stream, quite determined, it seems, not to venture
in the enterprise. But since we have to find some
means of continuing our way, I decide on putting into
practice a manoeuvre I had often seen successful in our
expedition to Cambodia. I wind around my body one
end of Parker's long lasso, and then my two com
panions, standing over the jutting point of a projecting
rock, and holding the other as I enter the current,
sustain me with all their might. Being thus suspended
at the extremity of this long line against the force of
the stream, I oscillate on its surface from side to side,
like the movement of a pendulum, till I at length
succeed in reaching a branch from the other shore,

On the Road. 85

and this I immediately grasp. Then, fastening thereto
the end of the lasso, I return by hauling myself over
the river. Having everything now arranged, I take
the horses by the bridles in one hand, holding on to the
stretched lasso by the other, and, urged forward by a
few smart lashes of the whip, the unwilling animals,
partly by swimming, partly by scrambling over the
submerged rocks, triumphantly accomplish the perilous
adventure. Parker and Monsieur Bouverie, who can hardly swim,
were not very confident of success, but they have
managed to pass over on the backs of their horses
without having been deeply immersed.
At last on the other side, I .dress myself again as
quickly as possible, for the water was icy, and the air
now feels quite cold. We start again across a little
marshy plain, but no sooner have we proceeded a few
hundred yards than we are obliged to pull up once
more. We discover that we are merely in a ring of the
water-course, and completely closed, this time on our
left, by a wall of rocks precisely similar to the other,
that had already forced us to traverse the river. We
are therefore compelled to re-cross ; but since it is now
quite dark, it would be madness to think of repeating
to-night with our tired horses the exploit we have just
achieved. There is no alternative from pitching our
camp. Over our heads, at the foot of great rocks, extends a
little plateau or shelf, where a scanty grass barely grows

86 Colonels and Cow-boys.
under the shadow of gigantic pines. Some prospectors
even must have sojourned on this plot, for we find here
the remains of a log-house fallen in ruin. If we had
only something to eat we should not, after all, be so
badly off. I have passed many nights in Madagascar
and in Cochin China under worse conditions. We
begin by abusing Parker, a proceeding that affords us
some relief without unduly disturbing his equanimity.
Then I fumble in my pockets for some matches, but it
is impossible to find any, remembering then I had
left them at the hotel. Happily Monsieur Bouverie
is a man of resource, and I call to him to supply
me. " Where am I to find matches ? " he replies, groping
all the time in his pockets. " Ah ! here are some ; but
as I had them in my pocket when I fell into the water
the other day, I fear they will not light. Happily,
they are not French matches,* and there is still some
hope." I had already brought together a great heap of dead
wood, and then, as we lie flat on the ground, face down
wards, to intercept the least breath of air, we strike one
match, and the little spark, passing from blue to pale
yellow, soon lights up one branch of fir, then another,
* The "allumettes de la regie," as the French matches are frequently
termed ironically, are the product of a monopoly, favoured by the Govern
ment for the benefit of the revenue ; and the privileged company, having
no competitors to fear, give themselves little trouble about the quality of
their manufacture : these matches, therefore, form the subject of constant
jokes among Frenchmen. — W. C.

Our Camp. 87
till the whole pile gets well ablaze, casting its lurid
glare over the dark boles of the lofty pines, the ruined
log-house behind, and the horses tethered beyond, as
they are cropping, with mournful look, the sparse, dry
grass that forces its way with difficulty between the
scattered stones.
Squatting around the burning faggots, it amuses me
to listen to the animated polemics between Parker and
Monsieur Bouverie. The former has passed four years
at Saigon and four at Paris, yet speaks the strangest
sort of mongrel French ; and the other does not know a
word of English. But this does not hinder them from
launching into discussions on theology and all sorts of
subjects. It sometimes happens, however, that while
each is following out his idea, without clearly compre
hending the replies of the other, their arguments are
taking divergent courses, and this leads them on insen
sibly to observations which, as responses, are ridicu
lously irrelevant. Then they call to me to come and
unravel their difficulty.
But this evening I am very far from their conversa
tion. Here once more I am squatting at the foot of a
tree, near a bivouac fire. I recall to mind many a night
passed long ago in this adventurous way ; the encamp
ments under the great ravenals in the woods of Mada
gascar, near to some lagune, the carriers crouching a
little way off, eating their rice, or dancing with the great
brown girls that have come up from the neighbouring
villages ; and then, a little later, the scene changes ; I

88 Colonels and Cow-boys.

am pursuing some rebel bands in the jungles of Cochin-
China. The matas have arranged for me a straw mat
to protect me from the dew ; the fire-flies are sparkling
in the bushes; the arecas depict the outline of their
groups of leaves against the sombre blue of the sky ;
and on the edge of the swampy arroyo I see my sen
tinels, with their muskets, gliding along like shadows,
not a sound arising from their footsteps ; afar off re
sounds the low growling of a tiger chasing its prey, or
the sonorous trumpeting of an elephant passing on to
its feeding-ground amid the rice fields.
Countries resemble their inhabitants ; rather, the in
habitants are formed by the nature of their country. In
yonder lands, all those indolent populations are con
tented to live without a thought for the morrow, sure,
as they are, of finding each day sufficient for the day,
without troubling themselves overmuch about the mortal
maladies lying in wait for them from the depths of the
lagunes. Here, nature offers a climate remarkably
healthy,, but this is all she provides gratuitously ; labour
she recompenses a hundred-fold, but without incessant
work one dies of hunger, for spontaneous productions
nowhere exist. The red-skins, whom the Americans
consider indolent, can live only at the cost of incessant
work. What can be more arduous than those long-sus
tained hunts over the deep snows of winter, or under
the burning sun of July ? And if they are not success
ful, or if the warrior disappears in some sanguinary
adventure, the children die inevitably of hunger in the

Our Camp. 89

wigwam. Stories full of such like incidents are con
stantly related by the trappers.
June loth. — This morning, notwithstanding Parker's
care and activity, who has passed all night in heaping
up wood on our fire, we were awakened by the cold and
perhaps also by the teasing of our stomachs. Our poor
horses, which we did not venture to let loose on account
of the inopportune fancy for freedom manifested so
recently, do not appear to have passed any better night
than ourselves. Except in point of picturesqueness, our
encampment is -far from being desirable. We are within
a little curve of the river, which has been abruptly turned
from its course by the two walls of rocks to which we
owe our misadventure. Some gold seekers have tarried
here before us, and as traces of their passage, they have
left a log-house, now fallen, near which we have passed
the night, a dozen of fine firs thrown down from the need
of a clear space, but which have furnished us with an
abundance of fuel, and then some remains of washed
gravel that were apparently not very productive. The
sun lights up, a hundred yards above our heads, the great
trunks of the pines springing from the fissures, formed
in the vertical beds of slate rock, thrown on end by the
marvellous subterraneous force that raised these masses
of strata into a mountain island, from the depths of an
inland sea. Before us, the valley relieves the severity
of the wild landscape by its smiling green meadows
saturated with dew. About five hundred yards beyond,

90 Colonels and Cow-boys.
we spy a spotted doe followed by her fawn. She comes
out lazily from the thickets of willows and birch border
ing the forest, on her way to drink at a little pond formed
by the beaver-dam.
While I am busy in taking a photograph of all this, I
try to render myself worthy of the confidence of my
companions and of the office of ferryman of the expedi
tion to which they have appointed me. I begin, how
ever, to find out that these duties are more glorious than
agreeable, for my night's bivouac and empty stomach
already make me shudder at the prospect of another
immersion in the frigid waters of the river. Besides, it
is here much wider than at the spot we crossed over
yesterday, and quite as deep ; the current therefore will
carry me much further, exposing me at the same time
to the unpleasant contact with a greater number of large
rocks scattered over its bed. To add to our troubles,
Monsieur Bouverie's mare breaks her bridle, has a fresh
spree, and is Jiot caught again till after an hour's chase.
At last, about nine o'clock we are all landed with our
animals on the other side, without any accident worth
mentioning ; but while I am dressing, my teeth are
chattering in my head like the click of a telegraphic
indicator. The landscape, at all events, is enchanting, though
wanting perhaps in a little more diversity. Still, I could
not do full justice to any description in my famishing
state, for the stomach very sensibly modifies our percep
tions. While jogging along behind me, on his runaway

Jean-Leblands Sagacity. 91
mare, that tiresome Monsieur Bouverie, who lays claim
to decided talent in all matters of cuisine, is enumerat
ing to me the good things he is going to prepare for our
breakfast. He is talking so eloquently about an
omelette with bacon, that I already taste it in anticipa
tion, and this is only aggravating when it is not access
ible. Parker tells us there is a farm or ranch somewhere
about here, called MacDonnell's ranch, where we shall
find many good things, but we were so much disappointed
by his promises yesterday, that we do not receive them
with the same confidence to-day.
About eleven, however, Jean-Leblanc, trotting as
usual at the head of the column, takes it into his head
to scale a little rise of ground dividing the valley. His
performances during our difficulties of yesterday have
given me so high an opinion of his sagacity that I
refrain from opposing this caprice, and I am fully
rewarded, for, from the summit, I see lying at my
feet a little log-house, surrounded by a corral, in which
a dozen fine cows are pasturing. I scamper away at
once from my observatory at full gallop, trusting my
neck to the acrobatic aptitudes of my wonderful
roadster, and arrive almost breathless before a little
hut, in the interior of which we see a tall Yankee busy
filling his churn. Without a word I seize the bucket
and take a long gulp of the best milk I ever tasted
in my life — at all events the milk I have most highly
relished. Fortunately he turned out to be a good
sort of a fellow, and my voracity afforded him endless

92 Colonels and Cow-boys.
amusement. During this interval Monsieur Bouverie
lays violent hands on the other bucket, but Parker,
invariably gallant, is engaged in tattling with the
farmer's wife, a bouncing young woman with a face
as round, though not so ruddy, as a Dutch cheese,
who, in leaving the care of the dairy to her husband,
seems to be taken up with one of her cows, whose
tumefied udder is causing her a world of anxiety.
Monsieur Bouverie having declared that there was
nothing in it but a splendid case of cow-pox, and
that she might avail herself of the opportunity of
vaccinating all her friends and acquaintances with
sound lymph, she appears quite consoled, and goes
immediately to resume her seat in the rocking-chair,
one well worn from having to do, no doubt, the duty
of two ; and this with a filthy pallet, the sight of
which makes one shudder, and an old cast-iron stove,
constitute their entire stock of household furniture.
A few pints of milk having put us in better
humour, we accordingly receive proposals from Parker
in a better spirit, who tells us that MacDonnell's
ranch, the land flowing with milk and honey, is no
more than seven or eight miles from here, and that
the best thing we can do is to get there as soon as
possible. Consequently, we say adieu to this hos
pitable couple, paying them, on their demand, two
dollars for our milk, about ten times as much as at the
Pre Catalan in the Bois de Boulogne, and we turn our
horses' heads towards the mountain before us, for we

MacDonnel! s Ranch. 93
have to get into the valley on the other side, and this
leads us to infer that Parker was mistaken in the road
he took yesterday, though he still • firmly maintains he
was right.
This country must be very humid, for even the little
plateaux that we traverse are covered with fine thick
grass throughout, where firs do not grow. Besides,
we are constantly falling in with streams of water,
all as clear as crystal and excellent, and as it is very
hot, nearly 900 Fahrenheit, we drink an enormous
quantity. The spring is now nearly over, and the wild
strawberry and the wild raspberry, that abound here,
are already in bloom. We pass thicket after thicket
of little wild red and white roses, and the soil besides
is quite spangled with charming flowers. Conspicuous
among these is a multitude of superb orange lilies with
very short stems.
At last we descend by a pathway, which European
slaters would consider dangerous, into a large valley,
in the centre, of which rises the long hoped-for ranch.
Mr MacDonnell, evidently, is not so insensible as
his neighbours to the attractions of architectural art,
for he has erected a house in plank with an upper
storey. He has, at starting, left far behind the age of
the log-house.
We begin by unsaddling our horses, and turning
them loose into the corral to crop there a little grass,
for in this country they fancy — though I don't know
why— that there is nothing so bad for a horse as to

94 Colonels and Cow-boys.
eat oats after a long journey ; then we enter into the
house. Parker's eloquence is quickly accounted for.
The famous omelette with bacon is still uncertain,
but the farmer's wife is decidedly pretty. Monsieur
Bouverie, quite a practical man, is dismayed at the
poor prospect of a breakfast. The fact is, appearances
are not at all cheering. Who is it that has not retained
the souvenir of a deje'uner at a French farm-house:
the welcome of the house- wife, the joyous rattle in
collecting the plates and dishes from the cupboards, the
eggs pattering in the saucepan, the shrill cry of the
chicken having its neck twisted, while its companions
scamper away scared across the dung-heap ? But here,
there is nothing of all this. The farmer's wife is clad
in a yellow cotton peignoir, or rather what was once
yellow, for it is now stained, worn, and torn so much
that the original colour can only be conjectured. She
is stretched out in a rocking-chair, whilst her husband,
a hideous little man, who does not reach to her
shoulder, is comfortably smoking his pipe in the only
other chair in the house. The house-wife, however,
deigns to rise to light the fire in her stove, and to give
Monsieur Bouverie six eggs. There is some bacon, too,
it seems, that comes forth from a Chicago cooked meat-
can, but it is so rancid and strong-smelling, even at arm's
length, that we object to a more intimate acquaintance
with it. After this effort, she reseats herself, and re
sumes her title-tattle with Parker.
This fine tall woman, slatternly withal, is so little

MacDonnell s Ranch. 95
like a farmer's wife, that I amuse myself in my turn in
making her talk. She tells me that she has been mar
ried a year, and since then has been living here. Her
father, a " captain" of some kind or other, with eight
children, is also come to this country, and is established
in the neighbourhood. But he occupies himself less in
agriculture than in hunting buffaloes, wolves, and bears
for their skins ; last year he killed two hundred buffaloes.
Her husband, of Scotch origin, but born in America,
came from the Eastern States with some money. He
has at present a hundred acres of wheat, which I saw
from the window ; the harvest is a little later than it is
with us, though it takes place in July. It has not a
very wonderful look, but in a country where flour sells
for 25 cents per lb. sometimes, and never less than 15,
they always get on. He has also a score of milch cows.
It is the husband that milks and makes the butter,
which is sold at three shillings per pound in winter, and
at a little less in summer. But they do not make much,
because it is too fatiguing, forsooth, notwithstanding
the sale is certain, the miners buying all they can get.
The cows are splendid ; they give as much as seven
gallons of milk.
I rally her a little on her laziness.
" Is it your husband who does the cooking ?"
" Oh ! The Scotch are so hard to please. He will
eat soup, and he may, for my part, with all my heart.
The Americans are satisfied with boiled potatoes and
slices of fried bacon ; the thing is done in a moment."

96 Colonels and Cow-boys.
" They told us at Rapid City that he had just arrived
from the country of the Mormon missionaries. Now,
are you not afraid that your husband will be converted,
and will take a second wife, to do the cooking for him ?
You see the house is large enough to cover more heads,
and he is making money."
" Ah ! I should just like to see that : they have only
to come, that's all. There is no house too big for me.
When my husband has made plenty of money, he
will take me to Paris, and then I shall have one still
bigger." " By-the-bye, what church do you belong to ?"
"Me! I ain't of no church."
And, talking all the time, my amiable companion
gets up, takes off the hook behind the door a plait of
false hair, and fastens it on with the most amusing in
difference to any spectator of this occult department of
female coiffure.
We have disposed of our six eggs, and, having
nothing more to hope for, we saddle our horses, which
in their turn have eaten at least a little oats, and we
prepare to start after settling our account, amounting
to six dollars! Scotch hospitality is decidedly different
from good claret, for • it does not improve after a
voyage. As a faithful historiographer I am bound to recognise
that, from this moment, a slight melancholy pervades
the members of the expedition. Our stomachs, de
plorably unsatisfied, are hard to pacify, and as we are

Discontent. 97

ascending the course of a little river we find the road
execrable. It describes in the valley very graceful
meandering, no doubt, but this kind of beauty has the
inconvenience of intercepting the road every hundred
yards. Our horses, for the last twenty-four hours, have
had as little to eat as their good masters ; they there
fore lose courage, and will only move forward on being
urged at the point of the spur. Our passage of every
ford is accompanied by some fresh occurrence or mis
hap ; and Monsieur Bouverie is himself on the point of
becoming demoralised. He looks at his thermometer,
sees the mercury at 900, and indulges himself in remark
ing that this temperature is well adapted to drying our
persons quickly after every successive bath, and this
we fully admit.
Parker has lost much of his authority as a guide.
We reproach him bitterly, on the one hand, with his
blunder of yesterday, which we had to pay for by a
long night without shelter ; and, on the other hand,
with certain tendencies, by far too gallant, towards the
fair sex, which have led to the long roundabout way
this morning, and the miserable breakfast that followed.
A rigorous course of questioning, however, having
elicited that we are still twenty-five miles from Fort
Meade, it is unanimously decided, seeing that our
horses are incapable of carrying us there, that we
change our course, if we would not expose ourselves to
a disaster like the fate of those left on the raft from the
Medusa. There is, it seems, in a neighbouring valley a
G

g 8 Colonels and Cow-boys.
farm only about twelve miles distant, where we are
sure of finding something to eat. Monsieur Bouverie
makes rigid inquiries respecting the farmer's wife, and
having reason to infer that she is not a beauty, we are
reassured, and make our way to Hilly Ranch.
Four or five wearisome hours pass away. Every
now and then the river becomes a swamp, and the un
fortunate horses, belly-deep in black muddy peat,
advance only by convulsive leaps, and then have to
climb hills fearfully precipitous in traversing a forest of
burnt fir trees. Great trunks, half carbonised, are
lying across our way, others, almost entirely burnt at
the foot, are ready to fall at the least touch : I push
two or three with my hand, and they topple down
with a crash.
An interesting fact in forestry may be noticed here.
Generally, when a forest of resinous timber is burnt, it
either does not grow again, or it is replaced by other
species ; but it is a general rule that the same species
does not succeed immediately. In tropical countries
this rule is absolute. Whenever the soil of a virgin
forest is laid bare by a conflagration, it is followed by a
grove of bamboos, and there is nothing but bamboos
growing in its place. But here the new growth is of
the same species as the old wood ; this is Scotch fir,
and it grows vigorously. To judge from the age of
these trees, the conflagration, the result of some Indian
war or of some accident, occurred probably about
fifteen years ago!

Forest Laws. 99

I get Parker to explain to me the forest laws of
Dakota. They are wonderful for their simplicity, and
will attain their object in a future not very remote, and
this seems to be the destruction of all the forests. The
State is proprietor of all wooded lands, and never
alienates them ; but it authorises every comer to take
what he thinks necessary as timber for building, for
fencing, for mines, or for fuel. It is communism put
into practice, and the result is not backward in showing
itself. An insatiable emulation is brought to bear on
this policy, and every one considers it a clever stroke of
business to cut more timber than his neighbour. The
heedless waste is enormous. I was looking this morning
at the fences of our friend MacDonnell. They form an
actual wall, composed of these great firs, 20 to 24
inches in diameter, separated by logs of wood of the
same dimension, which serve for filling up. These
fences do not last very long, and unless they take the
trouble to bark the timber, which they very seldom do,
it is quite decayed at the end of three or four years, and
sometimes sooner if cut at a wrong season.
The Federal Government, recognising its impotence
in guarding against the destruction of the forests, going
on with accelerating speed from year to year, has re
sorted to an expedient to a certain extent efficacious.
Every American citizen, who has not yet enjoyed
this right, may take from among the vacant lands be
longing to the Government 160 acres for the purpose of
a homestead, and he may also take another lot of 160

ioo Colonels and Cow-boys.

acres by way of pre-emption. In order to exercise this
double right it is necessary :
i. To be an American, or to declare an intention to
become naturalised.
2. To construct a house in the homestead, and to
reside there actually during five years, or at least to
produce, whenever required, a certificate from the
neighbours, attesting to the fact that the person in
question is living there ; but this is not exactly the
same thing.
The definitive title, giving the right to sell, is delivered
only at the end of five years. If the emigrant wishes to
dispose of it before this time he must previously buy it
from the Government at the regulation price of one
shilling per acre. Besides, in this, as in many other
things, there are always ways and means, and thou
sands of homesteads change hands without Uncle Sam
ever seeing a cent of the money he is entitled to
demand. To the 1 60 acres which the emigrant has acquired in
this way he may still add 166 more, on condition of
entering into an engagement to plant ten of them dur-
ing the course of the first two years in trees of forest
timber. This applies, of course, only to the prairie,
and is called Tree Claim. This measure has produced
unquestionable results. When the traveller takes the
railway west from Chicago, he passes over hundreds of
miles of prairie that were quite bare of timber thirty
years ago. But at present they are covered with farms,

Forest Laws. 101

for all the land has been long occupied, and one sees
distinctly that every house is the centre of a planta
tion of eight or ten acres, and this modifies not
only the aspect of the country, but also its climatic
condition. They are generally Canada poplars and
alders, and sometimes even oaks, that have been thus
planted ; they thrive admirably, but their culture re
quires some precautions.
- While Parker is giving us these explanations we are
wending our endless way across the forest. Jean-
Leblanc is suffering from an atrophy. So soon as he
sees a tuft of grass he devours it with insatiable
voracity. At last we enter into a valley, rr!uch wider
than the others, on the other side of which we discern a
group of five or six wooden hovels. This, it seems, is
Hilly Ranch, but the aspect is anything but attractive.
Besides, in order to get there, we are obliged to cross a
meadow so swampy that we fear every instant to end
our days under the mud there ; but our appetite gives
us desperate energy, and we resort to a procedure so
persuasive to our poor animals that we end by reaching
the other side.
Having, at all events, compassion on our poor beasts,
we go straight to the stable, and find there a few hand-
fuls of hay, which they seize with avidity ; then we enter
into the house, where Parker, according to the custom of
the country, presents us ceremoniously to all the mem
bers of the family. We cast our eyes at first on an old
man, with light, long, grey hair, falling over his back,

102 Colonels and Cow-boys.
of the most beggarly aspect ; he has on his head an old
felt full of holes, and as to his trousers and flannel shirt,
they are such rags as to lead one to doubt their utility,
to the wearer at least, in the way of clothing.
" Captain," says Parker gravely, " this is the Baron de
Grancey." I salute him courteously, but the man, with both hands
in his pockets, stirs not an inch. At last he draws a
short pipe from the hideous black aperture that re
presents his mouth, spits, blows his nose, without the
luxury of a pocket-handkerchief, and then without mov
ing a muscle of his face :
" Ah ! " he exclaims, " what do ye say he's called ? I
haven't well heard his name."
" Grancey, the Baron Edmund de Grancey."
" Oh ! Baron de Grancey ; delighted to see you."
" And so am I to see you ; but could we have some
thing to eat ? "
" Ask the women ; I don't do the cooking ! "
This gracious reply fills me with hope. We then go
into another room, and are honoured with another pre
sentation, this time to two very slatternly women,
sitting in rocking chairs, like Mrs MacDonnell. The
first of these opens her mouth and seems to say some
thing, though I hear nothing but a faint vague sound.
" She has a very sweet voice, has she not ? " Parker
remarks to me in French, apparently enraptured.
The unfortunate woman is afflicted with obmu-
tescence ; at last I manage to understand that the old

Hilly Ranch. 103

man, to whom I spoke at first, and who, it seems, is her
brother-in-law, killed a buck this morning, and that they
are going to give us a bit. Monsieur Bouverie, to whom
I announce this cheering prospect, brightens up im
mediately. Alas ! In the course of ten minutes they bring us
something smoking in a tin porringer, the strong
putrescent odour of which has already reached our
olfactory nerves. On inspection we find the contents to
consist of rough pieces of venison, chopped with a
hatchet and fried with rancid lard. Monsieur Bouverie
immediately demands the receipt for this dish ; he
intends publishing a book that will form a supplement
to the great work of M. Gouffe, ancien chej de cuisine of
the Jockey Club, and will complete it. It will be
entitled : " A Collection of Receipts to be avoided."
He affirms that every meal he has taken in America
furnishes him with matter for a whole chapter of this
work, which will be for the cuisine of the future what in
theology is the collection of the cases of conscience.
After dinner, and also during this execrable meal, a
musical entertainment was provided for us by the
mosquitoes of the country, the old man living among
them like a salamander in the fire. It seems he has
served in the Confederate army. Parker wears also
the grey uniform, and while these two old soldiers are
entertaining one another with their exploits, I am sitting
at a corner of the fire writing my notes in a cloud of
smoke that makes my eyes run with water, while

104 Colonels and Cow-boys.
relieving me, however, in some measure from the perse
cution of the mosquitoes.
At eight o'clock the master of the house makes his
appearance on horseback. He takes a newspaper from
his pocket and comes to read it at the table where I am
writing, without saying a word to anybody.
What a charming country ! and what charming people
too!

CHAPTER III.

AVERAGE PRICES OF PROVISIONS IN THE BLACK HILLS— THE
PERCHERON HORSES IN AMERICA— UNCLE SAM'S MINE-
GALENA — THE COLONEL'S FIGHTING MEN— -THE AMERICAN
WOMEN — THE SIRENS OF DEADWOOD — WILD BILL.
SUNDAY, July the ist. — Last evening, about half-past
nine, the old relic of the Confederate armies pulled out
of a corner a bundle of rags, which formerly might have
been blankets, wrapped himself up in them without
taking off his boots, and then lay down across the door
way, after having hung on two nails, within convenient
reach of his hands, a Winchester rifle and an enormous
Colt revolver. This homage having been duly rendered
to the security of the country, he resigned himself to a
sleep of innocence. We began to consider whether we
should not do as much and in the same condition, when
Parker, who had disappeared since dinner to carry on a
bit of flirtation with the lady with the sweet voice, came
back to tell us that we were to have two beds. When
he added that there would also be sheets, our counte
nances lighted up with a grin of incredulity. The pro
mise, however, was carried out, and in five minutes we
were in a sound and sonorous sleep.
This morning I am roused rather early by an obtru-

106 Colonels and Cow-boys.
sive sunbeam. The weather is brilliant. About fifty
milch cows are distributed over the prairie under my
window, eating a pleine goulie, as they say in Normandy,
the fine grass growing on the banks of the little river.
The sight of the river suggests at once to me the idea
of a good plunge, and I dress quietly, so as not to wake
Monsieur Bouverie, whose snoring makes the air tremble
like the great organ of Haarlem. Happily my way is
not barred by the old Confederate, who is already up.
His long, lanky body has the look of a rusty machine
in want of grease, wherein the joints do not work easily.
He is, moreover, crippled with rheumatism, like all
people of this country. I told him yesterday I had
seen at Cherbourg, twenty years ago, the fight between
the K ear sage and the Alabama, and that I had shaken
the hand of Captain Semmes. This seems to have raised
me in his estimation. He did not say good-bye to me,
but addressed me with a little grunt, evidently kindly,
and this would answer the same purpose.
I go down the valley. There are ten or twelve
hundred acres of land there within a fence of fir timber.
These people must make enormous profits. They are
not more than fifteen miles from Deadwood, a popula
tion of six or seven thousand miners, who pay for what
they consume without looking at the money. The
figures I have heard quoted are almost incredible.
Wheat sells for 8s. the bushel of eight gallons ; oats,
4s. ; potatoes, 4s. ; onions, 10s. ; flour, 20s. per 100 lbs. ;
eggs, 2s. per dozen.

Hilly Ranch. 107

On the other hand, notwithstanding the little labour
bestowed on the land, it returns largely. An acre yields
50 bushels of wheat, 60 of barley, no of oats, 400 of
potatoes ! Their hay, that costs them only the trouble
of cutting and carrying to Deadwood, sells for from 1 £d.
to 2d. per lb. ! They have been established here four
years, and they have sold hay even at 6d. per lb. ! It
is true that the Indian war had officially just ended, but
bands were still scouring the mountains in search of
scalps. The man who had laid out the farm a few
months previously was afraid to remain, and sold it to
them for a pair of ponies.
I am obliged to give up my project of a bath, the
banks of the river being too swampy. In order to cross
it, they have laid down what they call a corduroy road —
a contrivance that seems well adapted to breaking
horses' legs. It consists of timber poles as big as a
man's arm laid close together over a marsh. They settle
down in the mud, and present to the feet a stable sur
face. It answers its purpose thoroughly for pedestrians,
but for horses it is nothing but a treacherous break-leg
trap. I go back to the farm, and see rising from the roof a
bluish smoke that recalls my dainty dish of yesterday.
Our horses are no longer in the stable, but are turned
into the corral: it is a little enclosure close by all the
houses of the country* Jean-Leblanc greets me well,
* The term corral came from Mexico probably ; there are corrals also
in the Philippine Islands, but these are enclosures in the sea made with
rattans for capturing fish. — W. C.

108 Colonels and Cow-boys.
notwithstanding my having made him pass the night
bridled, and does not seem to have a bad opinion of
me, for he lets me get hold of him without the least
hesitation, whilst his two companions mistrust my good
intentions and scamper away at full speed. As I stand
here, a dozen mares, accompanied with their foals, that
have their freedom around the house, come up to see
what is going on. They are rather fine animals of half-
blood, having good limbs, but are too long in the reins,
like all the American horses : in short, of a conforma
tion much too light for farm work, and especially for
waggons. I make this remark to their master, who
seems more disposed to talk to-day. He takes his pipe
from his mouth, and, having scrutinized me attentively
from head to foot :
" You are French," he says.
"Yes, I am."
" You ain't a Britisher ? "
" So it seems."
" I will just show you a horse of your country."
He then leads me into a separate paddock, from
which he brings forth with pride a very indifferent
stallion, but a genuine half-blood Percheron. In Paris,
the compagnie des omnibus* would not look at it, and, in
a fair of La Perche, if any young countryman paid
more than eight hundred francs for such an animal, he
would be well rallied. Here, last year, for his services
* The fine horses in the Paris omnibuses are all Percherons.

Roads. 109
at the price of fifty dollars, he has earned something
like five hundred pounds !
In America they have now a great fancy for the
horses of La Perche. The first importations date from
1 83 1, but for a long time they arrived only in small
numbers. The light American horses were well suited
for the stony roads of the eastern states, but when
colonization removed further west, and the culture of
the prairie took a great expansion, it was soon dis
covered that they were not equal to the work. America
may be said to be almost without roads. In fact, no
one being charged with their maintenance, it is easy
to imagine what sort of communications they are in
winter without any metal, traced as they are by accident
or caprice across the soft mud of the prairies. A
farmer in the neighbourhood of Chicago", living about
five miles from a station, told me that, to bring home
a little barrel of whisky, he had often been obliged to
take a waggon and pair. The carriage must have
rendered this precious liquor as dear as Tokay or
Johannisberg. The Americans have therefore been obliged to turn
to Europe for a supply of strong draught horses. For
a long time the Clydesdale breed was in favour of the
public ; but gradually they discovered that these heavy,
lymphatic animals, loaded with fat, without being
stronger than the Percheron, were very much slower in
their pace. Accordingly, since 1870 the importation
of stallions from La Perche has acquired an importance

no Colonels and Cow-boys.
that increases from year to year, and has not yet
arrived at its maximum. In 1881 the farmers of the
arrondisements of Mortagne, Alencon, Conde, and the
country around there, have sold Percherons to the value
of three millions of francs; in 1882, to that of nearly
seven millions ; and this year, I should not be surprised
if it arrived at ten millions. A single house in Chicago
imported last year one hundred, which, bought in
France at an average of 4000 francs, cost them at least
6000 francs landed in America, where they sell gener
ally for 3000 or 4000 dollars.
While I am looking at the pseudo-Percheron of my
host, I hear myself called by Monsieur Bouverie, who
has overlooked the preparation — summary and simple
enough — of our breakfast. We eat up the remains of
the venison of yesterday evening, then high enough,
take a cup of what the Americans call coffee, and,
having caught our horses after much trouble, we settle
our account, which does not exceed the modest sum
of ten dollars, and take our departure from Hilly
Ranch. The programme for the day is well charged. We
are expected at Galena, to visit there two silver mines,
which we have heard spoken of ; and then, from there,
we go to sleep at Deadwood. To accomplish this, our
poor horses will have to carry us thirty miles before
night. The night's rest and the oats seem to have done
them some good, for they take us across the wood that

Brownsville. 1 1 1

surrounds the valley of Hilly Ranch at a gallop. We
continue at a good pace for two hours, through a
country really lovely. There are little combes, with
rivulets running along the bottom, hardly to be seen,
half hidden as they are in thick brakes of roses in full
bloom ; then these are followed by open turfy spaces,
with a few trees grouped together, like an English park.
Now and then, we make a short halt on the top of a
hill that rises above the others, and from this point we
contemplate the chains of mountains, extending above
and beyond one another in the distance. Far away,
we see isolated peaks, marking their outline against the
slatey blue firmament. Near at hand vast forests of
pines cover the line of the horizon with their luxuriant
sombre verdure. The soil, formed from the accumula
tion of shreds of long slender foliage from the resinous
trees, deadens every footstep passing over the elastic
surface, and along here our horses, insinuating them
selves between the enormous trunks of the pines, pick
their way in silence. Then, on leaving the forest and
entering a valley, rather marshy, we see the flank of a
mountain rising on our left, covered with magnificent
Epice'as. In a few minutes more the scene changes ; we per
ceive at our feet a few houses. It is Brownsville, the
head of a line of railway which the mining adventurers
of Deadwood have laid down to bring up the timber
necessary for their mining operations ; for, within a
radius of ten miles, they have already hewn down every

1 1 2 Colonels and Cow-boys.
tree. In fact, from the high ground where we are
standing, we see distinctly before us the poor moun
tains scalped of their coiffure of fir — all quite bald and
disfigured. They will be avenged in their own way.
With the first rains the water will run down in torrents,
carrying away the soil into the valleys, and the houses
into the Cheyenne. This is what took place a few
weeks ago at Deadwood.
Just as we cross the narrow line of this railway, we
see a train starting in the direction of the north. In
spite of its ill-omened work, one cannot help admiring
the desperate efforts it has cost, and the almost in
credible tenacity it represents. All this material, from
the little locomotive to the rail, has been brought more
than four hundred miles over prairie and mountain in
waggons drawn by oxen.
Three valleys open before our eyes : the first on the
left leads to Deadwood, from which place we are not
more than a dozen miles ; the next leads us to Galena ;
but before going there, we shall ascend the third for
about a mile, taking our course towards a pretty
cascade, which we see glittering in the sunbeams on
the right. It is here we shall find Uncle Sam's mine,
one of the mines we are about to visit. Its history is
very curious.
A young American named Weber came three years
ago from the Eastern States, attracted, like many
others, by the stories that were everywhere told of the
riches of the mineral lands of the Black Hills; and

The Uncle Sam. 113
like everybody else, he arrived without any other
baggage than a pick, a shovel, and a little mortar for
pounding the quartz. He wandered about from one
spot to another for two or three months, finding
throughout a few spangles of gold, but nowhere any
thing of importance. At the end of this time, almost
exhausted from hunger, hardship, and misery, he
decided to enter into the mines of Homestake. Here
he gained at least three or four dollars a day, which
enabled him to live ; but the passion for prospecting
had seized him and overruled every other thought. He
saved all he could from day to day, and, at the end of
five or six weeks, so soon as he had the means of buying
a side of bacon and a sack of flour, he set off again. In
this way he recommenced four or five times, returning
to Homestake when he had nothing more to eat.
One evening, on coming back this way to the fold
after an expedition as fruitless as the preceding,
thinking he was too far from Deadwood, he took it
into his head to sleep under a pine at the foot of a
rock, intending to set out again early the next
morning. When day broke, he picked up his tools
to start, and taking a glance at the rock that had
sheltered him, he fancied he could distinguish a vein
of quartz cropping out between two walls of slate. A
stroke or two of the pick soon proved that he was
not mistaken, and, at the end of an hour's work,
cutting away the slate right and left, he laid bare a
great block of quartz, partly translucent and as hard
H

ii4 Colonels and Cow-boys.
and compact as iron. His experience as a miner told
him at once that he had at last found a valuable mine.
Returning to Deadwood, he prevailed on his brother
and two comrades to come with him. They set out at
once and commenced in earnest on the quartz.
It was then about the middle of the summer of
1880. The four men, straining every muscle at their
work, broke away the quartz, crushed it with a
hammer, and then washed the matter in the brook.
In this way they gained seventy or eighty dollars
a day. When winter came, however, they were obliged
to suspend the work of washing, for the water was
frozen, but they continued heaping up the blocks of
quartz. The vein took a downward course, and, in
following it, they found themselves at the bottom of a
shaft, now a few yards in depth. Then one day in
the spring, after they had just blasted away a rock, the
two Webers went down again into the shaft, and soon sent
up some stones covered with mud and black with powder,
when one of the men, who remained above at the mouth,
called down to them through the ascending smoke :
" But it isn't quartz you're sending up ; 'tis slate ! "
The two brothers, understanding at once the signifi
cance of such a change and quite agitated, light a,
candle. The flame, instead of showing them the white,
porcelain-like fracture of the quartz, reveals only the
lamellar surface of a grey slate. Nothing but barren
slate is to be seen anywhere ; the vein of auriferous
quartz is interrupted.

The Uncle Sam. 115

During a whole season these men continue hard at
work, driving levels and cross-cutting right and left,
eating up even to the last sou of what they had gained,
drawing in their waist-belt when they were suffering
from hunger, but never for a moment losing courage.
One day in the month of October 1880, the younger
brother's pick gave out a metallic ring. For some
weeks they had been driving a gallery descending
obliquely. The lucky vein was now found again, and
the first specimens brought to light proved it to be richer
than ever. For many days it yielded gold at the rate of
fifty, sixty, and even seventy dollars per ton of quartz !
From this moment the capitalists began to open their
eyes. One of them, Mr Miller of Deadwood, came one
day to offer them one hundred thousand dollars, with a
share in it. But the four co-adventurers had faith in
the riches of their mine, hesitated a moment, and then
refused. They at length succeeded, with their own
resources, in setting up a water-wheel, making use of
the waterfall that had hitherto furnished them with
water for washing. This wheel set going only one
stamp-head for crushing the quartz. This was the
extent of the machinery they were able to provide, and
on the day even it began to work the four miners were
in debt to the amount of fourteen hundred dollars.
Fortunately, good luck did not abandon them. The
average of the first month's work was one hundred and
thirty dollars a day, and a little later they were gaining
even so much as four hundred dollars a day. At

1 1 6 Colonels and Cow-boys.
present they are economising their earnings in order
to buy a stamp of fifty heads, and, particularly, a steam
engine as motive power, for their waterfall, dry in
summer and frozen in winter, permits only four months
of effective work in the year.
This interesting story was related to us by the elder
Weber. He is a ' fine young fellow of about thirty or
thirty-two, with a calm but energetic looking face.
This man is already gaining twenty or twenty-five
dollars a day, and he is quite sure of acquiring in a
year or two a handsome fortune, one that he can dis
count immediately. We have found him in his shirt
sleeves shovelling the stones of quartz into the iron
trough in which the stamps are working. A wretched
hovel built of trunks of fir, now rotten, serves them for
a house ; bed they have none, and they live entirely on
rancid bacon, which they cook themselves.
The American, it seems, is a wonderful machine for
making money, but he has no idea whatever how to
enjoy it.
We go down into the mine, where the three other
partners are at work. The communication below is
simple and summary. In a corner of the shaft they have
erected a fir pole, in which are inserted a series of short
sticks, reaching from top to bottom, many of which are
rotten. The bear, Martin, the old friend of my child
hood in the Jardin des Plantes, would certainly com
plain of the administration of the Garden, and even
" strike," if his ladder were so rickety. We descend

The Uncle Sam. 1 1 7

perpendicularly fifty feet, and then as much again by
an inclined gallery. They have just been blasting, so
that the air is hardly respirable ; the smoke, however,
soon clears away, and then we see at our feet the blocks
of quartz that have just been detached.
Whenever a gold mine is offered to a European, the
first thing he invariably says is, " Give me a specimen to
get analysed." It is only now that we fully understand
the embarrassment this demand causes a conscientious
miner. When the gold, vaporised or simply melted by the
internal heat of the depths of the globe, has been ejected
near the surface by some internal convulsion, analogous
to the explosion of a steam boiler, the metal has en
countered a solid layer of quartz that arrests it. It has
penetrated into the irregular crevices of this vein, and
lodged there, becoming here a mere spangle of an ex
treme tenuity, when it has permeated a minute fissure,
and there a nugget, if, by chance, a larger flaw existed
in the vein of quartz. Then later, in certain places,
fresh convulsions have broken in their turn these veins
of quartz, and projected them occasionally to the sur
face of the earth. These are the dibris that constitute
the gold mines we work.*
* The author, in describing the quartz veins terms them couches, i.e.,
strata or beds; they are not couches hv.tf.lons, i.e., veins or lodes.
Quartz is not a sedimentary deposit, but an eruptive mass, filling dykes,
veins, and fissures. Gold, no doubt, has been melted by the internal
heat, but there is po evidence, I believe, that it has been vaporised as
suggested. — W. C.

1 1 8 Colonels and Cow-boys.
Admitting this theory, it will be easily understood
that the metal would be very unequally distributed
throughout the crystalline mass that imprisons it, which
it is in fact. It is therefore only with large quantities
that an average produce can be determined. Then one
says, such a mine contains two, three, ten, thirty dollars
to the ton ; but an isolated specimen signifies absolutely
nothing. On submitting to analysis a block of quartz,
in which may be seen a little nugget, and then estimat
ing from the quantity found, the yield of the mine, the
inexperienced calculator would arrive at an extravagant
figure and be woefully deceived if he paid for it at this
rate. The mode of treating the mineral is most simple ; the
blocks of quartz, previously reduced to stones of an
average size, are thrown by hand or mechanically into an
iron trough in which is rising and falling a stamp, also
of iron, and weighing seven or eight hundred pounds.
Five of these stamps are generally set up in a trough
constituting a crushing machine.
A constant stream of water arriving there in a
regulated quantity, transforms the quartz into a liquid
mud, which runs through a metallic gauze, covering
grooves in the bottom of the trough, and issues in a very
thin sheet of liquid over a copper table, slightly inclined,
the surface of which is rendered slimy by the presence
of mercury, poured into the trough in the proportion of
three or four spoonfuls a day. The gold coming into con
tact with the mercury is transformed into an amalgam

The Uncle Sam. 1 1 9
that adheres to the copper table, and this, swept morning
and evening with a leathern brush, yields a yellowish
slimy product, which is an amalgam of gold. It only
now remains to submit this residue to a high tempera
ture in order to separate the gold from the mercury, and
find again the two metals rendered perfectly pure by the
volatilization of the second.
It is already ten o'clock when we come up covered
with mud from the only gallery that is to make the
fortune of the Weber family. We shake hands with
the proprietors, who, through their economy and in
dustry, seem to us to distinguish themselves signally from
their neighbours, and we go to remount our horses which
we have left on the other side of the river. We are ex
pected at Galena, and we are still six miles from there.
The country is everywhere lovely. The mountains
luckily are so precipitous on this side, that the wood
cutters of Deadwood have hitherto left the trees alone.
We pass by some pines which, measured at a yard from
the ground, show a circumference of from 6\ feet to 8
feet. At every step there are traces of prospectors : a
shaft sunk on the summit of a rock with its abandoned
windlass half decayed ; a tunnel fallen in, opening its
dark mouth on the side of a mountain, and beside
it the remains of a miserable hovel, where some
unfortunate miner came every night to sleep, on
emerging half drenched from the hole where he had
hoped to find a fortune, and where, nine times out
of ten, or more likely ninety-nine times in a hundred,

120 Colonels and Cow-boys.
he has reaped nothing but bitter disappointment and
ruin. The success of a fortunate miner, like Weber, induces
thousands of men to abandon their farms or their lucra
tive occupations to lead the life of prospectors, and when
they have once launched into it they never draw back.
At last about noon, we find ourselves at the head of
a little valley, so narrow, that one might almost throw
a stone across from one mountain to the other. In this
spot is Galena. We follow a rivulet that takes its
course, first in one cascade, then further on in another.
The music of its silvery ripple is so alluring, the sight
of its pellucid water, sparkling in the sunbeams, in the
little basins hollowed out of the yellow rock, is so very
inviting to draw near, that we dismount, leaving our
horses to frisk on a patch of luxuriant grass that falls
most opportunely in our way, and quickly divesting our
selves of our costumes, we plunge into one of the most
delicious baths it is possible to conceive. After this,
coming out delightfully refreshed, we make our triumphal
entry into Galena, a town composed of thirty plank
houses, among which are a livery-stable, three or four
saloons, and two hotels.
On our way Parker has been giving me a lesson, for
it will be necessary to resort to a diplomacy whose
depth quite bewilders me. We have to visit two silver
mines in course of working here. Now, this is the
aspect of the matter, and it is typic if not epic.
A certain colonel — who, by-the-bye, is no more a

The Colonel. 121

colonel than I am — has discovered, on the summit of a
mountain that rises on our right, a silver mine of extra
ordinary richness. He has fulfilled the formalities
necessary for its appropriation, has built very important
works for treating his minerals, and has found the
means, for the last eighteen months, of making them
turn out the modest sum of two thousand dollars a day,
reaching in certain months even an average of three
thousand dollars a day.
Then a brilliant idea, but one I should call decidedly
knavish, at once flashed in the brain of certain New
York capitalists. Having ascertained that the levels
of the gallant colonel — such is the usual appellation —
were extending around a central shaft, sunk in the
middle of his concession, they schemed between them
selves to acquire, as quietly as possible, a zone of land
around the flanks of the mountain, encircling completely
the said concession. Having accomplished this, they
set men to work, and in a few months have driven a
circular level, with the object of closing in the gallant
colonel on all sides by coming around him — a circum
vention at once in both senses of the word. It was
nothing but an operation of deliberate extortion on a
large scale, and the New Yorkers demanded only one
thing, which was an arrangement that would have
diverted into their own reservoir a copious stream of
that pretty argentiferous cascade that falls into the
colonel's day after day. But the latter was equal to
the emergency. He did not yield a jot. A point of

122 Colonels and Cow-boys.
law, rather obscure, gives to the proprietor of an in
clined lode the right of following it throughout* when
he is already possessor of the ground where it comes to
surface. This, it seems, is the colonel's case, and he
has declared loudly in all the saloons of the place that
he well knows how to maintain his rights. Thereupon,
he recruited five arrant scamps, each having at his
private account half a dozen assassinations. In this
country, this should not have presented to him much
difficulty. These desperados, fed like game-cocks for
the pit, have been three months in the mine, day and
night, armed with Winchester rifles and Colt revolvers.
In proportion as the level advances, they establish
traverses, epaulments, and other works of temporary
fortification, familiar to the corps of sappers and miners,
but generally unknown in mining engineering. It is
quite understood that so soon as the levels cross one
another, the miners will unmask the body of reserve,
and the fighting men will open fire immediately.
The New Yorkers on their side are not abashed.
They have addressed a cheering allocution to their
men, and these, inflamed by the martial eloquence of
their patrons, liberal rations of whisky, and promises of
high pay which accompanied the whole, have declared
with bluster that they will leave to no stranger the
honour of fighting the colonel's myrmidons. Con
sequently, since this critical stage of the affair, they
* That is, within a line drawn perpendicularly downwards from any
point on the bounds of his concession. — W. C.

The Colonel. 123

work only with revolvers in their belts and rifles at
hand in a corner, and the fighting men are duly warned
that they will find their match.
I call to mind a reflection that was suggested one
evening, a few years ago, on seeing the first representa
tion of the Amants de Ve"rone, the fine opera of my
friend the Marquis d'lvry. After a night brawl, which
must have nicely hindered the good citizens of Verona
from sleeping, these appear on the spot abandoned by
the combatants, and impart their complaints to one
another, accompanied with a very pretty air, in words like
these : " Good God ! what a plague are these Capulets
and Montagues ! What happiness will it be for us when
they are all spitted, and we hear nothing more of them ! "
It struck me that this was one side of the subject that.
history has too much neglected, and that in a town as
unfortunately divided against itself, the situation of an
honest man indifferent to the quarrel might be very dis
agreeable. In consequence of the speculation of the
New York Montagues and the resistance of Colonel
Capulet, the peaceful townsmen of Galena — if there are
any — find themselves precisely in the situation of the
citizens of Verona. The saloons have been obliged to
take sides, and the taverns also. The livery stable,
being the only one there, could remain neuter, though
only with difficulty. For a long time the Colonel and
his son only went out accompanied by a fighting-man —
not one of those attached to the mine, for these never
stir, but another specially engaged as a body guard. It

1 24 Colonels and Cow-boys.
happened even one day that Capulet, junior, having
made a prolonged visit to the tavern, and having treated
there his fighting-man beyond moderation, the latter
took for a Montag*ue a man having a friendly discussion
with his good master, and, full of party zeal, lodged in
his back two balls from his revolver. This affair made
some noise, and the person who related the story to us
gravely affirmed that " the indignation of the public was
such that it has cost the Colonel no less than 10,000
dollars to bribe the jury, who have acquitted the man! "
On entering into the town we are received by Mr
R  , a pleasant young fellow of about eight-and-
twenty, who fulfils the duties of chief engineer — super
intendent, as he is called here — of the works of the New
Yorkers. He takes us immediately to his tavern, where
he gives us a dejeuner — execrable, as usual.
I mention an incident very characteristic of the people
of this country. Mr R  , after having scrupulously
scrutinised the seven or eight saucers that were laid out
before him, and tasted the nameless hotch-potch they
contained, declared that he was as hungry as before he
began. We then timidly suggested whether we could
not have a chicken cooked for us — I did not say roasted,
the spit being an implement that is used in this country
only by the Sioux when they have a " pale face," a
prisoner, and the opportunity as well of submitting him
to slow torture. We had not long to wait : they brought
in a can of cooked chicken from Chicago, a delicacy we
by no means appreciated. 1

The Colonel. 125

The further we go the more are we surprised at the
total absence among the American women of a taste
for the cares of the household, especially of that senti
ment, so predominant with French women, which con
sists in a fondness to prepare with their own hands all
the little dainties destined to be consumed in the
family. The execrable education they receive is, no doubt, the
cause. We see constantly, in Europe, American ladies,
whose origin, we well know, is of a humble character,
and who, having had their fortunes made for them,
make a good figure in the world — one much better than
that of French ladies in the same situation. We duly
esteem the instruction they have received in their village
school, and we are right in doing so. But we do not
see among us all those women whose husbands have not
had the good luck to make a fortune, and whom this
same education has rendered totally unfit for the cares
of the household or of the poultry-yard. They would
rather go to their grocer's and order a can of cooked
chicken, which is at once unwholesome and tasteless,
than give themselves the trouble to procure or keep
fowls ; they would rather serve up the rancid bacon of
Chicago than exert themselves ever so little to provide
for the table sweet and wholesome meat from a pig of
their own feeding. I have already visited seven or eight
farms, and not one of them had a garden ! Yesterday,
while Parker was dandling and dallying with the women
of Hilly Ranch, I was looking about the house. In the

1 26 Colonels and Cow-boys.
kitchen there was linen thrown into a corner all in rags,
and besides the disorder, it was a hole of abominable
filth. The women themselves were dressed in linen
peignoirs that had never been washed, and full of rents
unmended, and the husbands' clothes were no better.
Having made this interesting inspection, I returned to
the " salon." Here, in a corner, were five or six books,
Tennyson, Longfellow's " Evangeline," and a few others
of the same kind. These ladies told me that they de
cidedly preferred Marmion to the Song of Hiawatha.
While replying that I was of their opinion, I thought of
the lamentable solutions of continuity presented by the
husbands' breeches. When he becomes a millionaire,
and has an hdtel in the Champs-Elysees, his wife, per
haps, will well maintain his salon, but in the interval
she is not of much use to him.
Immediately after our meal we took our way, under
the guidance of Mr R  , along the goat path leading
to the works. On proceeding along the flank of the
mountain we pass directly above the Colonel's house.
We have evidently been noticed, for six or seven indi
viduals of both sexes are assembled under the verandah,
and two telescopes, passed from hand to hand, are
brought to bear on us. As it is a part of Parker's plan
to conduct us by-and-by into the fierce Colonel's retreat,
we defile under the fire of these glasses, assuming a
modest attitude, equally removed from bravado on the
one hand and timidity on the other, imploring God and
our patron saint that they will be pleased to dispel from

The Colonel. 127

the mind of this vindictive warrior any idea of opening
hostilities at this moment, for our persons, clearly de
picted against the light grey rock, would present to his
satellites a most tempting target. Our prayer, no doubt,
is granted, for we reach the orifice of the shaft without
a Winchester ball having whistled in our ears, and we
descend, with grateful hearts, by a ladder less primitive
than that of Uncle Sam's Mine.
The New Yorkers have well managed their enter
prise, sparing by no means their money. Fifty-five
thousand dollars have already been expended without
the return of a sou, of course, for they have not yet
found an ounce of metallic ore. And so far, there
seems to be little chance of cutting the Colonel's lode
outside the vertical passing by the limits of his con
cession, though they are already one hundred feet in
depth. Still, we hear very distinctly the blows of the
pick from his miners, and yet the stratum of gneiss in
which we are is so compact, so favourable for the
transmission of sound, that the distance between is
possibly still considerable. In any case we shall not
be witnesses of the Epic combat announced for the day
of meeting, for which the three miners now at work
seem prepared with very good grace. They are young
fellows with truculent looks, and I foresee that the
Colonel's fighters would encounter fierce and desperate
foes. According to custom we are presented to them.
They shake our hands vigorously, and then we go to
take a glance at the tortuous level that winds around

1 28 Colonels and Cow-boys.
the silver mine — alas ! without touching it, — and we
scale the four enormous ladders that reconduct us from
the darkness visible and the subterranean coolness into
the bright sunshine and ninety-five degrees of heat
which it maintains at the surface.
Before going downhill we rest a few moments to
draw breath. The fine firs around us move to and
fro gently in the breeze ; the air is embalmed with the
,perfume of roses ; a multitude of little brown squirrels,
called wood-chucks in the country, are gambolling
around us ; a little cascade is running at our feet,
taking its course into the river along the valley, almost
before the Colonel's white house, which stands out
dazzling from the shade of the great trees. How
lovely all this is, and what a dismal, dark, doleful life
is that of those poor devils of miners, the dull blows of
whose picks still reach our ears amid the joyous sounds
of animated nature !
We say good-bye to Mr R  , or at least for
a while, for it is decided that we pay a visit to the
Colonel, whither, of course, he will not accompany us.
In order to reach his house, we have only a march of
twenty minutes by a path quite precipitous, along
which we proceed by scrambling and rolling, preceded
by showers of stones we have set in movement, and
with this jacilis descensus we save much time. The
ladies disappear, and when we arrive before the plank
verandah of the house, we find ourselves in the
presence of the formidable Colonel and his inevitable

The Colonel. 129

fighting-man, who, sitting in deal easy chairs with their
feet — two feet at least — above their heads, are chewing
their quids with that grave and embarrassed air of
people desirous of concealing their displeasure at an
unwelcome visit.
The Colonel is a little man of about fifty, whose
sociability is not the most conspicuous trait in his
character. The sparse hair that still remains on his
head, and the few red bristles, tipped with white,
constituting his moustache, seem individually to be
affected with the same amiable disposition, for they all
stand well apart from one another and like quills on
the fretful porcupine. As for the fighting-man, whom
I regard with special curiosity, he has an enormous
moustache, such as is necessary to his calling, but still
the look of an honest man.
Parker with his insinuating ways begins to
speak. He at once presents us in the most ap
proved form, and this is received by a kind of
growl of bad omen. Seeing that I was not offered
a chair, I take one uninvited, and the little eye of
the Colonel remains fixed on me from this moment.
Without feeling discouraged, Parker returns to the
charge. "These gentlemen, visiting the countiy, desire to see
all the principal mines. Mr R  "
" Mr R  is  ," roars the Colonel, with a delicate
expression which cannot be printed. This is followed
by a prolonged silence. I

1 30 Colonels and Cow-boys.
"And he won't stop long in the country," again
breaks forth the irascible warrior.
At this stage I consider it time to interpose.
"Nor we either, Colonel," I said, courteously;
"but we should have been deeply disappointed if
we had been obliged to leave without doing our
selves the honour of visiting a man whom every one
speaks of as the pioneer of civilisation in these moun
tains." You must always tell an American that he is the
pioneer of something, or the prominent citizen of some
place. The effect is infallible. In about five minutes
the Colonel and I were chatting together like old
chums. He then shows us his receipt for the week,
represented by a respectable number of ingots of silver
just turned out of the furnace. Unfortunately he
cannot take us down Spotted Tail Mine, as he calls his
property, for the work is suspended in order to repair
the shaft ; but he shows us all his specimens, which
are very curious. The silver occurs as a sulphuret of
silver in enormous veins that have only to be stoped
away. Some blocks are so rich that they present a
crystalline appearance. The average yield is 1070
ounces to the ton of ore, but certain specimens have
given as much as 8170 ounces per ton.
He takes us afterwards to see his works where he
treats his mineral, and these are very well appointed.
We see the crushers and the roasting furnaces ; but
time presses, and we are obliged to take leave of the

Ladies on Horseback. 131
excellent Colonel, who at last is become the best friend
in the world.
It is still very hot ; therefore, before allowing us to
depart, he obliges us to come once more to his house
for an instant, and there cordially offers each of us a
glass of clear, cool water, and insists that we come
again. This is the extent of hospitality in this land of
teetotalis'm. One of these fine days, I must try this
sort of reception on a Norman farmer.
We soon return to our inn, where we again find Mr
R  . The company is increased by a journalist of
Deadwood, who is having a ride on horseback in com
pany with the school-mistress, and they take their de
parture after a light lunch. I do not know whether
horsemanship forms part of the programme of instruc
tion of the young ladies of this country or not,
but if they are to be taught to leap a five-bar
gate, they would grievously need a more efficient
professor. Three quarters of an hour later we take the same
road, after having emptied, on principle but without
pleasure, six or seven of the little saucers placed before
us, which are in every respect worthy of furnishing
Monsieur Bouverie with the subject of a fresh
chapter. It is after six when we set out, accompanied part of
the way by Mr R  , to whom we say adieu, thank
ing him for the cordial manner in which he has re
ceived us at Galena. He has cautioned us that the

132 Colonels and Cow-boys.
road, torn up by the late rains, is particularly bad, and
this is by no means comforting, for we have ten miles
to travel. We accordingly hasten our steps.
In about two hours it becomes dark. We find our
selves at the end of a valley, from which we emerge by
climbing a fearfully steep mountain, and, having sur
mounted this difficulty, we come into another valley,
where it is so pitchy dark, that we cannot see
where our horses put their feet. The brave animals,
however, with their noses to the ground, pick their
way with admirable precision, passing through water
sometimes up to their girths. At last, about eleven,
we arrive on a little plateau, from which spot Parker
points out a number of lights glittering below us: we
are at Deadwood, or, rather, are very near there, but
the entry into it is by no means easy.
In the first place, we must reach the valley. The
hill is so precipitous, that I deem it prudent to dis
mount, and let my horse go first, I following, firmly
grasping his tail, and in this way we proceed some
distance. At length, all at once, I hear the sound of
planks under his hoofs, and he springs back at a bound,
throwing me aside. I stoop down, and, feeling with
my hands, try to make out the meaning of this plank
in such a spot.
" Look out ! " cries Parker, beside me ; " you are on
a roof!" And there was no mistake about it. I had passed

Deadwood. 133

on to the roof of a kind of store built against the wall
of the rock. We turn around, and soon come up to the
bank of a river. Parker, being uneasy, is looking out
for a bridge, and hails a man passing on the other side.
" The bridge ?" replies this one ; " why, it was carried
away the day before yesterday."
Fortunately they have put down a foot-way for
pedestrians. It is composed of a thick plank resting
on two trestles. We are so fatigued, and the idea of
fording the river attended with a cold bath is so little
enticing, that one of us proposes to pass the. horses over
the foot-way. Jean-Leblanc, whose acrobatic accom
plishments are the subject of general admiration, under
stands what he is expected to do, but hesitates a little.
He puts down a foot, snuffles at the wet wood, and
snorts loudly ; but at last he decides, leads the way,
and the others, thus encouraged, follow.
Reaching the other side, we come abruptly into a
wide street brilliantly lighted up. At first I fancy I
have alighted on a Chinese village. At every house
sign-boards are hanging out recommending to the
public Ah-Chin as linen-washer, or Wan-Loo-Ting,
as tailor, and at every door, notwithstanding the late
hour, the " Celestials " are bawling and gesticulating,
or simply airing themselves, squatting on their heels,
with their pigtails wound round their yellow skulls. A
slight odour of opium pervades the air. A little further
on the scene changes. We quit the Chinese quarters

134 Colonels and Cow-boys.
and enter the American city. Out of every three
houses bordering the street two at least are bars, and
the footway is encumbered with miners and cow-boys
in top-boots, sitting with their feet in the air.
Through the windows we see others standing before
the bar, gulping silently the glasses of whisky handed
to them by the bar-keeper, who is decked in a clean
shirt, with his hair artistically arranged, and rings glit
tering on his fingers. Here and there are women, who
are also taking a drop. At the windows of the upper
storey there are a crowd of others, who address the
passers-by, recalling to mind at this time some virtuous
declamations of the New York Herald on the scandals
of the Paris boulevards. At last we arrive at Went-
worth House, where the owner, Mr Cornell, who expects
us, receives us like old friends.
July the 2nd. — It was in the spring of 1876 that the
existence of gold in three or four valleys opening on
Deadwood was officially recognised. Emigration flowed
there immediately, and about July in that year the
town counted about seven thousand inhabitants, but
now it contains no more than six thousand.
Like all towns of the frontier, this one has had a
boisterous infancy. The rising tide of civilisation, like
that of the sea, has a foam or scum, and it is by this
scum that each announces its arrival. The new comers,
miners chased from the Californian placers by "Judge
Lynch," Indian traffickers, or innkeepers run away from

BULL WHACKER.

"Wild Bill." 135

their creditors — all these adventure-loving people could
not complain of finding life too monotonous here.
Hardly a convoy arrived that had not exchanged a few
musket shots with the Indian parties rambling over the
prairie. The Sioux even penetrated constantly into the
mountains, and men were found scalped near the first
houses. In 1876 there were thirty-five or forty victims
officially recorded, but one will never know the number
of those who, having been surprised in some lonely
spot, must have added many to this funereal list. They
were not till the year 1879 completely guarded against
the attacks of the Indians.
The presence of the common enemy in nowise
hindered these restless wild spirits from the care of
keeping their hand in by slight massacres between
themselves on a small scale. A few duels with rifles
have left a brilliant souvenir. It is at Deadwood that
a premature end overtook one of the most popular and
highly esteemed personages of the frontier. This gal
lant fellow was actually named J. B. Hicock, but better
known as " Wild Bill." A hunter of Indians by pro
fession, he undertook by contract the destruction of the
Sioux — so much for the scalp of a man, so much for a
woman's, and so much for a child's. At other times,
aided by a few comrades, he fell on some kindly Indian
village, and, availing himself of the moment when the
men were absent, took their horses, sold them and put
the money in his pocket. Like every other profession,
this one also has its dead season. At these times Wild

136 Colonels and Cow-boys.
Bill came to Deadwood, and related his deeds of arms
in every bar to his sympathetic audience.
One day he entered into an inn recently opened by
a Californian, named Jack MacCall. The landlord was
standing behind the bar, against which Wild Bill
tottered already half drunk.
" A glass o' whiskey," he demands.
" Show me your money first," replies the other.
" Money, I've none — stay, here is a squaw's scalp well
worth ten dollars."
And he draws from his pocket a handful of black hair
hanging to a skin, still horribly stained with blood, and
throws the scalp on the counter.
" 'Tis money I want," replies MacCall, coldly.
Everybody was looking at him, for they felt that some
exciting incident would occur. Wild Bill, however,
seemed to be in a good humour. He burst out with a
loud laugh.
" True, my little Tenderfoot ! Won't you give a glass
of whiskey to poor Wild Bill ? "
" No."
He leaned forward, caught MacCall by the hair and
putting the point of his revolver to his opponent's nose,
" Then," said he, " we must use force."
MacCall looked at him a moment, then took a glass
and pushed it before Wild Bill. The latter seeing him
yield, let go his head, but keeping the revolver in his
hand, he made a gesture of triumph towards the spec
tators. Then he laughed loudly in his exultation.

"Wild Bill." 137

MacCall had stooped to take the bottle of whiskey
from under the counter, and thus disappeared a moment
from the scene. Suddenly three shots were heard, then
a scream ; Wild Bill gave a reel, and then fell lifeless.
MacCall had taken a revolver from under the counter,
and between the crevices of the planks had sent three
balls through his body.
Wild Bill was feared, but not well liked. A jury was
formed there and then ; two amateur lawyers were found
at the same time among the customers, and the sides were
arranged without contention. One appeared to prose
cute and the other defended MacCall, who meanwhile
continued behind his bar quietly smoking his cigar.
The jury and counsel quickly dispatched the cause
between them. Half-an-hour after the murder, the
president of the jury re-appeared from the back parlour,
where he had retired with his colleagues to arrive at a
verdict, and declared MacCall as white as snow ; after
this the culprit at the bar was respectfully invited to
treat the whole company, including the court, the jury,
and the bar, which he readily did most graciously, and
the quantity of gum-ticklers, eye-openers, corpse-revivers,
and other delicate beverages so highly appreciated by
the Yankees, that were absorbed that day nearly
cleared out the stock in trade of this generous bar
keeper. The lawyers of the country very much admired the
regularity with which the affair was conducted, and
everyone believed the case closed, when in the month

138 Colonels and Cow-boys.
of March 1877, some news so strange was announced,
that no one would believe it. MacCall, passing through
Yankton, had met there a Federal judge, who caused
him to be arrested. He had, still more unluckily for
himself, fallen among a stern jury and an incorruptible
sheriff, and had been hanged high offhand. The strang
est part of the affair, however improbable were some of its
details, was that this news turned out to be true.
These recollections are now already old. The Sioux
hardly ever come prowling around the neighbourhood.
Now and then, a cow-boy or a pot-valiant miner in high
spirits fires off a few revolver charges in the street, and
the ball hits a passer-by, but it is without malice, being
solely by way of amusement. They have also lynched
five or six men these last few years, and now the busi
ness is done the lynchers have discovered, with sincere
regret, that they had got hold of the wrong men, the
hanging having come off in the night. But after all, it
is the general opinion that the good town of Deadwood
is one of the quietest and best regulated that can be
found within a hundred leagues of the spot. It has
had, like all other American towns, merely its maladies
incidental to growth, and has besides in these submitted
to their ordinary trials. The first buildings were log-
houses, but a vast conflagration having destroyed them
all, the town has been rebuilt in plank. In the future,
which probably will not be distant, brick will re
place wood. These are the stages invariably passed
through.

1 THE TOWN IS COMPRISED IN A SINGLE STREET."

Page 139.

A Gentleman Boot-black. 139
The first impression we had on coming down from
our rooms this morning has been good. The town is
so closed in between two hills that the whole is com
prised in a single street. There are seven or eight
grand hotels, whose wooden walls since nine o'clock
this morning have had their habitual contingent of
idlers, who are smoking their pipes with their feet well
elevated. We spy out the " establishment " of a shoe
black, consisting of a stylish easy-chair placed before
the little brush box. Monsieur Bouverie, whose ideas
of propriety are sorely tried by the neglected state of
our dress, cannot resist this inviting opportunity, and
accordingly seats himself in the easy-chair, patiently
waiting for the shoe-black. One of the smokers with a
good-natured countenance withdraws his pipe from his
mouth, spits ten paces with admirable dexterity, and
then says, —
" All right, stranger ! Wait a bit, the gentleman is
coming." At this moment a " gentleman," more elegant than
the others, appears at the door of the saloon with a
newspaper in his hand.
" Bob ! " cries our new friend, " here is a man who
wants you."
Bob comes up with his newspaper, folds it carelessly,
lights his cigar, and then, first contemplating with a
dreamy look the curling smoke, and next a passing
dog in the street, seizes Monsieur Bouverie's foot with

1 40 Colonels and Cow-boys.
one hand, and, with a brush in the other, executes the
work offhand for the small charge of twenty-five cents
— almost gratis.
This morning we have business at the banks. There
are two principal : " The First National Bank of Dead-
wood," and "The Merchants' National Bank." Both
have been established about four years with a capital
of ten thousand dollars, but it was soon necessary to
double this sum, and then still to augment it. At
present they have each a hundred thousand dollars of
capital, and have constantly given from 35 to 40 per
cent, in dividends to their shareholders in operating
with the highest prudence.
These figures, which seem to us fabulous, convey a
great truth. " This is not a poor man's country " is a
favourite saying, and one unquestionably in accordance
with fact. Without capital a man can do nothing, but
the smallest capital brings in extraordinary interest to
him who knows how to turn it to good account. Let
us take, for example, a ranchman. He has invested
five thousand dollars in the purchase of a herd, and
established- himself gradually in a ranch. He is not
proprietor of the ground he occupies ; it belongs to the
government. He settles down, and one fine day he
sees a batch of emigrants arriving, who begin exercising
their rights, and take the best lands of his ranch in
order to cultivate them. He is then obliged to decamp
and go, sometimes three or four hundred miles, to

East and West. 141
choose another ranch, from which he will shortly be
again driven by the rising tide of emigration. It is
then for him a matter of life or death. He has only
one way of getting out of the dilemma, and this is to
become the owner at least of all the- land he occupies
that may be available for culture ; but in order to carry
out this operation, he must look out for a banker, who
will advance him the money at three per cent, per
month, in taking first a mortgage on the bought land,
and next a security on the herd. These combined
operations make an excellent piece of business.
But what surprises us is, that these enormous profits
do not tempt competition. The Far West is astonish
ingly little known in New York. We had already
noticed this fact when we were in that city a fortnight
ago. We had the greatest difficulty in the world
to get the most simple information, and we found out
every day that most of that given to us in perfect good
faith turned out to be entirely false. Lord Beaconsfield
wrote " Sybil " to show that England was composed of
two nations, the rich and the poor ; there are decidedly
two nations in America, and these are separated, not
by their social status, but, geographically, by the Alle-
ghanies, and every day they are becoming more
estranged to one another.
The cashier of the " First National," Mr Alvin Fox,
receives us with the utmost cordiality, in an office orna
mented with a splendid naturalised head of the great

142

Colonels and Cow-boys.

moose of the Rocky Mountains. Upon the table a
sack filled with nuggets is poured out among the books;
it is the produce of a week's work in a neighbour
ing placer. The purchase of gold is still one of the
sources of profit of the banks, and it is not the least
important.

CHAPTER IV.
THE GREAT MINES OF DEADWOOD— WHAT THE ABSENCE OF
POLICEMEN COSTS— CALEDONIA — A SOIREE AT DEADWOOD —
THE JESUITS IN AMERICA.
HAVING transacted our business, we return to our hotel,
loitering on the way. Deadwood makes really a very
good appearance. The shops are large and well fur
nished, and, to judge from the groups of horses, all
saddled, standing before the balconies, customers do
not seem to be wanting, even at this early hour. The
saloons also are crowded, and Monsieur Bouverie re
marks to me how much all these people are like one
another. They have the same beard, long and ill-
combed, flannel shirts, and trousers big enough to serve
as models for a new "divided skirt," or to contain a
cabinet of mineralogy, for one might find in their folds
specimens of mud scraped up from all the mines in the
neighbourhood. All these men look tired out and
prematurely old, and as if their long, lank bodies were
constantly exposed to the risk of slipping out of their
loose wrapping. To see them gulping, silently, with
an automatic movement, their whiskey, glass after glass,
one readily suspects long nights passed on the prairie

1 44 Colonels and Cow-boys.
under a soaking rain, or at the bottom of a damp, ill-
ventilated mine, with insufficient nourishment, and, as
a consequence, disordered stomachs, leading to periodic
drunkenness during their sojourn in inhabited places.
The proprietor of Wentworth House, Mr Cornell, is
doing his utmost to please us. His hotel has already
been burnt down, and the new one has very narrowly
escaped being carried away lately by the floods. He
seems, however, to give himself little anxiety about
these incidents — to him trifles as light as air. But,
with an eye to business, he desires us especially to
speak of his hotel to our friends in Paris. Our business
accordingly is cut out for us.
About ten we go to the livery stable for our horses,
in order to visit the mines. We are joined by Mr
Dickerman, a young mining engineer, who has most
courteously offered to show us about the country, where
he has been living with his family the last two years.
• We first take our route along the river, known as
Deadwood Creek, which we crossed last night over the
temporary footway. The mountains alongside, denuded
of their forests, no longer retain the heavy rainfalls,
consequently this little river, whose stream formerly
maintained a flow at a uniform level, becomes an
actual torrent after a heavy flood of rain. This is what
occurred three or four weeks ago, and the sudden swell
ing waters, rushing on their course, overturned a whole
quarter of Deadwood where we are now passing. As I
look at these houses, I am again struck with admira-

CURVE ON DEADWOOD ROAD.

The Great Mines of Deadwood. 145
tion at the surprising ability of the American carpenters.
All these constructions, raised entirely with planks and
pine beams, without a nail, are so well adjusted and
firmly put together, that when thrown on their side
they lie absolutely intact ; and I do not speak merely of
the huts, but also of houses having an upper storey and
a facade of a dozen yards.
We pass through three villages in succession, Gay-
ville, Central City, and Lead City. They are collec
tions of houses grouped around the four principal mines,
Homestake, Deadwood Terra, Smet, and Highland.
We go at once to the first, which is at once the farthest
off and the most important.
Mr Gregg, the manager, gives us a thorough wel
come. Having had our horses put up in the company's
stables, he takes us into his office, to show us the plans
of the mine, or rather mines, for he now manages
the four great mines. Originally he was merely the
manager of Homestake ; but since, an arrangement
having been made between the different boards of
directors, he has taken the management of the others,
although the companies are quite distinct from one
another. Such a combination as this, by-the-bye,
would have little chance of succeeding elsewhere. But
in this country, in military as well as in commercial
life, the staff or superintendence is extremely simple^
still it is a simplicity with its advantages and disadvan
tages. Yesterday, at Galena, I was then astonished at
seeing Mr R  undertaking the sole superintend-
K

146 Colonels and Cow-boys.
ence of the working, the assaying, the keeping of the
accounts, and the pay. Here, in a mine at full work,
with an immense plant and machinery, and six hundred
miners and workmen, the whole management' consists
of only two persons, Mr Gregg and a draughtsman,
acting also as secretary.
Homestake mine, discovered in 1876 by two brothers
of French origin, named Emmanuel, was sold by them
for forty-five thousand dollars to some speculators, who
re-sold it to some Californian capitalists for the sum
of one hundred and twenty thousand dollars. These
immediately formed a company, who issued a hundred
thousand shares, on which less than two dollars each
was called up as capital. They have expended in the
preliminary installation of the works, together with
their completion, more than five hundred thousand
dollars ; but the first returns having been devoted to
the partial re-imbursement of the advances that had
been made, the capital now to be remunerated does
not amount to two hundred thousand dollars.
At the moment I am writing these lines, the com
pany has distributed fifty-two monthly dividends,
amounting to three hundred and forty thousand dollars.
There is a good prospect of a still larger return, for
three reasons : — Improvements are being constantly
made in the methods of extraction, since last year the
economy effected being thirty per cent, per ton of
quartz crushed ; the wages, the average of which is
now four dollars a day, have a marked tendency to

The Great Mines of Deadwood. 147
diminish, in consequence of the increase of population ;
finally, when the railway is opened to Deadwood, the
expenses of carriage will diminish again considerably.
As to the stock of quartz, there is sufficient to feed the
works for twelve years to come at least.
All this information is most obligingly given us by
Mr Gregg, and it is all the more interesting, because it
is usually difficult to get anything of the kind from
companies having a good thing on their hands. I do
not quite understand why it should be so, but I notice
the fact. We enquire if an annual report is communi
cated to the shareholders, and we are told that none is
furnished. One can readily understand, however, that
the shareholders, on receiving a simple telegram every
month, announcing a dividend of forty cents on a share
of one dollar and a-half, are well satisfied with this sort
of literature, and find it more eloquent than the most
glowing report in the world.
I clearly see, also, that the numerous duties of this
good Mr Gregg do not leave his mind sufficiently free
to give finishing touches to the prose of his reports.
While we were examining the plans of his mine hung
against the wall, we saw him suddenly seize a Win
chester rifle — one kept ready loaded and to hand — and
rush towards the window. I asked him what the cause
was for this alarm.
¦" Well, I must tell you," he said, joining us again,
" that I am a little nervous just at present. To-day we
are casting our ingots and sending them to Deadwood.

148 Colonels and Cow-boys.
Now, I know from good authority that there is a
scheme afoot for seizing the waggon. I have taken my
precautions ; but, you understand, until I get the receipt
from the superintendent of the express, I shall not be
quite at ease. I thought I heard a noise under the
windows, but it was only a few ladies that had come to
see the melting. If you like we will go and join
them ? "
" By all means, my dear sir ; we follow you, of
course." We cross the street and enter into a little isolated
house, where two men are drawing off from a furnace
the liquid metal and pouring it into pyramidal moulds ;
many of these ingots are already on the table, where a
man is punching them with the company's mark. In a
corner four lusty young fellows, armed with revolvers
and rifles, are quietly waiting till the operation is over.
These are the fighting men of the establishment. They
have a more dare-devil look even than their colleague
of the Spotted Tail, and I accordingly compliment Mr
Gregg on their warlike appearance.
" Oh ! " he replies carelessly, " at present the country
is quiet enough, therefore we save something important
now in this item of cost. There was a time, sir, I can
tell you, when I spent seventy-five dollars a day on
nothing but fighting men ! "
" Have you been sometimes attacked ? "
" We ? never ; but the people of the express have
been."

The Cost oj the Police. 149
" How do you manage, then, to send your gold to
New York ? "
" Ah ! I will tell you. There is a company formed
for that object, who takes charge of it for a commission
of one per cent. They have an office at Deadwood ;
my responsibility ceases and theirs begins so soon as
the ingots get there."
" Well, have they ever been attacked ? "
" Yes ; about four years ago. It was in 1878. Seven
cow-boys seized and drove off their conveyance that
was escorted by six of their fighting men. There were
in it one hundred thousand dollars' worth of ingots."
" How did they manage to do that ? "
" They began by taking possession of the first station
on the prairie on the other side of Rapid City. There
were there only three drivers, who had no suspicion of
anything. They pounced on these poor devils, gagged
them and bound them hand and foot in the stable.
Having secured them, the cow-boys then made loop
holes in the doors and window-shutters of the house.
The express for transporting the gold make, use of
closed vans, under lock and key, and the fighting men
are seated on benches on the top. When they arrived
in the yard of the station, suspecting nothing, they saw
at once the muzzles of rifles levelled at them, and they
heard a voice commanding them to surrender. Two
showed signs of defending themselves, but were shot
down on the spot ; the others then surrendered them
selves. The , cow-boys, having made them safe, put

i 50 Colonels and Cow-boys.
them among the drivers already bound in the stable.
They afterwards broke in the van, took out the ingots,
and then decamped in the direction of the South. But
they were encumbered, for our ingots weigh nearly one
hundred pounds, and their shape renders them inconveni
ent for a man to carry on horseback. In short, the express
had a very good chance of recovery. The alarm was
given, the thieves were pursued from all sides, and in
less than six months they were all taken and hanged."
"And the gold?"
"This is the most astonishing part of the affair.
They found eighty thousand dollars ; no more than
twenty thousand were lost."
The ingots we came to see are all melted ; there are
seven altogether, for the dispatch to-day is of the value
of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. In the last
twelve months, the value of gold extracted has reached
a total of two millions three hundred thousand dollars.
Having seen the van and its escort safely off for Dead-
wood, we walk, accompanied by Mr Gregg, to the mouth
of the shaft, which is on the top of the mountain. Here
we see everything set up on a larger scale than among
our friends of Uncle Sam. When we arrive at the
mouth of the mine, we find a series of large plates moved
by a steam engine. These bring to the surface the
trucks loaded with quartz, which then, left to themselves
on the inclined wooden way, follow this course and dis
appear one after the other in the works which are
behind us half way down the hill. We get on to one of

In the Mine. 151

these plates, a steel wire .rope unwinds on a windlass,
and in a few seconds we reach the low level of working
at 450 feet below the surface.
The vein of auriferous quartz of Homestake goes
down into the earth almost perpendicularly. Its horizon
tal section represents nearly a rectangle, the longer sides
of which would be double the shorter, which is from 250
to 300 feet. It is included between two beds — walls as
they are very properly called here* — of slate. Its
average richness is four dollars and a half to the ton, and
they have never found it more valuable than seven
dollars. In many places the return is only half a
dollar. This does not represent the expense of extrac
tion and crushing, which is about two dollars. These
poor minerals, however, often cover up others much
richer ; they must be removed, and it costs less to pass
them under the crushers than to transport them outside.
At the bottom, we keep close behind Mr Gregg,
following him through a labyrinth of levels and vast
chambers, and arrive at the spot where they are at present
working. The direction is revealed to us by the sound
of a blast of dynamite that still rings in our ears. In these
mines, the air is always perfectly pure. The humidity
and the abrupt passage from the hot air outside to the
chilliness below are alone to be found. But the mode
of working unfortunately gives rise to many accidents.
* The sides of a mineral lode have been called walls in Cornish mines
from time immemorial. In French mines also the lower inclined wall is
called le mur, though the upper, le toit ; but since they are parallel to one
another, this is not so reasonable. — W. C.

1 5 2 Colonels and Cow-boys.
In this sort of mine, every part of the lode being good
to take, the whole is taken, and nothing is reserved in the
way of pillars to support the overhanging rock. They
simply undertake a little timbering, and, here and there,
in the most hollow places, they strengthen the ground
with a buttress of fir poles. All these appliances are in
sufficient for safety. At all events, they are not desirous
that one should be solicitous about the falling of the
ground, which, in displacing masses of quartz, renders its
extraction very easy. Mr Gregg explains to us that the
timber props decay in a period varying from two to five
years. When they are rotten they fall away, and if one
could only succeed in establishing them on a large scale,
so that the 450 feet of rock above our heads might all
break away, it would be a brilliant operation, for then
they would only have to shovel away the debris by open
working. It is by no means desirable to be below when
these falls of ground take place. About three weeks
ago( a great mass of ground fell away. It was during
the night and no one was touched, but two of the
company's workshops above dropped into an immense
pit of sixty to eighty yards in diameter, at the bottom
of which we were shown their debris, when we were
about to descend into the mine.
When we arrive at the spot where the explosion
took place, we find the " smoke dissipated and the
miners resuming their work. By the light of our
lamps we see the ground strewn with de"bris, which
they are going to put into the trucks." Three or four

A Fall in the Mine. 1 53
men are sounding the vault with long poles, in order
to bring down all loosened rocks. All at once, we
hear a fearful crash, as if the mountain had fallen
away ; a cloud of dust blinds us, and half of the lights
go out. I see Dickerman and Parker running as if
chased by demons, and take refuge in a level. As
for myself, it struck me that in running into the
obscurity, there was much danger of plunging into
a great gulf. Besides, the manager ought to know
what was best to do under the circumstances, it being
his business, therefore I took shelter with him against
one of the great timber buttresses I have already
alluded to. The noise continues for two or three
minutes, though it seems much longer ; we hear a
tremendous clattering, like a cascade of rolling rocks
falling together above our heads, and nearly to our
feet, and a few of them pass so near us, that we
feel the current of air they make. The impression
produced on me is decidedly unpleasant, and all the
more so, perhaps, because I am certainly not made
for underground work. This absolute darkness of
the mines is always for me something painful to
-undergo. At last the noise ceases, the dust disappears as
if at the touch of a wand, and our lamps light up
the dark recesses around us. We distinguish a man
taking shelter, like us, behind a timber prop.
" Well, Sam, where is your mate ? " asks Mr Gregg.
" He must have run away, sir."

154 Colonels and Cow-boys.
" All right ! all right ! I thought he was dead ! "
The miners reappear from all sides. The fall has
produced an enormous cavern, one so high that you
cannot see the roof of it from where we stand. It
seems quite a miracle that no one has been hit, and
the men are astonished at it. I ask if accidents are
frequent. " Oh ! yes," says one, " there are many arms and
leg's broken ; but in this mine we have much good
luck ; there are very few killed."
" What does the company do for the injured ? "
"The company! It does nothing; but all the miners
subscribe a dollar a month towards the maintenance of
an hospital, where the injured are cared for."
This is not the first time that I have noticed in
America this supreme indifference of capital towards
labour. In a new county like this, this policy is
thoroughly understood on both sides ; but in the
Eastern States I have never found, either among
the railway companies or the great manufactories,
which by-the-bye are not wanting, any trace of those
institutions of superannuation funds, which all our
work-people make it a duty to establish in their
works, and for which they often impose on themselves
such heavy sacrifices. It is possible, and even probable,
that they exist in America, but I have never heard of
them. The position of the employed with regard to
their employers seems here throughout to be strictly
regulated by the law of supply and demand, without

Out of the Mine. 155
even in the management of companies the most solidly
established, any account whatever being taken of
length of service, nor of any of those moral considera
tions which with us have so much influence. From
this a sceptic might perhaps conclude that democracy
demands all these things, though excellent in them
selves, only when capital, which in the long run
should incur the expense, is in the hands of political
adversaries. Mr Gregg having ascertained that all his people are
safe and sound, we go in search of Parker and Dicker-
man, who, on their part, went to see if it would not be
necessary to clear away a mountain of quartz, in order
to find us ; then we remount from stage to stage, admir
ing the arrangements made by Mr Gregg for the great
fall of ground, which should furnish him for years to
come with the means of satisfying the formidable appe
tite of his crushing-mill, without prejudice to that re
maining to be worked in following the lode deeper.
When we at last arrive at the surface, it is with some
apprehension that we hear this terrible man invite us to
follow him to his works, for we are so bedaubed with
auriferous mud from head to foot that we fear it might
be considered a profitable operation, from his point of
view, to pass our clothing under the crushers.
In order to get there, we follow the tramway, and this
conducts us to the spot where the trucks, stopped by
a projection in the rails, discharge their load over a
grating formed of enormous iron bars, laid down

156 Colonels and Cow-boys.
with the object of arresting the passage of the larger
stones. These are quickly reduced to a convenient size for
passing through, by two or three men wielding large
sledge-hammers. We are at the upper floor of an im
mense wooden building, covering the two hundred heads
of stamps of the company. As Mr Gregg observes to
us, with pride, they are the largest works of the kind
existing in the whole world. They are probably also
the noisiest. These two hundred heads of stamps,
ranged in two parallel lines, and back to back, make an
uproar that cannot be easily conceived. We must give
up the idea of asking for explanations, for hearing a
human voice is out of the question. Moreover, the
mechanism is so simple that it would be superfluous.
We go down to the ground floor : the tables of copper,
covered with amalgam, regularly receive their sheet of
muddy water, which subsequently runs into the river,
and gives to it the red tint we noticed on coming here.
All these brave miners are doing work like the good
God, as sung in the psalm In exitu: they level the
valleys by throwing into them mountains. But their
work is pernicious. In California they have trans
formed rivers, formerly navigable, into pestilential
marshes, and here they are doing all they can to pro
duce the same result. All these stamps are kept going
by a fine Corliss horizontal engine of fifty horse power.
It must not be forgotten that all this has been brought
here in oxen waggons over 400 miles of prairie. The

A Miners Meal. 157
boilers are heated with wood. They have already con
sumed all the timber that covered from 25 to 30 square
miles, and they are only just beginning.
It is noon when we have finished our visit. We shake
Mr Gregg's hand most cordially, for he has really done
us the honours of his mine most graciously, and we go
away to satisfy our hunger at an execrable meal in the
Grand Hotel of Lead City, where we eat beside fifty
miners coming direct from their work. What counten
ances all these unfortunate people have ! but then, what
food they subsist on ! In our arsenals, in our great
manufactories, I have often been present at the work
men's meals. I state as a fact, that the poorest calker
of the port of Brest, who with a pay of three francs
a-day maintains a family of three or four persons, con
sumes more wholesome, more nourishing, and especially
more palatable food than these men, the worst paid
of whom gains nearly seven times as much, — nearly
four dollars a-day, — and this too in a country where
meat costs three-halfpence or twopence a pound, and
where wheat is so abundant that it floods the markets.
But then, how can a man who calculates on becoming a
president or a millionaire, or at least a " prominent
citizen," consent to turn his attention to cooking ? If
the American people, who read the Bible so much,
ever have the chance, like Esau, of selling a good
share of their rights for a dish of lentils, especially
if they are a la britonne, and he gets the receipt

158 Colonels and Cow-boys.
into the bargain, I would persuade them seriously to
accept the offer. They could not fail to gain by the
exchange. The Company of Homestake have left us the care of
looking after our meal, but they have generously
provided for our horses, and these, having well feasted
on oats, carry us off at a smart gallop in the direction
of Central City, where we are going to visit de Smet's
mine. This one is more recent than Homestake; it
has only eighty heads of stamps, and in point of
financial results they are rather less brilliant than the
former. In order to reach it, we have crossed the
railway which, running beside the crest of the moun
tain, brings the wood necessary for the boilers of the
four mines. Having again descended into the valley,
we see overhead a train discharging. The method of
executing this is again quite characteristic of the
country. The permanent way goes along the brink of
an actual precipice, about a hundred yards deep, at the
bottom of which the road we are following takes its
course. Directly underneath are the buildings of
Highland Mine. A log escaping from the trucks
would fall straight on to the roof. On the other side,
the valley is so narrow that a slide, however little
inclined it might be, would bring its end to bear at a
point half-way up the opposite side. The American
engineers have had an idea of engineering which
certainly would never occur to any one in France.

A Shower of Logs. 159
They have made their slide terminate just above the
roof of their works. There it is interrupted by a plane
formed with great beams, making a sharp angle with
its axis. The logs, abandoned to themselves on the
top of the hill, arrive there with a vertiginous run.
Stopped abruptly, they rebound in the air at least
forty or fifty feet, and, exhausting in this vertical leap
all their momentum, they shower down on one another,
forming a great heap at the door of the works. Now,
the road passes by here, but in this country they are
not particular about such a circumstance as this. At
the moment we reach here, logs of fir, as big as a
man's body and two yards long, come down about our
ears like a shower of hail. Dickerman affirms that if
the passer-by keeps close in beside the wall, accidents
rarely occur, and then gives us an example. I wait for
a momentary lull and then pass at full gallop: the
others follow, and actually get clear off, but it is by a
narrow chance.
We are going to visit, a little lower down, two more
mines, and first, Smet's mine. Dickerman, who has
superintended the construction of the works, makes it
a point of shewing us a special arrangement, of which
he is very proud.
The amalgamating tables, instead of being placed
against one another, back to back, and separated by
the stamps, are disposed face to face, on each side of a
walk along the middle of the building. I notice, how-

1 60 Colonels and Cow-boys.
ever, that this arrangement, by throwing back the
horizontal shafts and the stamps against the sides,
shakes the whole timber work of the building terribly,
and must produce constant displacements. In spite of
the evident pride Dickerman takes in this, I cannot
refrain from remarking it to him.
" Oh ! that is true," he admits ; it is a disadvantage.
But just see what economy is realised on the other
hand ! In the other works they are obliged to have,
during the night, two fighting men to overlook the two
rows of tables, because one man cannot see both at
once ; but here, a single man sees the whole at a
glance. Only just look, with a good Winchester you
could easily pick off anyone coming to steal the
amalgam. I must admit that this side of the question had
escaped me, but it undoubtedly has its interest. It
was the mode in France a few years ago, when the
Republicans were not in power, to laud the economies
realised by the Republican form generally, and in
particular the government of free America. It is quite
true that, in this country, one pays neither local rates
nor prestations, but then they have no roads and they
have no police ; still they are obliged to pay for
fighting men, which cost dear enough, if I may judge
from an official estimate of the cost of returning the
mineral, just handed to me by Dickerman, which I
copy in all its eloquent simplicity.

Cost of Fighting Men.

161

Cost of the treatment of a ton of quartz.
lated for 120 heads of stamps.)

(Calcu-

D.

Crushing of the mineral .

0-0372

'Forge

0-0512

Workshops : <

Foundry .
Sawmill .

0-01620-0078

Engineer
0-0148
Roads and accessory roads' maintenance
0-0044
Wages 
04603
Fighting-men .....
0-1179
Total
0-7098
More than a seventh of the expense arising then
from want of a police ! In France, the army, the
navy, the sergents de ville, and the 500,000 employe's
who oppress us, do not cost us so dear.
Let no one suppose that this is a fact peculiar
to a locality situated on the borders of civilization.
In the most populous states of the East, though things
do not take the same course, the result is the same
from the point of view of economy. About twenty
years ago, the municipal council of New York decided
on building a mayoralty house. The auditing of the
accounts subsequently revealed details decidedly in
teresting. The furnishing undertakers had been duly
informed that they would be paid no more than about
8 or 10 per cent, of the amount of their invoices,
the remainder being about to be shared between the
L
1 62 Colonels and Cow-boys. . .
members of the council. It was carefully calculated,
that if all the carpets fully paid for had been furnished
and laid down, they would have filled the apartments
to the ceiling ; as for the rest, ex uno disce omnes.
It is getting late, and yet we do not want to return
to the town without having seen a new' mine, the
Caledonia, about which people are beginning . to talk
a great deal. It has not yet paid a dividend, and
its shares are not much over par at one dollar; but
we know from good authority that for two or three
months it has returned sufficient to pay all the costs
and reimburse to different creditors - more than 30,000
dollars. Besides, hitherto it has been a tributary to
Homestake for . its water^ for which it paid the
enormous sum of four dollars per head of stamp
per week, something like £4000 a year. Now they
have just learnt that its mining engineer, has found
the means of utilizing a considerable source found in
his mine, and the supply being ample, he has given
notice of the annulment of the contract. All this
excites the curiosity of the good people of Deadwood
to the highest degree, and they are looking forward to
the first day of a sky-rocket rise, that will shoot up the
shares of the Caledonia to nearly a level, probably, with
those of Homestake, which are about sixteen dollars.
The mysterious attitude of the board of management
seems to confirm this rumour. Strangers are never
admitted to see the works ; for all that, we venture to
send in our cards by Parker, the negotiator in difficult

A New Mine. 163

matters. In a few moments we see him returning with
Mr Allan, the fierce-looking superintendent they had
told us about. He receives us with the utmost
cordiality, and shows us over his mine himself. So
much for the popular opinion of a man.
The ore of the Caledonia has quite a different aspect
from that we have hitherto seen. The quartz has no
longer the appearance of alabaster, and the bright
fracture that characterises it elsewhere. The presence
of a rather large quantity of iron gives it a bluish tint,
very singular, without rendering it, however, less hard,
for here it is still more difficult to crush than elsewhere.
The mine is worked in much the same manner as Home-
stake, in view of a great final ready sale. The return
gives nearly theNSame result, 4 dollars 59 cents per ton.
After all, from what we have seen to-day of this
country, two important facts come to light ; the extra
ordinary abundance of its ores, not their richness, and
especially the high perfection of the means of extrac
tion. I have given above the cost of the work of
obtaining the quantity of gold it contains from a ton
of quartz ; it is 0-71 under the most favourable con
ditions. The managers of De Smet cannot reduce it
below o-86. This is their cost of return : —

D.

Extraction of the ore ....

. 1-29

Extraction of the gold from the quartz

. 0'86

Sundry ....•••

. 0-65

Total

. 2-80

164 Colonels and Cow-boys.
Now, the average richness of the ore treated has been
for the year 1882 — D.
In May .... 3-80
„ June .... 375
„ July .... 346
„ August . . s . 379
The profit per ton was therefore about one dollar,
which has permitted the company to give eight divi
dends of twenty thousand dollars each, equal to twenty
cents per share — shares that now sell for about five
dollars. This evening we have been dining with Mr Dicker-
man. He has introduced us to his wife and an aunt,
who, for the last two years, have been sharing his adven
turous life in the Far West. These ladies relate their
little troubles to us. A few days ago, having gone to
pass the evening with some neighbours, they found on
returning two feet of water in the house, which is, not
withstanding, on the flank of the mountain at three-
quarters at least of its height. This is again the result
of destroying the timber. It required no more than
two hours of heavy rain to form a fine cascade that
quickly discharged itself into the kitchen. Their poor
little girl, a fine child of four years old, was navigating
the room in her cradle. On the other hand, the water
disappeared as quickly as it came, when the rain stopped ;
everything dried up as if by enchantment. Evidently,
they had not to complain of bad drainage.

Entertained at Deadwood. 165
After dinner, Dickerman shows us a very interesting
collection of the minerals of the country, and the list of
them is very long. By successive cleavages, the specie
mens are rendered to the smallest size, and then by
means of a grindstone, they are still reduced to a thin
ness much less than that of a sheet of paper. They
then become quite transparent, and the microscopic ex
amination reveals with remarkable clearness the disposi
tion of the veins of metal. It is the most interesting
object one can imagine. We have seen innumerable
specimens of auriferous quartz, and the gold therein can
be distinguished admirably in the form of lace work,
sometimes of a tenuity one can hardly imagine to be
possible. It looks like veins running beneath the
epidermis. We get back to our hotel about eleven o'clock. All
the bars are blazing with light in the profound obscurity
of a starless night. While I am writing these lines a
terrible storm is raging and the thunder is roaring as it
does in the tropics.
July 3rd. — This morning we have indulged ourselves
a little till late, in order to repose ourselves from the
fatiguing peregrinations of the last few days. The storm
of last night has refreshed the atmosphere, and now the
weather is delightful. On coming down from our
rooms, we find the hotel and the town in a great com
motion. To-morrow is the 4th of July, and they are
preparing to fete the hundredth and seventh anniversary

1 66 Colonels and Cow-boys.
of the Declaration of Independence. All the farmers of
thirty miles round are coming in, some on horseback and
others in carts. As the newspapers say, the programme
of the fete is quite alluring : first, there is to be a pro
cession essentially popular, of course ; a marching past
of firemen ; a triumphal car ; and then a grand Fourth
oj July oration, pronounced by Judge MacLaughlin;
at last, to crown the whole, the reading of the Declara
tion of Independence by Mrs P— — . All this promises
us a complete study of manners. The citizens of Dead-
wood appear to be quite decided on giving a lively e~clat
to the ceremony. The national flag is already waving at
all the windows. Unlucky little fir-trees, cut down in
the flower of their youth, rise again as if by enchantment
before the doors. The table d'hdte, ready at all hours, is
invaded; but the delicacies of the American cuisine are not
likely to be more tempting here than we have found
them elsewhere. At the hair-dresser's there is quite a
file waiting for their turn. The stores also are doing a
fine business. A crowd of cow-boys are coming there
to buy white shirts which they will probably throw into
the basket, if they have such a luxury, to-morrow night.
We are entering one of these shops to purchase a few
trifles. A young Hungarian comes up to us and offers
us his services in good French ; this son of Arpad was
last year at the Bon Marcke" in Paris. A little further,
a shipowner recognises in Monsieur Bouverie a fellow
countryman. He is one of Liege, who has quitted the
Belgian service, and subsequently that of the Foreign

Independence Day. 1 6 7
Legion. It would be perhaps a delicate matter to ask
him under what conditions he left.
The lovers of patriotic emblems are crowding round
a workman who is selling a nest of eaglets. It strikes
me, by-the-bye, that this bird personifies admirably the
American race ; they are always eating and are ever
lean. Neat-looking Chinese in white vests, with sleepy
countenances and glossy heads, are wandering up and
down without seeming to trouble themselves much
about the new law of Congress, that exiles them from
America in the name of liberty. As these do not
indulge themselves with a quart of whiskey daily, they
seem quite satisfied with their lower wages.
After all, this crowd looks bright, and, for the first
time, we notice in them an expression of gaiety. The
cow-boys have not yet had time to get "in full swing";
not that it takes so very long, but they have only just
begun with "a drop." We evidently excite their
curiosity to a high degree, but this curiosity is not
hostile ; quite the contrary. A big fellow, passing on
horseback, cries out to us : " Halloo, boys ! Let us
have a drink ! " I have always heard that, in the Far
West, a refusal of an invitation of this sort was an
insult that invariably provoked a shot from a revolver.
To give a little local colour to the scene, I should like
to be able to affirm that I heard a ball whistle past my
ears; but as a conscientious historiographer, I am
obliged to admit that I have heard nothing of the
kind, not even the air of Yankee Doodle, and that this

1 68 Colonels and Cow-boys.
great strapping fellow appeared in nowise sanguinary.
Parker, however, tells us that the streets to-night will
not be safe.
A little further I am accosted by a tall, simple man,
having somewhat the cast of a Don Quixote, in blue
spectacles and straw hat, who gravely hands me a
card — Freiherr von  , Homoeopathic doctor. I
shake his hand which he holds out good-naturedly,
assuring him that I shall come to him if I want his
pills, and go my way. I fear the poor wanderer is
not doing a very thriving trade. He has probably
overrated his prospects in quackery in the land of
Barnum. We return by the bank, where we have still some
business to finish, and on reaching our hotel we hit
against a superb lady in a bright pink robe and a big
Mexican hat, which appears to be quite the chic at
Deadwood. Under this " attractive " costume we
recognise Sally Rodgers, with whom we travelled from
Pierre to Deadwood. When one has passed so many
creeks in company, friendship springs up. She puts on
her most captivating little ways. It seems that the
theatre of Deadwood is about to re-open, and every
thing leads her to anticipate that she will have a
brilliant success. Unfortunately, she is obliged to do
without a certain robe of red velvet — one that never
fails to produce a most imposing effect. It had been
so moistened in the journey that mushrooms were
springing up between the folds on arrival. We begin

A Soiree at Deadwood. 1 69
now to account for the red hue of Plum Creek when
the coach was lying there in distress on its side for
two hours. At all events, the company has hand
somely recognised its responsibility, and has promised
to indemnify her for the "damage.
This evening we return to dine with those good
people the Dickermans. During the soiree we are
presented to a few notables of the country, particularly
to Judge MacLaughlin, who is to pronounce the
famous oration to-morrow. He is a man already aged,
grave and earnest, possessing, it seems, a considerable
fortune and a high reputation. He has passed all his
life on the frontier. For a long time he lived among
the Mormons, where the strictness of his religious
principles — being a fervent Catholic — has obliged him
to pass many an anxious moment at the time when
the apostles of Joe Smith did not fail to dispatch an
exterminating angel at the heels of those Gentiles able
to trouble him. He relates to us, with a delightful
freedom, a few of his adventures in that charming
country. But how is it that a man of his stamp set his
foot in that galere ? this is what I shall never be able
to understand ; and why, on having got clear of it, did
he come here ? this also is a mystery. He has had
with him for a few days his son, an agreeable young
man of twenty, who has just finished his studies in a
Jesuits' college. We hear that he was on the point of
becoming himself a Jesuit. I can hardly fancy a true
Yankee taking this course. There are some, however,

1 70 Colonels and Cow-boys.
though not many, who do so. Besides, American
society, constituted as it is, with its good qualities as
well as bad ones, does not appear to me a social
medium in which the celebrated company would find
its place easily, in spite of the marvellous aptitude
through which it has been enabled to succeed every
where else. It has, however, many colleges, and they
are constantly increasing in number; but I cannot
conceive that it is able to maintain over its disciples
any great influence, or that its recruiting can be carried
on easily. On the other hand, the " souvenirs " left
by the Pere de Smet of his experiences in this country
prove that among the Indians no one will be able to
replace him.
There is a German Catholic Priest here, whose chapel
is much frequented by the Canadian, German, and Irish
miners. Since I have been in the country, it is, indeed,
only among the Catholics that I have noticed any serious
manifestation of religious sentiments. There is, how
ever, at Deadwood, a Protestant chapel, but the domini
cal repose so rigidly observed in every country of the
reformed religion has no existence whatever here. I
have never seen any works or shops closed on a Sunday.

CHAPTER V.
THE FOURTH OF JULY AT DEADWOOD — A MONARCHIST DIS
COURSE — THE MONARCHIST JOURNALISTS OF NEW YORK—
THE JURY AND LYNCH LAW • — THE MINISTER'S PRAYER —
THE COW-BOY AND THE BARON — INTRODUCTION OF THE
SPIT INTO THE BLACK HILLS — LITTLE GIMLET— THE ART OF
BECOMING A PROPRIETOR IN DAKOTA.
July 4th. — One hundred and seven years ago to-day
the thirteen English colonies in America, feeling
annoyed at the policy of the English minister, Lord
North, in still compelling them to pay a petty duty on
tea, proclaimed their independence, which has cost them,
to begin with, an eight years' war, and subsequently
another of five years, in which a million men at least
have perished, in order to get rid of slavery. And in
return for these sacrifices the Americans have enabled
themselves to become, indisputably, the most pilfered
and the worst administered of all nations, whilst their
neighbours of Canada, or their cousins of Australia,
though they are still subjects of Her Majesty, Queen
Victoria, — whom God preserve ! — do not pay so dear for
their tea, are not plundered by anybody, and are ruled
admirably by themselves alone — facts that would lead
one to infer that the Yankees, with all their shrewdness,

172 Colonels and Cow-boys.
have seized the shadow and let others enjoy the sub
stance. In order to celebrate this glorious anniversary, all the
inhabitants of Deadwood and the neighbourhood have
been thronging since six o'clock this morning in the
bars or in the barbers' shops, saturating their stomachs
with ardent spirits or smearing their hands with highly
odoriferous pomatums and oils, for without these two
preliminary operations there is no good fete in America.
When we make our appearance in the street, they are
snatching up the newspapers giving a programme of the
ceremony. The morning edition announces that a new
element is to contribute to the interest of the spectacle.
The miners of the Caledonia, it seems, are in rivalry with
those of the other four mines under the united manage
ment of Mr Gregg. Hitherto this pot-valiant party
spirit has manifested itself simply in a few shots from
revolvers, exchanged after " a drop " of whiskey, and no
one has paid much attention to the diversion. But now
to-day the Caledonians have set forth in the newspapers
a proclamation, announcing that they challenge all the
others, not to single combat, but to a simple trial of
proficiency in mining work. It is the question to deter
mine which gang of miners can break down the most
mineral in a given time. The stake is sixty dollars
a-head. This is an affair quite to the American taste,
and bets are being booked on both sides. The first
cow-boy I meet, " a little elevated," will absolutely give
me the Caledonians at three to one.

A Mining Match. 173
The procession is not to be formed until nine o'clock,
but the first rdles are already on the ground. First
there are the marshals. They are gentlemen in black
frock-coats on horseback, with a great sword, the hilt of
which is in the form of a cross, and a chain around their
neck, and they are galloping frantically up and down
the street, admonishing some, and trying to arrange
others in file, without producing any appreciable effect.
They remind us a little of the Cirque. There are also
firemen in red shirts ; a few Indian hunters, great
brawny fellows with faces by no means reassuring, their
hair falling oyer their back, and clad in doeskin jackets
and mocassins prepared by their Indian wives — for it
seems they are all married to two or three squaws of
different tribes, in order to multiply their relations, and
are accordingly called Indian scouts or squaw-men, but
they are not held in high estimation. They are the
chief personages in the Indian wars ; they fire the first
shots, and when hostilities are once engaged, they be
tray alternately both parties, acting as spies on each for
the account of the other ; but, after all, they have more
affinity with the red skins, whose mode of life they have
adopted, and generally adhere to, taking care at the
same time to fleece them well of their horses, their
buffaloes, and even to the hair of their heads.
At last, about half-past eight, the marshals succeed
in obtaining some appearance of order, putting them
selves at the head of the procession, which begins to
move. First, there is the inevitable fireman, who, in

1 74 Colonels and Cow-boys.
this country, no more resembles the active little soldier
which one sees behind the scenes of our theatres, mak
ing love to the supernumerary actresses, than the
puppet with the enormous helmet in the pantomime.
In America the fireman is an institution.; the smallest
button of his uniform, as well as the pettiest hose-screw
of his pump, is the product of the meditations of all the
sagacious big-wigs of the country. All these admirable
precautions, unfortunately, are invariably useless ; no
where are the people so well provided against fire, and
nowhere else does it make such ravage. I have never
seen a city that has not, once or twice at least, been
almost totally burnt down.
Behind these comes our friend, Judge MacLaughlin,
he who is to deliver the oration. He comes in a buggy,
which he drives himself ;' beside him is seated the other
heroine of the fete, Mrs P  , whose r61e is to read the
Declaration of Independence.
After them follows the military band mentioned in the
newspapers. It is a flourish that recalls that of French
villages. They play different airs, which should be
national, but which are difficult to distinguish, each per
former being too deeply penetrated with the principles
of independence that are glorifiedthis day, not to play
his own little favourite melody, without troubling himself
about the notes produced by his comrades. The great
drum here makes an imposing figure. The unhappy
individual that bears it, a German emigrant recently
arrived, moves one's heart with compassion to look at '

The Glorious Fourth. i y$
him. His poor battered felt, his long faded black coat
all frayed and fringed, shining with grease and riddled
with holes, his begrimed trousers and shapeless shoes,
his haggard, flabby face — all this forlorn figure, from
top to toe, is oozing with misery, with that dire misery
of the dark alleys of Berlin, with that misery which,
from the time of Aristotle to our days, has provoked
those risings of peoples who, emerging, from the " off
scourings of nations," as mentioned by Tacitus, have
thrown themselves on the south of Europe in search of
all those enjoyments refused to them by a sterile earth
and a sunless sky. Here they are now flowing into
America, and all the efforts of the great Chancellor will
be powerless to arrest the tide of emigration. We next
see passing a triumphal car containing about forty little
girls in white frocks singing Hail Columbia ; each of
these represents a State or a territory. After these
come a straggling crowd of good simple people belong
ing to different societies.
In about half an hour the head of the procession
reappears. Judge MacLaughlin gallantly aids Mrs
P  to' mount a stage, erected almost facing our hotel.
Many persons and the band of music instal themselves
there in their turn. One of the eaglets we saw selling
last evening is perched on the rail. A shrivelled, old
gentleman, whom they call the " President," then rises
and begins to speak.
" Gentlemen," he says, " you have all, no doubt, taken
notice of the programme of the day in the newspapers.

1 76 Colonels and Cow-boys.
However, I think I had better read it to you. Will
you, then, listen to me ?
" At half-past nine, procession.
" At ten o'clock, after a prayer said by the Reverend
X  , speech by Judge MacLaughlin.
"At eleven o'clock, reading of the Declaration of
Independence by Mrs P  ."
Mrs P  , a pale-looking little lady in a white
dress and with a great hat, puts on charming little
ways, agitating a roll of paper she is holding in her
hand. The crowd is evidently thoroughly sympathetic.
The President continues —
" At half-past eleven, luncheon. Those who belong
to Deadwood will go and take their meal at home ;
strangers who have friends here can go and enjoy their
hospitality, if they are invited ; the others will find in
the hotels, and especially at the Wentworth House, a
meal as abundant as delicate, provided, however, they
have the means of paying for it, which they should be
sure about previously on examining their pockets. If
not, they would do better to keep away."
An allusion of this kind would be considered with
us in the worst possible taste. Here it produces no
unfavourable impression, it is simply a joke. Poverty
is not, as in Europe, an habitual condition, involving a
kind of degradation in the eyes of those who suffer, as
well as for the public. It is here a situation that may
be prolonged, but which is only transitory ; the man
who to-day has nothing to eat is quite convinced that,

A Fourth of July Oration. 1 7 7
one day or other, in "prospecting," he will find a mine
as magnificent as the treasure of Monte Christo, and
this, .perhaps, is already come to his hand. With these
sentiments, an allusion to his poverty, however coarse
and heartless it may be, does not hurt his feelings, for he
no more takes it seriously than the young scapegraces
of the Latin quarter of Paris in their " vie de boheme."
While the President is speaking, one of the marshals
comes to invite us to take a place on the platform ; but
as our costumes are too negliges, and we do not intend
to remain long, and, besides, fearing I shall be booked
for a speech if I put my foot on it, I decline the proffered
honour. Judge MacLaughlin rises afterwards, and begins to
speak. His speech, from the commencement, appeared
to me so remarkable, that I have taken notes, and if I
am not quite sure of the exact words, I am at least of
their purport.
" My dear fellow citizens," he begins, " we are
assembled to celebrate the hundred and seventh anni
versary of the day on which our ancestors proclaimed
their independence. On a day like this it is good to
commune with one's-self, and, while returning thanks to
God for the unparalleled prosperity which He has
deigned to grant us, to ask ourselves what are the
moral and material causes that have led to this pros
perity. Some attribute it to that republican form that
has been given to our government. But this is an
opinion manifestly false. In ancient times, as in our
M

1 78 Colonels and Cow-boys.
days, in the Old Continent as in the New World,
nations of different race have had the same experience,
but very unequal success. Let us consider, in fact,
what has taken place in the old Spanish colonies,
which, in proclaiming their independence, have desired
to adopt a constitution modelled on that of ours.
Everywhere we see nothing but civil wars, oppression
of the feeble by the strong, a violent suppression of all
liberty, and a fatal return to barbarism. The same ex
perience has been tested in Spain ; in France at three
different times, and with what signal failure I have no
need to tell you.
" It is not, therefore, to the republican form that we
are indebted for this prosperity of which we are so
proud. What, then, is it due to ? Gentlemen, I am
going to tell you : we owe it, in the first place, to the
Divine Providence, who has led us by the hand like the
Hebrews on coming out of Egypt, in order to bring us
into the land of plenty.
" But we owe it also to the circumstance, that labour
among us has always been honourable, that every one
was ready to sacrifice his life and his fortune to defend
the life and fortune of his brethren ; that, when poor, we
were frugal, pure-living, and laborious, and having be
come rich, we have not given way to the allurements of
luxury, but, in retaining all the virtues of our poverty,
we have employed the acquired riches simply in the
development of civilization in the immense continent
that has fallen to us as an inheritance.

A Fourth of July Oration. 1 79
" There, gentlemen, these are the causes of our pros
perity : it is not the Republic that has given us all
these qualifications ; it is all these qualifications that
have rendered us capable of living under a republic.
Now, those virtues of our youth, do we possess them
still ? It is with profound sadness that I put this ques
tion to myself; for, in truth, when one sees what is
passing around us to-day, we ho longer know whether
it is with an affirmation that we should reply : when
one sees the fortune of the nation in the hands of a
few shameless speculators ; when the public coffers are
pilfered by the very hands entrusted with them, as we
have just seen in the affair of the Star routes ; when
the Jay Goulds are in power ; when the elections are
no longer free, but are disposed of by the railway com-
pariies at their free will in trafficking with the public
conscience, and when justice is powerless to suppress
abuses of this kind ; then, gentlemen, it is urgent to
recognise, if the republican form is incapable of arrest
ing such a disorganisation of the social body, that the
time is not far off when we shall be obliged to demand,
in another form of government, both liberty and
security." I was astounded on hearing these words : had they
been pronounced at New York or Washington I should
have been less astonished.
When I left Paris, a few weeks ago, the Directeur of one
of the great Paris newspapers had asked me to procure
an American correspondent for him. On my arrival in

1 80 Colonels and Cow-boys.
New York I spoke to several persons of this commis
sion, one that drew on me, during my entire sojourn at
Fifth Avenue Hotel, a long file of journalists who came
to offer their services for this post so highly esteemed
there. They all naturally spoke of political matters.
At this time, the acquittal of the accused in the Star
routes case deeply interested public opinion.
One of the first who came to see me, said to me quite
naturally :
" Oh ! things cannot go on in this way much longer :
the acquittals at present are nothing more than a ques
tion of money. In the country, security is still guar
anteed in a certain way by the good custom the inhabit
ants have adopted of administering justice themselves
by means of lynch law ; but this reaches hardly any
other than ruffians ; with a little money the rest are quite
sure of escape. If this sort of thing goes on, we shall
soon be obliged to resort to monarchy."
"You are joking," I said ; " to talk about monarchy
in America is almost a heresy ; if there is in the world
any nation republican by tradition, by experience, and
by instinct, it is surely yours."
" But, not at all, I am not jesting ; what you say is
true, we are all that, but we are eminently a practical
people ; we are not bamboozled with fine phrases, and
be sure, the day, when it will be proved that the republic
and security are become incompatible, that it will not
be security we shall sacrifice ; only," he added, smiling,
"if we must have a king, I do not know very well where

A Monarchy for America. 181
we shall find him ; we shall be obliged to resort to the
productive capabilities of foreign countries, for we have
not got the home-made article."
I thought he was only in a jesting humour, and simply
laughed at it ; still, wishing to confirm what I suspected,
I had the curiosity to lead the conversation to the same
subject with another. To my great astonishment, the
idea did not at all seem new to him ; he discussed it.
I tried others in the same way, always journalists.
Everyone of them spoke to me like people who had
already well considered the question. A certain number,
a few only, said openly, that at some time or other the
form of government would be modified in the direction
of monarchy ; others, and these seemed to me they must
be right, simply regretted that the thing was little
possible ; a very few declared themselves absolutely
opposed to the idea.
Politics are of all subjects of conversation the most
agreeable to Americans. If there is] an opportunity for
the topic they will impose it on you, and they are always
ready to listen to and discuss, with the most perfect
courtesy, ideas quite opposed to their own. In this we
are bound to recognise a great superiority of education
over ours. It is therefore never inopportune nor dis
agreeable in a discussion of this kind to touch on sub
jects that may seem the most delicate or dangerous.
If, however, by chance, rare indeed, your adversary
loses his sang-froid, he would immediately be called to
order by those present, whatever class of society they

1 82 Colonels and Cow-boys.
may belong to. I well remember an incident in which I
was struck by a fact of this nature.
One day, while travelling by rail, a stranger came to
sit beside me, and began to relate that he was going to
France with his brother-in-law, who was a deserter from
the French navy. I replied, that if the said brother-in-
law was not disposed to serve his country for three years
at a third of the pay, he would do well to deny himself
the pleasure of this little voyage.
Upon this, my man got into a rage, declared to me
that his brother-in-law having become naturalized,
50,000 Americans would invade France and beat them
into a jelly in a trice, if they tried to meddle with his
liberty. I replied that his brother-in-law was quite
free to remain in America so long as he liked, but if he
came back to France, the Commissaire d' inscription
¦maritime of his quarter would be pleased to have the
opportunity of getting him arrested by two gendarmes,
without thinking of the 50,000 Americans ; and that
it would be far too easy a matter to elude the laws
of his country, if a young man of eighteen had only
to make a voyage to America for a month, in order to
escape subsequently the military service.
I touched there as I well knew, I must admit, a
particularly sensitive point. The question interests so
many people yonder, especially among the German
population, that it was discussed under a variety of
forms, and always with much warmth. From all
corners of the carriage, adversaries sprang up. The

Politics in America. 183
discussion lasted a full hour, but was always perfectly
courteous ; and strange to say — a thing that would
never happen in France — in the end many of my
interlocutors were of my opinion.
In these conversations on politics, which are im
possible to avoid in America, I always took pleasure
in leading on, by some means or other, to a discussion
on the subject of the form of government, repeating
the views of the journalists of New York. So long as
we were in the Eastern States, and even at Chicago,
it excited ' no astonishment, but in proportion as I
advanced further into the West, it was not the same ;
and this was the reason I was so much surprised at
Judge MacLaughlin's speech, and especially at the
reception so evidently sympathetic the crowd gave to
his ideas. I believe, however, that these are shared
here by a very small minority, while they become more
general as one advances into the East beyond the
Mississippi. And the reason is very simple. In the States of
the East, a middle class is rapidly forming, composed
of people who have not themselves made their fortune,
but who have inherited one made by their parents, and
this they will by all means enjoy in peace.
These people have no longer the energy, somewhat
stern if not fierce, of their ancestors ; they are not rich
enough to be confident of their ability to " grease the
paw " sufficiently of the first elected judge, who might
take it into his head to set a ransom upon them.

1 84 Colonels and Cow-boys.
Below them exist the populace, constantly fed by
fresh arrivals from Europe, chiefly Irish and Germans,
who sometimes become for the moment absolute
masters by reason of their number, and who feel
themselves constantly menaced by these evil-doers ;
for in the cities, bands of malefactors are constantly
formed that are openly protected by the magistrates,
elected by their votes, and there is no other way of
dealing with these vagabonds than a summary execu
tion by Lynch law. Now, it is not at all agreeable for
a good, peaceful citizen to go away some fine night
with a hundred others to besiege the prison, and take
and hang at the first telegraph pole some scoundrel
who, in a well-ordered country, would, years ago, have
infallibly figured at the end of a rope.
This middle class will certainly, in the long run,
impose its will, for, besides having the advantage of
number, it contains all the living strength of the
nation. This class clearly sees that, however good a
thing liberty may be, security is far better, and it is
quite ready to sacrifice so much of the former as
may be necessary to obtain the latter in all its
plenitude. But will the people go so far as a monarchy ? I
think not. It is, however, a fact that some think it
possible. At all events, they will surely modify the
form of the Government with the object of securing
more executive authority.
In the West the conditions are quite different.

Who goes West? 185
It is generally imagined in Europe that it is the
vast solitudes of the prairie that absorb all the
emigrants which one sees, at certain periods of the
year, encumbering the quays of Liverpool and Havre.
I once thought so too myself, but it is an error. In
the Far West I have hardly seen any of them. All
the farmers, all the miners I have met, were, with three
or four exceptions, Americans. The poor creatures,
broken down with misery, which old Europe sends
across the Atlantic, have nothing like the energy
requisite for a life of the frontiers.
They nearly all stop short of the great manufac
turing centres of the East, where they take precisely
the places of those who are led by a love of adventure,
or driven by a hatred of the restraint of civilisation, to
seek more freedom in the Far West. The old farmer
of Arkansas, whom I met on the way to Pierre, setting
out for the Yellowstone, expressed the idea that led
them forward. He told me that the country he quitted
had decidedly become too crowded.
A population recruited with such elements has
necessarily the taste for liberty, and for equality also,
strained even to excess. In the matter of security,
they are satisfied with that which can be guaranteed
by a revolver of large calibre. The existing regime,
which allows them to live absolutely as they like,
delights them. To be free to lynch, from time to
time, some lubber or miscreant they have the good
luck to catch, is for them a refreshing diversion, and

1 86 Colonels and Cow-boys.

they take good care not to miss an opportunity of
sharing in the enjoyment.
During my sojourn yonder, I have never taken up a
newspaper without reading in it some execution of this
sort. Between two populations of a turn of mind and
aspirations so different, there cannot exist much
sympathy. Hitherto the West has been too thinly
peopled that much notice should be taken of this
feeling in a country where number imposes the law,
but I fancy that the state of things as they exist will,
before very long, be singularly modified. I have an idea
that the first question cropping up will be that of the
capital. In a federation of States, where its rble is so
important, the metropolis should exist nearlyin the centre
of the agglomeration. Washington has, for a long time,
tolerably well fulfilled these conditions. At present the
Californians begin to find it rather hard to be obliged to
send their senators and deputies to a city from which
they are separated by an eight days' journey by railway.
The prizes of good places besides fall too much to the
share of the old states : therefore, all the politicians of
the West are not backward in declaring that some day
or other it will be necessary to rebuild the White House
on the right bank of the Mississippi. When this ques
tion arrives at a stage when its solution can no longer
be deferred, great complication may be expected, and
the separation of States, which could not be effected for
the benefit of the South in taking a line from East to

The Declaration of Independence. 187
West, may still be accomplished in favour of the Western
States and territories by drawing a line from North to
South. All these fine speculations have taken me far away
from Deadwood and the fete of the fourth of July.
When Judge MacLaughlin had finished his speech, he
turned round, making a gallant bow to Mrs P  , who,
rising in her turn, began reading the Declaration of In
dependence. Unfortunately, this excellent lady, who, on
getting up, revealed to us a situation generally agreed
to be held interesting from their point of view — though
we much need a better term that would express also the
sentiments of the disinterested — this excellent lady, I
say, did not seem to be much accustomed yet to speak
in public. It is certainly not I who am going to find
fault with her for it, nor with the worthy Mr P  , who,
standing up at the foot of the platform, was looking
most tenderly on his wife. But the result was, that,
not having heard a word of what she said, it is impos
sible to state here precisely of what Mrs P-  and the
inhabitants of Deadwood have declared themselves in
dependent ; at all events, the list of their liberties is
long, for it took twenty minutes to read it. It might,
perhaps, have been shorter and more useful to have read
an enumeration of their duties.
When Mrs P  sat down, I expected an explosion
of cheers, but, to my great astonishment, there was no
greeting from any one. American crowds are remark
ably silent. The President merely rose at once to

1 88 Colonels and Cow-boys.
announce that the ceremony was going to end with a
prayer, to be delivered by the Reverend X  . We
then see a stout man in a black frock coat, who, in very
good terms, improvises a prayer, which is listened to
most reverently. One detail, however, makes us smile
a little ; it is the care with which the reverend minister
enumerates the various things on which he appeals for
the Divine blessing. "Bless, O Lord," he exclaims,
" the standing crops and those that are in the ground ;
multiply the flocks and herds ; may our mines, which
are being worked, continue to give dividends more and
more considerable ; help us to discover new lodes ; may
the rain be abundant without having any innunda-
tion ..." and so forth. If, after this, the good God
does not specially watch over the inhabitants of the
Black Hills (Dakota), which, by-the-bye, must not be
confounded with other Black Hills that exist elsewhere,
it certainly will not be through any fault of the reverend
gentleman, who evidently took scrupulous care that
every i should have its dot.
During a good part of the ceremony, Monsieur
Bouverie abandoned me ; perched on the balcony of
Wentworth House, he has been photographing the scene,
and has obtained two or three very good negatives,
and when I rejoin him I find he has already made up
his luggage. Satisfied that we have the requisite money
in our pockets, we run down to the dining-room, where
we are lucky enough to find room, notwithstanding the
crowding. We devour something, take leave of Mr

To Another Mine. 189
Dickerman, who is come to say good-bye, and hurry to
the livery stable to saddle our horses and start.
While I am just putting the bridle on Jean-Leblanc, a
drunken cow-boy comes reeling into the stable, screaming
with all his might.
" They tell me there's a cursed French Baron here,
and I want to see a cursed French Baron."
Upon this, he stumbles against me. I seize him by
the belt of his trousers and send him rolling into an
empty stall, where he sits on the straw with his legs
apart, holding in his hand a big revolver, which he has
not the strength to lift, repeating, with persistence, the
same phrase.
We set out now with the conviction of having' con
tributed our part, in his case, to the rejoicings of the
fourth of July.
We are going to visit one of Parker's properties, the
Little Rapid Creek. Now, it is forty-five miles at least
from Deadwood ; we are therefore come to sleep with
our friends of Hilly Ranch, in order to break the
journey. Parker has led us over such roads that he
was obliged to march afoot a good part of the way,
taking the horses by the bridle. In this country one is
not driven to this extremity by a trifle. We have
managed to descend sloping hills where it seemed to
me lizards would have maintained their equilibrium only
with difficulty. For the first few miles the country, laid
quite bare by the industry of Mr Gregg, is grievous to
behold ; but we soon arrive at the border of a forest,

190 Colonels and Cow-boys.
and then it becomes lovely again. At last, about six,
we see before us the hut where we have already passed
one night, but the door is closed, and it seems that
every one is absent. Parker, however, succeeds in
entering by a window, and returns with the old Con
federate, who informs us, in a husky voice, that his
family has gone to Deadwood for the fete. For his
part, he is celebrating it with a bottle of whisky before
him. " Is there anything to eat ? "
" No," he replies ; " besides, if there was, 'tis no good
— I ain't no cook. I'll make you some coffee ; I am a
bully-boy for coffee."
With this announcement he assumes a very droll air,
nods his head with a knowing look, and winks an eye
slyly. I cannot help laughing at these grimaces, in
spite of the gravity of the situation revealed by his
words. " Oh ! if there is no one here, all the better," says
Monsieur Bouverie. " You are then going to have a
dinner, and you will be able to tell me how you like it."
We are then most agreeably surprised to see him
draw out of his courier-bag a fine leg of mutton, which
he had the happy idea to bring from Deadwood this
morning. We walk into the house. At the end of five minutes
a fire fit to roast an ox is flaming on the hearth ; a cord,
suspended from the mantel-piece, replaces the spit,
unknown in this barbarous land ; and an hour after-

Taking Leave of the Confederate. 191
wards the first roast leg of mutton ever eaten on the
Black Hills displays on the dish all those qualities
characteristic of this excellent joint. But now, as I am
writing these lines, there remains nothing but the re
membrance, which is delicious, and a bone well scraped
— thanks to the hungry Confederate, whom we were
obliged to invite. If all Lee's soldiers had this devour
ing capacity, they must have ravaged the plains of the
Potomac like a swarm of locusts. .
July the $th. — This morning, on coming down, I
found the old Confederate again wrapped in his blankets,
and lying across the door-way, as I had seen him five
days ago. But the great revolver, which is generally
within convenient reach on the floor, was replaced by a
bottle of whisky, or, at this hour, a bottle without the
whisky. Having pushed the master of the house aside as gently
as possible, we succeed in opening the door. The sun
is already rather high. The cows, which have not been
milked for two days, bellow so pitifully on seeing us
that we proceed to relieve them of two or three quarts
of delicious milk, and then we go to catch our horses
that were let loose last evening in the corral. This is
•no easy matter. Monsieur Bouverie's buff mare is
terribly wild, and she sets a bad example to the others,
they keeping close to her side ; they let us approach
quite near, and, when we fancy [we have them safe
enough, they start off at a gallop through the long grass,
steeped in dew, without allowing themselves to be allured

192 Colonels and Cow-boys.
by our soothing words, or to be caught by a handful of
good oats that has not the semblance of chaff. We must,
therefore, have recourse to force. We put ourselves in
line, holding between each of us the ends of our bridles,
and at length get the unruly animals into a corner,
when, seeing there is no escape, they prudently sur
render. Parker at last puts himself at the head of the
column, and we say good-bye to the old Confederate,
this time definitely, leaving him to sleep himself sober
with his empty bottle. From Hilly Ranch to Little
Rapid Creek there is not even so much as a pathway.
Parker points out to us a mountain peak of a particular
form, which commands his property, and we make as
straight as possible for this, plunging at once into the
forest we have to traverse.
But however straight the way may seem, it is no
easy matter to get there. We stumble every moment
against dead, fallen firs, whose trunks, bristling with
stumps like chevaux de frise, compel us to make long
dttours. And then, we have to make head against
thickets of wild rose trees and wild raspberry canes.
If the raspberries were ripe there would be some com
pensation ; because, first, we might have some fruit,
and next, we might have a good chance of coming on
a bear, for these animals, frequenting the forests about
here, are very fond of this delicacy. Yesterday, the
Confederate, when he was not " too far gone," related
to us that, three or four days ago while ploughing in a

Bear- Hunting. 1 93
hollow, he saw a great bear coming out of the wood.
He thought at first that the beast would simply cross
the Valley ; but the animal having stopped a minute to
watch him from a distance, at length came towards him,
and the old man seeing this, hastened to take out his
horses, to stride one and lead the other, and scampered
away for his life. Arrived at a safe distance, he saw
the bear squatting beside the plough, which he had
turned over on its side and was examining with much
curiosity. For our part, we have seen nothing of these interest
ing animals. We have started three or four spotted
deer, and constantly see vast numbers of squirrels
feeding on the fir cones. I understand now why the
Indians live more on the prairie than on the mountains.
We see much less game since we have left Rapid City.
I have been deceived also in another particular. An
Englishman, a great traveller, had strongly advised
. me before my departure not to omit taking a fishing-
rod, and accordingly I furnished myself, not only with
a rod, which much encumbered me, but a book full of
artificial flies that cost a lot of money, and there is not,
it seems, a trout in the country. This I can well
account , for ; the water of the Cheyenne, which they
must ascend to get here, is too much charged with
elements from the crushing floors of the mines for them
to brave the passage.
After two or three hours of tiresome marching, we
arrive at the crest of a lofty hill, where Parker makes
N

194 Colonels and Cow-boys.
us linger awhile to explain to us the topography of the
country. From Deadwood we have been taking a line
that extends a considerable way across the circle
formed by the Black Hills. As all the valleys have
been formed by the waters flowing from a central
mountain mass towards the circumference, we have
been obliged in passing near the centre to traverse all
the lines diverging therefrom, and it is this that has
rendered our march so fatiguing. We shall soon reach
the head of a valley that leads to his property, only,
before getting there, we must pass over a region of the
mountain eight or ten miles wide, which a conflagration
some years ago has totally devastated. We plunge at
once into the midst of a labyrinth of carbonised trunks.
In some places, sheltered from the wind, there are some
still standing, as if kept afoot by a miracle, for I see in
many instances that the boles have been burnt around,
leaving only the thickness of a few inches of solid
wood, the fire not having extended further upwards.
On pushing one or two of these with the butt end of
my whip, they fall away and bring down their neigh
bours like a house of cards, making, however, much
more noise.
About ten o'clock, we at length arrive at the skirt
of the forest at the far end. Parker calls our attention,
with all the pride of a landowner, to the fine growth of
the timber around us. The fact is, we have not
hitherto seen such fine forests ; the average diameter
of the trees is certainly from 16 to 20 inches.

Parkers Timber. 195
And Parker flatters himself he is the proprietor of all
this, though he is not legally so, for the law forbids the
alienation of the forests ; but, since it permits everybody
to use the timber, it virtually belongs to him who has at
his disposal the most economical means of access. Now
Parker had bought a river course, Little Rapid Creek,
the principal tributary to Rapid Creek, which we saw
at Rapid City. In a few months, when the laying down
of the railway begins, he will be the only one having
a right to float to their works the timber of his region,
consisting of eighteen or twenty thousand acres.
Emerging from the dark shade of these fine fir
trees, we come on the brink of a little natural basifi
formed by a magnificent source, whose waters, as clear
as crystal, issue from a great schist rock.
While our horses are here refreshing themselves at
their ease, we are enjoying the delightful view we have
before us. The little brook, escaping from the basin,
flows down an admirable valley that unfolds its verdant
bosom before us as far as a vast wall of rocks four or
five miles beyond, and the upper layers of these, of a
bluish gray, are flooded with sunbeams. At the foot of
this rampart runs the Little Rapid, and this brook, to
which they have given the significant name of " The
Little Gimlet," empties into it its limpid waters. This
valley, of a width varying from eight to nine hundred
yards, is also Parker's property. It is deeply set between
two walls of rocks crowned with fir trees, and the ground
between is covered with natural sainfoin, so thick that

1 96 Colonels and Cow-boys.
our horses find it by no means easy to beat down a road
through such a store of forage.
These valleys between the mountains must have been
anciently nothing but a series of little ponds, the one
emptying itself into the other. Then great floods having
carried away the natural dams that had formed them,
the waters drained off, leaving a series of little long
plains, closed in between the meandering course of the
brook. They are called bars in the country, where they
are highly appreciated for rearing cattle, in the first place,
because the grass there is magnificent, and next, because
snow does not stand there in winter. Parker is going to
put six or seven bullocks in there next autumn. In one
of them he set up a saw-mill last year, which has trans
formed the firs of the neighbourhood into a pile of
sleepers for the new railway.
The Little Gimlet deserves its name, for it makes so
many turns, and these we are obliged to ford continually,
the great floods, about a month ago, having carried away
the planks of all the bridges. At one of these passages,
Jean-Leblanc gives me a fresh example of his sagacity.
The river is not very wide, but it has a bed of mud ; I
take it into my head to cross by walking over one of the
horizontal beams that support the flooring of the bridge,
when there is one. It is a fir tree with its bark on as
thick as a man's thigh. My horse, which I was leading
by the bridle, began passing through the mud, but,
finding himself sinking into it too deep, he leaps out at
a bound upon the fir tree, and follows me along the

Little Rapid Creek. 197
narrow foot-way, applauded by Monsieur Bouverie, who,
having witnessed the feat as well as, myself, could hardly
believe the evidence of his eyes.
We arrive at last at Little Rapid Creek. It is a fine
river, about twenty yards wide and four or five feet deep,
whose waters like crystal flow over a bed of sand that
fills the interstices between large schistose rocks. It runs
also from one side of the narrow valley to the other,
forming thereby a series of bars, completely isolated from
one another, for the sides of the mountain are so precip
itous that they seem like actual walls, and of this we are
soon only too well assured. During Parker's absence
from the neighbourhood, the Little Rapid has had also
its floods, and these have carried away all the planks of
the bridges likewise. Not being disposed to recom
mence our experiences of passing rivers by swimming,
we follow our guide, who tells us that a pathway has
been formed along the flank of the mountain by the
passing of the workmen in the spring. It is a fearful
precipice, after half-an-hour's uneasiness we are thank
ful that our necks are safe, and we reach a group
of houses, well built and surrounded with a large
garden, the first we have seen in America. Upon the
threshold of the first appears a nice old gentleman in
spectacles, to whom Parker presents us with a good deal
of sang-Jroid.
" Captain Hughes, here is Monsieur Bouverie and
Monsieur de Grancey."
Captain Hughes is Parker's assistant. Just at pre-

198 Colonels and Cow-boys.
sent, he is quite alone at the house. We unsaddle our
horses, turn them into the grass of the bar, and then
take shelter just in time to escape a deluge of rain,
which, having considerately waited for us thus far,
continued for the rest of the day.
I employ the leisure thus forced on us in examining
all the documents relating to the acquisition of Little
Rapid Creek, and am interested in the art of becoming
a proprietor in Dakota.
About three years ago, different miners recognised the
existence of a considerable quantity of gold in the
sands of the Little Rapid. They began by fulfilling the
formalities necessary to acquire the property. This is
what is called a placer claim, and is secured by a simple
declaration and a payment of 2s. per acre. This hav
ing been done, they began to work. The operations
went on very well, when a speculator from New York
appeared, who proposed a certain sum for their claims
of auriferous sands. The negotiations came to an issue,
and the New York speculator then formed, in his city,
a company for working the gold with a capital of
200,000 dollars. Superb machinery was bought, and
thirty workmen, the least of whom cost four dollars
a-day, arrived in the valley, and there constructed a
road, a saw-mill, five or six houses, stables, warehouses,
&c. A year passed away in this preliminary work.
Engines arrived, and were set up. They had already
spent £100,000, and the cash-box was empty. The
salaries and wages were not paid regularly. The best

Buying a Gold Mine. 199
workmen, seeing a ruinous failure in prospect, relin
quished the precarious service. The engine, entrusted
to an inexperienced engine-driver, became so seriously
damaged that the repair required an important piece
from Chicago, and this was the bottom of a boiler to
replace what had been blown out. Then the desertion
and break-up commenced. The directors, who seem to
have acted well at this stage of the affair, advanced
some funds on their personal responsibility, and then
convened a meeting of shareholders to demand from
them fresh sacrifices. These being dissatisfied, refused
to comply, preferring to lose what they had already
staked to continue " watering " a badly-managed affair.
During this time the expenses were still running on.
One fine day a waggoner disappeared with his team.
About this time Parker appeared on the scene, and pro
posed to take up the affair on the following conditions :
The company was to assign to him all its rights as pro
prietors, in consideration of the payment by him of
the debts incurred. His proposal was accepted with
enthusiasm. A special provision of the law of New
York relating to companies, however, rules that the
bargain will not be definitive till the end of the year
1883. Although becoming proprietor of these claims, and of
the magnificent plant, machinery, and buildings on the
spot, Parker has no intention of working them, at least
immediately. His chief object was to secure the owner
ship of the water-course ; for, having ascertained that

200 Colonels and Cow-boys.
the two ranges of hills between which it runs contain a
large number of lodes of quartz and of copper, he was
sure that a day would come when other companies
would be formed for working them, and, as in the work
ing of auriferous quartz mines water is an absolutely
indispensable factor, not only as a motive-power, but
for the washing, he was certain of being able on that
day to dictate his terms. A speculation of this nature,
which would be strange in any other country, is sure
here of success. Besides, it has already been tried in
other quarters. Under similar conditions, the "Cale
donia " pays, as a water-rate, to the proprietor of a
stream, 400 dollars a-week.
These Americans are certainly very extraordinary
people. I have known Parker formerly at Saigon and at
Hong-Kong. He had there three or four horses in his
stables, and half-a-dozen Chinese boys in white silk
jackets for his personal service. He used to give us
very good dinners, at which many a bottle of iced
champagne was uncorked. He lived, in short, like all
the rich merchants of the country.
Knowing that he has been living in these parts for
more than a year, I had imagined we should find there,
if not a certain luxury, at least ordinary comforts.
Alas ! what a deception. He sleeps in a bed without -
sheets, wrapped in a blanket. He eats the bacon of
the country with his workmen; I should mention;
however, that his is not rancid, and his engineer,
the good old Hughes, does the cooking. To-day

Chopping Wood. 201
the workmen are absent enjoying the after-fete of
the 4th of July ; we are therefore all alone. When
Monsieur Bouverie was informed of the domestic ar
rangements, he declared that he would himself do the
cooking. Hughes, therefore, has undertaken simply to
make the nasty cataplasm which they call bread in this
country. Feeling ashamed of my idleness, I have offered
my services, but they have thought proper to con
fide to me only the rough work. Consequently I
am armed with a heavy hatchet, and I have to keep
up the fire, which I do at the cost of some blisters
on my hands in chopping a fir tree into convenient
logs. When I came in with my load of wood I found old
Hughes quite excited. He had just learnt that a
mysterious composition, to which Monsieur Bouverie
was giving the last touch, was that French dish, the
renown of which had often reached the Black Hills, and
which the epicureans of the Old World called an
omelette. And it was really one with bacon, and,
moreover, exquisite.
Old Hughes has tasted an omelette'; he has lived
seventy years, and this . is the first time in his life !
And the Americans pique themselves on their civilisa
tion, forsooth ! A single fact will give an example of
their total ignorance of the culinary art. The Bordeaux
fresh-water lobsters are unknown at Chicago, a city of
600,000 inhabitants, and these excellent crustaceans,

202 Colonels and Cow-boys.
positively swarming in the neighbouring brooks, and
treated there with cold contempt, would actually boil
with excitement if some Frenchman, while wandering.
along these brooks, would only give them a warm
reception — in a saucepan !

CHAPTER VI.
LITTLE RAPID CREEK — THE BEAVERS— THE PAN — BILL — THE
MARQUIS DE M  AND THE COW-BOYS — TIGER HUNTING-
FAIR VIEW — THE MARMOTS.
* July the 6th. — It has rained all night, but this morn
ing the sun is shining, and on putting our heads out of
the window before leaving our bed-chambers we enjoy a
pretty landscape, all fresh and tranquil, which at once
consoles us for the bad night we have passed, stretched
on a sack of dried leaves, and badly covered with Indian
blankets of brilliant colours, so gay withal, that they
would make a great show in a little room in the way of
curtains, but certainly do not make a good bed. There
is one advantage in these arrangements for reposing ;
they do not encourage laziness, and we accordingly quit
them without regret, and walk into the principal house
to rejoin our hosts.
We find only Captain Hughes there. It appears that
Monsieur de M  's mare has again played one of those
freaks she is so fond of. Parker, on finding her absent
this morning, has saddled a horse and gone on her
traces in pursuit.
We console ourselves for this unlucky incident, by

204 Colonels and Cow-boys.
swallowing a glass of coffee, and then go to take a
glance at the property. We see that the former
owners did not spare their money. They have done
everything well. There are, to begin with, five or six
wooden buildings well turned out, one of which is
very large with two side wings, another filled with
reserve pieces of machinery and stores, a central one
serving as office and refectory, with a kitchen beside
it ; then, higher up, another house where we slept,
containing three or four rooms, a third destined for
a lodging for the workmen, and finally, lower down,
stables, sheds, smithy, and carpenter's shop with all
their appliances. The machinery, which we shall
examine later, is on the other side of the river, along
whose banks we are sauntering. We find first, the
remains of a dam made by the beavers to establish
there their habitation. Parker did not wish to disturb
these industrious, interesting animals which abound all
along the river, and have there two ponds, the work of
their ingenuity. During the late extraordinary floods,
a lot of dead firs, carried along the current, have totally
demolished these interesting constructions, and now
they are busy every night in rebuilding them. We see
a tree which they are about to bring down to the
ground ; it is a birch, ten inches in diameter ; they
have made a cutting with their teeth as regular
as if done by the woodman's axe ; and the branches
we pick up are severed as cleanly as if they had been
lopped by the woodman himself. As soon as the tree

The Pan. 205

is felled, and they contrive that it shall fall, as they
want it, across the river, they will cut down one or
two others, interlace the branches, plaster them with
a mortar made of mud well beaten with their tail, and
on the dam constructed in this manner, they will raise
their new houses.
" Quatre dents, ou plutot quatre terrible scies,
Qu'en un tranchant acier la nature a durcies,
Et sa queue aplatie, et ses agiles doigts,
Voila de ses travaux les instrumens adroits."
The old habitations unfortunately have disappeared,
and " leave not a wreck behind."
At the spot where we have stopped, an eddy of the
current, caused by a turn in the river, has accumulated
a large bank of black muddy sand.
" Now, suppose we dig here for a little gold,"
suggested Monsieur Bouverie.
He runs back to the house, and presently I see him
returning, accompanied by old Hughes, who wishes to
> gives us our first lesson in panning.
Armed each of us with a pan — an iron plate a little
larger than a soup-plate — we fill it with mud and sand,
and then stooping down at the edge of the water, in
conformity with our instructions, we give to the con
tents a circular movement, throwing off at each turn
the gravel and muddy water. After three or four
minutes of this manipulating, there remains no more
than a handful of very fine sand.deposited in the water,
which, as soon as the agitation ceases, settles down on

206 Colonels and Cow-boys.
the edge of the plate. We then see already here and
there some little shining specks appearing, and these are
spangles of gold. It is the critical moment. They are
so thin, that if they are not shaken very gently, they
will be carried away with the water; and if not agitated
sharply enough, it is impossible to get rid of the earth.
Monsieur Bouverie, who is wonderfully clever, got the
knack of it at once, and astonished old Hughes. Our
instructor then lets us into all the secrets of the art.
" You see, when one wants to buy a placer, one must
be wide-awake and distrustful. The seller always
proposes to pan before you. But at each trial he drops
into the water a small quantity of gold dust, which he
holds in reserve in his nails, or even in his mouth, and
in doing this dexterously, he may add a very sensible
quantity to the proportion of gold as it actually exists
in the ground. This is what we call salting the
mine* " Well, Captain, how much gold is there in this
pan ? "
" Oh ! You have not searched at a very good spot ;
there is not more than five or six sous' worth of gold
to the pan. Come a little higher up and you will see."
He makes us walk a little way through the grass
turning our back to the river, and then stops over a
little depression in the ground.
* There is another trick of salting much practised. They charge a
gun with some gold dust, and then fire into the spot, which is afterwards
panned before the unsuspecting buyer.

Panning, 207 V
" Do you see that great rock yonder, at the entrance
of the bar ? " he says to me, pointing out an enormous
mass of schist, that blocks up half the valley.
' " Certainly. What then ? "
" Well, do you notice in the mountain that great gap
just above it ? That is where it came from. It had
rolled down here into the bed of the river and changed
its course. Do you see ? Formerly, it passed by the
spot where we are standing."
"I understand, perfectly."
"Let us dig here and you will see what a pan we
get." With a few strokes of his pick, he carefully turns aside
the clods of turf, comes on a layer of vegetable mould and
then a deposit of water-worn river pebbles, and removing
this, he lays bare some black mud, exactly like that we
have just seen in the river. The good man shows it to
us with a triumphant look. We fill our pan, and after
five minutes washing, we have each a streak of gold
three times as much as we had before.
" Now, do you see ? " he says. " In prospecting along
the valley, I have sometimes found so much as two
shillings worth of gold to the pan. Last season, Mr
Parker was not here, and I allowed some workmen to
work on their own account. They paid us a dollar a day,
and made five or six dollars for themselves for their
day's work. Ah ! Here are our horses ! "
On the other side of the river, we see Parker coming
back, galloping as if pursued by a scalp -hunter, and

208 Colonels and Cow-boys.
making for the ford a little higher up, near the beaver-
pond. He brings back the buff-mare. Fortunately,
yesterday, we left the halter on her ; the great knot at
the end caught in a root, and she was stopped about six
miles from here in a wood. Without this lucky halter,
Gods knows where she would have gone ! Without
Parker to release her from her perilous situation, what a
nice mouthful for a bear !
We hasten over a breakfast composed of bread and
Chicago corned beef, and then set out again in our
journey, for we have to visit the three or four mines which
Parker intends reserving as his exclusive property. On
going down along the river, I notice a group of firs of
colossal proportions ; we measured the largest at a
yard above ground, and find the circumference to be
eleven feet ten inches : many others are above six feet.
We are obliged to climb the flank of a mountain to a
great height. I feel quite ashamed to be out of breath,
and often to be reduced to hold on by my hands when I
see old Hughes, with his seventy years, marching before
me with ease, without appearing conscious that he has
a pick and a hatchet over his shoulder. We at last
arrive at a drift, cut into the side of the rock but a few
feet only, the green hue of which contrasts strongly with
the grey masses of schist surrounding us. It is a copper
mine, which is simply taken up, the working of it being
deferred. From the point where we stand, we can survey
the valley, which, three or four miles lower down, is cut
off abruptly by two walls of rocks of stupendous height,

The Little Rapid. 209
and so close together that they leave only a very narrow
gorge for the river to pass. Ravines of this kind are
here called caiions. On the other side of this is Rapid
Creek. Old Hughes calls my attention to the vein of
quartz. It cuts all the spurs of the mountain chain
obliquely, and we see it very distinctly, especially where
it is washed by passing streamlets.
Here the walls of schist, gradually worn away by the
friction of the water, leave it jutting up in a dazzling
white mass. We are led to a point a little further on,
where a shaft has been sunk to determine its depth.
At this spot the metal displays itself through the vein
of quartz, and even impregnates a neighbouring layer of
singular matter, which looks something like a nougat
de Montelimar with a golden iridescence of superb
colour. The iridescence is due to the presence of iron
ore : the gold therein, mingled very irregularly, is, in
some parts, very abundant.
On following the mineral vein, we at last come to
the bank of the river. It is now late, and we are three
or four miles from the house. Darkness comes on much
sooner in this valley, where the oblique sun's rays
cannot reach. The mosquitoes take advantage of it to
pester us, and thereby hinder us from enjoying the fine
scene of nature with the necessary tranquillity. In
spite of these torments, what we see is very fine. The
river, deeply seated in the ravine, rushes foaming over
its rocky bed. Huge firs interlace their branches over
its banks, and mark out the innumerable windings, for,
O

210 Colonels and Cow-boys.
in this respect, the Little Rapid is not inferior to the
Little Gimlet. But its endless meanderings compel us
to cross it frequently — passages that are not always
free from danger, arising from the rudimentary charac
ter of the bridges and roads in this country. Generally,
the wanderer is obliged to cross over a fir tree thrown
across, and Parker and old Hughes accomplish this feat
with a dexterity that makes us ashamed of our limbs.
Gliding over these slippery trunks with my big boots,
and my rifle over my shoulder, I fancied two or three
times I was on the point of " taking a header " into the
dark water bubbling and boiling a dozen feet beneath,
but luckily I escaped falling into these rapids.
I have been edified again to-day by another example
of the " free and easy " habits of certain people. On
entering the house, I went straight to my room to put
down my rifle, and, in a few minutes, Parker comes in,
handing me a letter.
" One of our workmen has just come from Rapid
City, and the postmaster has given him this letter which
is arrived for you."
" But," I observed, examining the letter, " how is it
that it is open ? "
" Ah ! I did not notice that. You are right. Let us
go and ask him the meaning of it."
" What was he doing, then, at Rapid City ? "
" He has been on the jury ; and he has been away
a whole fortnight."
We go into the kitchen. A great hulk of a lout, with

Bill. 2 1 1
a gallows-look, is sitting beside the fire with his hat on.
That he does not rise, on seeing us, need hardly be
mentioned. " Bill," says Parker, " this gentleman is Monsieur de
Grancey." "Ah!" says Bill, without stirring an inch. "What
do you call 'im ? I haven't heard his name."
" Monsieur de Grancy," repeats Parker.
"Delighted to see you," says Bill, with a rather
patronising air.
" And I also," I replied to him, a little irritated. " Is
it you who has brought this letter ? "
" Yes."
"Could you explain to me how it happens to be
open ? "
" Ah ! yes, to be sure. The bar-keeper says to me,
' You must go to-day to take it ;' but I didn't want to go<
till the next day. Then I opened the letter to see if
there was anything pressing ; but it was in French, and
I couldn't understand it."
And for the last fortnight this bumpkin has been
sitting in judgment over his fellow-countrymen ! With
instances of this sort, can anyone wonder at the way in-
which justice is administered in this country ?
July yth. — This morning Parker comes to tell me
that the amiable Bill has disappeared during the night.
¦He had complained, it seems, to Captain Hughes that
I had not treated him with sufficient consideration.

2 1 2 Colonels and Cow-boys.
He had been feted on the 4th of July, but I do
not know where. In a newspaper, The Yellowstone
Journal of the 30th June, which he brings, we find
some very interesting news of one of our friends, who
has just entered on a great ranch, a few hundred miles
from here in the North, on the North-western line.
This is the article :
"Arrest of Cow-boys.
" Last evening at six o'clock a goods' train arrived
at Mandan, bringing the Marquis de M  and his
friends, Sheriff Harnow and his escort, and also the
desperadoes that have just been arrested, Frank
O'Donnell and John Reuter, the latter known also
under the name of Wanegan. A large crowd had
assembled at the Station to see the prisoners, but they
were immediately driven off to prison. O'Donnel is a
tall, well-made man, dressed in an Indian costume of
leather, fringed on the seams, and a white felt hat,
such as worn by the cow-boys. He was handcuffed.
Wanegan, who is much younger, had nothing on but a
shirt and trousers.
"The examination of the prisoners was made by
Judge Bateman at ten o'clock. The Marquis has
chosen for his attorneys Sowel and Allen. The cul
prits are accused of having threatened to kill the
Marquis and his workmen, of having destroyed his
fences, and committed divers other acts that are crimes
or misdemeanours.

The Cow-boys. 213

" The two prisoners declared they were not guilty of
the offences with which they were charged. They have
been required to find two sureties of six thousand
dollars each, and have been summoned to appear on
Tuesday next. Everyone present manifested much
sympathy for the Marquis.
"Wanegan and O'Donnel, not having been able to
find sureties, have been remitted to prison, which is
guarded with special precautions. The reporter of this
journal has had an interview with the Marquis, who
gives the following account of the affair.
'"O'Donnel is one of the first persons I have met
at Little Missouri. I should say that his bravery and
his address as a hunter had prepossessed me so much
in his favour that I was disposed to do all in my power
to render him a service, and this I have proved to him
on many occasions. Last Friday, about eleven, I
arrived at Little Missouri from Miles City, where I had
been since the evening before last. Finding many
letters arrived during my absence, I passed the whole
of Friday, and of Saturday also, without going out,
busy in writing letters for the post. In the evening I
saw Mr Paddock arrive, who came to tell me that I
must take precautions, for O'Donnel was saying every
where that he was going to assassinate me. On
Sunday I went to Mandan in order to procure a
warrant against him. The Judge not only gave me
one, but he told me also that he fully authorised me
to dejend myself if I was attacked. At four I had

214 Colonels and Cow-boys.
returned to the station of Little Missouri, from which I
would not go at first as a matter of prudence.
" ' My presence there was soon known. O'Donnel,
and his companions, Luffecey and Wanegan, warned
by one of their spies, prepared immediately to come
in search of me. Being informed, about eight, that
they were approaching, I escaped into a little wood
near by, where I met Mr Paddock, who, seeing we
were pursued, took me into his house, where we stayed
all night, and whence I was able to send a telegram to
the Sheriff of Mandan claiming his protection.
" ' During the whole of Tuesday morning we saw
O'Donnel watching the house. About eleven he and
Luffecey approached from two different directions ; but
seeing we were on our guard, they went away.
" ' I sent word to Howard Eaton to go to the station
and see the Sheriff, who was expected by the 12.30
train, to tell him what had taken place and inform him
that our cow-boys had been ordered to guard the roads
going out of the town, in order to stop the offenders if,
as soon as he arrived, they tried to escape.
" ' Three roads meet at the station where they were.
Frank Miller and I were on the first, Captain Paddock
and his nephew on the second, and Dick Moore with
another man on the third.
" ' When the train entered the station, O'Donnel,
Wanegan, and Luffecey were on horseback on the plat
form, facing the line with rifle in hand. The Sheriff
stepped out of the car and began reading the warrant

The Cow-boys. 215

which he bore. O'Donnel interrupted him, saying they
should not take him alive. About half-an-hour later,
the train set off again, and I saw the three men coming
up at a galop, rifle in hand. Miller and I immediately
fired on them. At the first shot, my ball broke
O'Donnel's rifle and then lodged itself in his thigh.
Riley Luffecey fell dead on the spot, Miller's ball having
broken his left arm, then passed through his heart and
lungs. O'Donnel, feeling himself wounded, tried to
escape, but Dick Moore, who came to our succour and
was posted on the road, brought down his horse dead
under him, by a shot from his rifle, whilst Captain
Paddock and his nephew laid hands on Wanegan. We
then conducted our prisoners to the station, and handed
them over to the Sheriff, who, having identified them,
conducted them to Mandan.'
"This narrative has been confirmed by all the wit
nesses of the scene. Howard Eaton affirms that these
three men have, for some time, been the terror of Little
Missouri. They roved through the town, firing off their
revolvers at random into the windows of the hotels, the
banks and bars. O'Donnel has refused to give any
account to our reporter. He simply declares that all
the accusations made against him are false, and that the
most respectable men of the country will come to bear
witness in his favour. In spite of these assurances, they
seem to understand that their situation is bad. All the
inhabitants of Little Missouri, as well as the escort from
Mandan who accompanied the Sheriff, concur in saying

2 1 6 Colonels and Cow-boys.
that the Marquis has committed only one fault, and that
is in not having killed all three, for they are ruffians of
the deepest dye.
" What are the real motives of this aggression ? This
is what we do not yet well know. It is possible that these
three men merely intended, through intimidation, topro-
cure the departure of the Marquis, whose presence,
notwithstanding, contributes so largely to the develop
ment of the riches of our country. If this be/ their
object, it will not be so readily attained, for this noble
man is going to return to his lands so soon as tran
quillity is re-established. He says that the unhappy
victim who has succumbed, Riley Luffecey, was the
bravest and the least culpable of the gang." — Bismarck
Tribune, 28th June.
Another newspaper of the 5 th, the Black Hills Pioneer,
happily gives us the denouement of this adventure, in
the following note : — " Last Saturday, the Marquis de
M  , Frank Miller, and Dick Moore appeared before
Judge Bateman, charged with having occasioned the
death of Riley Luffecey, at Little Missouri. A great
number of witnesses were heard. The Judge acquitted
the accused, declaring that they had been menaced, and
had only acted in self-defence. The two men at present
detained at Mandan — O'Donnel and Wanegan — will be
tried at the assizes, accused of manslaughter and of
having occasioned the disturbance, in the course of which
Luffecey was killed."
Parker and Captain Hughes highly admired the sang-

The Cow-boys. 217

froid and prudence manifested by this brave Marquis.
In such a dilemma, an American in his situation, with a
hundred cow-boys in his service, believing his life to be in
danger, would not have failed to get at once the start of
them, and, with a rope, make short work of O'Donnel and
his confederates, and every one would have applauded
the promptitude of their procedure. But his position as a
foreigner rendered the matter more delicate. He had
the tact to allow his enemies to commit themselves, and
acted only after having given information to the Sheriff.
Consequently, his conduct has been approved by
everybody. In spite _of this I have a notion that he will
be obliged to pay a considerable sum to wash his hands
of the affair.
But what must we say of the situation of a country,
where such doings are possible, where, in a large village
of some hundreds of inhabitants and on a line of rail
way, three scoundrels can stalk about with impunity
for two days, firing their revolvers through the windows
of the houses, besieging a railway station, occupying it in
force, pursuing an unfortunate stranger to the woods,
without the population, who are almost entirely indebted
to him for their living, appearing to notice it, and where
this state of things goes on till this stranger, aided by
his servitors, puts an end to it by executing justice him
self, in the presence of a Sheriff, accompanied by his
escort, who has not, perhaps, either the will or the power
to stop the affray !
The people of the West, who for the last few years

218 Colonels and Cow-boys.
have been trying so much to attract European capital
to their side, should understand that it does not
require many adventures of this sort to repel those
who have a wish to go there. They should, however,
throw down flowers on the paths before emigrants of
the stamp of the Marquis de M  . The eldest son of
the Due de V  , having at his disposal an enor
mous capital, he came, about two years ago, to set up
in Little Missouri an establishment on a vast footing.
In order to avoid the great expense incurred by trans
porting living animals, he decided on sending to Chicago
his beasts already killed. Every day they kill at Little
Missouri two hundred and fifty bullocks, and these are
cut up, packed, in refrigerating waggons, constructed ad
hoc, and immediately dispatched by special train. One
may fancy what a source of riches such an industry is,
which succeeds admirably, they say, in the town where
it is established.
The Marquis is not the only Frenchman who has come
to seek the employment of his energy and his capital in
the Far West. One has hardly any conception of the
immense loss to the French nation by the dwindling
away of its living strength since the establishment of
the third republic.
All the young men, the issue of the old military
families, have no longer any employment ; for, through
a phenomenon of heredity that admits very few excep
tions, their aptitudes that would almost always make
them excellent officers, often distinguished diplomatists,

Some Faults of the French Republic. 2 1 9
judges, or ministers, render them, on the other hand,
very nearly incompetent for the sedentary occupation of
business, even that of a first class bank. Nine-tenths of
those who have already tried their hand at it have not
succeeded, and even have often left there, unfortunately, a
share of their gentlemanlike bearing. In every position
that suited them, they have been beset to that degree,
that they have either quitted them or are on the point of
quitting them. The officers insulted, in the estimation
of1 inspectors by the functionaries, obliged to humili
ate themselves before the pettiest sous-prtfet, retire
from the service as soon as they can, and their sons
rarely take their places. Twenty years ago, at the ex-
amination to enter the Ecole navale there were a thou
sand candidates for fifty places ; there are now no more
than two hundred and fifty for eighty admissions, and
before long they will be obliged to establish a conscrip
tion for the officers.
During this time, they have been taking school
masters to make ambassadors of them ; consequently,
there is a school-master's place vacant, an ambassador
incompetent for his business, and a competent ambas
sador sauntering on the boulevards" for want of occu
pation. Now, this is the main fault of the system ;
when a barrister is appointed a magistrate, the magis
trate, whose place he takes, may take his at the
bar. It may indeed strictly be maintained, that
from the point of view of the nation generally, there
is nothing lost ; still, when you have, through distaste-

220 Colonels and Cow-boys.
ful proceedings, compelled a good officer to resign, there
is, somewhere' or other, a young man who might have
made a very good merchant or an excellent attorney,
who will be tempted to choose the career of an officer,
for which he has little taste, whilst he who has just
quitted the service will be neither a merchant nor an
attorney. There is therefore a loss on both sides ; but
this is not all. This man who, in his element, was a
useful servant of his country, becomes not only useless,
but perverted ; for the idleness of an entire, large class
of rich men in a good position, can only produce, for
themselves and for society, calamitous consequences.
Many young men, without clearly understanding
results so complicated, are beginning to perceive these
truths instinctively. For them, what is to be done in
France, when the magistrature, diplomacy, politics even,
are closed against them ? when the army, if these things
continue, will before long be so also ? To remain at
home with their parents and do nothing, is to resign
themselves to become worthless members of society.
Those who have the most blood in their veins are often
those who the least resist a life so void of all interest.
It is in this class that are recruited the men that have
made France so conspicuous for colonizing. And in past
time, these were also the men who had given her Canada
and India, the loss of which, by-the-bye, is hardly com
pensated by the acquisition of Algeria and Cochin
China. Besides, those who would now go and establish
themselves in these countries, would find, in the local

Washing the Sand. 2 2 1
governments, the hostility that pursues them in France.
Therefore, the number of rich young men of good posi
tion, who suffer themselves to be allured by the free and
adventurous life of the ranchmen of the West, is rather
considerable. Important sums have already been drawn
from France to be employed on the other side of the
Mississipi, and, if we are not deceived, the amount will,
before long, be still increased.
We have spent the whole day in rambling about
the neighbourhood. First, we went across the river to
examine the machine for washing the sand, which is set
up. It is a kind of suction-pump with a large bore ; the
suction-pipe, about five or six inches in diameter, sinks
into the black mud, which accumulates in pockets with
out cohesion, in the depression between the rocks, lying
in the bed of the current. The auriferous sand is thus
abstracted with great force, then projected on to a
wooden inclined plane, and there washed by a stream of
water brought from a great distance in a kind of wooden
tube called in the country a flume. This inclined plane
is cut by a multitude of transverse furrows, where the
water lodges. Some legal difficulties relative to the
acquisition, which cannot be determined till the end
of the year, have compelled the work to be suspended
for the present.
Monsieur Bouverie has passed his morning in crushing,
under the stamps, all the specimens we collected during
our wandering yesterday, and he finds himself in posses
sion of a good pinch of gold dust. During this time I

222 Colonels and Cow-boys.
took it into my head to go and verify the statement of
Captain Hughes that there is no fish in the Little Rapid.
I was pretty sure, however, of having seen some yester
day. I take my famous rod and make my way to the
beaver pond, where I land, in about half an hour, a dish
of excellent fish, but of very strange shape. I have often
heard of queer fish, but I have never seen any so queer
as these.
Old Hughes is quite a type that would be very ex
traordinary in Europe. For twenty years he com
manded a schooner on Lake Michigan. In winter, when
the lake was frozen, he worked as a carpenter in the
building yard of his shipowner ; for in this country, a
man, who has been educated and has practised a liberal
profession, finds it quite natural to work occasionally
with his hands. In this they show a great superiority
over us.
One fine day he got sick and tired of navigation, and
came to try his hand at agriculture at Yankton. Then
he turned his attention to mines, and, in a short time,
acquired quite a reputation as mining engineer. He
has, in fact, an extraordinary "scent." Latterly, in
returning from a visit to his son, who lives near here, he
discovered a little mine, and made him a present of it,
which he immediately sold for ten thousand dollars.
He is now seventy- two, and quite as active as a young
man. When he learnt that I had been a sailor, he took
quite a fancy to me, and every evening we had our
corner by the fire, with long conversations that interested

Canadian Government. 223
me very much. He appears to me to be quite the type
of the good sort of Yankee. Yesterday, he spoke to me
about Canada, where he has been very often, and which
he much admires. He praised especially its good
administration. "Do you think," I asked, "that the Canadians are
better governed than you Americans ? "
" Ah ! to be sure they are ! They are not pilfered as
we are, and when they have a lawsuit on hand they are
not sure beforehand of losing it if they do not give
money to the judge. Now, here is an instance. One
day I was on the coast of Canada. One of my men
had had some affair ashore and had been fighting. He
was put into prison. I thought it was just the same as
with us, and that I had only to give twenty dollars to
the magistrate to obtain his release. Only fancy my
reception ! They very nearly put me into prison
also." " But the day before yesterday you all went to
celebrate the anniversary of your Independence. It
seems to me that you have not gained much by being
independent. The Canadians, who have stuck to
England, are not much to be pitied according to your
account." The good man looked at me with an air of surprise,
drew five or six whiffs of smoke from his pipe, and then
remained in contemplation before the fire for a long
time without saying a word. Afterwards he changed
the conversation.

224 Colonels and Cow-boys.
This morning after breakfast he took me aside.
" You mentioned to me yesterday something that I
have never thought about. I have been reflecting on it
during the night. It is quite true that the Canadians
are more favoured than we are in every way. But for
all that the Declaration of Independence is a good
thing. Only see, we are already too vast. It will not
be very long before America can no longer remain
united in a single nation. If we had remained English,
do you suppose that the other powers would have
tolerated the existence of a kingdom comprising all
America, Australia, India, and what I don't know
besides ? No ; we should have had constant wars so
long as that would have lasted. It is for this reason
that the separation has been a good thing."
Sunday, July the 8th. — Last evening, after having
written down our notes, Monsieur Bouverie and I took
it into our heads to go and lie in wait for game.
Parker pointed out to us a spot by the river where he
sees constantly the footsteps of deer and even elk, for
there are still a few of those magnificent animals,
as he found only yesterday a splendid pair of horns
of one. As a rule, however, I have quite a horror of
lying in wait, and I have good reasons for it too.
While in Cochin China a few years ago all my
comrades affirmed having killed one tiger at least each
of them. The position of a gentleman who could not
exult likewise in his prowess in hunting or in the

Tiger Watching. 225
killing of any felines bigger than a cat was becoming
so painful that I felt bound to give in. I was then on
a surveying party not far from Vinh-Lhong, and tigers
were not wanting there : they were heard every night
growling round the survey, in a jungle that extended
as far as the parapets of the fort. Still, it was neces
sary to go to them, and that was the' rub.
One morning when my advisers were assembled,
I put to them this question :
"What is the greatest height a tiger is capable of
springing ? "
The discussion was long, but it was interesting. In
the end the om-sha, a little old man with a white beard
condensed the opinions of his colleagues, declaring
to me that tigers had been seen springing over barriers
three yards high. With this information I sent for the
dot of my matas.
" You will go off to the jungle," I said, " and cut a
number of arecas sufficient for the purpose, and make a
platform, four yards high (thus giving myself an extra
yard for precaution), and a ladder to mount on it.
You will buy a live calf this evening and put it there,
and to-morrow morning if it has been killed by the
tiger you will come and inform me.
The dot — a Cambodian — struck his forehead three
times on the ground, declaring he was " the dust of my
feet," which is a form of politeness habitual in this
country, a complaisance existing there, perhaps, to an
excess that no one would dream of reproaching the
P

226 Colonels and Cow-boys.
Americans with. Having performed this homage, he
took a dozen men and went to execute my orders.
The next morning on rising I saw my dot, who
brought me a calf 's head; it was all that remained of
the animal. I had it made into mock-turtle for my
dejeuner, and in the evening, a little before sunset, I
walked towards my observatory, followed by my dot,
who was leading by a cord another calf, and by my
servants, who placed on the platform quite an arsenal
of rifles of divers calibre, and also a little meat-supper
to minister to my patience, for I intended passing the
whole night there.
When every one had retired, after having wished me
good luck without end, I installed myself peaceably on
the platform : they had brought me a comfortable easy-
chair, and I was soon at my ease. The calf, ignorant
of the painful r61e he was destined to play, seemed to
be perfectly happy, nipping off" the young shoots of
bamboo within reach of his tether.
Darkness came on with that suddenness usual in
tropical countries. I had gone so far as to ask myself
whether I should not enjoy a little nap, to pass away
the time till it should please the tigers to announce to
me their presence, when a sharp sting in the calf of my
leg attracted my attention. I stooped quickly to see
what it was. By the feeble light of the stars and the
moon, I saw a procession of ants scaling my leg. They .
were little black things. I got up and shook myself,
pushed away my chair, and sat down again ; in a

Ants and Tigers. 227
minute, another procession was on the march, and, at
the same time, my other calf was invaded. This time
they were red, great red monsters, advancing in good
order, with superior officers at their head, throwing out
skirmishing parties right and left, reconnoitering the
country in all directions, and leaving very sensible
traces of their ravaging course. But this was not the
only attack, for next came the advanced guard of a
swarm of mosquitoes, sounding the charge ; fierce little
assailants with grey-spotted wings, which alighted on
my skin and as quickly departed, leaving traces of their
marauding in specks of blood.
" Oh ! oh ! " I said to myself, " I am not going to
stand my ground against such a decided superiority in
number, and shall beat an orderly retreat, if I can only
find my way through this infernal jungle."
Taking the first rifle that came to hand, I prepared
to descend the ladder,' and no sooner had I set foot on
the first round than a growl, gently modulated, came
from a spot near behind me. I did not see the beast,
but the calf, for his part, was by no means deceived :
he trembled in every limb, and nearly pulled his head
off, dragging the cord. I remounted at a bound.
Another low growl, this one coming from my right,
replied to the first. Evidently, the tiger, whom I had
invited to dinner the preceding evening, had, in his
turn, gallantly invited a female friend to a little supper
of cold veal, and I was on the point of interrupting this
tite a tete.

228 Colonels and Cow-boys.
The ants and their allies, the mosquitoes, recom
menced hostilities whilst I was meditating on my situa
tion, and meditation is certainly not under favourable
conditions when one is fully occupied in repelling an
attack. Three or four times, being driven to extre
mities, I tried to descend, but then this terrible low
growling recommenced, and it expressed so clearly:
" Wait, my friend, I will have him by the leg as he
comes down the ladder, and then we shall have some
thing more delicate for supper." Indignant at the
mean rSle circumstances compelled me to play, I had
no alternative than to seek safety on my platform, but
there, however, I could defend myself, if not against all
my enemies, at least, armed as I was, against the most
formidable. " Let them come on," I said to myself, " I
will give them a warm reception, and prepare for my
self an oration on my return."
At six in the morning, when day appeared and my
men came to look for me, my head had swollen to the
size of a pumpkin, and my legs were studded with
bites, which were burning like a scald. As for the
calf, he appeared to have recovered from his fright, and
was eating with a good appetite. I kept him a long
time, but I never returned to lie in wait for a tiger, nor
have I ever recommended this kind of sport, but to one
person alone, and this was a learned German tourist
who had been pursuing me foij three days with questions
on statistics.
This incident, that really occurred to me in the East,

Watching for Game. 229
came to my memory last evening. The post for
watching indicated by Parker is a little beach of sand,
at the spot where the water is turned into the flume.
Monsieur Bouverie, who is an inveterate hunter, pointed
out to me all the foot-marks imprinted on the soil, and
then went to hide himself in a thicket of willows, whilst
I tried to cover myself in the branches of a fir, and
there we remained two hours watching a little gap in
the rock, the sole path open to the game coming to
the watering place. Alas ! we were bound to believe
that the fallow-deer and the moose-deer were no more
thirsty than the beavers were hungry, for nothing came
down from the wood, and the sheet of water was not
rippled by the pettiest beaver. On the other hand, we
were so well punctured and scarified by the mosquitoes,
that, about nine o'clock, being unable to hold out any
longer, I prevailed on Monsieur Bouverie to beat a
retreat — a manoeuvre that was not easily accomplished
in this country without roads, in the dark.
When we returned from our hunt we found Parker
still up. He told us that during our absence he had
received a visit from Mr Cockries, the proprietor of one
of the neighbouring mines with whom he is engaged in
business, and who, hearing of our presence in the
country, came to invite us to breakfast, that he might
at the same time show us his mine.
Having plenty of time to spare before going there, it
being only half-an-hour's walk, we have employed the
morning in panning in the river. Monsieur Bouverie

230 Colonels and Cow-boys.
has decidedly missed his vocation ; he should have
been by all means a gold-digger. At the end of an
hour's work, when we compared results, he had a little
heap of gold four times as much as mine. It is a great
' pity our rivulets in France do not bear gold, for really
panning is an exercise as healthful as amusing. It
would be an invaluable resource for the country when
one has visitors and does not know what to do with them.
Immediately facing the house, a little dell, in every
respect resembling that of the Little Gimlet, by which
we came, descends into our valley, and to this
they have given the name of Fair-View. There are
three like this, and these constitute the sole means of
access to the Little Rapid. It is the little dell of Fair-
View (called here a gulch) that we are now going up
on horse-back, after having crossed the river, to get to
the mine, which is quite at the end near where the
streams separate. We soon arrive at a little log-house,
which serves as a lodging for the proprietor of the mine,
Mr Cockries. He is a fine young man of about thirty,
who shakes our hands so heartily as almost to dislocate
the joints, and seems quite happy in having the op
portunity of showing us his lucky find. We are obliged
to leave our horses at the house with a sack of maize
between them to keep them employed, and, while
clambering up the mountain to get to his mine, which
is much higher up, he relates to us its history. It is
that of a prospector on whom fortune has smiled, and
who well deserves his good luck.

Mr Cockries' Mine. 231
About two years ago, passing by this way, he remarked
a cropping-out of quartz quite at the top of the moun
tain. It contained no gold there worth mentioning, but
Mr Cockries concluded from many indications that
there would be some lower down. He joined with a,
friend in the adventure. As it would have been too long
to follow the vein by sinking a shaft down into it, he
considered it would be far better to intersect the lode
further down by means of a level driven in from the
flank of the mountain. They worked together for seven
or eight months. At the end of this time they were
already seventy feet below the soil, and had not yet
come up to the quartz. They would have perforated
the mountain from one end to the other by continuing
in the same direction without finding anything. Every
thing was to begin again. The vein, not having been
intersected, evidently was inclined in a contrary direction.
They then recommenced lower down, and after a
year's toil, they were 1 30 feet below the surface. One
day at last they came on a lode, but one as yet of
doubtful value. The two adventurers were not dis
couraged. At the end of their "adit level" or drift
they sunk a shaft, and in proportion as they got deeper,
the lode became richer. They had at last found gold.
Capitalists came to the spot immediately. They
made a bargain with one of these, and the sum paid for
it represented exactly the cost of two years' working !
But it should be explained that a quarter of the profits
is reserved for the two partners.

232 Colonels and Cow-boys.
At present the machines are ordered, and shortly the
first consignments of materials will be on their way
across the prairie. Mr Cockries remains here waiting
for them. With four or five miners, he is making trials
with the view of ascertaining the exact width and the
bearings of the lode. At present his fortune is secure.
Having gone down the shaft, we returned to his
dwelling. It is a square log-house, the sides of which
are not more than four yards long. Within there is
nothing but a stove, a table, and two stools. In a
corner are thrown the blankets that constitute the whole
of their bedding, and here these two men have been
living for two years.
After an excellent dejeuner of preserved meats, which
Mr Cockries served up for us himself with a hospitality
that prompted me to ask him if he were not of Scotch
origin, we went to smoke a cigar at the foot of a tree,
in company with the miners, who did not eat with us
on account of the insufficiency of table accessories.
While we were talking with them, I caught a few words
between Parker and our host, which induced me to open
my ears. It was about Bill, that amiable personage
whose feelings I am reproached with having so incon
siderately wounded regarding my opened letter. It
seems that this choice specimen of a juryman has a
brother who has just been caught stealing, and that he
himself is suspected of the same offence. Consequently,
it is a' question of giving him notice to skip the hills — an
order that must be obeyed, if given, under the penalty

Desperadoes in Power. 233
«f being shot at the first opportunity. If a dozen men
like Parker and Cockries are to be found in the neighbour
hood, the system is admirable, and they will speedily be
rid of Bill : if, on the contrary, the Bills are in the
majority — and here, unfortunately, they are often in the
majority — the consequences are very serious. One of
the newspapers that came to hand this morning, relates
that a town in the West — I forget the name— is, at this
moment, in the power of a band of desperadoes. Having
elected the mayor, they pillaged the property of the
peaceable inhabitants, so far as formality of procedure
is concerned, in the most strictly legal way.
We separated from our friends of Fair View about
two o'clock. Parker has made us return by the upland,
and we have rejoined the river on descending the third
valley. The water of the brook flowing there is highly
ferruginous, having a strong taste of ink, and yet the
animals drink it with avidity. We pass beside an old
tunnel, pierced in the flank of a little hill, the timber
work of which has entirely fallen away decayed. They
suppose it was made in 1852. That year there was a
party of nineteen miners, who, coming from Fort
Laramie, had been able to penetrate into the Black Hills,
which were then little known. There is evidence that
they succeeded there, and even remained some time, for
remains of work have been found at different spots,
which appear to belong to this date. But they must
have been all massacred by the Indians, and their
"scalps, perhaps, are still hanging in the tent of some

234

Colonels and Cow-boys.

Sioux warrior. The vocation of a prospector is still very
hard, but in those times men who led such a life must
have been daring even to recklessness.
We return to the house by way of the river. In one
of the bars, Parker's little dog started two animals about
the size of foxes and of nearly the same colour, which
run away among the rocks, uttering shrill cries. We
run after them and kill them with our revolvers, and
discover that they are marmots. There are enough here
to make the fortunes of all the Savoyards in Europe,
judging from the innumerable holes they have rriade in
the mountain dales. We asked Parker what they were,
and he called them mountain hogs, which did not en
lighten me much.
A little further on, a beaver files before me across the
river, but before I can unhook my rifle from the saddle
it has disappeared.
This evening we are busy making our preparations
for departure, for to-morrow morning we leave Little
Rapid Creek.

CHAPTER VII.
DEPARTURE FROM LITTLE RAPID CREEK— CASTLETON — KING
SOLOMON— FRENCH CUISINE— A DEAD CITY— AN IRISH
RANCH— CUSTER — THE WHITTLERS — THE CONQUEST OF THE
BLACK HILLS — DEATH OF COLONELS CUSTER AND CROOK
—SITTING BILL AND MANITOBA — THE MICA MINES— THE
YELLOW STONE— THE MISFORTUNES OF A SHERIFF — THE
PHILOSOPHY OF A COW-BOY.
Jidy the gth. — To-day we are obliged to leave Little
Rapid Creek, and it is with a feeling indeed of regret
that we say adieu to the people as well as the places.
Parker comes with us, for we have still to see the pro
perty which is now in course of improvement in the
South, and in the centre of which they are going to raise
a town. Before getting there, we have to turn out of our
direct way in order to visit Custer City, where we have
some business to transact ; but we say good-bye to old
Captain Hughes, who has truly inspired uswith thewarm-
est regard for him. Here he is at seventy-two, passing
the remainder of his days far away from his family. Dur
ing the fine season, he has still a few workmen and the
benefit of their society, but when winter comes, the poor
old man remains almost entirely alone, compelled to go
out every day, whatever weather it may be, through

236 Colonels and Cow-boys.
snow or storm, to look after the bullocks. If he were a
European I would pity him with all my heart, and yet
I do not understand him, for the good man is rich, and
by no means visibly employs the large salary he gets
here. But truly, the people of this country are made of
such stuff, that situations which would seem to us in
tolerable suit them exactly, apparently, and what we
like is distasteful to them.
While we are saddling our horses, he and the work
men come to say good-bye. They all absolutely force
us to accept, by way of souvenirs, little nuggets or
specimens of quartz, which every good miner makes
a point of carrying in his pocket. In all these demon
strations — we must speak out plainly — there is not the
slightest thought of self-interest ; petty gratuities are
quite unknown here, and would not be accepted, as
we well know from experience. If, however, they
accepted such a thing as a knife, or some other trifling
object of little value, this is quite as far as they
would go.
We cross the beaver pond where we have panned so
much. It seems that our operations have frightened
these brave little creatures, for their work has not
gone on very quickly during our sojourn. The tree is
leaning very sensibly, but has not yet fallen. They
have promised me not to disturb them, and if beavers
have poets among them, I hope they will not forget
to sing praises in my behalf.
As we have not a long stage to do to-day, we set

En route for Custer. 237
out rather late, about two o'clock. We march due
south, and we have to cross in succession two deep
valleys, Castle Creek and Tigerville, before entering
into the one that is to conduct us to Custer — the city
in which we are to sleep to-morrow night. The Castle
Creek is a little stream parallel to the Little Rapid.
The valley, wider than the one we are just leaving,
is very fertile ; one or two farms are established there,
and constitute the town of Castleton. As we remove
further from Deadwood, marching towards the south,
we find the vegetation much finer. From the Little
Rapid to Castleton, but especially on the side of the
Little Rapid, the fir woods we have crossed are very
fine. Trunks two yards round are common.
Beyond Castleton we have some trouble in crossing
the creek, which is much muddier than we see any
need for. Besides, the inhabitants have taken it into
their heads to lay over the bottom planks of fir, per
forated with a multitude of little incisions in the form
of cups, and these boards are held fast by big stones.
From time to time they take them up and turn them
over, and they collect in this way a large quantity of
gold dust ; but the horses have much trouble in coming
to a decision to put their feet on the unsteady planks.
The sojourn at the Little Rapid appears to have
benefited the little buff mare. She always keeps at
the head of the column, and seems now to get on
very happily with Monsieur Bouverie, who looks as
if he were riding a horse with, six feet when he is

238 Colonels and Cow-boys.
mounted, for his own almost touch the ground. He
is carrying with him a basket of little fir trees, which
he dips into the water at every brook, flattering
himself he will find them fit for planting on his return
to Belgium. In his long conversations with Captain
Hughes, he has made great progress in English. As
politeness is in him quite instinctive, he has devoted
special attention to acquiring a thorough knowledge
of the forms of politeness in use in the country. The
list of them is not very long. So soon as we meet
any cow-boy whatever on our road, he bawls out as
loud as he can: "How do you do?" and this never
fails to produce an impression.
As night is coming on, we see, in a glade, an im
mense wooden construction, surrounded with several
houses, looming before us, one of which looks very
elegant. " What is all that ? " I ask Parker.
" They are the buildings of a mine, King Solomon.
Our friend at Deadwood, Mr Dickerman, was the
manager here, but I believe it is now abandoned.
But look ; do you see that big house ? There is a
man at the window ! That is where he lived."
" Halloa, boys !" cried the man in question.
" How do you do ?" roared Monsieur Bouverie.
" Can I do anything for you ?" I replied.
" Are you not French barons ? "
"Well— what then?"
' Why : Professor Dickerman telephoned to me this

A Piece of Luck. 239
morning that two French barons would pass, perhaps,
by this way. He says that I must offer you a bed
here instead of letting you go to Tigerville. Besides,
there is not one at Tigerville."
" Well ! here is a piece of good luck," says Monsieur
Bouverie. " Could we have something to eat ?"
" Ah ! That is not quite so easy. I, for my part,
can give you nothing, but there is a French lady here
who can, perhaps, prepare you a dinner."
" Ah ! ah ! " exclaimed Monsieur Bouverie to me
aside, giving me a sly poke in the ribs, " are we not
lucky fellows of the first water ? We were speculating
on a problematic dinner at Tigerville, and upon a night
passed in the open air, or, at best, in a stable, and here
we are going to sleep snugly between sheets after a
good dinner, prepared by the hands of a French lady,
too ! But who the deuce can she be ?"
" She is the wife of one of the enginemen of the
mine," explains to us the frien'd of this excellent fellow
Dickerman. And he takes us into a magnificent stable,
where we fasten our horses before mangers filled with
oats and racks stuffed with hay, and having done this,
we enter into the house. It is quite a little palace.
When we see there on the first floor beds with their
clean sheets all ready, looking as if expecting us, our
first impulse is to rush to the telephone in order to
thank the good-hearted Dickerman. Unfortunately a
great storm is gathering over the mountain, the thunder

240 Colonels and Cow-boys.
is already beginning to roar, and the communication is
interrupted. " I assure you," says Monsieur Bouverie, " that
nothing less than a conspiration of the elements was
necessary to hinder us from, in the first place, testifying
our gratitude. Suppose we now go and see what there
is in the larder ; I anticipate something quite appetiz
ing from the hands of this French lady. Let us go
and pay her a visit."
We explain what interests us to this servitor of
Dickerman, who conducts us to a house, close by the
machinery. We knock at the door, and this is opened-
to us by a clean, very fair, little woman, who makes her
courtesy. "Oh!" explains Monsieur Bouverie to me, "she has
an apron."
And she has made a courtesy to us ! At all events,
she is not an American. The little woman looked at
us with an embarrassed air.
" Madame]' I said in* French, " you see before you
two famishing fellowicountrymen, who would be very
grateful if you could give them something to eat."
" Ich verstehe nicht!" replied the little woman.
I jabber a little German. This expedient had indeed
been very useful to me during the war. Every time
that a German officer pretended not to know French, I
spoke German to him. He coloured immediately for
his ignorance, and entreated me to speak French.
Recalling these incidents, I give out to her a few

Madame Enrick. 241
phrases from Ollendorff. I mix these up with a few
examples from Ahn's method,- and, after all, I express
myself with an ease that astonishes me. The little
woman understands immediately, a circumstance that
astonishes me still more. She lays the table with three
covers, gives us genuine bread with some butter, and
then we see her taking from some mysterious corner a
few eggs, and from another, a great joint of meat, which
she holds out to us in triumph, for, in this country
where seven or eight hundred thousand bullocks are
pasturing on the prairies, it is a gourmandise quite
unheard of to eat beef. What she shows us is a haunch
of venison. While we are eating excellent ceujs sur le
plat, waiting for the stewed venison with potatoes, the
odour of which would draw all the wolves of the forests
around us, if there were any, we get our pretty hostess
to entertain us with her talk. She is an Alsacian,
and her husband is called Enrick. He was a non
commissioned officer, and came to America at the end
of the war. He was then an engineman in Dickerman's
service and earned six dollars a day. Unfortunately
the works have been stopped for four months, and, in
this interval, he has gone to work in another mine, leav
ing his wife here till King Solomon resumes. Parker,
gallant as usual, feels in duty bound to interfere.
" Madame," he says, " we should not think of allowing
a lady to do the cooking for us. Permit me  "
"Ah! excuse me, Parker," I said, "I cannot suffer
you, in my presence, to lead the wife of a fellow-country-
Q

242 Colonels and Cow-boys.
man astray from her duties. If the Americans like"
women who read Longfellow, like your friends of Hilly
Ranch, but who do not sweep their floors, and who
leave their husbands to do the cooking, it is their
business ; and I hope they are happy ! But here is a
brave little woman who has never read Goethe nor
Schiller, I am quite sure."
" Have you ever heard of Messieurs Goethe and
Schiller, Madame ? " asks Monsieur Bouverie, who has
his mouth quite full, but who highly approves.
" No, Monsieur," she says ; " they do not live here."
" Ah ! you see ! But just look at the floor : it is so
clean that you might eat off it. And this gibelotte de
darin ! This is the third time you have been at it.
For God's sake just let Madame Enrick do the cooking,
she understands it perfectly."
And I also spoke with my mouth full, for indignation
did not deprive me of appetite ; nor has appetite, while
being gratified, hindered me from being ever eloquent,
apparently, and yet Parker, who, on his part, is eating
like an ogre, has not said a word : as to Monsieur
Bouverie, he is actually devouring. But I must shorten
these notes, for the bed Dickerman has placed at my
disposal attracts me irresistibly.
July the 10th. — We had to make rather a long stage
to-day — nearly twenty-five miles. We did not, how
ever, start very early. For, in the first place, it is no
easy matter to tear one's self from the seductions of a

King Solomon. 243
good bed furnished with clean sheets, especially when
one has been deprived of such a luxury for a week.
Next, we wished to send to Dickerman the expression
of our warm gratitude ; but, after a few vain efforts,
we found the communication still interrupted. This
seems to me to be the normal state of the telephone
in this country. I remember in Cochin China, when
we had installed the telegraph there, the wild elephants
took it into their heads to follow the posts and pull
down the wires with their trunks, for the humming
of which when vibrating with the wind, was a kind of
music that did not seem to please them. I do not
know whether bears are to be held responsible for
accidents of the same kind produced here ; I merely
notice their frequency.
While waiting for our dejeuner, which our friend
Madame Enrick is preparing for us, we pay a visit to
King Solomon. Alas! the lucky day of dividends is
not yet arrived. The mine which they intended to
work regularly was, however, tolerably rich ; still, facts
have once more proved the truth, of the axiom, the
essence of which Parker is always giving in a few
words : " If you will have gold, first have water," but
which may be also expressed in a way less concise,
but more comprehensible by this formula :
"If you have two gold mines, the one rich and far
from a water course, the other poor and near one, do
not hesitate to work the latter and sell the other."
The King Solomon comes under the first of these

244 Colonels and Cow-boys.
two conditions : the only serviceable water course in
the neighbourhood is two or three miles off, it seems ;
and there it is where the stamps would have to be
set up, if the working had gone on ; and then to con
nect it with the mine, a little railway would have been
necessary. The shareholders, probably, have set their
faces against this great expense as a supplementary
estimate, for, unfortunately, all their capital has been
already absorbed in making preparations and trials,
and this is the stage at which they have now arrived.
Parker shows no ill-will towards me for the good
rating I gave him yesterday. His chivalrous feeling,
underlying his American habits, left him no peace of
mind when pursued with the intolerable idea that a
woman was going to work for him in preparing a
dejeuner ; but now, nothing but a sigh escapes him —
a feeble expression of the dominion of the senses over
intellect — as he surveys the venison cutlets prepared
and brought in by Madame Enrick, which he soon
attacks with a voracity, excited probably by a long
diet of bacon and "canned meat." But the grosser
part of man, however, having been once appeased, his
spiritual essence quickly, reassumes its authority, when
he sees Madame Enrick, coffee-pot in hand, preparing
to make the coffee. His conscience accordingly troubles
him so much that he seems as if he were on the point
of snatching it from her ; but I give him such a stern
look that he dare not rise from his seat. And lucky
for us too ; for, in the end, we get coffee, " the genuine

Tigerville. 245

article," instead of the muddy water stirred up and
served by the Americans. When they pretend to
make coffee, they throw a handful of grains, imper
fectly ground, into a saucepan of cold water, make it
boil and bubble over, serve their decoction, and then
scald their throats. Their tea passes through the
same stages, and one may fancy the result. While
sipping with calm contemplation the nectar served
up to us by Madame Enrick, I raise my head and
perceive the family library on a shelf. According
to habit I go and consult the backs of the volumes.
There are three : a missal, an almanac, and a trans
lation of " La Cuisiniere bourgeoise " ! ! Happy Mon
sieur Enrick ! . I hope he appreciates his happiness.
It is a fact known from remote antiquity that horses
never march better than in the interval just after their
riders have made a good dinner : in this respect, the
American horses quite resemble our own, and accord
ingly in quitting King Solomon we make our way at a
rattling pace. Jean Leblanc, especially, rushes on at such
a rate that I soon find myself alone in the sole avenue
of Tigerville. The word avenue requires some explan
ation. At New York the city is divided into squares,
bordered on two of their sides by an avenue, and upon
the two others by a street : the streets are 80 feet wide
and the avenues 160. It is a very convenient arrange
ment for a large city ; but as every village founded in
America is, in the idea of its founder, or rather in his
prospectus, destined to become much more important

246 Colonels and Cow-boys.

than New York in a not distant future, he invariably
takes care to divide the ground into avenues and streets,
unless, which is generally the case, he stops for the
present at the first avenue. But nothing looks more
wretched than the effect produced, when the rising town
is, for instance, composed of only ten houses. The poor
plank huts or log-houses, instead of closing in together
and compressing their ugly uniformity in a single group,
spread it out on each side of what looks like a field en
cumbered with weeds, but which is actually an avenue.
Before each rises a pile of empty meat tins, for just as
the civilization of the Kelts is revealed to us by their
dolmens, and that of the Scandinavians by their mounds
and kitchen-middens, so will the antiquaries of future
times immediately recognise the spots inhabited in
India by the English by the piles of soda-water bottles
.heaped up before the cantonments, and the dwellings of
the Americans by their deposits of empty meat tins.
And yet, who can foretell the stores of wealth they are
laying up for future generations, and whether, when the
Cornish tin mines shall have been long worked out, the
New Zealander, who in the remote future is destined to
sit on a ruined arch of London Bridge, may not actually
read an account of the exploitation of post-tertiary beds
of stanniferous iron in the United States ?
The aspect of Tigerville is desolate in the extreme.
Founded in order to provide shelter and especially
whiskey for the miners of King Solomon, this unhappy
town has been struck down in the flower of its age by

A Ruined City. 247
the interruption of the work of the mine. Its ruins
are wanting in the poesy that characterises those of
Palmyra or of Thebes, of the valley of Tempe, or the
woods of Olympus. Its marbles are not yet in loco.
Half-a-dozen timber public houses falling to decay,
which expose to us their desolate bars, are no more
frequented by men than by the bears of the neighbour
ing forest. What has become of all those " prominent
citizens," who, on this corner of the earth, now a
desert, caroused together, swindled and " revolvered "
one another with so much spirit ? Where are the
flowers of last year ? Perhaps, however, we may derive
some knowledge from a living relic, for we perceive
a survivor of this civilization. One of those citizens,
doubtlessly " prominent," for he seems the only one
of his kind, is seated before a mean little store, with
his feet in the air, smoking sadly his pipe. He looks so
dirty and chopfallen, that it is solely from principle and
without hope of a cordial response, that Monsieur
Bouverie salutes him on passing with a " How do you
do ? " shouted, as usual, at the top of his voice without
producing any reply.
We are, moreover, soon reminded of the hard
realities of the existence of the explorers. After hav
ing traversed a few patches of wooded upland, inter
spersed with grassy glades, we at length come to a
little narrow valley, in which, as usual in this country,
''zigzags" a strong rivulet. The nice dance the Little
Gimlet gave us, was the mere prelude to the perform-

248 Colonels and Cow-boys.
ance we had to go through here. In three hours we
had to cross it seventeen times, and, as it is exces
sively muddy, the constant repetition of the operation
was by no means pleasant.
About two o'clock we fall in with a good man on
horseback, whom we ask if we could not have some
thing to eat in the neighbourhood. He interrupts his
work, which consists in nailing on the trees of the
forest some little boards, a collection of which hangs
from his saddle-bow, and on which is inscribed in red
letters different sentences ; thus, on one of them we read :
"Where the deuce does one drink such good whiskey?"
This is followed with the figure of a hand, and, guided
by the direction of the finger, we see another board
attached to another tree near by :
" Why, bless me ! It is at P. Finigan's at Custer."
From which we conclude we have the honour of speak
ing to Mr Finigan in person. He gives us in genuine
brogue sundry explanations, from which we learn that
a ranch, occupied by one of his countrymen, exists in
the neighbourhood, and that, " sure for the honour of
ould Ireland," they will give us there something to eat.
Cheered with these assurances, we resume our way :
we traverse our meandering rivulet half-a-dozen times
more, and we at last perceive at the bottom of a
pretty valley, which opens on our right, two or three
huts of wretched aspect. It is here, evidently, that re
sides the victim of perfidious Albion, of whom we have
just heard.

At Joe Clinton's. 249
When we arrive at the log-house that serves as a
dwelling, we are received by a tall young woman, with
cheeks as red as a boiled lobster. She tells us that her
husband, Joe Clinton, is absent, but that he killed a
deer last evening, and she will cook a piece for us.
We turn our horses into the grass, where they feed be
side the brook, and then return to the house. Parker,
as usual, lavishes on our hostess all the hyperboles
suggested by his gallantry so annoyingly held in check
at King Solomon. As it is no longer the question of
a compatriot, and the material and moral welfare of
Mr Clinton being by no means my business, I take
care not to meddle. I do not doubt that Mrs Clinton
is for Mr Clinton a treasure of inestimable value, but
this jewel is deplorably ill-set. It seems to me im
possible that the poorest cabins of Connemara should
not be marvels of comfort in comparison with that in
which we find ourselves. In this, dire misery is oozing
from every nook and corner. A pile of dirty rags, of
which we get a glimpse in one corner, constitutes the
conjugal bed. In this hovel no light penetrates, ex
cept through the open door, unless one or two cracks
in the roof will permit a few rays to pass when not too
clouded by the rising smoke. The few utensils and
clothing are lying on the ground. In another corner,
the trunk of a fir hollowed out serves as a cradle for an
unhappy, pale-faced little creature, who with its hands
resting on the edge watches our movements with its
glittering eyes.

250 Colonels and Cow-boys.
The poor woman by no means seems reconciled with
her lot. She is only twenty, and was born in Galway,
where her father must be a respectable farmer, for he
holds a farm of eighteen pounds from some lord, whose
name I forget. He regularly pays his rent with ease,
and she has never heard of that panacea for suffering
humanity, the renowned Land League, nor even of Mr
Parnell. She married Joe Clinton, who had returned
to the country, after having been long absent in
America, where she then came with him. Life is very
gloomy here ; they make hardly any money, although
they have a score of cows and a few horses, and then,
again, there is neither church nor priest ; her little girl
is already six months' old, and has not yet been bap
tized ; in short, she regrets Galway and old Ireland,
and longs to return there so soon as they can save a
little money. This is the first time I have heard this
threnody. But then, when one does not feel his breast
glowing with enthusiasm, and has not some means at
hand, the life of an emigrant in this country seems to
me to be one of the gloomiest of prospects. The say
ing of Dickerman at Deadwood is quite true : " This is
not a poor man's country."
Having dealt out to our hostess the common-place
civilities and trite compliments in use on such occasions,
and, what is more important, having amply recompensed
her for the dish of buttered eggs, or rather the elements
for it, with which she furnished us, we go to indulge in
a little siesta on the banks of the rippling brook under

At Joe Clinton's. 251
the shade of a great fir tree. We are advised to look
well into the tufts of grass and weeds, for we are now
in a country where the rattle-snake lurks, which, though
almost unknown among, the mountains in the interior,
becomes common enough in proportion as one pro
gresses southwards and approaches the prairie. A re
gard for truth obliges me to admit that I have seen
neither the tail nor the teeth of one of these reptiles,
and that the only tinkle I have heard was from the
little bell around the neck of one of the cows of the
Clinton estate.
At three, considering we have indulged ourselves
long enough, we saddle our horses, and, after having
crossed our brook for the twenty-third and last time,
we part from it, but not sorrowfully, to plunge into a
forest that borders the valley on the left. The aspect
of the country changes completely. The valleys we
traverse are wider ; on our right the horizon stretches
out a long way, and here and there we get a momentary
peep of the distant prairie, still a prairie more hilly
than the one we quitted at Rapid City. In sundry
spots single fir trees have been planted seemingly for
the sake of the prospect. On our left the forest is
dense, though the trees are not lofty : it is overhung by
immense piles of bleak rocks, for here the mountains
are much more elevated than those we have hitherto
seen. Harney's Peak, around the base of which we are
journeying, is 7400 feet high, and Custer's Peak, which
we see before us, 6930.

252 Colonels and Cow-boys.
The south of the Black Hills, over which we are now
journeying, is the least populous. part, and yet it is that
which has been first colonized, for the first specimens of
gold that attracted the. miners came from the South.
The Black Hills hitherto have been divided into'
three counties : Lawrence, Pennington, and Custer.
The first, which is the most northerly, counts about
15,000 inhabitants; the second 4000, and the third
1250. It is the exploitation of the Homestake and of
the group of mines around it that has drawn the popula
tion to the north. There is no doubt, however, that the'
mineral and agricultural resources of the two- other
counties are quite equal, if not superior, to those of the "
first. The prairies which extend towards the south are
so decidedly favourable to the fattening of cattle, in the
first place on account of their fertility, and in the next
for the mildness of the climate, that the population
there is fast increasing : to this region they have just
added a fourth county — that of Fall River. They are
already bringing sheep here, which succeed remarkably
well, but their arrival has raised, and will still raise,
many a storm. With us, the sheep is taken as an
emblem of peace, but if the Americans like emblems,
it should be taken by them rather as an emblem of
discord. Wherever a flock of these valuable wool-
producers have passed, the bullocks refuse to .pasture,
so much do they dislike their odour. When a cattle
ranch is near a sheep ranch, one is compelled to yield
to the other, though this is not easily brought to an

Custer. 253
issue without the aid of revolvers. The sheep, no
doubt, is destined to occupy these parts, and the bullock
the more humid territory of the north.
Parker, who .has always some new speculation in his
•head, shows us two or three plains, covered with a short
grass, fine and d/y, well sheltered .from the winds and
bordered with plenty of firs for supplying, fences and
sheds. All this, in his opinion, constitutes the beau
ideal of a sheep ranch ; and if he can only be free for
a few weeks before winter, he will go into the country of
¦ the Mormons, who are the great shepherds in the pre
sence of the Eternal, to buy a few thousand sheep and
• bring them here.
While we are discussing these fine projects, our
horses continue advancing : we have already reached
the banks of a muddy rivulet, which is French Creek,
and we soon perceive, before us, the sole avenue and a
few rudimentary streets constituting the town of Custer.
We come to the hotel, which is pointed out to us, as
usual, by groups of idlers sitting smoking before the
doors, and, of course, with their feet duly elevated,
resting on a pole installed ad hoc. The landlord, a fat
fair man, pushes before us the visitors' book without
saying a word, and we having inscribed our names
therein, he reads them very attentively.
" I have," says he in German, " the city of Paris, which
is very fine, and in which there are many pretty women,
and splendid gardens, Mabille  "
And so on for ten minutes. We wait with a certain

2 54 Colonels and Cow-boys.
impatience for the verb which should end the phrase-
and complete the sense. Has he helped to burn Paris
like a communard ? Has he bombarded it as a soldier
of Monsieur de Moltke ? Was he a sweeper in the
old brigades of Monsieur Haussmann ? Whilst these
speculations are passing through our heads, he slowly
enumerates diverse aspects of Paris ; he interrupts him
self a moment to take a cigar and drink a glass of lager
beer, and then the verb at last comes, which turns out to
be inhabited.
A Frenchman who says to his wife : " I for you have
bought a pair of horses ; they are beautiful ; they step,
gracefully, &c, &c," is choked at the fourth word by
the said wife throwing her arms round his neck : she
infallibly knows all she wants to know. But a German
will say : " I have, the horses which you seen have,
which bay are, &c, &c, to-day, bought : " and the anx
ious Gretchen, who is listening in suspense, is obliged
to wait till the end to know whether, instead of the
verb bought, some other, not so agreeable, such as seen
or rejused, is to bring her disappointment in the place
of joy, for —
" Ein einziges Wort kann Alles umgestalten."
At all events, we must render justice to the good
German who has welcomed us in the town of Custer.
He lived in Paris as a commercial traveller at some
time or other, but he has no grudge against the Paris
ians because they had been starved and bombarded by
his compatriots, which is something, and he receives us

Whit tiers. 255

kindly enough. Unfortunately, his hotel is full, for we
find here all the judges we had met at Rapid City.
The Assizes are now filling the town as well. We
manage, however, to get a bedroom with two beds, in a
new brick house which he is building on the other side
of the street.
After dinner, I go out to smoke a cigar : rows of
smokers with their feet raised are already at their
post, still I manage to find room on a wooden bench.
Hardly am I seated there, when one of my neighbours
rises, draws from his pocket a formidable bowie-knife,
and comes up to me brandishing the weapon. Monsieur
de M  's adventure comes to my mind at once. Has
he sworn to make me quit the country ? I clap my
hand on the stock of my revolver, determined to sell
my skin as dearly as possible, but my suspected
aggressor looks at me so good naturedly that I at once
lay down my arms. He approaches nearer, and, with
out saying a word, gives me a gentle push, carries away
a large piece of the plank on which I am sitting, and
then, resuming his own seat, commences cutting it up
into chips. I am immediately reassured, and all the
more on looking around and finding all the rest busy
at the same kind of work : this is whittling, and these
are the whittlers.
Whittling is a special malady of the American brain,
developed particularly in the West, where there are
few men who do not manifest these symptoms. Its
diagnosis consists in an irresistible desire to take in the

256 Colonels and Cow-boys.

left hand a piece of wood, and to reduce it to morsels
of the size of a match by a gentle and regular move
ment of the right hand armed with a pocket knife, a
razor, or a bowie-knife. The indulgence of this pro
pensity sometimes facilitates, but more frequently re
places, conversation, according to temperament ; but
the predisposition — quite as imperious as the passion
for opium among the Chinese — is no more easily ex
plained than a taste for olives, or dominoes, or rancid
bacon, or why Schiller could not get on with his work
without the smell of rotten apples under his nose. It
seems that at Washington formerly they used to de
liver to each senator or deputy, at the commencement
of their sitting, a little block of cedar and a pen-knife,
furnished by the questorship for this purpose: they
had found this to be the most effective remedy for pre
serving the arms of the chairs, which, formerly, never
lasted out a session. The epidemic being on the decline
in the Eastern States at present, I hear that paper-
knives, provided they are replaced frequently, answer
all the purpose of securing the preservation of the
public furniture.
As a conscientious observer, I wished to account for
the sensations, evidently voluptuous, which my neigh
bours, absorbed in this occupation, appeared to feel.
Accordingly, I asked one of them to give me a practical
lesson, that I might study the phenomenon. He was a
cow-boy, getting grey, ornamented with a Babylonian
beard, and armed with two formidable revolvers. Tear-

Whittling. 257
ing from the bench a piece, six inches long, he offered
his services most courteously. This fragment I took,
and leaning one end of it against the pit of my stomach,
I began, with his own bowie-knife which he lent me,
cutting it into thin splinters, much more equal and
regular than the matches turned out by the French regie.
Encouraged by the kind glances which this homage ren
dered to the customs of the country won for me from
the company, I continued to the end, and I am sorry
to say I found no gratification whatever in the experi
ment ; on the contrary, a disagreeable sensation in the
lower region of the stomach, which reminded me of the
horrible mat de mer I once had with the first cigar I
smoked with the Reverends Peres Jesuites. Perhaps
I ought to have remembered that the stomach being a
highly sensitive organ, and ill-adapted to resist external
pressure when there is nothing within, I should have
taken "a drop" to ensure success. Besides, if the pro
pensity, be a well-established diagnosis of some obscure
disease, it still may not be one so easily contracted
without a little whiskey introduced into the system,
though not like lymph under the skin, nor in the ordi
nary way necessarily in such a quantity as to get into
; the head, for, unquestionably, Americans may evince a
disposition to whittle without first getting whittled.
July the nth.r- Custer City, the capital of the county
, of Custer, is a town of three hundred inhabitants. At
this moment its star appears to be in its ascendant, but
R

258 Colonels and Cow-boys.
it has passed tiirough strange vicissitudes. Like many
other American towns, or cities as they are called, it
has gone through its maladies of infancy. Founded in
1875, it had before the autumn of that year fifteen hun
dred inhabitants. In less than another six months, in
consequence of events about to be related, it had no
more than fourteen ! Since then, till latterly, it has
vegetated. But now it is again beginning to attract
attention. Far-seeing people are unanimous in pre
dicting for it the most brilliant future, and they are
seriously proposing to new-comers to sell them a nice
bit of land in order to build upon the Seventh Avenue
at the corner of the Seventieth Street, close by the
bank, and not far from the station of the Southern
Railway. This fine project, of course, exists only in
the exuberant imagination of Nature's own noblemen,
who are eager to exchange a few acres of marshy
ground for a certain number of substantial bank notes.
The history of Custer is associated with the oldest
souvenirs of the conquest of the Black Hills. The whole
mountainous region now known by this name, reputed
to have been valueless, had been abandoned to the
Sioux, as well as the surrounding prairies, by a treaty in
due form, dating from the epoch when the construction
of the Trans-continental, passing through one of their
reserves, had obliged the Government to enter into
negotiation with these native tribes.
The arrangement issuing from this, which the Sioux
had accepted only under compulsion, had, indeed, put

History of Custer City. 259
an end to official hostilities : but as bands of warriors
acting independently of the principal chiefs, made
occasional depredations on the frontier, the regular
troops, on their part, in pursuing them penetrated fre
quently into the reserve. In the course of one of those
expeditions, which took place in the spring of 1874,
one of the best known officers of the Federal army,
General Custer, penetrated as far as the Southern part
of the Black Hills, and gave his troops a few days'
repose on the banks of French Creek.
The soldiers, several of whom probably had sojourned
in California and visited the placers there, were not
long in recognising the existence of gold in the sands
of the rivulet. They brought away specimens of it,
and these soon passed from hand to hand in the gar
risons of the frontier. The emotion was great. The
treaty made with the Sioux having guaranteed to them
the exclusive property of their reserves, no white man
had a right to establish himself there, and the Govern
ment had formally engaged itself to compel its observ
ance. This, however, did .not restrain an expedition
from being immediately formed at Sioux City, with the
avowed object of going to work the placers.
The party, composed of twenty-eight men accom
panied by one woman, arrived unmolested at the spot
where now stands Custer, in the month of December.
The adventurers began by constructing a little fort to
protect themselves from any attack by the Indians, and
then set to work in search for gold, with, it is said, much

260 Colonels and Cow-boys.
success. In the spring, even before the snows were
melted, parties of emigrants arrived from all quarters
to join them, and from this time the city began to rise.
The Indians, however, were not disposed to suffer
the invasion of their territory without protestations,
and even without rifle shots, for these roving in isolated
parties frequently attacked the convoys of emigrants.
When their principal chiefs, Sitting Bull and Spotted
Tail* representing the two principal tribes of the
confederation of the Sioux, that of the Ogalalas and
that of the Tetons, perceived that events were turning
to an invasion, they laid an official complaint before
the military commander, General Custer, who, thus
consequently constrained to act, appeared at first dis
posed to render justice to their demand.
A proclamation, accordingly, reminded the inhabi
tants that the entry into the Indian reserve was inter
dicted to them, and patrols of cavalry, scouring the
prairie, turned back all those they met on the way
thither. Force was even employed, and, on one occa
sion, when the leaders of a convoy formally refused to
* " Spotted Tail," we regret to say, is no more, having been assassi
nated lately by one of his warriors. The matter has excited a certain
interest, because American justice thought proper to intervene. His
murderer was in prison at Deadwood when we were there. The crime
will be passed over probably, inasmuch as, after the very remarkable
oratorical tournaments, it was recognised that no law could reach an
Indian who had killed another within a reserve.
The daughter of the defunct, Miss " Spotted Tail," is a. celebrated
beauty among the squaws. She had the honour of having been presented
to His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales on his visit to America.

WESTERN TYPES.

History of Custer City. , 261
comply with these orders, their teams were seized and
their waggons burnt. In his desire to compel the ob
servance of the treaty, General Custer did not confine
himself to these precautions. At the head of a con
siderable detachment, he himself returned to visit the
spot where he had encamped the preceding year, and
finding fifteen miners there, he gave them notice to
quit the ground immediately. One may easily fancy
the clamour provoked by this decision. General Custer,
assailed by complaints and even threats, ended by
coming to terms : for in America, as in all democratic
countries, a functionary charged with the execution of
an unpopular law inevitably finds himself disowned,
sooner or later. It was therefore agreed that the work
should be interrupted, in order to give the Government
time to enter into negotiations with the Indians, and to
obtain the cession of the auriferous lands, and, at the
same time, it was also agreed that each special claim
should have a man on the spot to preserve the provi
sional right to the property. The fort was put in order,
the fourteen men designated retired therein, and all the
others quitted the district. This result having been
obtained, the troops returned to their cantonments.
The fourteen men left behind did not remain long
alone. As soon as it was well ascertained that all the
troops had retired to their quarters, miners poured in
from every direction, more numerous than ever, and
instantly resumed the work ; and the new town, which
had been baptized with a homage, perhaps rather

262 Colonels and Cow-boys.

ironic, with the name of Custer City, counted now, it
is said, three thousand inhabitants, having its first
avenue half a mile in length. Unfortunately, this pros
perity had but a brief existence.
In 1876, Professor Jenney discovered the mineral
lodes of Homestake, and the new city of Deadwood
attracted thither all the inhabitants of the southern
city. There remained then no more than one hundred
and fifty or two . hundred. This is the second period
which began.
During this time, the unfortunate Indians continued
protesting in their manner against the outrageous ap
propriation of their • property. It must be borne in
mind that the Sioux, being horsemen and hunters of
buffaloes, have never inhabited these mountains in a per
manent manner. They established by preference their
villages along the rivers in the prairie. These villages,
moreover, are eminently temporary, for they are hardly
inhabited except in winter. During summer the Red
skins abandon them; in order to follow the migrations
of the herds of buffaloes. The establishment of the
Pale jaces in the mountains, therefore, troubled them
less than if it had taken place elsewhere. The constant
passage, however, of convoys was at first a constant
source of annoyance, and in course of time drove away
the buffaloes. War, notwithstanding, was not officially
declared by the grand chiefs, but petty, obscure expe
ditions multiplied considerably, and very few emigrants
arrived at their destination without having been greeted

History of Custer City. 263
on their way with many bullets whistling by their ears.
The principal chiefs disavowed the authors of these
outrages, and attributed them either to warriors belong
ing to distant tribes, or to men living isolated beyond
the political organisation of the tribes, known as Rene
gade Indians.
These chiefs had entered into negotiation with the
Government, and admitted the principle of the cession
of the Black Hills in exchange for grants of a different
nature, some temporary, that is to say, a sum paid down
and settled, and others permanent, such as the distri
bution of rations and blankets'. The negotiations went
on rather slowly, a circumstance of which the Americans
could hardly complain, since they were in the actual
enjoyment of all they demanded. Finally, the treaty
was signed on the ist of November 1876, and ratified
by the Congress on the 28th of February 1877.
It might have been supposed that everything was
settled, but it was nothing of the sort. The Indian
chiefs, who had promised their concurrence in assuring
the security of the routes, were unable to keep their
promise. Perhaps they were not very anxious to do so.
War, though carefully not declared, actually continued.
Corps of volunteers were formed, who went to surprise
the Indian villages, and, massacring all the inhabitants,
carried off their horses and sold them publicly in the
frontier towns. On the other hand, not a week passed
without hearing of some farm attacked in the middle of
the night by a band of red-skinned demons, who dis-

2 64 Colonels and Cow-boys.
appeared with the scalps of the inmates, leaving behind
them nothing but corpses and ruins. The torments
inflicted on these unhappy victims were appalling.
Generally they were stretched on the ground on their
back, with their hands and feet bound to four posts :
then a charcoal fire was lighted on their chest, and
carefully kept burning, whilst the assassins danced
around. Such a frightful state of things could not last indefin
itely. In spite of the disavowals of the chiefs, the
inhabitants of the frontiers held them responsible for
all the atrocities committed. Moreover, the expeditions
organised by these were often directed against those
Indian villages living regularly under the authority of
their chiefs, who, consequently, were obliged to defend
them. War was, therefore, inevitable, and was not long
in breaking out. It was discovered, all at once, that
Sitting Bull, the grand chief of the Ogalalas, had called
the whole Sioux confederation to arms, and, that, at the
head of seven thousand warriors perfectly armed, he
was scouring the frontiers like wildfire, burning and
massacring everything in his way, and carrying off
immense booty.
General Custer and Colonel Crook set out immedi
ately in pursuit. They had with them about a thousand
men of the regular troops, to which flocked some corps
of volunteers, and a few hundreds of the Crows warriors,
the hereditary enemies of the Sioux. In this kind of
warfare it is, in fact, almost impossible to come up to

Sitting Bull. 265

the enemy if there are not at hand a few Indian scouts,
so rapid are the movements of the Red Skins. Each
warrior of these leads with him four or five horses,
which he treats at the same time with unparalleled
brutality : when one is fatigued, he mounts another,
and by this means accomplishes a course that seems
incredible. As soon as Sitting Bull found he was pursued in
earnest, he began to retire towards the north, conduct
ing before him an immense crowd of women and
children. At last, at the beginning of autumn, he had
the tact to draw into an engagement, in his rear, about
a thousand men in a narrow valley at White Mountain,
not far from Bismarck ; then his warriors, commanding
the heights, suddenly opened so murderous a fire on
the whites, that in a few minutes the whole corps was
massacred. Not one escaped.
It is related that Sitting Bull had brought to him,
after the combat, the bodies of Custer and Crook ; then
opening their breasts with his knife, he tore out the
heart and ate it before all his people.
After such a check, the pursuit, was interrupted, as
might well be supposed, for the other corps were not
in force, and it was necessary to await fresh troops.
Sitting Bull availed himself of this intermission to put
the frontier of Canada between him and his enemies.
In short, in this campaign, from beginning to end, the
old chief proved by his manoeuvres that he would have
made an excellent general of cavalry.

266 Colonels and Cow-boys.
Being well received by the Canadians, who had no
reason not to consider him as a belligerent, since the
Americans treated with him as between one power and
another, he sojourned for some time in the plains of
Manitoba.* But the populations, that had at first con
gratulated themselves on the distant removal of a dan
gerous neighbour, soon recognised that they had not
gained so very much, for, in spite of the surveillance
exercised on both sides of the frontier, it was constantly
traversed by little bands of warriors, who, having
nothing more to lose, and being entirely free from all
authority of their chiefs, overran the country in every
direction, ravaging it with fire and sword. Then was
seen the rather strange spectacle of delegates coming
from the Federal Government to propose to Sitting
Bull to return to his old reserve, promising him at the
same time to overlook the past, and to guarantee to
him all the advantages of the treaty concluded before
the recent hostilities. After a little hesitation, Sitting
Bull accepted these proposals, and came to establish
himself at Standing Rock in Dakota, not far from
Pierre, with a group of about seven thousand of his
subjects. The rest, numbering about thirty thousand,
distributed themselves throughout the reserve, and
there they keep within bounds, but a few ungovernable
* This Canadian province, situated to the north of Dakota, is princi
pally inhabited by * mixed race, in which French blood participates.
They proclaimed their independence a few years ago, fighting under the
old national white flag of France — the last time this standard has figured

The Sights of Custer City. 267
marauders hardly ever showing themselves beyond.
Their old chief still assembles them from time to time
to receive distributions of food and clothing which are
made to them by the American agent, with whom, it is
said, he is on very good terms. A house has been
built for him. At first he always inhabited the out
side, choosing the leeward side for his couch, but he
has, at length, acquired the habit of living in-doors. It
is said that he even takes to agriculture. He goes
occasionally to visit the authorities of the territory,
and lives in peace with his neighbours.
We have begun this morning by visiting the sights
of Custer. This has not taken us very long. The
public buildings consist, in the first place, of the inevit
able court-house, then of a timber theatre, raised in
the bright days of 1876, which has never since been
opened, and, finally, of the hotel, which our host is in
the course of building.
On awaking this morning, we noticed,' with some
surprise, that the one-storey wooden house, in which
we passed the night, was surrounded with brick walls,
which already rose nearly to the height of our windows.
We asked for an explanation of this strange arrange
ment, and our host, directing our attention to the back
of the house where there is no wall, explained to us at
once. " As soon as the brick building is finished, I shall
slide out behind the wooden house on to the ground
yonder, which I have bought likewise."

268 Colonels and Cow-boys.
In fact, there is already laid down a series of beams
to serve as slides. He asserts that the operation will
not cost fifty dollars : the furniture even is not removed
from the rooms.
We are actually besieged by a number of pushing
men of business, who will, by hook or crook, form com
panies for the working of certain mica mines. I con
fess that, my acquaintance with mica being so very
meagre, I had to obtain information. I thought that
mica was hardly used except for making transparent
candle-screens and other like nick-nacks that form
the stock-in-trade of articles at thirteen sous. It ap
pears, on the contrary, that mica serves a variety of
purposes which I little suspected. In America they
make with it doors for stoves, that one may see through
it when fuel is wanted ; the fragments of mica, ground
fine and mixed with petroleum, form the best lubrica
tion known for the axles of vehicles. Having obtained
this information, I next ask under what form this
precious mineral is found, and they reply by proposing
to take us to see the principal mine belonging to a
Creek Indian of mixed breed, called Dempsey, who just
happens to be interested in some affairs of Parker's.
An agreeable inhabitant of Custer, Mr Wheeler,
most courteously set aside his business to offer us
his services in showing us about the country where he
has been living a long time.
Mr Wheeler is one of the founders of Custer. He
was one of the expelled already mentioned, and after

Mica Mining. 269
this expulsion joined so.me free bands that waged war
for many years against the Indians, to whom, by-the-bye,
he candidly does justice. This man, who is still young,
entertained us throughout on our way with his adven
tures, which are very interesting.
We arrive, chatting all the time, at the mine, which
is only two or three miles from Custer. The mica is
found in the form of slabs, some thicker and some
broader than others, embedded in the schistose rocks,
kinds of coarse granite, being distributed therein very
irregularly, as is usual with accidental minerals, such as
talc, chlorite, &c, in crystalline rocks.
The work is not systematic ; they dig into the rock
anywhere, leaving chance to decide its utility or not.
Whenever they see a little mica cropping out at the
surface, they bore a hole, and, charging it with dynamite,
blow out a block, and by this primitive process of min
ing they manage to get very handsome profits, which,
perhaps, after all is the main point. Mr Dempsey, a
lean, plain, little man, whose black eyes and tawny skin
reveal his origin, works himself with three or four
labourers. When the blocks come to the top of the pit,
they are immediately fashioned into shape by two work
men ; the first, with a knife, cleaves the slabs into a
uniform thickness, which is about equal to that of a
stout sheet of letter paper, and another cuts them into
squares to give them a regular form. Leaves of the
largest size are about ten or twelve inches by five, and
are sold for ten dollars per pound, but the smaller fetch

2 jo Colonels and Cow-boys.
considerably less. The refuse, which will be very valu
able when the railway is made, and which, naturally, is
very abundant, is not sent away at present, for it would
not bear the cost of transport, which is, of course, ex
ceedingly heavy. From here to Chicago the carriage
is, by express, twelve sous the pound, and by jreight,
that is to say, by bullock waggon, to the nearest station,
which is Sydney, five or six sous.
On returning, Mr Wheeler made us gallop across the
three or four fine valleys which meet at Custer. They
are all fenced in, for the grass, which is fine and admir
ably adapted for the pasture of sheep, already gives
some value of importance to this land.
We again find at table the whole tribe of judges and
counsel whom we met at Rapid City. On seeing the
flourishing aspect of these gentlemen, who are about
fifteen or twenty in number, I thought to myself that
the basocians decidedly thrive in America, and I won
dered whether the best part of the earnings realized by
the ragged miners and cow-boys, constituting the rest
of the guests, did not pass into the pockets of these
gentry of the long robe, as well as those of the bar
keepers. After dinner we go to see the proprietor of the livery
stable where we have put up our horses. He is an
elderly Englishman called Kemish, who produces a
most favourable impression on us at first sight. We
have retained such a disagreeable souvenir of our journey
in a mail coach that we wished to ascertain if there were

Preparing for a Trip. 2 7 1
not some means of hiring a vehicle to conduct us to
Sydney, the nearest station of the Union Pacific. It is
a journey of about 250 miles to make across the prairie.
To my great astonishment, Kemish accepted the pro
posal directly. This man, evidently in comfortable cir
cumstances and married, finds it quite natural to quit his
business and his home for a fortnight at least, to under
take a jo\irney that may be accompanied with some
danger, certainly with some hardship, and clearly more
for the love of adventure than profit, for he asks us no
more than eighty dollars. In France, a driver would
demand considerably more for such a job. Parker has
found here two neighbours from Cassade, who are going
home : he will go with them, taking away our horses :
we shall see him again to-morrow evening.
Having made our arrangements so far, we pass the
rest of the day in going to the shops in order to buy
provisions, for we desire to avoid by all means such
poor cheer as we had on coming. We are informed
that there is plenty of game along the route ; they have
killed there even these last few days a few buffaloes.
The prospect of so many barons of beef, with which
they will furnish us, does not render it superfluous to
provide ourselves with something already " run down,"
and we accordingly purchase a few cans of corned-beef
and some French preserved vegetables, having luckily
spied out these in a corner of some store.
A friend of Mr Wheeler's, a Mr A  , takes us into
a pretty house, which he has just built, in order to show

272 Colonels and Cow-boys.
us a splendid collection of minerals gathered in the
Black Hills, and especially in the Yellowstone. This
wonderful region, which was discovered- only a few
years ago, presents mineralogical phenomena so extras
ordinary, and sites so curious, that the American con
gress passed a law declaring it a national park and
prohibiting colonization therein. It Is a little district,
lying in the heart of the Rocky Mountains, assuming
the form nearly of a square, with sides sixty miles in
length. In the centre of this is a lake, twenty-two
miles long by fifteen wide, surrounded with mountains
covered constantly with snow.
But it is the phenomena of a volcanic character pro
duced there that render this country so particularly re
markable. The water of many of the rivers traversing
the district is actually boiling, and these rivers are
derived from sources similar, to the geysers of Iceland.
One of these jets of water is fifteen feet in diameter,
and one hundred and fifty feet in height. Rivulets of
glacial water are often running at a few yards from
others where the temperature is nearly 21 2° Fahrenheit.
An amusing trapper has related to us that, one day
having hooked a fine trout, he turned merely on his
heel, and, without taking it off the bait, plunged it into
a stream of hot water, from which he drew it in a few
moments cooked to a turn. The story, perhaps, is not
true, but then there is nothing at all impossible in it*
* There is nothing improbable in this, the temperature being ioo»
centigrade. Many greater feats have been accomplished at the Strokkr,

The Last Day at Custer. 273
Mr A  is one of the fourteen men who remained
in the fort. If the thirteen others resembled him, I can
well understand why the Indians refrained from attack-*
ing them ; for this little man, thick-set and broad-
backed, with a cool look but ardent eyes, seemed to me
one by no means disposed to yield his greyish crispy
crop of hair on the scalp of his head readily. He is at
present in the enjoyment of a nice fortune, which is
daily accumulating, also from the revenues of three or
four mines discovered by himself, in which he retains a
share. He might live luxuriously anywhere, but he
has always lived in the Far West, and cannot make up
his mind to quit it.
At all events, he will make a journey to Paris in
order to visit an enchanting spot, of which so many
in Iceland ; the temperature there, however, appears to be as much as
VX)" centigrade. M. Leclercq, in his "Terre de Glace," mentions having
met two Irishmen at the Strokkr, who determined to cook their dinner
there as Commodore Forbes had done in the first place in 1859.
" They began by piling up, at the brink of the orifice, the usual number
of clods of turf; then one of them took out of his trunk a flannel shirt,
enwrapped in the body of the shirt a quarter of mutton, and in each
sleeve a plover. The Strokkr swallowed its ordinary dose of turf,
one clod after another, and then the extraordinary supplement. At the
end of half an hour, just as we were speculating with anxiety whether the
glutton was not actually dining instead of us, we saw the shirt hurled high
in the air with the clods of turf : it fell on the brink of the well ; but the
moment had not yet arrived to taste the mutton, for so long as the erup
tion lasted it was impossible to approach the spot where the geyser had
thrown it ; it was necessary to take advantage of an interval between two
explosions to regain possession of the shirt and its contents. The mutton,
cooked as in England, furnished us with an excellent substantial dish ; as
for the birds, there was nothing left but the skin and bones ; all colour
had fled from the shirt, but the fabric remained uninjured." — W. C.
S

274 Colonels and Cow-boys.
travellers have spoken to him with rapture — the Jardin
Mabille ! A word that involuntarily escapes us, reveals
to him that houses five stories high are now rising on
these grounds where Pomare reigned. He supports the
blow without a word ; but a nervous trembling of his
lips, an abrupt movement given to the rising puffs of
smoke, and the dreamy fixed look of his eye into
space, unveil the depth of his disappointment. The
demolition of the Mabille has evidently produced an
impression that the destruction of the Tuileries and
the Hotel de Ville by the Communards would be quite
incapable of doing.
Before going to bed I wish to pass an evening with
the respectable company of whittlers, who last evening
initiated me into their amusement. They are there
before the hotel eagerly pursuing their work: the
bench no longer exists, but it will be replaced to
morrow. The hotel proprietor tells me that it has
never lasted more than three or four days; but he
should try one of ebony, I will be bound to say it
would last a whole month. This evening " Nature's
noblemen" are talking together with animation. I
hear constantly " I guess " and " You bet," and when
this repetition invariably passes through the nose
instead of the lips, one may fancy how disagreeable
it is to the ear of a European.
One reads aloud out of a newspaper some adventure
that has occurred in the neighbourhood. It appears
that two men presented themselves, a few days ago,

A Bank Robbery. 275
in a bank of a small town, the name of which I could
not distinguish, requesting the cashier to 'change for
them a cheque. While this one was opening his cash
drawer for the gold, one of the men shot him in the
back with his revolver, and killed him on the spot :
then the murderer, aided by his comrade, opens the
drawers and takes all the gold and bank-notes they
find therein. Having accomplished all this in a few
moments, they remount their horses] standing at the
door, and instantly disappear at a gallop.
This affair took place, of course, in open day.
There was a great commotion among the " citizens,"
a certain number of whom mount on horseback in
their turn, pursue the criminals, rousing to action all
they meet on the way. In short, the following morn
ing about six hundred men surround a little wood in
which the murderers had taken refuge, and near it
their horses were found worn out with fatigue.
They form a cordon of armed men all around the
wood, and then they penetrate therein. Almost im
mediately they hear five or six reports : one of the
murderers has killed three men with three shots from
his revolver, and then has killed himself; the other
throws up his pistol in the air without firing and cries
out that he surrenders himself.
And here the story becomes very curious. Hardly
had this man, named Ryan, I believe, been arrested,
than they put a rope around his neck and lead him
on to a bridge in the neighbourhood. They make

2 76 Colonels and Cow-boys.
fast one end of the rope to the post and prepare to
launch him into eternity ; but then, just at this
moment, the Sheriff intervenes : he makes a speech
to the crowd, in which he appeals to their better
sentiments, reminds them of his services, observes
how hard it will be for him after a pursuit so cleverly
conducted to be deprived of his fees to which he is
so justly entitled ; first for the capture, and next for
the hanging.
" But he won't be hanged at all if we let him go,"
cries a voice.
The Sheriff looks indignant.
" What ! He won't be hanged ! But everyone well
knows that the jury of the good City of N 
convicts with a vengeance ! Haven't they hanged
Pat Rafferty? haven't they hanged Mick Murphy too?"
The crowd are evidently embarrassed ; they do
not wish to disappoint their good Sheriff, still, they
have no confidence. At this moment Ryan asks leave
to speak, and as he is so obviously interested in the
question, they readily accord him this favour.
After a few words devoted to explaining that he
is less guilty than they seem to think, he would not,
he remarked, have the bad taste to insist on this
vital point at the present moment, but he would
venture to mention that he has had nothing to eat
since yesterday, that he is now very hungry, and
that as the discussion threatens to be rather long,
he should be very glad to have something to eat.

A Curious Scene. 277
A few men mount their horses immediately, ride off,
and quickly return with some bread and cheese, which
they find in a house not far away. They then loosen
the rope a little around the neck of the prisoner, who
is sitting on the bridge with his legs dangling over the
stream, and now begins eating with a good appetite.
.During this time, the good Sheriff resumes his
argument, and finally proposes to decide the question
by vote.
" Let all those who are for my conducting away the
prisoner raise their hand."
Then they proceeded to take the votes of those who
are for hanging then and there. The first count is
declared doubtful ; they proceed to a second voting,
and the result is equally doubtful. All this occupies
some time, and the crowd in the end has sensibly
diminished. Then a very sagacious idea comes into the
Sheriff's head.
" You are all on the right bank ! " he cries. " Well
and good ! Now, all those who are for an immediate
hanging, cross the river ! "
A loud burst of ironic laughter greets this proposal.
The sight of Ryan calmly breakfasting, reminds many
that they also are hungry, and others desire by all
means to reach home before night-fall, fearing otherwise
a scene with their wives. In short, about a score only
of the most determined can make up their minds to
wet their feet in order to gratify their desire to see
Ryan hanged. But this time the proof of the popular

278 Colonels and Cow-boys.
will is conclusive. The Sheriff accordingly requests a
few friends to come effectively to his aid, and, in the
end, carries off his prisoner amid the cheering of the
majority. But the story does not end here. The poor Sheriff
after all was destined to be deprived of his emoluments
so well earned. About four days afterwards, the gaoler
of the prison where Ryan is confined hears a loud
knocking at the door about eleven at night. He opens
the door, and a score of men with their faces blackened
with charcoal rush in. He who appears to be the
leader of these, says :
" The other day the Sheriff made game of us ! We
are going now to hang Ryan ourselves, and no mistake
about it ; hand him over to us."
The gaoler makes a show of resistance for the sake
of form, and then suffers the criminal to be taken away,
who is hurried on towards a great tree, and there hung
in workmanlike manner. They then, by way of a
supplementary precaution, send two or three rifle balls
through his body, waking up the inhabitants, and, hav
ing finished their work, the band disperses.
This narrative highly delights the audience, who
often interrupt with exclamations flattering to the in
habitants of N  , such as, "Very smart," "Know
their business," &c. Then the conversation continuing,
it leads on to a lynching that took place here some
time ago. They had hanged three men at a great fir-
tree which they point out to • me. Afterwards they

Lynching. 2 79
found out that one at least was quite innocent. " But
then, no one knew it," they added ; " he had no friend ! "
" In this country," I said, " it is a good thing to have
friends." " You bet it is," says one.
" Well," says another, " I guess a friend is a good
thing in this country, but a good pair of big revolvers
is a deuced better one." It is my instructor in the art
of whittling who pronounces these words, putting his
bowie-knife into its sheath, as he throws away the
remnant of the block which he has worked down to a
mere chip. Everyone is applauding, and I go to bed
meditating over this apophthegm : a big revolver and
self-reliance ! in other words : " Put your trust in God,
but keep your powder dry." And then others say,
" Might makes _ right." Will not these two maxims,
which are really one and the same, be the final argument
of our sociology ? " There will always be a govern
ment of force," says Emerson, " where men are selfish."
The fact is, when we have no longer any power, there
will not be wanting others ready to show that we never
were in the right.

CHAPTER VIII.
DEPARTURE FROM CUSTER — MR AND MRS KEMISH — " WAR-
HORSE" AND " RED-CLOUD "—A SHEEP RANCH— ACCIDENTS
— THE^-HOT SPRINGS — AN INDIAN PRINCESS — THE ART OF
SCALPING — CASCADE— HOW A VILLAGE IS FOUNDED.

July the 12th. — This morning we quitted our hard
beds and the house successively, which will soon emerge
from its envelope of brick, like a snail from its shell,
with the consolation that we have given trouble to
nobody. For in America hotel servants do not over
load with attentions a parting guest, with the hope
of a gratuity, as they do elsewhere, unless having
been much neglected previously. A sudden blast of
wind of extraordinary violence, but which lasts only a
few minutes, has alone undertaken to call us betime,
and when we, at length, arrive at the livery stable, we
find the horses already put in our vehicle. We examine
our equipage, and the result of this inspection is highly
satisfactory. It is a kind of pleasure van suspended
on springs. Our luggage and provisions are stowed
away in the bottom, leaving sufficient room for our
legs and our guns. The horses are two brave little
animals, about 14J hands high, having the appearance

Departure from Custer. 281
of half-blood Normans, and as if they were quite capable
of undertaking full of spirit the formidable trot in store
for them. Mrs Kemish is already up, and is surveying
the preparations for departure. She is an elderly
Englishwoman, with a clear, fresh complexion, having
the look of a respectable housekeeper of a good house.
I ask her why she has left England, and she gives me,
without hesitation, a reply that seems to be without
rhyme or reason —
"Because they make too much of the nobility
there!" As the moment is not propitious for discussions, I
abstain from asking this worthy matron for an explana
tion. Monsieur Bouverie and I take our seat facing the
horses, while Kemish installs himself on an enormous
sack of oats, and we part at a smart trot.
The route glittering with the slanting beams of the
rising sun is really lovely ; we turn our backs to the
prairie in following the valley we took yesterday to the
mica mine. The carriage rolls along softly over a fine
elastic grass. It seems as if we are in a fine old
English park. The tall pine trees distributed singly
along the valley, and the hills right and left clad with
verdant woods, complete the illusion. We startle a fine
buck in the wood before us. He stops a moment, then
we see him running at full speed, leaping a brook in his
way, and at last, before we have time to send a ball after
him, disappears in the thickets on the other side.
Monsieur Bouverie, as usual, is quite in a rapture with

282 Colonels and Cow-boys.
the prospect of sport- so soon as anything comes within
view, and now he hopes we shall at last have a chance.
A dark cloud, however, begins looming in our
horizon. We are not yet four miles from Custer when,
immediately after a sharp jolt, I 'hear a low grating
metallic sound that seems to me of bad augury, and
all the more so because I notice that the vehicle careens
much on that side. I call Kemish's attention to it, who
ascertains that the main plate of one of our springs is
just broken. It is decided, however, not to stop for
such a trifle. A stout piece of fir placed between the
two branches of the spring, keeps it together, but
deprives us of the elasticity, and we continue our way.
We certainly have not yet finished with the accidents
we are doomed to encounter. A quarter of an hour
afterwards comes a fresh hindrance. One of the irons
that holds the pole to the body of the carriage breaks
clean off. Kemish replaces it by a woolding with cord,
the make of which leads me to suspect he has been an
old seaman. He informs me indeed, that he has com
manded a coaster in the Channel, which he used to load
with potatoes from Saint Brienne. But while he is re
lating to me his maritime adventures, the second iron
breaks in its turn. This time, for the honour of the
French navy, I make it a point of operating myself, and
I execute a Portuguese bind, which earns for me the
esteem of honest Kemish, and we then start again. I
begin, however, to get rather uneasy, and the optimist
Monsieur Bouverie thinks the accidents come very often.

Prairie Experiences. 283
But as two or three hours pas's away without any
fresh casualty, we feel reassured. Besides, we are so
well installed that it would ill become us to complain.
Kemish has provided two buffalo hides, upon which we
take our ease. These "buffalo-robes," as they are
called here, are, it seems, the trophies he has brought
away in his combats against the Indians. They are
dressed by their wives, who make the most of the thick
curly hair. The inside is ornamented with designs,
representing the exploits of the warrior for whom the
skin is destined. The one Kemish has taken must
have been from a very terrible man. He is depicted
riding a great blue horse, brandishing a long spear,
from which are hanging a dozen bleeding scalps, the
old proprietors of which, represented by little baboons
dressed like the "pale faces," are ranged in a row
before him.
While crossing a little plain, Kemish relates to us a
terrible scene that was witnessed on this spot. It was
the year of the great war, in the month of August.
The Indians of Sitting Bull's tribe had already retired
in the direction of the north, and it was thought there
were no more in this neighbourhood. Four men one
day came here from Custer in order to cut hay. The
next day a fifth was to come for them with a waggon.
When the latter arrived, he perceived three dead bodies
lying on the ground. Without setting his foot on the
soil, he turned the bridle and returned at a gallop to
Custer to obtain reinforcement. About a score of men,

284 Colonels and Cow-boys.
among whom was Kemish, hurried to the spot. They
came to the conclusion that the Indians, whose camp
they find in the neighbourhood, must have seen the
men coming without suspicion of danger. They had
apparently hid themselves, and the moment their
victims set to work they fired on them. Three were
killed at the first discharge ; the fourth was able to run
away some distance, but was soon caught, and struck
with a blow from the stock of the rifle so violently that,
though a government arm, it was broken. One detail
would be very droll, if the subject were not so horrible.
The Indians had, of course, scalped all the unfortunate
victims. But then, instead of taking off, according to
the rules, a fine scalp from the crown of the head,
which would have furnished them with four trophies
only, they had artistically carved out from each head
seven or eight round patches of hairy skin, in order
to make more of them for themselves. Where next
will this propensity for counterfeiting be found lurking?
And Rousseau, forsooth, believed in the honesty of
savages !
The details of this tragedy came later. There was
then, further south, a chief called " Red Cloud." He
had not only refused to join Sitting Bull at the begin
ning of hostilities, but had hindered a certain number
of his men from going to him, and had come with these
to encamp under the protection of the troops of Fort
Robinson. When the first successes of Sitting Bull
were heard of, great enthusiasm was manifested among

War Horse. 285

these men, and a subordinate chief, named " War
Horse," put himself at the head of twenty-three
warriors, two of whom were his sons. He quitted
secretly the neighbourhood of the fort, calculating on
traversing the Black Hills without attracting attention,
and then on joining, in the North, the Sioux army.
They were at the second or third stage when they un
expectedly fell in with Custer's haymakers. War
Horse could not resist the desire to reap the scalps pre
sented to him so very temptingly ; but after the deed,
foreseeing that the passage of the Black Hills would
become dangerous, he decided on renouncing the pro
ject and on returning to the fort. His sons and the
majority of their companions continued their route.
Several reappeared subsequently in the country.
War Horse returning to the cantonment after so
short an absence, was able to explain it by a plausible
pretext. When, however, they heard of the massacre,
from Custer, the suspicions of the commander fell
immediately on him. They sent a sergeant of the
Indian police to arrest him. When the latter pre
sented himself at the door of the wigwam, War Horse
was squatting near the fire, smoking ; on seeing him he
got up, cleft the skin of the tent with a single stroke of
his knife with the rapidity of lightning, and bounded
beyond. But, at the same moment, the sergeant sent
a ball through his back, and he fell dead on the spot.
We arrive at a sheep ranch, the owner of which is a
friend of Kemish. Three years -ago, this man, having

286 Colonels and Cow-boys.
gained five hundred dollars by working in the mines,
prudently employed the money in buying sheep instead
of prospecting. He has already three thousand of
these animals, and every year his flocks increase
enormously, for here where there is no market for meat
they never kill any. The entire profit proceeds from
the wool, of which each sheep yields about five or six
pounds, and this sells for about tenpence per pound.
This speculation is quite as profitable as that in bullocks,
and requires considerably less capital and fewer em
ployes. But then it is more uncertain, because the
sheep are much more liable than bullocks to very
destructive maladies.
The country we are now traversing is not so attrac
tive. Vegetation is here sparse and stunted. We are
now following the course of a little river, whose waters,
singularly transparent, are irradiated in the sun-beams
with opaline tints. It is very highly ferruginous. We
are to stop at several mineral springs, the Hot Springs,
which were already known, it is said, in the time of the
Indians, and highly esteemed for the cure of rheumatic
affections, the plague of this country. A company is
now in course of formation for the acquisition of the
establishment already installed there, and to give to it
a great development.
It is already one o'clock, and our horses continue
their course with a spirit quite refreshing to behold.
Kemish declares that we are on the point of arriving.
But the series of accidents is not yet exhausted. On

THE HORSES GO ON WITH THE FORE PART OF THE CARRIAGE.

Page 287.

Another Accident. • 287
passing the river the hind wheels sink deep into the
sand, but the horses, already come to the opposite bank,
throw themselves vigorously into the collar. Con
sequently, they go on with the fore part of the carriage
and Kemish, who, another. Hippolytus, has his hands
entangled in the reins and is drawn on for some paces.
As for ourselves, we are thrown forwards head over
heels among all the objects that filled the bottom of the
carriage. •
A heap of valises, cans of preserved meat, rifles and
buffalo-robes, have fallen on my body. While I am
making strenuous efforts to wriggle out of this obstruc
tion, and am feeling my limbs to ascertain that none of
them are broken, I perceive Monsieur Bouverie, who,
luckier than I, has been pitched, without much damage,
on the top of a big rock in the middle of the stream.
There he is contemplating the disaster with the im
perturbability of Simon Stylites perched on his pillar in
the wilderness.
"Well," he says, perceiving me in the midst of the
debris of our baggage, " we have in this a sample of the
hard lot to come."
" The hard lot, indeed ! You are chaffing."
" But I mean what I say ; and, since the accident
was to happen, is it not very lucky that it should
happen just here when we are quite near some houses ?
If this had taken place in the middle of the prairie,
two or three days hence, we should have been in a nice
pickle."

288 Colonels and Cow-boys.
" That is perfectly true, but I had not regarded that
contingency," I said, " but would you be so obliging as
to raise the carriage a little, that I may have the grati
fication of withdrawing my leg that is jammed in
under it."
" Oh ! I beg your pardon."
And leaping from his islet into the stream, the most
consoling and buoyant of travelling cornpanions helps
me out of my painful predicament.
During this time, Kemish had succeeded in securing
his horses. His coolness did not abandon him an in
stant, and he seems to take like a philosopher his part
of the disaster to his vehicle. Fortunately, his occupa
tion has created for him acquaintances and friends
everywhere. He remembers that at the Hot Springs
there is a man who has a waggon, which, perhaps,
would exactly suit us. It is agreed that while we are
breakfasting he is to see about the business.
We sit down comfortably at the foot of a willow ;
then, after having taken a refreshing bath in the sandy
water of the rivulet, we begin a breakfast, unquestion
ably a much better one than what we had at the hotel
of Custer, and for this we are indebted to a can of good
corned beef, and another of sardines of Douarnenez,
which, familiar enough in France; we little thought of
enjoying in Dakota.
As the. heat is now very great, we stretch ourselves
on the buffalo skins, and indulge in a little repose, a
light dozing meditation, in which we seem to be float-

A New Waggon. 289
ing between two worlds, belonging wholly to neither,
and we indulge in this delightful state for an hour or
two, when a rattle, like that of old iron, fully wakes us
up to the prose of every-day life. It is Kemish, who
comes up with the famous waggon. If this one breaks
down we shall be unfortunate indeed. We load it at
once with all our impedimenta, and start afresh.
In half an hour afterwards we at last arrive at Hot
Springs. We take out our horses under the shade of a
great tree, after having passed without stopping before
" the establishment," which consists of a kind of chalet,
of tolerably-good appearance. The sources are in the
bottom of a little valley on the right. There are three
of them, slightly sulphurous, and of a temperature
which should be about 85° Fahr., but which we cannot
determine exactly, having broken our thermometer in
our recent disaster.
Beside the source is the veritable establishment, for
the one we have mentioned is but a rival set up last
year. This one is of quite primitive simplicity. A
log-house is divided into three compartments : the first
serves as a kitchen, the second as a sleeping-room for
the gentlemen, and the third is set apart for the ladies.
Three or four unhappy creatures, suffering from the ills
that flesh is heir to in the form of rheumatism, are
hobbling over the rocks around. Another, crippled in
every joint, is being carried to the baths by one of his
I companions, who is not so hopelessly paralyzed. A
" little further, on a winding pathway, we see a woman
T

290 Colonels and Cow-boys.
approaching. She is a poor, little old lady, with blue
spectacles, and is leading a horse at the end of a
tether, which she desires to fasten to a stake beside
ours. A French or an English lady would, in such
circumstances, be attired in a manner becoming the
situation, but this one is encumbered with a robe a
traine ! We at once offer our services, and she half
opens her mouth, which is quite unnecessary, for it is
solely through the nose that she expresses her thanks,
accompanied with an amiable look. She explains to
us that she has come from Deadwood, with seven or
eight other ladies, to take the waters. They encamp
under a tent, which she points out to us at the top of
the valley. Their husbands, after having seen them
comfortably installed, have returned to their affairs,'
and now they are here all alone, doing their cooking
and grooming their horses. I ask her if she is not
afraid of replacing the rheumatism, which the waters
are to remove, by other maladies which she can hardly
fail to catch through camping a whole month in a damp
valley. The idea of such a contingency does not ap
pear to have entered her head : she smiles affably,
wishes us adieu, and goes her way. It would be in
teresting to see the " rubbing down," particularly if the
grooming is performed in the robe a traine.
It is decided that to-day we obey a summons and go
into society. Kemish, who went sauntering about the
neighbourhood of the chalet, comes to tell us that a
lady, who is staying there, having heard that we were

; A SUMPTUOUS SETTLEMENT."

Page sgo.

A Visit to a Lady. 291
friends of Mr Parker, whose movements and doings
have been for some time past recorded in the news
papers, invites us to come and see her. We immediately
make ourselves as presentable as possible, which con
sists in buttoning up our short coats instead of having
them open, and hurry off to pay our respects to this
amiable lady, who, it appears, is called Buttler and
lives at Deadwood, where her husband is in business.
We find her in a room furnished with more simplicity
than a wigwam. She points out to us two logs of fir,
and on these we take our seats. Then she begins
relating her adventures.
A German, a soi-disant doctor, who built this chalet
and lodged his patients here, has just assigned it to the
company now forming for turning the waters to account.
He had not mentioned a word about the transaction,
when, three days ago, Mrs Buttler, who was the sole
remaining guest, saw some waggons arrive, and presently
preparations made for removing the furniture. The
doctor then explained to her the situation, and quickly
left, leaving her absolutely alone in the house without
any furniture.
" Luckily," adds the poor woman, " a gentleman, who
happened to pass this way, remains with me till my
husband arrives. I suffer so much that I can hardly
walk." ' In a corner of the kitchen we perceive the gentleman,
who, armed with a formidable bowie knife, is peeling
potatoes. He is a cow-boy of sinister look, decorated

292 Colonels and Cow-boys.
with two revolvers. Methinks, if I were to meet him
in the dusk at the corner of a wood, I should fire on
him at once by way of precaution to make sure. As
for Mrs Buttler, she is delighted with this godsend.
But then she seems to be quite inured to adventures,
for she tells us that the party she came with to the
Black Hills had been obliged to fight on the way. One
lady who was among the number, whom she has long
known, for she was her washerwoman at Yankton,
had been scalped ; but the operation, it seems, was per
formed by a skilful hand, for the poor woman has
recovered from it ; she is obliged, however, to wear a
wig and has headache very often, a result by no means
extraordinary. It appears, however, there are not a few instances of
people having survived the operation. In order to
accomplish it, the Indians at first make a circular in
cision in the skin around the top of the head',' then,
grasping the hair, they tear off skin and hair together.
Kemish, whom I suspect to have practised himself,
though he affirms that he has been merely a witness,
assures me that it comes off quite easily. On this
point, however, the scalper and the victim would natur
ally not be of the same opinion.
We take leave of Mrs Buttler, assuring her that we
deeply feel for her in her unfortunate position, and we
prepare to proceed on our way.
The southern side of the Black Hills presents a
certain peculiarity. When, in the geological era of the

A Strange Spectacle. 293
past, the strata were erupted and thrown up, it seems
that the waters, descending from the central watershed,
encountered lower down an encircling plateau, through
which they made narrow breaches, though few and
distant from one another. It is by one of these
breaches, where all the valleys of the neighbourhood
commence diverging towards the plains, that we leave
the high land to descend through one of them into the
region of the prairies.
From the summit of a plateau where we soon arrive,
we clearly distingui$h this singular configuration. On
the other side of a little plain, spread out below our
feet, we see a mountain whose concavity gives to the
spot the appearance of an antique amphitheatre of
colossal proportion. We are now passing out of this by
a simple ravine, through which we already have a
glimpse of the prairie, glowing with the rosy oblique
rays of the setting sun.
On descending from this plateau by a fearful road,
our attention is arrested by a strange spectacle. A
group of large trees overhang a rock, from which a
spring issues, watering a little meadow. Built against
this rock stands a hut, at the door of which is leaning a
tall woman of tawny complexion. Her hair, as black
as jet and interlaced in two large plaits, falls on each
side of her face. She is clad in a sort of skirt of red
stuff, very short, showing her legs of fine outline, her
feet being covered with embroidered mocassins. Beside
her is a tame antelope. Kemish tells us that she is an

294 Colonels and Cow-boys.
Indian princess, and lives there with her husband, who
is of a mixed race. It appears that she is strongly
suspected of witchcraft by the Red Skins, who come
sometimes from a great distance, and in great numbers,
in order to consult her.
It is dark night when we arrive at the breach in
question. We have much trouble to get through it, for,
being so narrow, the river occupies nearly the whole
width. But, having once got over this difficult part, we
find the solid even ground of the prairie, and our brave
horses set off at a trot as if the thirty- three miles' which
they have already done since the morning were to count
for nothing. Happily, Parker, who has arrived already
some hours by a shorter way, comes out to meet, us : we
then cross the river and find ourselves at the door of his
house, where I am now writing these lines while waiting
for dinner.
July the i ^th. — I remember having passed some very
bad nights in my life, but few have left more disagree
able remembrances than my first night at Cascade.
There is still only one house there provided with a roof,
and this is a little log-house, about five yards long, in
which eight of us were packed, lying on a kind of
wooden camp-bed, in a suffocating atmosphere insuffer
ably hot. To add to the misery of our habitation, a
swarm of mosquitoes began buzzing in the middle of
the night around our ears. Some one then proposed to
set up a smudge. As I did not exactly know what a

A Smudge. 295

smudge was, I allowed them to proceed without saying
a word. It turned out to be a heap of half-burnt
charcoal, which they put in the recess of a window or a
door on the side the wind blows. When the mosquitoes
begin to find out they can no longer breathe, they
prudently take their departure. Unfortunately, when
this moment arrives, and even a little sooner, the room
is filled with smoke to that degree that every one is
seized with coughing, accompanied with a running of
water from the eyes, and is eventually driven to follow
the example of the mosquitoes and go outside likewise.
I have seen this method employed in Madagascar and
on the coast of Africa, but with no satisfactory result.
Nights like these have the decided advantage of
making one an early riser, and we avail ourselves of
our supplementary hours to indulge, at day-break, in a
bath, in the cool stream of the river running at our feet.
There is a truly enchanting cascade here, which gives
its name' to the place. We find now that the water,
which is strongly mineralised, has a temperature of
85? F. Notwithstanding its high temperature and its
nauseous taste, it is highly appreciated by bullocks
and horses. It seems to be equally so by leeches;
though these animals, much to my annoyance, are
determined to make the first advances with the view of
securing an intimate footing with new comers, two of
them going so far even as to cling to my legs.
Parker is so anxious to show us his property that he
gives us hardly time to dress ourselves. We mount our

296 Colonels and Cow-boys.
horses and he leads us up along the river — which, we
are informed, is called the Hot-Brook — as far as the
point where it flows into the plain by the breach of the
Belt mountain. We admire on our way the extraordin
ary fertility of the soil. The muddy banks of the rivu
let are covered with a kind of herbage that attracts
our attention. They are actual fields of hemp growing
spontaneously. So soon as the ground is turned up, it
begins to get covered with yellow sun-flowers, with a
black eye, the seeds of which attract a multitude of
birds of all sorts— prairie hens, turtle-doves, and thrushes.
A few acres have been planted in the spring with wheat,
and the close-set, crowded ears will soon be ripe.
Mounted as we are on the top of a little eminence, we
have a commanding view of the features of the country
around. We find ourselves in the centre of a plain,
almost circular, of about six thousand acres, formed in
a bend of the Cheyenne, which leaves the Belt mountain
at about five or six miles on our right, to join it again
at about the same distance on our left. The herds pas
turing on this plain are therefore in a natural enclosure,
barred in on the south by the river, whose steep shores
on this side permit nowhere an approach to the water,
and on the north by the abrupt slopes of the Belt. Their
only watering-place is the Hot-Brook, which, running
along the base of the mountain, empties itself into the
Cheyenne, with its left bank running along a little plateau
that inclines gently towards the river, forming there the
only ford that exists within many leagues around.

Looking for a Cattle Ranch. 297
Parker came to this spot last year, in order to look
out for a prairie, where, in the spring, he might estab
lish a cattle ranch ; the natural fitness of the locality at
once struck him forcibly. The plain, opening towards
the south and west, remaining warm even during the
coldest months of winter ; snow never stands there ;
the animals, shut in this natural enclosure, have not, as it
were, any need of surveillance. And then the impossi
bility of their going to drink anywhere, except along
the Hot-Brook, determines that it is sufficient to acquire
the two banks of this little river to become the virtual
possessor of the whole plain.
Having well ascertained these facts, he associated
himself with two or three friends; for, in- this country,
it is neither profitable nor prudent to undertake a
large speculation all alone. Then they began to
carry out their plan. A band of land a few yards
wide, on each bank of the rivulet, was bought of the
Government, as well as the little plot commanding the
ford, for it had been decided that at this spot they
should found a city. Advances were made to a com
pany to enable them to establish a daily line of coaches
from Sydney to Deadwood, passing by here. They
obtained from the Government a post-office. All these
arrangements are to come into operation in the course
of a few days. The company is building a great ware
house, in which will be established a store, and then an
hotel will also be opened in a few weeks.
But Parker did not stop here with all these brilliant

298 Colonels and Cow-boys.

prospects. Having made a rapid sketch of the spot,
he set off for Chicago, and presented himself at the
offices of the Great Railway Company, these having the
concession of the lines that are to unite the Black Hills
with the existing ones. He has actually gone so far as
to prove to them — and his conclusions are fully borne
out by the facts — that, instead of going from Sydney to
Deadwood, continuing all the time in the prairie, they
would have every advantage in taking their line across
the Cheyenne at this very spot, in order to penetrate
into the mountains byway of the breach, where we now
are, inasmuch as, here immediately begins a long valley,
which they can follow, without any special engineering
work, as far as the centre of the mountain range. The
engineers are at length convinced of this, and the line
will be made to this spot in eighteen months.
Parker gives us all these details while he is making
us galop over the plain in every direction, for, to please
him, we must see everything. The Americans in specu
lating have a kind of blind, habitual enthusiasm which
becomes contagious, and, in the long run, one no longer
has a very clear conscience with regard to what is actu
ally a fact, or what is merely in the inchoate stage of a
project. I recall to memory the gentleman in the
journey from Chicago to Pierre, who proposed to me
that I should buy a street in a city that had no exist
ence whatever. Parker, with the most sanguine assur
ance, shows to us a plain covered with grass, saying,
" Here will be the station ; here will be the hotel ; there

A City in futuro. 299
a bank, and yonder a church ! " till we at last see. all
these things very distinctly, and come to consider the
vendor of streets — that seemed very like castles in the
air — as quite a rational man of business.
If the country, reserved for so high a destiny, is of
exceptional fertility, it is, on the other hand, not a fine
country. The heat is unbearable ; the average tem
perature niust be very high, for we see that the vegeta
tion is quite different from what we have hitherto met
with on our way. We see plants that are only ordinarily
found in tropical lands. At the base of the rocks
masses of dwarf cactus display their fine red flowers and
prickly leaves. I fancy that this exceptional tempera
ture is due partly to the aspect and partly to the vicinity
of the hot-water river.
This water has medicinal properties so pronounced
and disagreeable, that in order the new inhabitants may
not thereby be frightened away, Parker has had brought
here, from several miles distance, a copious stream of
ordinary water, trying at the same to make everybody
believe that its habitual use is attended with no incon
venience. He shows me, with some pride, eight or ten
tents that are being set up on the little hill facing us.
They are the tents of some emigrants who are come to
examine the land, and who now announce that they
shall return in a few weeks with their families.
Just as I am writing these lines, the indefatigable
Monsieur Bouverie is gone to photograph a little lake,
rather curious, it seems, which is on the mountain. I

300 Colonels and Cow-boys.
remain behind, because, this morning, as I was leading
my horse by the bridle to make him pass a difficult
path, he fell on me with all his weight, and squeezed
my chest so tightly against a tree that I could hardly
breathe. I am still suffering in my respiration, and
must therefore nurse myself a little, for it is decided
with Kemish that we begin this evening our return
journey across the prairie. We shall have, I fear, a
rough time of it. They say it is a course of forty-eight,
or fifty miles to reach one of the stations of the line of
stage-coaches, and after having passed the Cheyenne,
there is not a drop of potable water to be had. We
enter into what is called the " Alkali Desert," where the
soil is so strongly impregnated with saline matter that
the water is unfit for drinking ; horses, cattle, and
game, however, take it freely, whether they like it or
not. Parker's two partners, Mr Quigley and Mr Melville,
have most courteously remained in the house to keep
me company. We have just had an exciting moment.
Mr Quigley cried out that he had seen the skin of a
serpent glistening between our portmanteaux heaped
up in the corner. We then set to work in removing
them as cautiously as possible, and soon found one, and
scotched it at once: it was about three or four feet
long, but of a quite inoffensive kind. But there is a
fearful quantity of rattle-snakes. Mr Melville killed a
large one yesterday, and a horse was bitten in the lip
five or six days ago ; its head has swollen fearfully,

Snake-bites. 301

though the animal is not dead. The danger of the bite
is very much exaggerated generally.
On our way to Sydney we were told that a little girl
of eight had been bitten yesterday afternoon at four
o'clock. They forced down her throat two-thirds of a
bottle of whisky, and the child is now unquestionably
recovering from the alarming attack, and at this hour,
no doubt, likewise from those effects of the remedy
decidedly more widely known.

CHAPTER IX.
THE RETURN JOURNEY— THE ALKALI DESERT — THE INDIANS—
THE PRAIRIE DOGS — THE ANTELOPES— A SAND STORM-
WILLOW CREEK — THE RIVER PLATTE — JACK SLADE AND
JULES BURGH— SYDNEY— THE UNION PACIFIC— OMAHA-
CHICAGO.
Saturday, the 14th oj July. — The day before yesterday,
at four o'clock in the afternoon, we quitted Cascade
and passed out of the great heat of the last few days.
One of Parker's great merits is the tact he has in
choosing his business colleagues. Captain Hughes has
already left the most favourable impression on us, and,
since we have been in the Black Hills, we have met very
few people to be compared with Mr Quigley and Mr
Melville. The former is an English Canadian, about
thirty or thirty-five, whose business is with cattle. The
latter is an American, arid much younger. He evidently
belongs to a good family, and has received a very good
education. He has just been passing six or eight
months all alone in that horrid log-house, which he
has built with his own hands. It is this gentleman who
has done the cooking for us. Where is the young
Frenchman who would consent, for any amount of gold,

Good-bye to Parker. 303
to lead such an existence ? * But how is it that a mode
of education that gives results so admirable for the
mfen, gives at the same time such deplorable ones for
the women ? This is a question I should indeed like
to study if I remained much longer in America.
We separate from this worthy fellow Parker at last,
and truly not without heaviness of heart. Monsieur
Bouverie, who did not know him before coming here, is
quite struck with this type of the puritan of old — one
so straightforward, so profoundly religious, having
always quotations from the Bible on his lips ; a decided
ascetic, and yet at the same time having his mind so
freely open for the material things of the age. In France,
where ardently religious men have generally a repug
nance for business affairs, such a type could hardly be
found. These gentlemen saddle their horses to accompany
us a little way on our road. We say good-bye for ever
to Jean-Leblanc and the buff mare, and these good
creatures are going to enjoy, in feeding on the grass of
the future streets of Cascade, a repose that they have
well earned ; and for our part, we are now on our home
ward journey.
The passage of the ford of the Cheyenne is per
formed without hindrance, the water being neither deep
nor the current rapid. Here it is where the railway
* This admission by a Frenchman reveals the reason why his country
men are not formed to become colonists ; clearly they cannot readily
accommodate themselves to new surroundings. — W. C.

304 Colonels and Cow-boys.
bridge is to be. Parker shows us, a little way off, some
coal measures cropping out, which we can distinguish
very clearly on the flank of a hill, and these he con
templates working as soon as the construction of the
railway begins. We next cross a marshy plain. All at
once Monsieur Bouverie cries out that he sees a rattle
snake retreating in a tuft of grass. We surround the
spot, and he turns out a rather big reptile, which is not
a crotalus, though a very dangerous viper, it seems,
known as the spotted adder.
On this side, the demarcation between the mountain
and the prairie is much less distinct than in the north,
or rather, some outlying hills of the mountain chain,
detached and covered with a luxuriant vegetation,
diversify the usual uniform character of the prairie it
has elsewhere. We follow the wheel tracks, now half-
effaced, left by the passage of some old convoy of emi
grants. Mr Melville says that this will lead us to a
station of the stage-coach line, called Big-Cotton- Wood,
but as we are still something like over fifty miles from
it, we intend to halt about eight or nine, and resume
our route to-morrow.
At last, having arrived at the top of a terrible hill,
which Kemish's horses carry triumphantly, we separate
with a hearty shake of the hand from our three friends.
We watch them a few moments as they gallop off in
the direction of the Cheyenne, whose waters are glitter
ing on the horizon, and we continue our route towards
the south.

Going Southward. 305
We are informed that buffaloes have been seen about
here the last few days, and we are, therefore, on the
alert. We have not the good luck to fall in with even
one of them, but then, on the other hand, there is no
end of game : its abundance is almost incredible.
Whole coveys of prairie hens rise under the horses' legs ;
but as the young birds do not yet fly well, the cock
and hen generally hop on to a clod of earth, and there,
without any alarm at our presence, flap their wings and
call their young together. With an eye to our dinner,
which is a better excuse than the object of pigeon
matches, we are barbarous enough to kill a few of these
tame birds close to the muzzle of our revolvers and
rifles. They resemble hen pheasants very much in
plumage, though they are not so large. But then,
quantities of them arrive in Paris now every winter.
We are not fortunate in meeting with any wild turkeys,
though they are said to be plentiful, but we see many
great hares, that do not seem to be very wild, yet, for
all that, we do not succeed in bagging any ; this, how
ever, is not so very astonishing, considering how difficult
it is to hit a hare with a bullet. They call them here
jack-rabbits. In winter they are quite white, and they
have not yet wholly put on their summer fur.*
* These facts, familiar as they are now, were scarcely noticed till
Darwin and Wallace cited and explained many instances of protective
colours that conduced to the survival of the fittest in the struggle for exist
ence. As the subject is so very interesting to others as well as natu
ralists, I venture to quote one of my notes on the subject from my edition,
"Over Siberian Snows," of M. Meignan's travels, recently published.
U

306 Colonels and Cow-boys.

About seven o'clock, a great wolf stops before us a
moment, and then sets off at a gallop. Monsieur
Bouverie jumps out of the vehicle, and runs some dis-
" ' Many Siberian animals that are white during winter, resume, in the
summer, furs of a colour which we habitually see here. The ermine is a
changeable fur, and becomes yellow during the warm season. A summer
ermine is almost worthless in the eyes of a connoisseur.' — The Author.
"These, no doubt, are instances of Has protective colours observed by
Darwin and Mr Wallace.
" ' A common Indian and Sumatran butterfly (Kallima) disappears like
magic when it settles in a bush ; for it hides its head and antennae be
tween its closed wings, and these in form, colour, and veining, cannot
be distinguished from a withered leaf together with the footstalk.' —
Wallace. " ' With animals of all kinds, whenever colour has been modified for
some special purpose, this has been, as far as we can judge, either for
protection or as an attraction between the sexes.' — Darwin, Descent of
Man. "The white furs of the animals, liable to become the prey of others
amid the snow, are obviously a protection from observation ; and like
wise in summer, some other colour presenting a diminished contrast with
surrounding nature, would have the same effect.
" Perhaps this adaptation of colour to surroundings may extend also to
certain animals, which would otherwise become extinct if they did not
enjoy the facilities it conferred in the capture of their prey when they are
placed at a great disadvantage. The Polar bear, for instance, requires no
protection from its enemies, but favourable conditions, probably, for ap
proaching its prey unobserved. It seems reasonable to conclude that
animals of either class favoured with a colour that enables them either to
escape from their pursuers, or, on the other hand, to approach their prey,
have, in the struggle for life, the best chance of a prolonged existence,
and consequently of leaving the most numerous offspring to perpetuate
the race. Though colour is one of the most varying features of animals,
it is, whether changing or permanent, beginning to be recognised no
longer as capricious or accidental, as we have hitherto usually regarded
it, but as the consequence of the survival of the most highly favoured in
an endowment conducive to the preservation of the species, a discovery
on which the continued observations of naturalists are ever throwing fresh
light."— W. C.

Buffaloes and Indians. 307
tance to get a chance of bringing him down with a ball,
but old Kemish, who was following the beast with his
eye, suddenly cries out :
" For God's sake, call him back ! Call him back
directly ! He must not fire for the world."
I hail Monsieur Bouverie, who returns in a rather
bad humour.
" But what is the matter ? " I ask Kemish.
" Why ! Don't you see ? Look in the direction of
the wolf, where he went to fire, and you see some smoke
and then three tents ; they are Indians, and there are
thirty of them at least. They have come out of their
reserve, and certainly not for anything good."
" Bah ! They are after the buffaloes that people are
talking about."
" It may be so : still, if, on returning to the village,
they bring back, besides the buffalo skins, a pair of
horses and two or three scalps, they will be all the
more welcomed. Now, it happens that, in a few weeks,
the grand ceremony of the initiation of the warriors
takes place. It is the time when they are most to be
feared : let us get on our way as fast as possible."
"What is he saying ?" asks my friend.
" Do you remember the story of Chactas and Atala
related by Chateaubriand ?"
"Certainly, and found it tiresome enough, too, for
merly." " And I also ; but then, if Monsieur de Chateaubriand
has not a little exaggerated, which, by-the-bye, is not

308 Colonels and Cow-boys.
at all unlikely, we are going to have some adventures
quite similar to what he describes. Kemish maintains
that the people under those three tents, which you see
yonder, are going to pursue us. To-morrow morning,
my dear sir, your fair curly locks will decorate the
spear of a grand chief, unless some maid, like 'la
Vierge des dernieres amours,' allured by your personal
advantages, release you from the stake of torture, and
conduct you to her habitation, addressing you in a
speech beginning thus : ' Oh ! young, pale-faced
stranger . . .' In such a case, you would become the
son-in-law of some great chief, and you would ever
rove the prairie with a sun tattooed on the pit of your
stomach, and a moon on your back. And if, in the
end, you should get tired of this sort of life, you Would
have, at all events, the resource of coming with your
little family to show yourself in Paris, at the Jardin
d'Acclimatation or the Folies-Bergere."
" Pshaw ! do you suppose I should not try by all
means, before arriving there, to lodge some of these
cartridges in the venerable person of the said father-
in-law ?" says ^Monsieur Bouverie, showing me the re
serve of ammunition in his Winchester.
We still keep on our way at a good speed. Kemish
does not whip his horses, and never makes use of the
long switch which replaces the whip in these barbarous
regions ; but his tongue is going on all the time as fast
as the wheels, and it produces the best effect, for we
are going at a rattling pace. Night is coming on and

A False Alarm. 309
threatens to be very dark, and a little rain even is fall
ing." I do not understand at all how Kemish manages
to find his way. He has no compass, and not a star is
visible. Besides, he declares to us that he has been
this way only once before, and that was five years ago.
These men certainly have some special instinct.
Twice we were obliged to cross shallow streams, so
very muddy that the wheels, sunk in the ooze, could
not be drawn out by the horses. We were then obliged
to-discharge the vehicle, carry the luggage on our backs,
and put our shoulders to the wheels to get them out of
the silt. At last, about two in the morning, it was not
quite so dark, and we could then distinguish on our
right a little hollow spot covered with a few pine trees.
Kemish then told us he was going to stop here awhile
to feed and rest the horses that had been running since
four in the afternoon. His horses are really wonderful
animals ; they went on quietly feeding on their ration
of three quarts of oats each, as if they had only just
come off a run of five or six miles.
Kemish has not been, I think, very seriously fright
ened. Besides, if we were to have been attacked, it
strikes me that the scalping would have been all over
by this time. He tells me, however, that he is going to
watch for fear of accidents. As for myself, I am going
to follow the example of my friend, who is already
snoring on our buffalo-robes.
I am waked in about half-an-hour by a frightful noise.
A Breton of the country round Treguier who heard

310 Colonels and Cow-boys.
such a hurly-burly about the cemetery of his parish,
would swear that it was a chant of the condemned in
purgatory, who had come up by a special favour to enjoy
a cool night on earth. We hear at first some sharp,
surly snarling, coming from five or six different points,
followed by a silence, and then something like an out
burst of deep sobbing. It is terrible. I have an idea
that the Indians are on our heels, and I leap out of the
vehicle with my rifle cocked ; but Kemish, who is walk
ing up and down, laughs at me satirically.
" Oh !" he says, " you don't know what that is. It is
the coyotes.* Everything goes on well. They are the
famous watch-dogs ; don't be uneasy. When one hears
them howling like that around one, it is certain there
are no Indians in the neighbourhood."
" But are you not afraid they will take a fancy to our
horses ?"
" There is no fear of that ; they are too cowardly ;
they attack nothing bigger than a rabbit or a prairie
dog." The night is so cold that I shiver in every limb.
Seeing Kemish in a humour for talking, I walk up and
down with him to get, at the same time, a little warmth
by exercise. The good man relates to me, with a pride
he glories in, all the tricks he formerly played on the
coast-guard of the English shore when he commanded a
* The gray American wolf. It is precisely like the wolves in France.
They maintain here that it is descended from the Spanish dogs that have
become wild. But this I hardly believe.

Barbarous Files. 3 1 1
schooner in the Channel, which did, it seems, more busi
ness in smuggling than anything else. To hear him, he
led them a nice dance. It is highly probable, however,
that poor Kemish had to succumb in this unequal war,
and that his retirement into the Far West was not alto
gether irrelevant to its consequences. But then, he
does not complain of his lot ; he has for a long time
conducted convoys of oxen-waggons, and it was during
these long journeys that he sometimes traded with the
Indians, and sometimes also exchanged many rifle
shots with them.
And for all that he seems to judge them much less
severely than the Americans do in general. According
to his account, many of the ill deeds with which they
are reproached are the doings of the white men who live
among the tribes with Indian women. These are what
are called squaw-men, and are mostly scoundrels of the
deepest dye.
He was present once at the grand fetes, which take
place every year about the month of August. In these
assemblages there are often as many as three thousand
tents pitched together. It is at this epoch, among the
Sioux, that the young men undergo the ordeal by which
they are admitted as warriors, enabling them to enjoy
the right of a separate habitation and to take part in
the deliberations of the tribe. These trials, over which
their priests, called by the Americans medicine-men,
preside, are preceded by many days of rigorous fasting.
Then the candidates, entirely naked and covered with

3 1 2 Colonels and Cow-boys.
emblematic paintings, are assembled in a great tent
erected for the ceremony. The priest takes a knife
and makes incisions through the thickness of the muscles
of their chest and the calves of their legs, and inserts
sticks therein with their ends protruding at each open
ing of the wound : a rope, having one extremity fast
ened to the top of the tent, is then passed under the
ends of the sticks transpiercing the pectoral muscles,
and the victims are hoisted up and there remain sus
pended ; then other ropes are passed around the sticks
protruding from the calves of the legs, and these are
loaded with buffalo heads, added one by one at long
intervals, till the tension is overcome by a rupture and
the man falls. He is afterwards dragged outside and
abandoned without any care, his wounds being left to
suppurate till the sticks fall out of the decomposed
tissue, for they must never be withdrawn from the
flesh. These horrible wounds leave naturally enormous
scars, and as they are reputed to be very honourable,
the Indians are consequently very proud of them.*
These singular probations, which I have heard spoken
of many times, are less practised now than formerly.
They produce a very sensible effect on the imagination,
exalting it to the highest degree, and, through the as
semblages of the people to which they give rise, gently
facilitate the organisation of expeditions of war. The
* This f&e has again been celebrated this year, and has terminated as
usual by a banquet, in which they have devoured some hundreds of
dogs.

Barbarous Files. 31 3
Indian agents, accordingly, do all in their power to
discourage these customs, but precisely for the same
reason the chiefs encourage them. It appears that
during these tortures, which often last five or six hours,
not a murmur of complaint escapes the lips of these
unfortunate sufferers. And yet it is not at all a rare
occurrence for a few to die from the effects. After all,
I am convinced that, of all races of mankind, the Cau
casian race is the best for resisting maladies, but the
worst for resisting wounds. Our nervous system is so
far developed that suffering is much more keenly felt
by us than by the inferior races. The negroes, the
Chinese, or the Indians endure without shrinking tor
tures which the most hardened among us could not
bear for a moment. I remember having seen an instance
of this which has struck me very forcibly.
It was a few years ago in Cochin-China. One of the
southern provinces was overrun by a band of pirates,
who committed atrocities. One of my friends, an in
spector of native affairs, succeeded one night in sur
prising the band at the moment they had just buried
alive an unfortunate young girl, whose father would
not send them a sum of money which they demanded
from him. The leader in this affair escaped, but one of
his lieutenants was taken. Having been brought up for
examination, he was interrogated, but he would say
nothing. At last they read to him a proclamation from
the Governor promising one thousand piastres to whom
soever should cause the chief agent to be arrested.

3 1 4 Colonels and Cow-boys.
But being still unable to get him to divulge anything,
he was sent to prison.
During the night he requested to speak to the in
spector. " Is it quite true," he asked him, when he was alone
in his presence, "that you will give me a thousand
piastres if I put you in the way of taking the Quan ?"
" Yes ; to be sure I will."
" Very well, then ; to-morrow bring me up before the
tribunal. Interrogate me again, then order me to be
flogged. After a little while, I will tell you the name
of the village where the Quan retires after each of the
expeditions, and where you can take him as soon as
you like. After that, you must send me to Poulo-
Condor (the convict prison) for three months ; then I
shall have my liberty, and you will give me the thou
sand dollars."
" Quite so : but I do not understand at all why you
hold so much to having a flogging ?"
" As to that, it is very simple. If they see me having
a good, sound bastinado, they will consider it natural
enough that, being unable to stand it any longer, I
should tell the truth. But if I do it merely for the
money, I am quite sure of getting a stab with a knife so
soon as they find me in the country."
The next day everything was carried out as it had
been arranged. The man began by refusing to speak.
He was then stretched upon the ground, face down
wards, and four brawny fellows, armed with rattans,

Barbarous Customs. 315
emulated one another in laying on with all their might
on the bare back of the prostrate sufferer, which at the
twentieth .lash was a complete wound. The inspector
thought he was going to speak, but the old scamp merely
raised his head from time to time and gave a sly wink,
as much as to say — " Go on again ; it is not enough
yet." " At last," the inspector told me, " his back pre
sented the appearance of a bleeding carcase gnawed by
wolves. One could not look at it without shudder
ing." He did not speak till after the two-hundredth
blow. Who, then, is the European, who having quite made
up his mind to speak, and, consequently, being sus
tained by no other force than that derived from the
sentiment of duty and honour, having, moreover, the
power to stop by one word such excruciating torment,
that would have borne it for five minutes ? *
* There is evidently some foundation for this opinion, that the inferior
races have a far greater capacity for bearing physical suffering than the
more highly developed, and I quote with pleasure, in support thereof,
some passages relating to the fellah from my translation — "Five Months
in Egypt " — of M. Gabriel Charmes's work, " Cinq Mois au Caire."
"This habit of dissimulation, this impassibility in suffering, are be
come the essential parts of the character of the fellah. Must we believe,
according to Darwin's theory, that in consequence of their being trans
mitted hereditarily, they have arrived at constituting a kind of special
faculty in the race ? What is certain is, that the Egyptian peasant con
siders himself dishonoured if he pays any tax whatever on the first de
mand ; his wife, his children, his neighbours, would scorn him as a
coward shrinking from pain. When the collector arrives in his village,
the fellah swears by all the gods that he does not possess it piastre,
and receives with courage as many lashes of the courbache on the soles
of his feet as he can bear, without being quite lacerated. If he succeeds

3 1 6 Colonels and Cow-boys.
While we are chatting with Kemish, the sky is clear
ing up in the east. The first beams of the sun glancing
over the prairie enable us to see well around us. We
are in the midst of a sandy plain, covered very sparsely
with vegetation. Behind us, on the horizon, we per
ceive the range of the Black Hills, the last spur of
which stretches its serrated outline towards the south
against the grey-blue sky, still spangled with a few stars.
Along this are depicted here and there lofty rocks re
sembling the towers of strong castles in ruins. Our
pair of horses, resting on the brink of a pond, are
in slipping off by these means from the least part of what he owes, or of
what is unjustly claimed from him, he does not regret his scars. It must
not be supposed that he feels the least humiliation in submitting to a
punishment which Europeans find disgraceful ; the shame would be, as I
have said, in shirking it by paying. ' The strokes given by a master are
an honour, ' says an Arab proverb ; another proverb of the same origin is
still more explicit, ' The strokes of a friend,' it says, ' have the sweetness
of currants.'
' ' Among the legends the most popular of Egypt, figures the story, no
doubt apocryphal, but in nowise improbable, of a fellah, from whom the
tax-gatherer claimed the sum of ten francs. During a month he was
conducted every day to the same spot, where he bore, without complain
ing, fifty lashes of the courbache. It was in vain that they claimed from
him, at the moment when his sufferings seemed the most acute, the pay
ment of his debt. He invariably replied that he had not got the ten
francs that were demanded. Convinced at last by this cruel experience
of the truth of his declaration, the tax-collector decided to let him go ;
but to signify to him his discharge, he administered to him with his own
hand a smart blow on the cheek. This unexpected smack jerked out of
his mouth a piece of ten francs, which he had kept there in reserve a
whole month, in case he could no longer support his martyrdom . One
may doubt the truth of this anecdote, but Bourrienne relates one of the
same kind, the denouement of which, instead of being comic, is a san
guinary tragedy. Sidy-Mohamed-el-Coraim, Sheriff of Alexandria, had

The Alkali Desert. 317
plunging their noses every moment into the muddy
water ; they snort loudly, and then, lifting their heads,
look around dolefully, as much as to say, " How bad it
is 1" I go and taste it, and find they are quite right. An
unsavoury acrid brackishness almost chokes one at once ;
we are just in the midst of the Alkali Desert. On the
crest of a little hill yonder, about 200 yards off, two
coyotes are watching us. Now and then they lift their
heads, and break out in that strange giggling noise
which is so disquieting to hear in the dead of night. I
take a shot at them with my rifle, scattering the sand
been imprisoned by order of Bonaparte, charged with treason. The fol
lowing judgment had been given against him :— -
" ' Having proofs of the treason of Sidy-Mohamed-el-Coraim, whom
he had loaded with benefits, the general-in-chief orders Sidy-Mohamed-
el-Coraim to pay a contribution of 300,000 francs. In default by him
to pay the said contribution five days after the publication of the present
order, he will have his head cut off.'
" ' Coraim,' says Bourrienne, ' was to go from Aboukir to Cairo, in
order, in accordance with his demand, to justify himself of what he was
accused. Arrived at Cairo, they demanded from him again the hundred
thousand crowns for his justification. He constantly refused to give them.
I caused him to be informed one day by Venture, our interpreter, that if
he would preserve his life it was necessary to pay what was required
from him for shutting our eyes on his treason ; that I assured him the
general was decided to make an example. He was a very fine man,
whose position interested me. " You are rich," I said to him, through
Venture, "make this sacrifice." He sneered and replied, "If I am to
die this moment, nothing can save me from it ; if I am not to die, why
give them?" He was executed at Cairo, September 6th, 1798, at
twelve o'clock, and his head was paraded through the streets of the city."
These facts are strongly suggestive that animals, and especially the
lower animals, by no means suffer so much as is generally supposed when
experimented upon in the interest of science for the benefit of humanity.
-W. C.

3 1 8 Colonels and Cow-boys.
around their ears. They scamper away with a strange
pace, half-ambling, half-galloping, with their heads
down and their bushy tails tucked in behind.
The report of my rifle has wakened Monsieur Bou
verie, who stretches himself voluptuously on his buffalo
skin. He has had only a short doze. The horses are
put in, and seem quite as fresh as the evening before.
At nine o'clock, we at last cross the road from Dead-
wood to Sydney, and, a few minutes afterwards, we
arrive at the station of Big-Cotton-Wood. Since four
yesterday afternoon we have done about fifty-six miles,
but we are still 137 miles from Sydney.
We stop at the station no longer than is necessary to
give our horses^ some well-water, which is not quite so
bad as that of the surface, and then we encamp a little
further off, on a plain, where some luxuriant grass will
furnish them with a feed they have well earned. The
heat is so great that we are obliged to take refuge
under the waggon. We still notice an abundance of
game. This morning we saw two or three herds of
antelopes grazing on the hills. While we were stopping
we saw two more, which advanced towards us, gazing
at us attentively. Kemish asserts that, provided you
remain perfectly still, you may sometimes induce them
to come within reach. Unluckily these are very shy,
and having approached within 200 or 300 yards, they
stop a moment, and then scamper away at full gallop.
They are pretty animals with their grey coats, and are
about the size of a buck ; their horns are without

Red Cloud's Encampment. 319
branches, like' those of the roe-deer — at least they
appear so to us.
About three, we arrive at the old encampment of
"Red Cloud." The old chief, who led the dissen
tient Sioux, is now dead and his men are dispersed.*
The fort that was constructed, for watching them quite
as much as for protecting them from the animosity of
their compatriots, is still standing, and is now occupied
by a company of Federal troops. We stop at the
station, where we find again the true American woman
—the "genuine article." She is stretched out on a
rocking-chair in the shade, clad in a dressing-gown in
rags, whilst her husband, another tatterdemallion, sets
about cooking a prairie hen for our dinner. Monsieur
Bouverie, who spies out a herd of cows and bullocks in
the neighbourhood, begs her for a cup of milk. She
gives him at once a tin of condensed milk that comes
from Chicago. It is not so much trouble as to go out
and milk the cow. Wives are the only luxury of the
Americans, but they are decidedly a very costly one.
Having had two hours' rest, we start again. We
enter now on sandy ground, which, extending, it seems,
as far as Sydney, will make the route much heavier for
the poor horses. With this drawback, we are approach
ing a line of hills we have had constantly on the horizon,
and we are doomed to undergo a tiresome ascent of a
very long hill to reach a plateau where there are a few
* These Sioux, of the tribe Ogalalla, are distinguished from the rest by
the name of " Ugly Faces."

320 Colonels and Cow-boy's.
fir-trees. Some pretty grey turtle-doves, with a white
ring around the neck, rise around us, and we bring
down a few for our dinner. At last, as night is coming.
on, Kemish halts in a plain void of water, but where
' there is some good pasture for our horses. We then
begin making a great fire to warm ourselves, for the
air feels very cold, and we prepare to pass the night
under the shelter of the waggon. The weather, fortu
nately, is beautiful.
Sunday, July the i$th. — After the rough day we had
yesterday we slept so soundly that we found it difficult
to rouse ourselves thoroughly in order to help Kemish
to catch his horses. One of them particularly, his
favourite, " Pier," gave us a smart run for half-an-hour.
His master has a manner of addressing him that is
quite pleasant to hear. When he says : " Ho ! Pier,"
he gives to this " ho ! " such a tender accent that it goes
straight to the animal's heart. And again, this morn
ing, thanks to the soothing tone of his voice, he was
able to come up to him ; but then, the moment he had
him safe in his grasp, he gave him a good drubbing,
swearing all the time like a trooper. This is the kind
of greeting generally accorded to wilful horses when
caught, but it does not facilitate the work when the
time comes, for catching them again.
We resume. our route at sunrise, and, an hour after
wards, we come up to the " Running Water," a little
river of fresh, soft water. Our poor horses appreciate

Cow-boy Cuteness. 321
it so much that we have great trouble to get them out
of it. On the banks a cattle ranch is established, and
the bullocks, in groups of a score or so, quite cover the
plain. There must be two or three thousand. Seven
or eight cow-boys, who have just finished their break
fast, are assembled before a tent, in which they sleep
when it is not their turn to watch, that is three nights
out of four generally. They have thirty or forty horses
for their service. We see them saddling the ones they
mount, and then they gallop off, each followed by five
or six spare horses, one having a pack-saddle loaded
with provisions. What admirable cavalry might be
made of these strapping fellows, provided one out of
four were hanged to teach the others how to behave.
There is one of them that I follow with my eyes for a
long time. He enters into a little corral where a few
cows are enclosed. He opens the gate without dis
mounting, picks out, among all these bewildered ani
mals, the one he has precisely in view, brings it out
with the lash of his stock-whip, drives back the others
that have escaped, and then hurls his lasso at a stub
born calf that persists in running away, turning it head
over heels : all this is done without a single false move
ment, and with an ease and grace admirable to behold.
We continued marching all day long, halting merely
a couple of hours about noon. The heat is still distress
ing to bear. The antelopes show themselves from time
to time, but give us no chance by coming within range. ¦
We traverse an immense village of prairie dogs.
X

322 Colonels and Cow-boys.
Hundreds of them are crouching at the entrance of
their burrows. We fire at five or six which are evidently
hit, for we see spots of blood and hair, but it is impos
sible to take them, for they always manage, it seems, to
crawl into their holes before dying. Monsieur Bouverie,
however, manages to kill an owl which is not much
bigger than a thrush. These birds make their nests in
the burrows of the prairie dogs, which often contain
also rattlesnakes. One does not know exactly what
common interest unites such strange associates.
About three o'clock a storm comes on. At the same
moment we see suddenly appear on the crest of the
hill before us, an immense herd reaching far away out
of sight and coming down straight on us in a compact
body. They are the great bullocks of Texas with
enormous horns. At their head are marching a few old
yoke oxen that serve to lead the others. When they
have a river to pass, a cow-boy tethers one to his saddle
and, dragging him into the water, the others then
follow. At this moment they are excited by the electric
state of the atmosphere and the claps of thunder. The
young ones leap about in all directions, trying to escape
and terrify the others. Forty or fifty cow-boys, each
followed by five or six reserved horses, are galloping
wildly along the flanks of the column, trying to keep
them in order. We hear their formidable stock-whips
resounding like pistol-shots, mingled with the desperate
bellowings of the herd. The scene, lighted up by the

Indian Shambles. 323
"yellow glow of a stormy sky, forms a most striking
spectacle. We talk a few moments with the ranch
man. He is a fine young fellow, mounted on a splendid
animal, with a grey felt hat set off with a goffered
leathern band in the place of a ribbon. He carries two
revolvers and a bowie-knife, all mounted in silver. He
informs us that having the commission to furnish rations
of meat that the Government gives to the Indians, he
is conducting five thousand head of Texas cattle to
deliver them to the agents charged with their distribu
tion. He has been on his way during two months. How
many of these bullocks will be eaten by the Sioux ?
This is a question that would be very curious to solve,
and yet, when determined, would certainly not be very
i edifying. These distributions of meat are, it seems, a
rather extraordinary spectacle. They give to each
community a number of bullocks in proportion to the
number of their members. The warriors on horseback
attend at the gate of the corral, and, as soon as an
animal is delivered to them, they drive it off at full
speed, running after it and killing it with their arrows.
Each executes in his own way the business of the
shambles. A little further on, we meet a convoy of oxen-waggons
belonging to Kemish, which are being conducted by his
two sons. They are two fine, tall young fellows, well
built, but are far from having the polished and respect
ful manners of their father, who has decidedly won our
warm attachment. They seemed to be quite surprised

324 Colonels and Cow-boys.
at meeting him. He will get home again before them,
for they take a fortnight to accomplish what we are
doing in four or five days, if our horses keep on at the
same lively pace.
I have prevailed over Kemish to relax the bridles of
the poor beasts. Our French bridles are already in
struments of torture, carried in this direction sufficiently
towards perfection ; but in this order of ideas, as well
as in many others, the Americans leave us far behind
them. Their bearing rein consists of a simple leathern
strap, which, fixed to the saddle, passes through a ring
between the two ears of the horse, and there dividing
in two, is brought down on each cheek and fastened to
the ends of the snaffle. By compressing the nose of
the poor animal, its head is therefore kept under, in a
position towards the horizontal, without any possibility
of giving it freedom of movement. A veterinary
surgeon told me that, independent of the torture in
flicted on the horses by such a detestable arrangement,
there is to be attributed to this cause a large share of
those very frequent cases of sun-stroke, followed by
death, that happen on the streets of New York and
Chicago, notwithstanding the little parasols they put
over their heads during the intense heat.
About three o'clock we fall in with a flock of three
thousand sheep, driven by two men on horseback, who
tell us which direction to take to reach Red-Willow
station, where we intend passing the night. For the
last hour or two we have been beset by a sandstorm.

Poverty and Plenty. 325
which renders the march painfully persecuting. We
traverse actual marine alluvium of a fine sand like that
covering the beach of Trouville. The wind sweeping it
up in thick clouds, it penetrates everywhere. Some
times, when at its worst, our poor horses stop and put
their heads between their legs, making efforts to breathe.
In the end, however, we get without accident to the
station. Red-Willow has the ambition, perhaps, to become a
city some day. At all events, some daring speculator
has built there an hotel. It is a construction in rough
planks, but, to our great surprise, capable, we under
stand, of supplying us with a bed, and, moreover, in the
way of eating, with beef and mutton. The beef must
have been cut off from some poor, lame brute that
could march no further with the herd we saw this
morning, and the sheep probably died of rot, for, in the
Far West, though butcher's meat is sold, it is not fit to
eat. At all events, we are no longer so very nice about
it, and we manage to make a dinner off it — if not a
very good one, one copious, at least. In this country,
which should be the land of abundance, because it feeds
so many others, one is reduced to remember the days
when he had a good dinner. I have often heard the
farmers and ranchmen say, in trying to fix a date,
"That day I had a square meal!' What singular
people !
This evening, while we are smoking a cigar before
the house, we are watching a few cow-boys assembled

326 Colonels and Cow-boys.
before the door of the bar, amusing themselves in
throwing the lasso. I promise two dollars to the one
who shall first catch his adversary at a distance of
twenty paces. They place themselves in position, and,
in the end, I keep my two dollars.
They excuse themselves, saying they are accustomed
to throw it on horseback, then that their hempen cord
is not heavy enough ; but these are lame excuses. The
truth is, they are very clumsy. Desiring to take to an
other kind of pastime, they begin wrestling. A strapping
young fellow of twenty throws all the rest, one after
the other. These men are very well made, but their
muscular system is not much developed, due, I believe,
to their bad nourishment. They have neither legs nor
arms. A Breton shipmate would bring them down like
a house of cards. I notice one thing that we should
certainly not see in our colonies. One of these cow
boys is a negro ; for all that he plays and wrestles with
the others on a footing of perfect equality. It is very
curious that a sentiment so rooted should have disap
peared so quickly in a country where, only twenty-five
years ago, a negro was admitted neither into a theatre
nor an omnibus in New York*
* As an event within the experience of the living generation, this re
markable change is to this extent curious, no doubt, but if we realise how
the phenomenon, of which there are so many instances in all history, has
been brought about, that is through a complete change of national senti
ment and public opinion, we find it perfectly natural, and cease to be
astonished. Have not, indeed, all the great and enduring changes re
corded in the annals of every people been due more to these causes than

CHANGING STATION.

An Historical Change. 327
Monday, the 16th July. — The sand storm has been
raging all night, and, on awaking this morning, we
find the sheet and the floor covered with a layer of
sand that has penetrated through the crevices of the
partition. The wind, however, went down at sun-rise.
On the hill opposite to us the sheep are beginning to
march, preceded by two goats. When they go on a
to the will and action of despots and heroes, who have been so largely
indebted to these surrounding circumstances for what they have achieved,
and who consequently would lose much of their Mat if hero-worship' had
not been in the ascendant so many ages? Nero, for instance, with all his
energy and power, could not arrest the spread of Christianity, the general
sentiment of the Christian community being too deeply rooted to be eradi
cated ; and later, it would have triumphed just as surely eventually with
out the encouragement of Constantine. And, on the other hand, Luther,
if he had lived a century earlier, could not have effected the Reformation,
for the time was not propitious, and he would have been too strenuously
opposed instead of having been aided by the popular opinion and senti
ment. The most extraordinary changes affecting the interests of man
kind have been brought about, in the first instance, by a complete change
in public opinion, and the present attitude of the American people to
wards the negroes, in comparison with what it was previous to the war,
', 'becomes insignificant beside many similar transformations recorded in
history. Without going back to ancient times it would be difficult even
to fully realise the diverse states of society produced, for example, by the
general belief in the Millennium ; by the duties entailed by the Crusades ;
by the " Black Death," when sentiments of humanity, even between
members of the same family, had fled ; and notably, the decline in the
belief in witchcraft, during the prevalence of which every one, the most
enlightened even, considered it quite proper and just that old women,
perfectly harmless, but suspected of sorcery and of riding on a broom
stick through the air, should be burnt alive at the stake. What was then
reasonable is now preposterous.
So soon, therefore, as we realise the irresistible force of public opinion,
we no longer wonder at such momentous revolutions in human affairs.
Common sense evidently, as well as sentiment and opinion, changes, for

328' Colonels and Cow-boys.
journey it is always necessary, it seems, to .take this
precaution, otherwise they can never get them along.
The flock has changed its proprietor during the night.
An inhabitant of Custer, who has been here during two
days, has become, after long haggling, the fortunate
possessor, at the price of three dollars per head, the
lambs being included in the bargain. They had cost one
" l'opinion," justly says Pascal, " dispose de tout : elle fait la beaut^, la
justice, et le bonheur, qui est le tout cm monde." And, moreover, con
science, which appears to be merely one phase of opinion — one with
reference to morals— is equally subject to modification. Without seeking
support from the arguments of evolution, who can doubt the influence
from the facts referred to by Lord Macaulay in his essay on Machiavelli ?
" Every age and every nation," says Macaulay, " has characteristic vices,
which prevail almost universally, which scarcely any person scruples- to
avow, and which even rigid moralists but faintly censure. Succeeding
generations change the fashion of their morals with the fashion of their
hats and their coaches ; take some other kind of wickedness under their
patronage, and wonder at the depravity of their ancestors." If conscience
does not change so frequently or in the same proportion, it is due princi
pally to its resting on moral ' philosophy, a real science, and to the influ
ence of a church adverse to change. But when the renowned knights of
the 14th century, who had hitherto piqued themselves on their scrupulous
honour, returned from the war in Spain between Peter the Cruel and
Henry of Trastamare, and became "routiers," pillaging without com
punction country houses, their consciences must have fundamentally
changed in a. brief space of time. Such a change, and that also in
France, of the attitude of the people towards the nobles and the clergy
after the "dernier beau jour de l'ancienne monarchie," at the com
mencement of the Revolution, were infinitely greater and more sudden
than the recent transmutation of sentiment in the United States.
' ' La vaine Opinion regne sur tous les ages :
Son temple est dans les airs, porte sur les nuages.
Elle fuit et revient ; elle place un mortel,
Hier sur un bucher, demain sur un autel." — W. C.

Shooting Lambs. 329

dollar to. the man who has brought them from New
Mexico, but then he has been two months on the way,
and must have left a good number on the road, especially
young ones, which would have been devoured by the
coyotes. All the lambs that are born in the course of
these journeys are immediately killed with the. ball of a
revolver, for they could not follow, and the dam would
not abandon them alive. In similar cases with calves,
it is necessary to attach the cow for a day or two to an
old bullock. It is rather curious to notice, too, that
these animals, living almost in a wild state, have re
sumed the habits their ancestors must have had before
becoming domesticated. All the calves are born in the
spring within a few weeks of each other. ,
We start again on our way, after a good repast, in
company with trie travellers by the mail-coach going to
the north. We have still. sixty-two miles to accomplish.
Kemish calculated on arriving this evening, but the
sands, partly moving, which, we pass over, make the
road so heavy, that he begins to fear we shall not do it,
because his horses are getting rather fatigued. He
maintains that if we had been able to continue in his
little spring vehicle we had at the commencement, we
should have gained twenty-four hours. For my part, I
think it is very smart work to do about 250 miles over
the prairie in five days with the same horses, feeding
on twenty-two gallons of oats only, besides the grass
cropped on the way.
The country is becoming less interesting. Water is

330 Colonels and Cow-boys.
scarce, the ground is sandy, and, to crown all, the
stand-storm begins to rage again : we, therefore, make
little progress. Notwithstanding the heat, we again try
to hit a few antelopes, but with no better result than
before. We meet on our way two or- three waggons,
drawn by five pair of splendid mules. I measure one
pair, and find their height I5f hands. They come, it
seems, from Ohio, and are quite equal to our finest
mules of Poitou. It is, however, .the dearest animal in
this country, a fine mule being worth 300 dollars.
About nine o'clock, we. see from the top of a hill a
large river running before us from west to east. It is
the Platte, and has always been an impediment to ex
plorers. Not deep enough to float the smallest boat,
running over a bed of moving sand which renders the
fords fearfully dangerous, it has often arrested the pro
gress of emigrants for weeks together, whose unlucky
star led them on to cross it. Later, the South Platte,
the one we see, has served, it is true, as a barrier for
many years to the Indians, who rarely ventured to tra
verse, it, for fear, in case of a precipitate retreat, of
being driven to bay on its banks. Finally, six years
ago, the colonisation of the Black Hills attracting on
this side an enormous traffic, a company undertook the
enterprise of throwing a toll-bridge across, though they
had much trouble in carrying it out. In 1877 a first
bridge, when almost finished, was burnt by the Sioux.
They then built at the opening of another bridge a little
block-house, which still exists, and under this protection

A Fine Bridge: 331
the work was resumed. They allege that the cost of
construction was reimbursed during the first eighteen
months it was open. This does not astonish me, con
sidering the rate of the tolls : a person afoot pays, fifty
cents ; a rider and his horse, one dollar ; a carriage
and pair, two dollars ; a waggon and oxen, seventeen
dollars. While we are going over it on foot, we have time to
examine it, for it is' 1530- yards long. It is entirely of
wood, and really a fine work, one that does honour to
the American carpenters. On the other side, is the
toll-keeper's house and a few others, where we have the
chance of buying some bread. We are decidedly re
turning within the pale of civilization.
At last, after one or two halts, we arrive about seven
at the last stage before Sydney, from which we are only
fourteen miles. Our horses seem seriously fatigued.
They have brought us along so gallantly, that we will
ingly consent to pass the night here, although the spot
seems very unattractive. A stable, half in ruins, still
stands up at the brink of a pond, with a great pile of
empty meat cans blocking up the door-way. The
horses, let loose in the corral, are gazing at us over the
bars of the paling. The care-taker, a tall young fellow
of twenty-five, politely invites us to enter into the little
hovel that serves him for a lodging. The whole furni
ture consists of a bed that fills two-thirds of the only
room, a stove, a table, and two or three stools. Herein
we see two young girls, the one about fifteen and the

332 Colonels and Cow-boys.
other six months, whom I take for two sisters, but I am
mistaken. The first is the wife of the care-taker, and
the second his daughter. The poor people are in a
state of wretchedness to make the heart bleed. The
poor mother has almost no more milk. In this country,
where a cow costs only ten dollars to buy and nothing
to keep, they have not even one. Not a hen, not a
garden. I ask the man why he does not cultivate a few
vegetables. " Ah ! " says he, with a cunning look, " if the com
pany sends me elsewhere, I should have been working
for others."
" How long have you been here ? "
" Since two years."
" And how much do you earn ? "
" Forty dollars a month ; and then the company
brings me free, the bacon, the potatoes, and the flour
which we buy at Sydney."
" Do you eat nothing but bacon and potatoes ? "
" Certainly ; nothing else," he replies, quite astonished
at the question.
If French peasants were living in a cottage with the
same advantages, how quickly all this would change in
aspect ! The poor little wife is clad in a peignoir pom
padour ! I remember having seen many more like it,
exhibited in the windows of the " Grands magasins du
Louvre ; " but this one has neither been washed nor
mended, and through the rents we can well see that she
has underneath but a very poor sort of a chemise. We

An Outlaw's Wrath. 333
share with them our dinner; then, while smoking, I
listen to the husband, who is relating some little stories
of the neighbourhood to Kemish. One of them appears
to me so extraordinary, that I get him to repeat it with
all its details. I have since taken the trouble to verify
them, and find them to be perfectly true.
These are the facts : —
Not far from here there is a group of five or six
houses, called Virginia-Dale. It was formerly a station
of the stage-coach line running from Denver in Califor
nia. It had been established by an inspector of the
company, named Jack Slade, a well-known desperado,
who under different circumstances had killed with his
own hand no fewer than fifteen men. Moreover, he
was strongly suspected of having been one of a band
of respectable people of his stamp, who, disguised as
Indians, pillaged in a few months all the farms of the
neighbourhood. This gallant fellow honoured with a very particular
hatred a rich farmer of the neighbourhood named Jules
Burgh, with whom in 1861 he had a quarrel followed by
a scuffle, in which he did not get the upper hand, and
for this he often declared he would be avenged.
Many years afterwards a certain Antoine Dunnel,
his intimate friend, who had a farm on the banks of the
Platte, found means of enticing there Jules Burgh, and
then with the help of a few employes of the company,
having seized his person, he sent word to Jack Slade,
who was living at about thirty leagues from there, that

334 Colonels and Cow-boys.
he had him safe in his keeping and at the disposal of
the latter. When Slade heard that his enemy was at
last in his power, he hired a vehicle, and, travelling
night and day, arrived at Dunnel's farm on the morning
, of the second day. Jules Burgh was bound to a post in
the corral, and so tightly, that he could move neither
hand nor foot. Slade, on recognising him, began load
ing him with abuse ; then, in the presence of seven men
who looked on without interfering, he discharged his
revolver at the unhappy victim twenty-three times,
taking good care not to kill him, and stopping every
now and then to swallow a glass of brandy. At every
shot he warned the unhappy victim where he was going
to fire.
This diabolic scene lasted some hours. At last the
assassin, exasperated at the courage that his victim
manifested, put the muzzle of the revolver into his
mouth and blew out his brains at the twenty-fourth
shot. The- next thing he did was to cut off the ears of the
corpse and carefully salt them. From this time he
always carried them about with him in his pocket, and
used to show them frequently in public, and boast of
his exploit whenever he visited the public-houses of
Denver. Sometimes, when he had no money to drink,
he threw them on the counter, offering them in pledge
— a proposal that was always accepted.
After having long edified the honourable population -
of Denver, he emigrated into Montana, and signalised

A Sorry Bedroom. 335
his arrival by fresh exploits of the same kind. In all
these cases justice never interfered ; but one fine day,
at Virginia City, a few inhabitants constituted them
selves a vigilance committee, seized his person, and
hanged him on the spot.
His wife, warned of his unlucky mishap, arrived on
horseback just as he was giving up the ghost. She
was holding a revolver in her hand, and said that,
knowing her husband was a lost man, she had come to
blow out his brains with her own hand in-order to save
him from the gallows. A nice set these, in all con
science, for quiet neighbours !
Tuesday, the 17th oj July.— Must. I tell the truth ?
On going to bed last night, Monsieur Bouverie ex
claimed, "After all, I shall not be sorry to-morrow
night to stretch myself between the sheets of a Pullman
car after having had something like a dinner."
I was quite of the same mind, and it must be
admitted that the outward circumstances contributed
not a little to develop these sentiments. Last night,
when our host showed us our apartment, which con
sisted of an empty stall of the stable, in which a hand
ful or two of hay insufficiently covered the traces of the
horses, our predecessors, we could not mistake it for a
bed of roses ; for all that, however, vie slept quite as
soundly as if it had been one.
In the morning we start at an early hour for Sydney,
from which place we are now only thirteen miles. The

336 Colonels and Cow-boys.
horses seem to know we are drawing near, for they are
trotting briskly, and about nine o'clock old Kemish
points out to us with his whip the line of railway and
the town of Sydney, where we soon at last arrive.
Sydney, one of the stations of the famous Union
Pacific Railroad, the first railway laid down across the
American continent, is a little town of about fifteen.
hundred inhabitants. The " Pacific Coast Guide," from
which I take this information, informs me besides that
the name it bears is that of an old chairman of the
company, and it is the capital of the county of
Cheyenne, forming part of the territory of Nebraska.
It seems to me that the worthy author of this little
work was quite right in stopping there, for I do not see
that he could have added anything more. The houses
are of wood, of course, and the Lockwood Hotel, that
opens to us its hospitable doors, is anything but
inviting. But if these details were insisted on, the
same qualification should be applied to all the American
towns, and this would be becoming fastidious.
We begin, besides, by having a series of disagreeable
surprises. First, in opening our trunks, we discover
that during the sandstorm the fine dust has penetrated
everywhere. The locks will not act, and we are obliged
to force them. Our rifles and revolvers are so choked
with it that we can neither clear them nor discharge
them. Our hair is transformed into a sort of matted
felt, through which we cannot pass a comb. If the
sand were only auriferous we should have something in

" Good-bye to Kemish." 337
compensation, but unluckily there is no hope of paying
our hotel bills out of it.
At last, with the services of the hairdresser of
"Sydney, a gentleman supremely elegant, we succeed in
acquiring a more becoming appearance. All our equip
ment, saddles, boots, guns, &c, are stowed into an
immense case furnished to us by the landlord, and at
two o'clock we take our places in the train arriving from
San Francisco, which will conduct us by way of Omaha
to Chicago. Old Kemish accompanies us to the cars,
and we give him a final shake of the hand with a feeling
of the warmest attachment. He speaks to us again of
his project that he has long cherished. He would like
to come to France to buy there a pair of Percheron
stallions. " If I were lucky enough to find some one who would
advance me the money, my fortune would be made," he
says. The train carries us off at full speed across the
Prairie. We soon cross again the Platte, with its yellow
waters rushing on between groups of little islets and
along sandbanks partly submerged. We are now
following its left bank, and at every moment we see
immense herds of cattle crossing our way and journey
ing towards the north.
This is the line by which the four-year-old beasts are
sent to Chicago every winter, a little before the cold
sets in. The stations are already furnished with com
plete contrivances to receive and send on the cattle, for

338 Colonels and Cow-boys.
all these operations are carried on at the risk of the
company. As we are advancing towards the east, we see the
country changing in aspect from hour to hour. Agri
culture, now represented by immense fields of corn, is
fast gaining foot by foot over the desert, and throwing
back before it the shepherds with their flocks and herds,
if this term, so eminently poetic, may be applied to the
cow-boys in red shirts we see galloping in the horizon,
who, seen through the windows of a comfortable Pull
man car, appear to us certainly more congenial than
when obliged to live among them. When we come to
Kearny, a pretty little town with real houses of brick,
this change is very striking. And then, at every depdt,
we find monumental stations, often lighted with elec
tricity, and in the streets tram-cars in lively movement.
At last, about eight in the morning, when we enter the
city of Omaha, we seem to be entering into an actual
metropolis. This city of Omaha, which has taken the name of a
tribe of Indians, whom the Pere de Smet evangelised
about the year 1846, is the point of departure of the
Union Pacific line. In 1863, at the time the concession
of the railway was voted by the Congress, it was a little
town of three thousand inhabitants, most of whom lived
by trading with the Indians, and who only communicated
with the rest of the world by the Missouri, on whose
banks their houses were built. The nearest railway
then was no nearer than 150 miles. It was necessary

Wonderful Figures. 339
to bring the first locomotive across the prairie from
Des Moines in Iowa. Within a range of 500 miles
there was not a tree to furnish a sleeper : they all came
from Michigan and New York, and cost two dollars and
a half each sleeper.
The following figures show the rapidity with which
the work was carried out. On the ist of January 1866
there were 40 miles completed ; on the 1st of January
1867, 265 ; on the 1st of January 1868, 550; at last, on
the 1 oth of May, this work, one of the most colossal
ever undertaken hitherto, was completed by the junc
tion, at Promontory Point in Utah, with the line that
the other company, the Central Pacific, were, on their
side, laying down in the desert, taking California as the
terminus. The last 534 miles were laid down in fifteen
months. During this time Omaha was becoming a great city.
The poor, little straggling village of 1846 had disap-
f peared to make room for the immense sheds and work
shops of the railway, around which a population of
several hundred thousands soon grouped themselves.
In 1 87 1, it was connected with its rival, Council Bluffs,
opposite to it, on the other side of the Missouri, by
means of a magnificent iron bridge, nearly a thousand
.;¦ yards long, and this now admits of the carriages setting
down the travellers on the east shore, where there are
the heads of four or five lines connecting this point
with Chicago.
Morose moralists have often reproached young de-

340 Colonels and Cow-boys.
mocracies with having completely neglected that wor
ship of ancestry so prominent, for example, in the
Chinese Empire, which, while reminding man that he
is merely the link here below uniting the past to the
future, invites him to transmit to his children the good
principles he himself has received from his fathers.
We have been enabled to satisfy ourselves that the
people of Omaha, for their part, have determined to
escape this censure ; for a little pamphlet we have
bought at the station is specially devoted to the early
history of the city of Omaha. We have unluckily mis
laid this interesting work. Its author, whose name, as
well as we can remember, is Phileas J. M. T. Babcock,
or something like it, has collected with pious care its
ancient traditions bearing on its origin. They consist,
unluckily, of three assassinations. Such at least is the
term employed by the author, who remarks, not with
out evident pride, that the city of Rome had only one
at its foundation, that of Remus by Romulus.
Here are the facts : In 1852, a jeweller, named Rhines,
living in Michigan, decided on emigrating to California.
On the road they naturally often spoke of the Indians.
Rhines declared that he was not afraid of them, and
that he would kill the first who showed himself.
The caravan, after having traversed the Missouri, en
camped in the open prairie on the bank of a rivulet, at
the spot where now rises the city. The next morning,
as they were preparing to resume their journey, they
saw two or three young Indian women crossing the

An Indian Vengeance. 341
rivulet and coming towards them. They belonged to a
party of Pawnees, encamped at a short distance, and
came, in the most friendly way, to offer some fresh
meat to the " Pale Faces." The companions of Rhines
then reminded him of his resolution in a jeering manner.
This scoundrel took immediately his rifle and blew out
the brains of one of the young squaws.
An hour afterwards, the Pawnee warriors made their
appearance. They were in force, and demanded that
Rhines should be delivered up to them, which was ac
cordingly done. They stripped him : they then bound
him firmly to the wheel of his waggon, and there, in the
presence of his companions, too much intimidated to
defend him, the squaws, armed with their husbands'
bowie-knives, commenced skinning him alive, as they
would a dead antelope. The operation, carried out by
experienced hands, lasted, it appears, a long time, and
the wretched Rhines died only a few minutes after it
had been completed. Had the situation been trans
posed, I hardly know what the Americans would have
done. After this, the other two assassinations cited by Mr
Phileas J. M. T. Babcock appear to me mere "pad
ding." He must have been very much in earnest in the
desire to eclipse Rome to give them this designation.
I copied in my note-book the paragraphs relating
thereto, and reproduce them here.
" To old Mr Todd redounds the honour of having
been the first inveterate drunkard of the city of Omaha,

342 Colonels and Cow-boys.
who killed himself by sheer drinking. It was he who
built the first house. It was situated where now rises St
Nicholas, and was devoted by its proprietor to the busi
ness of grocery in general, and especially whisky. He
was himself the first customer of his establishment, and
soon died of an attack of delirium tremens. . . .
" Almost at the same as Mr Todd, Dr M  arrived.
His first patient was an Indian child, that quickly
died." These are the threejhistorical assassinations.
I am reading this interesting work while the Chicago,
Milwaukee, and St Paul Railway is conducting us to
the Grand Pacific Hotel, which we had quitted less than
a month previously for the Far West. A fortnight
later, we were again in Paris. The last days of our
journey reminds us of a disappointment. On passing
through New York we were unable, through want of
time, to assist at the representation of an equestrian
pantomime, which seems to have been a great attrac
tion. It was entitled " The Stage-Coach of Deadwood."
There was a stirring scene of an attack on the mail by
the Sioux and a determined defence by the travellers ;
then, just as they were on the point of succumbing, a
band of heroic cow-boys arrive at a gallop, and hack the
Sioux into mince-meat, leaving nothing but their scalps
to be carried in triumph in the highly sensational
de"noliment. This is the show at present exhibiting in London,
May 1887.

CHAPTER X.

SOMETHING MORE OF THE BLACK HILLS.

June the 10th, 1884. — Before leaving my readers, who
have been pleased thus far to follow me in my pere
grinations through the Black Hills, I should like to say
a few more words regarding what has passed there in
the interval of less than ten months since our return.
The Black Hills form but a very small part of the
Far West ; but the advance in material prosperity that
has taken place there has equally prevailed elsewhere
and throughout, and when we compare it with the
absence of progress in France in the same lapse of time,
which we cannot ignore, we see how intimately these
co-existing states of things are linked together.
On our departure from America, the Marquis de
M  had just come off with all the honours of war in
the adventure I have herein related. A few days sub
sequently the Marquise bravely came to join her hus
band, and the pair made their triumphal entry into their
good city of Little Missouri, whose name, at the close
of a deliberation of the Municipal Council, was changed
for that of the Marquise. All the " prominent citi-

344 Colonels and Cow-boys.
zens" gave an enthusiastic reception to the young
couple in the same station where, a fortnight before, my
friend had been chased like a wild beast. It was not
the Romans only that old Ovid addressed —
" Donee eris felix, multus numerabis amicos.
Tempora si fuerint nubila, solus eris ! "
And my instructor of whittling, the Cow-boy of Custer,
was quite right in saying that a revolver of large calibre
was the surest friend one could have.
At this concert one voice was wanting — it was
O'Donnell's. But they had not long to wait for it.
He remained in prison just long enough to get cured
of his wounds. As soon as he was well and at liberty,
his first visit was to the Marquise. When he showed
himself, the Marquise was alone at the house.
" I come to shake hands," he said, " that all may be
forgotten ! I have been wrong. I did not know that
I was dealing with a gentleman ! Besides, those for
whom I acted behaved badly. In future, your lady
ship will have no better friend than me."
Everything is forgiven. O'Donnell has reconstituted
his party by substituting members of the dite for those
who suffered from the shots of the Marquis. He under
takes by contract all the elections of the neighbourhood.
One moment they hoped he would get himself nomin
ated a senator or a deputy, which would have had the
advantage of ridding the locality of his presence ; un
luckily, he seems to have abandoned this project.
The President of the United States, Mr Arthur, hav-

The Meat Traffic. 345
ing last autumn taken it into his head to visit, with a
few grand personages, the Yellow-stone, a band of
seventy cow-boys was immediately formed for the pur
pose of carrying him off and setting a ransom upon his
person. The enterprise, through some accident, was
not carried out. O'Donnell was credited with having
originated this brilliant project, but everything now
tends to show that it emanated from some other brain.
Relieved from these harassing cares, the Marquis has
been able to give a fresh impulse to his affairs. He
now kills from 200 to 250 bullocks a-day, and every
morning sends one of his refrigerant waggons loaded
with meat to New York, a distance of about i860 miles,
and every bullock there delivered returns him a net
profit, they say, of five dollars ! *
It will not be very long, of course, before a large
traffic in the meat is carried on across the Atlantic ; for
when a pound of beef that costs tenpence at Havre may
be bought in New York for fourpence, this inequality
cannot continue indefinitely. It will be objected to, no
doubt, that the imported meat, whatever the means em
ployed, will never be equal to that of the country. It
is possible, still by no means sure ; but, as a Norman
farmer once said to me, " bad goods always bring down
the price of the good."
The stamps of Homestake crush at present two
thousand five hundred tons of quartz a-day, which per-
* He has also lately sent to New York two waggons of salmon preserved
in ice.

346 Colonels and Cow-boys.
mits of a distribution of still more satisfactory dividends.
The Marquis de M  , who may soon change his name
for that of Carabas, is going to lay down a railway that
will connect Little Missouri with Deadwood. Last
spring, thanks to three or four relays arranged before
hand, he made the journey in fifty-one hours, stopping
seven hours only. He had been surprised in a snow
storm, during which he was obliged to march constantly
around his horse to avoid being frozen. In the north
of Dakota, the cold this winter has been down to 400
Centigrade,* whilst in the south, at Cascade notably,
there was hardly any frost. At Deadwood, my friend
was welcomed with much enthusiasm by all our friends
there, who offered him a banquet at Wentworth House,
whose proprietor, Mr Cornell, is now designated in the
newspapers as Colonel Cornell, a sign that he is getting
on swimmingly.
At Little Rapid Creek also they have been going
ahead like the rest. The crushers of Fair View and
of Minnesota are almost finished, and will soon begin
working. A line of railway coming from Sydney and
passing by Cascade and Little Rapid will soon join at
Deadwood the Marquis's line.
But a dark cloud casts its shadow^over this picture.
The good town of Galena no longer exists ! Everyone
knows the story of the two Kilkenny cats that fought
* If this cold could be indicated on Fahrenheit's thermometer it would
be 104° below freezing point, or 72° below zero, but this unscientific scale
is not adapted for cold countries ; it is misleading.

The end of a feud. 347
in a saw-pit so ferociously that, when the battle was
over, only the tail of each was left. That of the Colonel
and the New Yorkers has some resemblance to this
[desperate fight. We have not, unluckily, the details of
this great subterranean battle which, a short time after
our departure, stained the mine with blood. How many
fighting men, I wonder, were killed on each side in this
momentous combat? In the end, however, the long
robe vanquished the sword. The Colonel has retired
under his tent, and his enemies have quitted the country ;
the mine is abandoned, and the lawyers are at work
scraping up all the dollars that have been got out of it.
I leave it to them to do it conscientiously.
At Cascade everything has been moving at a quicker
pace. A few days after our departure, an assemblage
of cow-boys of the neighbourhood proclaimed Cascade
the capital of the new county of Fall River. A store
and a post office have been established. The stage
coach from Sydney, changing its old route, has been
provided there with a station, with a bar and hotel
annexed ; and a crowd of emigrants have just been
contending for the lots, of twenty-five feet of frontage
by one hundred deep, that had been marked out along
the course of three avenues. The Avenue of Grancey
runs along the river! the name having been adopted
by the prominent citizens attracted thither by the
splendid view it commands. The doctors "the most
highly qualified," strongly recommend this water, of
which I have so disagreeable a souvenir. An analysis

348 Colonels and Cow-boys.
made at Chicago has proved that it contains a pro
digious quantity of sulphate of magnesia, better known
as Epsom salts. A moralist, perhaps, would attribute
to the beneficent action of these salts that extraordinary
suavity of disposition that characterises the inhabitants
of Cascade. But not a single assassination has yet been
perpetrated in their city, not even that of an Indian
child by a quack ! Evidently, in the opinion of the
historian, Mr Phileas J. M. T. Babcock, its early annals
bearing on its foundation are much less brilliant than
those of Rome or Omaha.
The church and the school, the first in project, and
the second already built, are a little behindhand in the
Avenue de M  . I remember having shot a coyote
on the spot last June. They intend establishing there
the workshops required for the construction of the great
bridge over the Cheyenne by the Railway Company.
I have mentioned somewhere in this book that the
Sioux formerly wore a ring in their nose and shaved
their heads, reserving only a scalp-lock ; but I have
done them a wrong, which I now gladly redress. These
barbarous customs have never prevailed among them.
They have scalped and still scalp their enemies when
an opportunity presents itself; but when it is a question
of an inverse operation, that is to say, when it is their
turn to be scalped, they leave to the operator the care
of tracing himself on their head with the point of his
knife the circumference of the trophy to which the
fortune of war gives him a right to claim, without

Indian habits. 349

having the indiscretion of imposing on him a particular
form that might not perhaps be to his taste. There is
obviously in this a delicacy that would be appreciated
by all persons who pique themselves on good manners.
I have received also some reports relating to the
Sioux established in the reserve we traversed last year.
The Indian agent for Dakota gives some news of
"Sitting Bull," the hero of the war of 1876. This
venerable warrior is quite well, and takes a decided
liking to agriculture. His instructor, the agent, who
has seen him digging up potatoes surrounded by his
family, is much pleased with him. Those Sioux who
were his old subjects, and who are now established in
the neighbourhood, give him also much satisfaction.
There are other tribes, however, that occasion him some
trouble. Not far off are the " Gros-Ventres," who are
really very annoying. And still further, the Tetons,
who do not leave him a moment's repose. The strong
oppress the weak, and these run away after having been
beaten, and then he is obliged to run after them.
Some of these reports are very interesting. There is
a certain Mr Llewellyn, who is clearly quite an obser
vant philosopher. He has been appointed an agent
among the Apaches Mescaleros, and describes the laws
and customs of the Indians confided to his care. He is
bent on leading them gently towards civilisation, and,
with this object, on suppressing the customs that ap
pear to him incompatible with it. They have, it seems,
the deplorable habit of burning the old women sus-

350 Colonels and Cow-boys.
pected of witchcraft. One had undergone this infliction
a short time after his arrival. But, since the month of
May, he has kept such a sharp look out that they have
not been able to continue the horrible practice.
The Mescaleros, it seems, like all the other Indians,
however, always cut off the bottoms of their breeches
before wearing them, which he had distributed to them
on the part of the Government : consequently they are
now — being incorrigible — obliged to go without.
In the moral order of things progress is equally
sensible. The forms of fine language are no longer
strange to them. Formerly, when an Indian spoke of
his wife to one of his compatriots, he designated her,
" the squaw of such a one." But now, they say, " Mrs
Captain Sam ! " When everybody is a colonel, they
will, evidently, have nothing more to learn from the
" Pale Faces."
But Mr Llewellyn, like a wise man, considers it
necessary to preserve those customs that have a salu
tary influence on the social state. This is what he
actually says of the Apaches :
" It is a fixed law with them that the mother-in-law
and son-in-law never visit each other after marriage, if
it can possibly be avoided. I am not prepared to say
whether this is a step in the direction of civilisation or
not." I have read also with much interest the report of a
head of a school founded at Hampton, with the object
of giving a complete education to a certain number of

Instructing Savages. 351
Indians of both sexes, who are afterwards sent among
their respective tribes. The teachers, who are young
ladies, are highly satisfied with their pupils, who are
taught a variety of things, especially those concerning
girls — sewing, ironing, and cooking. To this I cannot
give an unqualified approval, for I fear if the instructor
is an American, her work can only be pernicious. I
know nothing of Indian cooking but that described by
Fenimore Cooper ; and the humps of bison smothered,
on which he fed his heroes, Hawkeye and the Major,
made my mouth water when I was a boy. If a half of
what he says is true, it is the teachers of Hampton who
should take lessons from their pupils.
There is also something very curious to notice in this
report. It is that these people have taken it into their
heads to send there a few " warriors," and these,
followed by their squaws and their papooses (children),
have duly arrived there. The experiment, they say,
has very well succeeded. The warrior has soon lost the
habit of beating his wife every night — a reform in a
direction evidently acceptable to the latter. But, on
the other hand, if she has contracted the habit of
perpetually indulging in a rocking-chair, the move in
this direction might not be so acceptable to the husband
who is not prepared to forego a helpmate for a purely
ornamental wife.
These experiments have been often attempted, and
the difficulty is not in giving instruction to a savage,
but to know what to do with him when he is instructed.

35 2 Colonels and Cow-boys.
The manager, of Hampton affirms that in this also
success has crowned his efforts. Many young men
have 'already been sent back among their tribes, and
they are gaining very good wages as waggoners or
cow-boys. If it is possible to turn the Indians to good
account — and for my part I believe it is possible — it is
evidently by these vocations that they should be
initiated into civilised life.
I should be sorry to end my narrative without reply
ing to twenty-seven ladies who are very desirous of
knowing what has become of Jean-Leblanc and the
buff mare. I have only just received news of them
which is excellent. In consideration of his good
services, I had strongly recommended that Jean-
Leblanc should not be confided to any cow-boy. He
is consequently in the personal service of Parker, and
is as round as an apple. The buff mare, reserved for
the pure joys of maternity, shows in her novel state as
much discretion and wisdom as the young ladies, Parker's
compatriots, who, after having well flirted and danced in
all the capitals of the two hemispheres for three or four
seasons, end equally, when they have chosen a husband,
in becoming tender mothers and, in their case, exem
plary wives and helpmates, provided they do not resort
immediately to the rocking-chair.

Titmbull 6° Spears, Printers, Edinburgh.