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ON THE PLAINS. 
 
 The Companion Library. 
 
 Number Thirteen. 
 
 SELECTIONS 
 From The Youth's Companion. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE PRAIRIE SCHOONER . . . . 
 
 . JAMES FULLERTON. 
 
 3 
 
 PRAIRIE SIGNS 
 
 . HAMLIN GARLAND. 
 
 5 
 
 PIONEER LIFE IN DAKOTA 
 
 . THEODORA R. JENNESS. 
 
 II 
 
 THE HATED COYOTE 
 
 
 17 
 
 BOY-LIFE ON THE PRAIRIE 
 
 . HAMLIN GARLAND. 
 
 20 
 
 RANCH LIFE 
 
 HELEN HUNT JACKSON. 
 
 25 
 
 COWBOYS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 
 30 
 
 THE GREAT CATTLE-TRAILS 
 
 C. M. HARGER. 
 
 36 
 
 THE LANGUAGE OF CATTLE-BRANDS 
 
 P. W. HORN. 
 
 41 
 
 BREAKING A BRONCO . . . . 
 
 HESTER WASHBURNE. 
 
 44 
 
 A CHASE FOR WILD HORSES 
 
 MAX OWEN. 
 
 48 
 
 ANCIENT FARMERS AND SPORTSMEN . 
 
 . AURELIA H. MOHL. 
 
 52 
 
 THE WATER CACTUS 
 
 P. C. BICKNELL. 
 
 57 
 
 GOVERNMENT CAMELS . . . . 
 
 . A. I. PECK, U. S. A. 
 
 60 
 
 Copyright, i 
 
 897. 
 
 
 PERRY MASON & 
 
 COMPANY, 
 
 
 Boston, Mass. 
 
The Prairie Schooner, 
 
 The hull or foundation of the prairie schooner is a double 
 box about twelve and one-half feet long. This box is usually 
 three and a half feet wide, though many pioneers extend the 
 upper box a foot on each side and support it by iron braces. 
 A wagon sheet stretched over four or five good elm bows 
 covers the box, which does not, however, comprise the whole 
 carrying capacity of the schooner. 
 
 Secured behind the box will be seen a large packing-case, 
 with front, rear or sides of slats or woven wire. This coop is 
 the home for the long journey of perhaps a dozen hens, the 
 nucleus for a flock at the new home. 
 
 Biddy is worth, even during the journey, a good deal more 
 than the small trouble of carrying her. She supplies the 
 family with fresh eggs every day, for the fatigues of the 
 voyage do not turn her from the regularity of her habits, nor 
 seem to upset her nervous system. 
 
 The door of the coop is opened when the schooner stops 
 for the evening camp ; out fly the hens, and then how the 
 dust flies ! Such a fluttering, scratching and cackling ! 
 Such running after grasshoppers and other insects ! But the 
 sinking sun soon warns them that it is time for all good fowls 
 to go to roost ; they fly up to the box as naturally as if they 
 had never slept elsewhere ; the door is closed and they are 
 ready for another day's drive. 
 
 On top of the hen-coop are piled chairs, stovepipes and 
 other light, bulky articles ; boxes are fastened outside the 
 wagon at every convenient place to carry tools, cooking 
 utensils and other articles. On one side, held in position by 
 iron rods, may be a keg holding five or ten gallons of water, 
 a prime necessity, that must be carried over many miles 
 of the American desert. 
 
 The water found by the way in springs and stagnant pools 
 
4 
 
 THE PRAIRIK SCHOONER . 
 
 is often brackish, or alkali water, which cattle and horses 
 drink readily enough, though man refuses it as distasteful. 
 The best that can be said for it is that it is wet. 
 
 It is not uncommon to see a cow, and sometimes a hog, led 
 by a rope tied to the rear of the wagon. They easily learn 
 to follow, and to find their living on the prairie at every 
 resting-place. The daily fresh milk for the farmer's children 
 richly repays all needed care of the cow. 
 
 The cover of the prairie schooner is not always closed down 
 on the sides of the box ; it has strings by which it can be 
 reefed up two feet or more on each side, so that the top will 
 resemble a large umbrella. Thus the inhabitants can look 
 around the horizon as they travel. Occasionally one may see 
 a row of heads poked out under the canvas, some white with 
 infancy, some white with old age ; and it is piteous to see 
 some poor old grandmother submitted to the hardships of 
 journeying by the prairie schooner. 
 
 The long trip is always an experience of discomfort, and 
 often of danger. Great gales, waterspouts or washouts may 
 be encountered ; horses may be lost or stolen ; tires may come 
 off or some other accident may happen. Proper nourishment 
 for the very old and the very young is scarcely to be had, 
 and no wonder many die on the voyage. 
 
 But fate is seldom hard on the pioneer. Through all the 
 trials and hardships that beset his path, he moves west with 
 hope like a pillar of fire before him, and the vision of a new 
 home where independence will reward his toil and peace bless 
 his declining years. 
 
 James FuivI^erton. 
 
Prairie Signs 
 
 The Dakota prairies are not uninteresting, as many 
 travellers would have their readers believe. Their monotony 
 is only apparent. A close study of even the most level and 
 apparently characterless stretch of sod will yield the most 
 surprising and interesting results. It is like the ocean in its 
 immense sweep and changelessness of its lines, and in the 
 great variety of its shades of color and light-effects. 
 
 But it is unlike the ocean in retaining traces of change 
 upon its surface, mysterious marks of storm and fire. I^ooked 
 at closely, the turf is a page written with strange and often 
 pathetic lines, whole histories of storm and stress of war. 
 
 One of the signs first to strike the eyes is the sight of the 
 buffaloes' bones scattered thickly over the plain. Gathering 
 them for shipment eastward became profitable to the pioneer 
 boys. The living buffalo long ago disappeared from these 
 prairies, and the freshest crib of bones that I saw dated back 
 ten years. 
 
 Many of these, I suppose, were twenty-five or even fifty 
 years old. Of these last nothing remained save the hardest 
 part of the skull and the teeth. The burial-places of others, 
 still older, are indicated by the more luxuriant growth of grass. 
 
 Dakota boys soon found that the buffalo carcasses on the 
 upland were good places to look for arrow-heads, for the 
 Indians sought the young and strong animals, and generally 
 killed them on the open plain. I have seen arrow-heads and 
 spears driven quite through the shoulder-blade, showing with 
 what great force they were sent. 
 
 Next to the bones, in interest, come the buffalo trails, seen 
 everywhere as deep, crooked furrows. At the place in Dakota 
 which I have in mind, they ran from the southeast to the 
 northwest. These undoubtedly show the course of the 
 buffaloes as they came and went from the feeding-grounds to 
 the watering-places. 
 
1. Gathering Bones. 
 
 2. Teepee Stones. 
 
 3. Buffalo Trails. 
 
 4. Buffalo Wallows. 
 
 5. Buffalo Bones. 
 
 6. Indian Camp. 
 
 7. A "CiRcus Ring." 
 
PRAIRIK SIGNS. 
 
 7 
 
 Occasionally on the prairies one comes upon an Indian 
 trail, shown by two parallel furrows, more direct and 
 purposeful than the buffalo trails. 
 
 Still more interesting are the circles of stones found very 
 plentifully in McPherson County, indicating where the teepees 
 were pitched. The stones, I suppose, served the purposes of 
 pegs, being laid on the edges of the tents. As they were 
 simply rolled off when the tent was folded, they served in turn 
 for others. 
 
 I well remember what a stir it gave my imagination, one 
 beautiful May morning in 1863, as I stood in the midst of the 
 level sward in McPherson County. On the west was the low, 
 irregular line of treeless hills, and on the east the fresh, green, 
 level plain, stretching into the misty distance like the Atlantic 
 Ocean, the far-away, advancing line of shanties, like a fleet of 
 little boats, keeping up the illusion of a sea. 
 
 I was in advance of civilization. There was no sound save 
 the trill of the lark, the cry of the plover or the short, shrill 
 shriek of the hawks. It was a weird scene. I stood in the 
 centre of one of these rings of stone, and in imagination I 
 recalled what must have been a characteristic scene, as 
 characteristic of the land and people as the tourney of feudal 
 England. 
 
 I saw the group of tents, surrounding the large one of the 
 chief ; the horses picketed, waiting the morning mount ; on 
 the far-away hills dark masses of buffaloes and swifter masses 
 of antelopes. 
 
 On a distant mound, like a figure of bronze, the wolf 
 stood, with long body alert and head thrown side wise. Men 
 were swarming about the tents, some mounted, with arrows 
 slung at the back and spear in hand, impatient to be off, 
 while the rest consulted and motioned toward the distant 
 herds. 
 
 I imagined with what joy the young men vaulted upon 
 their horses, and how impatient they were to start. The 
 sunlight fell upon the plain, and the springing grass was 
 
8 PRAIRIE SIGNS. 
 
 as sweet to the eye as the word to the lip. The white man's 
 world was still far away, almost unknown. 
 
 It is probable that the Indians' real life and emotions will 
 never be written ; but it seemed to me that morning that I 
 got nearer to the feeling of the wild huntsmen of the buffalo 
 than ever before or since. These Indians were not beasts nor 
 demons, but men living under conditions which required and 
 produced savagery in some things. 
 
 One sign which I have never seen written of at any length, 
 nor satisfactorily explained, is the "fairy circle." These 
 marks on the sod are figures wrought in grass of a darker 
 green than the rest, usually found in places where the ground 
 is perfectly smooth. They can only be seen at favorable 
 seasons of the year, say the first of June. 
 
 The circle is of even breadth, and looks like this. 
 It is thirty or forty feet in diameter, and has an 
 appearance as if dark-green grass had been planted by a 
 gardener in the midst of a yellow-green sward. 
 
 Q Sometimes the rings are mere crescents, 
 or crescents with a supplementary line. Some- 
 times the supplementary line is complete, in 
 ^ other words, a circle having one side much 
 ( U\ broader than the other. Sometimes it seems 
 to be an attempt at representing a bow. This 
 last form is very rare ; I have seen but few like it. 
 
 What these are I certainly do not know. They are too 
 large to be the result of tent-setting, and besides, they would 
 not be found in low ground in such case. It has been 
 supposed that they are the marks left by electrical vortices 
 during storms. I think they are the result of intelligent force ; 
 but I have no theory. 
 
 I am no more sure of their cause than I am of that of 
 another phenomenon to which my attention was called. 
 There are many instances where, in the exact centre of a 
 shallow basin in the sod, a dip thirty or forty feet across, 
 there rests a huge boulder. The whole effect is that of a 
 
PRAIRIK SIGNS. 
 
 9 
 
 circus ring, and the children call these depressions by this 
 name. 
 
 The depression is so round and the stone so exactly in the 
 centre that one cannot rid himself of the impression that the 
 spot was a threshing-floor or a circus ring. If the ground 
 beneath were of limestone formation I think I could explain 
 it ; but as it is clay for thirty feet, and an impervious layer of 
 slate at last, I simply retire from the field of discussion. 
 
 Another mark almost equally baffling is the shallow pit, or 
 wallow, which is not unfrequently found in Dakota. These 
 pits are quite unlike the hog-wallows or buffalo-wallows of 
 Iowa and Minnesota. They are on the upland, have abrupt 
 perpendicular sides, and look precisely as if the soil had been 
 lifted out bodily a foot or two deep, leaving the clay subsoil 
 exposed. The bottom is generally covered with gravel. 
 
 There are many theories as to the cause of these. It has 
 been claimed that the cavities were burned out during great 
 drought, and also that they were worked out by the buffaloes 
 pawing the dust. Others see in them the work of the wind as 
 well. My opinion is that the buffalo and the wind together 
 did the work. 
 
 These are a few of the signs which the observant eye of the 
 traveller will see as he rides or walks across these strange 
 stretches of short, crisp grass. As I rode toward the hills, 
 entering through narrow defiles into valleys holding alkaline 
 lakes surrounded by deep grasses, it required little effort to 
 imagine savage men signalling from peak to peak of those 
 bare and stony hills. 
 
 I could imagine a gigantic sentinel buffalo standing like 
 a figure of granite outlined against the sky, watching the 
 surrounding valleys for his foes, the red men, and roaring a 
 sudden warning upon his herds as he thundered down among 
 them. It was so silent and so lone, and the landscape was so 
 peculiar, that I had gone beyond the reach of anything I had 
 ever known or loved. I shall never be able to forget that 
 scene, as we lay in the shade of our wagon and looked at the 
 
lO 
 
 PRAIRIB SIGNS. 
 
 hills, the faint, delusive gleam of the distant lakes, and saw 
 the cranes rise out of the grasses. 
 
 Those hills ! Prodigious mounds of clay and loose 
 boulders, each slope white with stones looking like a flock of 
 sheep rushing toward the valleys. Those lakes — stagnant, 
 poisonous, silent ; no life there, no paddling duck, no 
 swinging blackbird. Foam-edged, soapy, yet clear and 
 crystalline ; lakes toward which, on countless sultry days, 
 the buffalo had rushed, mad with thirst, and drank and died ; 
 lakes that burst on the hunter's famished eyes like the gleam 
 of silver, only to burn his parched throat like lye. Grasses 
 thick, yellow mixed with green, old with new,— so thick that 
 the antelope were lost in it, — shelter for the cold fox and wolf 
 in winter, into which the antelope cowered when the north 
 wind swept over the hills. 
 
 Once again, as I write, the wild geese pass by overhead, 
 the shadows of clouds slide down the hills, the hawks scream 
 in their sport, the wolf looks down at me from a distant swell, 
 and out of the unknown west the wind drives the white puffs 
 of cloud. 
 
 Hamlin Garland. 
 
Pioneer Life in Dakota. 
 
 The pioneers upon the wind-swept prairies of Dakota, 
 where winter almost merges into summer and a frost in 
 August is quite common, exercise much thought and 
 ingenuity devising ways and means for the protection of 
 their homes, stock, crops and their own lives. 
 
 The settler often lands upon the prairie in the spring, 
 with a few possessions which he guards with care while 
 camping with his family in a covered wagon or a tent until a 
 dugout, shack or log house is completed. 
 
 The dugout seems to be the favorite dwelling for new 
 settlers. It costs but little save the work of excavating in the 
 side of a ravine, and is secure against a cyclone, sand-storm 
 or the dreadful blizzard that so often rages on the northern 
 plains. 
 
 The climate of Dakota is so dry that moisture never 
 gathers in the dugout, and the earth walls soon become so 
 hard that plaster will adhere to them and they will never 
 crumble. 
 
 Frequently a schoolhouse is provided with a dugout, into 
 which the teacher and her pupils flee for safety during a 
 wind-storm of such violence that they dare not risk remaining 
 in the schoolhouse. 
 
 If the settler has success in farming or in raising stock, he 
 builds a house of some kind near his dugout, which remains 
 a place of shelter in emergencies like those described. 
 
 Sometimes he sets a frame house on his dugout, connects 
 it with the dwelling by a staircase in the rear, and has a 
 quaint, two-storied dwelling for all sorts of weather. In 
 summer he may occupy the breezy upper part ; in winter, live 
 below, and thus defy the howling blast. 
 
 Next to dugouts for security and warmth are log houses. 
 These are numerous in Dakota. When cared for by a thrift}^ 
 
PIONKKR IN DAKOTA. 
 
 13 
 
 housewife, the interior of a settler's log house is by no means 
 uninviting. The walls are often lined with mUvSlin and 
 adorned with pictures that suggest a cheering thought, even 
 though they may lack artistic merit. 
 
 If there is no carpet on the living-room, fur rugs usually 
 protect the feet if there are large boys in the family. For 
 where is the pioneer boy of the Northwest who has not rid 
 the country of some prowling coyotes, and perhaps one or 
 two gray wolves ? Now and then a cow-skin, from a long- 
 haired three-year-old, is thrown across a wooden settle or a 
 straight-backed chair, to keep a chill from creeping up the 
 spine. 
 
 If the owner of a log house is ambitious for a frame house 
 for appearance's sake, yet wishes to retain the warmth and 
 comfort of the former dwelling, he is apt to weather-board the 
 logs, and seal or plaster the inside, and thus his object is 
 accomplished without loss of comfort. 
 
 The frame houses of the Northwest are more securely 
 built than those in warmer climates, having tarred paper 
 under the weather-boards and builders' paper under the laths, 
 or ceiling-boards. These papers, with storm-windows and a 
 storm-room at the north or west door, help to exclude the wind 
 and cold. Sometimes a stockade of split logs, extending to 
 the eaves, is built along the north and west sides of the house 
 to stop the wind. 
 
 Those who live in shacks, or board shanties, have the least 
 security, and woe betide them if they lack fuel in a blizzard. 
 
 For those who live a long way from the railroad coal is 
 almost unattainable, and wood is very scarce, save in the 
 vicinity of large streams. Hence in many places twisted hay 
 is used for fuel. To save the work of twisting it by hand, 
 some settlers have a twister, or machine for preparing the 
 fuel for winter use. 
 
 Those who travel on the prairie in the winter often use a 
 double box, in which they ride in safety, sheltered from the 
 wind. This is made by bracing tiers of boards upon a 
 
14 
 
 PIONKKR I.IFE IN DAKOTA. 
 
 wagon-box until the vSides are several feet in height. The 
 travellers sit upon a bed of hay inside the box, wrapped in 
 furs or -comforters, and in this way brave the bitterest cold. 
 The driver guides the horses with the lines drawn through a 
 space in front. 
 
 If a blizzard overtakes the traveller thus equipped, he may 
 turn the horses loose, and overturn the double box and camp 
 beneath it in the liay and coverings. The snow will drift 
 about the cracks beneath the double box and bank it in. The 
 
 horses will not wander more than eighty rods, and usually 
 will seek some hollow near the camping-place and there 
 survive the storm. 
 
 Second only to the welfare of the famil}^ with the Northern 
 settler is the care of properly providing for his stock. 
 
 For immense herds of cattle nothing can be done except to 
 leave them free to seek the shelter of ravines that break the 
 herd lands here and there. They may endure the cold and 
 scarcity of feed and water until spring, or ma}^ perish by the 
 hundreds. For smaller droves a shelter is provided in a line 
 
 Caught in a Blizzard. 
 
PIONEER IvIFE IN DAKOTA. 15 
 
 of Open sheds facing south in a corral. When a storm is 
 brewing the stock is driven into this corral by the active 
 members of the family, sometimes including the girls. 
 
 No slight danger to the settlers and their possessions is 
 occasioned by the prairie fires, driven by the wind across the 
 vast, wild tracts of grass-land in the spring and fall. 
 
 The prudent settler plows a strip about his premises, 
 but the fire will sometimes leap this barrier and spread in 
 threatening nearness to the home. Then all the family make 
 a valiant fight against it, whipping it with strips of carpet, 
 brooms and woollen cloths, or whatever falls to hand. 
 
 The Russian thistle, or the Russian cactus, has become 
 a pest to farmers in Dakota. It is supposed to have been 
 introduced into South Dakota in seed wheat brought from 
 Russia by immigrants from the vicinity of the Black Sea. 
 It spread with startling rapidity, and now the two Dakotas 
 and parts of Minnesota, Nebraska and Wisconsin are infested 
 by the weed, which must be fought with great persistence, 
 or it smothers crops and takes complete possession of the land. 
 
 The plant grows rapidly in grain-fields after har\^est, and 
 its seeds are ripe about the last of August. It is now so stiff 
 and bristly that animals shrink from passing through it, and 
 when horses must be used in such fields their legs are often 
 booted or wound with cloth to protect them from the irritating 
 effects of the thistle. The plant varies in size from slender 
 specimens two inches in height to dome-shaped masses six 
 feet in diameter, weighing twenty-five pounds. 
 
 As soon as the plant is killed by the frost it is broken loose 
 from its decayed root by the wind and rolled over the prairie 
 for miles, scattering innumerable seeds along its track. 
 
 Sheep are very fond of the thistle until it becomes coarse 
 and woody. By pasturing sheep on the young plant it may be 
 kept down, and the only valuable quality the plant has may 
 be utilized. 
 
 Theodora R. Jenness. 
 
i 
 
 ) 
 
 Cowed by a Hawk. 
 
 i 
 
The Hated Coyote. 
 
 It was sunrise on the western border of Nebraska, where I 
 had slept in a sod house. I was only half-awake when a 
 strange noise fully aroused me. 
 
 Satisfied that it was not a nightmare, but an actual sound, 
 I hurriedly dressed and went out to see what could make such 
 a noise. It was like the muffled howls and barks of many curs 
 beneath the earth at my feet, with the yelps of puppies in the 
 skies, and the groans and sighs of pandemonium all mingled 
 between. 
 
 The sun was up and the morning was bright and clear, but 
 nothing could be seen far and wide over the almost uninter- 
 rupted prairie. My host soon joined me, and laughingly 
 asked me the cause of my bewilderment. 
 
 " I am looking for that pack of wolves." 
 
 He laughed at me and told me that the wolves were 
 coyotes, that there were probably but two of them, and that 
 one was making all the noise. Moreover, he soon proved to 
 me that he was right. 
 
 Coyotes are usually harmless, though they sometimes carry 
 off poultry, and once in a great while even a young pig. 
 Yet the settlers almost always try to impress you with the 
 fact that they and almost all other living creatures hate the 
 coyote. 
 
 One ranchman said that he had seen his steers, one after 
 another, chase a coyote by the hour around among the herd. 
 
 ' ' Why do they do that ? " * 
 
 " Oh, they hate them, everything liates them." 
 
 Another frontiersman, seeing his horses run up and down 
 between the rows of dry corn-stalks the greater part of an 
 afternoon, wondered what they meant, especially as the horses 
 seemed to be vying with each other for the lead, and the 
 leader always seemed to have his head down and ears laid 
 
i8 
 
 THK HATKD COYOTB. 
 
 back as if he were reaching out to snap at something. When 
 he drew near he saw the horses were chasing a coyote. 
 
 He had scarcely watched them ten minutes when a colt 
 outstripped the rest, ran ahead, struck the coyote in the 
 small of the back with his sharp hoof and killed him almost 
 instantly. 
 
 ' ' But why did your horses do that ? ' ' 
 
 " Oh, they hate the coyotes ; everything hates them, even 
 the birds hate them ! ' ' 
 
 To substantiate this last statement he told me how he had 
 seen a flock of crows, with ceaseless cawing, one after another, 
 worry a coyote till he was well-nigh tired out. 
 
 An exhibition of this hatred at last came to my notice. 
 Driving over the' prairie one day I was suddenly startled in 
 the midst of a long and oppressive stillness by the scream of a 
 hen-hawk, one of the large kind that looks like a smaller copy 
 of the American eagle. Having once owned one of these 
 birds for a pet, his voice sounded familiar, and I stopped to 
 watch his graceful flight. Not more than six hundred yards 
 ahead he was sweeping in majestic circles, repeating his 
 royal call. 
 
 Nearly every time he completed the circle he gave a loud 
 blast, as from a clarion, folded his wings to his side and shot 
 down out of sight among a little cluster of hillocks covered 
 with prairie grass. Thence he would soar up again, seemingly 
 out of the earth, screaming as if in triumph. 
 
 I drew in my horse and slowly approached to see upon 
 what the bird was so intent, and found that he had two coyotes 
 there at bay. Darting down upon the one in advance, die 
 would at each descent open his folded wings as if to alight 
 on the coyote, and reach for him with his beak and hooked 
 talons. But he never touched the coyote with these, though 
 he often struck him powerfully with his wings. 
 
 The coyote attacked would sprawl down fiat in the grass 
 and press his head close to the ground, with his ears laid 
 back. The other one would sit on his haunches with the 
 
THK HATED COYOTE. 
 
 19 
 
 guilty appearance of a dog awaiting expected punishment 
 from his master. 
 
 As the hawk soared again, the coyote crouching in the 
 grass would sit up on his haunches, and both would turn their 
 eyes upward after the hawk with signs of relief. 
 
 When the bird was farthest away in his circle they often 
 tried to run away, but were always overtaken before they 
 could take half-a-dozen steps. Then the one would have to 
 crouch again, while the other showed uneasiness for his 
 mate's safety. 
 
 Sometimes the coyotes would not attempt to leave. Then 
 the hawk would enlarge his circles and even go around 
 several times, but if the coyotes showed restlessness or 
 took their eyes from the hawk he would come down, first 
 on the one in the rear, rise a few feet and then drop on the 
 one in front. Thus forcing both to duck by one descent, he 
 rose, shrieking as if delighted by their submission. 
 
 At last the coyotes seemed to be reduced to a state of 
 complete despair. They lay down and held their heads erect 
 only enough to enable them to watch their enemy, who was 
 then better satisfied, and screamed only when he was directly 
 over them. But even then, when I made a noise to attract 
 their attention, he came down to draw their attention from me 
 and to himself again. 
 
 Though the hawk was for the most of the time about a 
 hundred feet in the air, and his circles were often about a 
 quarter of a mile in diameter, his head was constantly turned 
 toward the beasts. The sun was setting. I had watched 
 them for more than an hour, and then I left them. 
 
 But I asked myself. Why do these birds hate the coyote? 
 He cannot molest the crow or her young in their nest, nor can 
 he wage war against the hawk in his lofty aery. 
 
 I. N. Quest. 
 
Boy-Life on the Prairie 
 
 Every year there come days which seem especially to mark, 
 even in the city, the change of seasons — days that to me, at 
 least, are full of strange power. Every autumn there comes a 
 day when a powerful wind roars over Boston, trampling the 
 trees and hurrying the leaves along the ground like a flock of 
 young partridges — the herald of winter. 
 
 Walking under the huge English elms, or sitting at my 
 desk and listening to the roaring voices of the branches, I 
 forget where I am. Instantly I am back to the West. 
 
 I am in the midst of the wide, level prairie, lying deep 
 in a clump of hazel-bushes, holding my horse by his rein, 
 listening to the hoarse singing of the wind in the grass, the 
 tinkle of the cow-bells and the scream of the blue jay. Around 
 me on the ground are delicious hazelnuts, brown and smooth 
 as my own face. 
 
 Hawks are drifting down the wind, tipping and wheeling 
 on their search for mice and gophers ; and always the wind's 
 voice is in my ears and the gray sky over my head. 
 
 It seems curious that each change of season, as it comes 
 sharply upon me, should cause me to live again those far-off 
 boyish days, and enjoy them, too, for they were not always 
 perfectly enjoyable then. The boys of Iowa now have little 
 of the wild prairie-life left, but the farm-life is nearly the same. 
 
 As soon as the harvest was gathered into the stack the 
 plows were set at work, for plowing was a very long and hard 
 fall task. From the age of nine or ten we were required to 
 drive a team in the field, and very irksome it became to us. 
 Out in the morning in the frosty half-light doing chores, out 
 in the field before sun-up, plodding to and fro all day and till 
 sunset at night — no wonder we looked forward eagerly to 
 taking our turn at herding the cattle. 
 
 In those days there were vast open tracts of prairie on 
 
BOY-IvlFK ON THK PRAIRIE. 
 
 21 
 
 which the cattle and horses pastured, and the neighbors used 
 to combine herds and keep their boys watching the cattle. 
 The boys took turns at this work. Some of my richest 
 memories of the West are associated with those wild, free 
 rides on the prairie. 
 
 We virtually grew up on horseback, and to ride was as 
 natural as to whistle or to run. Many are the wild rides we 
 
 The Wild Rides. 
 
 had with the half -wild colts or young cattle, and many were 
 the trials of speed among ourselves. Sometimes a fox or wolf 
 invited our attention, and with whoop and halloo we dashed 
 after him in keen, hot chase. 
 
 For eatables on these rides we had berries, plums, wild 
 grapes and, last of all, hazelnuts. I am aftaid the city boy 
 who reads this will hardly know what a real hazelnut is, for 
 
22 
 
 BOY-LIFE ON THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 I have tried many a time to get vSuch nuts, but could not find 
 them. When just right, they are a delicious nut, unequalled 
 in flavor, and they form a pleasant reminiscence of boy-life. 
 
 Oh, such days ! Indian-summer days, when the warm haze 
 slept on the yellow-green grasses, with not wind enough to 
 stir it ; when the crickets sang in ecstasy and the hawk sailed 
 high in the air ; when the gophers worked busily among the 
 nuts and the trees stood as in a dream ; days when the sky 
 was bright as a sword and the wind was abroad like the rush 
 of an army ; when the grasses tossed and wallowed, and the 
 poplar groves grew full of song and rustled and hummed and 
 roared overhead ; days when the ducks began to thicken as 
 they flew from pond to pond, and occasional cranes swept 
 solitarily by, far up in the central glow of the sky. 
 
 There were rainy days, too, when the rain struck slantwise 
 across the plain where the cattle fed, tails to the wind, and the 
 colts stood in the lee of the groves dismally, with broad tails 
 blown forward and mane covering their eyes ; long days to the 
 boy, who sat in his rubber coat on his horse in the grove, 
 listening to the rain spattering lonesomely in the leaves, 
 feeling the gray showers which the impatient branches flung 
 down upon him. 
 
 On such days how cheerful the kitchen fire seemed to the 
 wet, cold and hungry herdboy coming home at night through 
 the darkness and thickening rain, following the steady clank 
 of the cow-bell ! 
 
 But sometimes, when the prairies were dry and feed short, 
 the cattle were watched in the fields and the boys took turns 
 in patrolling the edge of the corn-field. 
 
 This was especially delightful, for the melon-patch was 
 almost always in the corn-field and furnished just the kind of 
 refreshment necessary. Great, luscious Mountain Sweets, 
 pink Peerless and. the delicious green-fleshed cantaloup lay 
 there, just waiting for the boy with a knife. 
 
 What pictures and sounds that melon-patch calls up ! 
 They are an interminable series. I can hear the vast, 
 
BOY-I.IFE ON THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 23 
 
 multitudinous rasp and rustle of the ripening leaves, turning 
 straw-colored under the frost and sun. I can see the long 
 colonnades and feel the leaves brush against me as I run 
 swiftly between the rows, leaping the leaning stalks, dodging 
 the pumpkin-vines. The dry tassels shake over my head ; the 
 heavy ears, beginning to droop, touch me on the shoulder as 
 I pass in zigzag flight to the centre of the field, where the 
 melons lie in green and yellow toothsomeness amid the 
 frost-seared leaves. 
 
 Boys are like bees in some ways. They extract the honey 
 of delight from most ugl3'-looking flowers sometimes ; and 
 when the herdboy sat in the sun on the lee of the corn-field 
 and ate his melon or carved his jack-o'-lantern, while the 
 wind roared and the muffled cow-bells told the cattle were in 
 the stubble, he was happ3^ 
 
 The bo}- of the town or city would have died of loneliness ; 
 but this boy, thrown back upon himself and on nature, 
 succeeded in being quite happy most of the time, though 
 there were times when a longing for compan}^ made even the 
 sight of the distant plowman a comfort. 
 
 And when John came over to share a melon with the 
 cowboy an hour of boyish fun followed, so delightful that 
 it seemed onl}^ fifteen minutes, though the horses knew 
 they ought to be bus3^ But it wasn't their business to sa}^ 
 anything ! 
 
 For the months of August, September and October, 
 alternate plowing, herding the cattle and digging potatoes 
 formed the bo3^s' work, broken onl3^ b3^ the count3^ fair, which 
 was all pleasure, and by the threshing season, which was 
 mingled jo3^ and weariness. 
 
 The corn was slowl3^ ripening under the mighty alchem3^ 
 of the frost ; and usually before October was gone the husking 
 began. 
 
 Husking in the West is quite different from husking in the 
 East. The corn is left standing in the fields till the other 
 work is done — till the ears are dr3^ enough to shell. Then 
 
24 
 
 BOY-LIFK ON THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 the teams, with huge wagons, drive into the rows, and the 
 men walking 'beside the wagon husk the ears and throw them 
 into the wagon. When there are more than two men with a 
 wagon the wagon passes over a row. This is called the 
 "down-row," and is the boy's row. 
 
 The boy of ten or twelve is expected to keep up the 
 down-row ; and very hard work he finds it sometimes, when 
 the cold wind has numbed his face and wrists, and the frost 
 has wet his mittens and chapped his quivering hands. 
 
 At first it was beautiful work — on a fine, clear October 
 day, when the ground was dry, the sun warm and the stalks 
 tall and straight. But even then the fingers soon got worn 
 and tender, the husks chafed the wrists, and the incessant 
 action made the arms ache with fatigue. 
 
 Ah ! that interminable row of stalks — I shudder at it 
 again. But John is there, and father is there with cheery 
 words, and Rover is there ; poor old Rover, who bade me 
 good-by at the gate, never to see me again ! Rover looks 
 into my face with sympathy, which says, I wish I could help 
 you." 
 
 The leaves stream in the wind like pennants ; the silks 
 twine round my wrists like tresses of hair, and the heap of 
 yellow corn slowly rises in the wide box — and the darkness 
 falls. 
 
 These are a few of the pictures which pass before my eyes 
 as I hear the north wind snarl amid the elms and twang at the 
 electric wires and howl weirdly at the eaves and corners of 
 the house. I have heard the wind in the grasses without 
 being wet, have eaten up the melons again, have watched the 
 cattle without being lonely and husked corn without being 
 tired ; and I am half-sorry it is all a musing, and that I am a 
 middle-aged man in a world of care and struggle such as the 
 boy never knew. 
 
 The boy dreamed the man would be happier, and now 
 the man dreams the boy was happier. Who knows? I don't. 
 
 HamIvIN Garland. 
 
Ranch Life 
 
 The word ranch is a contraction of the Spanish word 
 rancho^ which means a hut covered with branches or thatch 
 for herdsmen, or a farming establishment for the raising of 
 horses and cattle. 
 
 On the Plains and in the Southwest the word has come to 
 be applied indiscriminately to all farms, whether the land be 
 used for grazing or for agricultural purposes. 
 
 The word has a seductive sound. It suggests beautiful 
 and picturesque surroundings, green trees, running streams, 
 and a life of freedom and plenty ; and I shall not soon forget 
 the disappointment with which I first looked on a Colorado 
 ranch. 
 
 I saw a small, unpainted house, a story and a half high ; 
 a few outbuildings built of logs in the roughest manner ; no 
 fences, not a tree in sight, not a bush ; chips and other litter 
 all around ; tin cans lying about in abundance ; a most 
 desolate-looking spot, with discomfort and deprivation staring 
 one in the face at every point. 
 
 This was a cattle-ranch. The proprietor of it owns several 
 thousand head of cattle. He himself lives in a good house 
 in Colorado Springs. 
 
 This is the most comfortable way to keep a ranch : put a 
 man, or men, in charge of it, and live yourself where you 
 please, visiting the ranch often enough to see that things 
 are in order. But of course this method is possible only to 
 persons with means. 
 
 The principal grazing sections in Colorado are along the 
 Platte, the Arkansas and the Republican Rivers, but the 
 plains in all sections are thus utilized. Some of the parks 
 lying high up among the mountains also afford fine ranges. 
 J To the eye of a stranger, nothing could look more 
 
 unsuited for grazing than the bare brown stretches of the 
 
26 
 
 RANCH LIFK. 
 
 Colorado plains. But there is a sweetness and nutrition in 
 the low, dried grasses which is wonderful. No hay that is 
 made can compare with these grasses dried where they stand 
 and ready to be nibbled all winter. 
 
 To a stranger nothing could seem more improbable 
 than that cattle should thrive, running all winter long 
 unsheltered, uncared for, in a country where the mercury 
 frequently falls at night to zero, and below, and where snow 
 often covers the ground to the depth of several inches. But 
 
 on the whole, fair returns, and there are many cattlemen in 
 the state who are growing steadily rich. 
 
 The same is true of the sheepmen, though this business is 
 subject to greater risks and fluctuations. When heavy 
 snow-storms come, sheep are helpless; they are silly, also, 
 and sometimes in a single fiock hundreds will be stifled to 
 death by trampling each other underfoot in haste to get the 
 food which has been thrown down for them when they have 
 been driven in after a long storm. 
 
 One winter in Colorado was exceptionally severe, and 
 thousands of sheep perished in the snow. The sheepmen 
 took warning, and put up sheds on a large scale. 
 
 It would seem a simple matter of humanity, as well as 
 policy, to provide them. Cattle can run before a storm, and 
 
 the facts show that 
 the cattle do thrive 
 under these condi- 
 tions. 
 
 Sheep in the Snow. 
 
 They are very 
 thin in the spring, 
 and exceptionally 
 severe snow storms 
 in March or April 
 will kill off some 
 of the feeblest ; but 
 at the end of the 
 year they make. 
 
RANCH I,IFK. 
 
 27 
 
 it is said, will often run forty miles to escape one ; but the 
 poor little sheep are too clumsy and slow ; they are soon 
 snowed in and under. 
 
 I^ife on the larger and more remote ranches is lonely and 
 monotonous to a degree which, it must be admitted, can 
 hardly be wholesome for either mind or body. 
 
 The daily life of a herder of sheep, for instance, seems but 
 one shade above that of the sheep themselves. He takes his 
 flock out at daybreak, stands or lies still, watching them while 
 they feed, drives them back to the ranch at night, cooks his 
 own supper, washes the dishes, and goes to bed at nine 
 o'clock, too tired to keep awake longer. This routine is 
 varied by an interval of very hard work in the shearing 
 season, and during the weeks when the lambs are born in 
 the spring. 
 
 If the ranch is near a town of size, he goes, perhaps once 
 a week, to that town to buy what he needs ; but the larger 
 ranches are all remote from towns, and must necessarily 
 be so, in order to secure sufficient range for large flocks and 
 herds. 
 
 For a ranch sixty, seventy or a hundred miles distant from 
 its centre of supplies, purchases must be made by wholesale 
 two or three times a year, and the ranchmen will have no 
 intercourse with the world except at these times, and when 
 chance travellers pass by their place. A primitive and 
 genuine hospitality is kept on most ranches ; all travellers 
 feel free to stop at them, and by no means the least of the 
 fatigues of the ranchman's life is the preparing meals at any 
 time for as many as happen to come. 
 
 These are some of the drawbacks on ranch life. On the 
 other hand, there are advantages by no means to be scorned ; 
 open air, year in and year out ; freedom from all conventional 
 and troublesome customs ; independence and the indefinable 
 exhilaration which almost all men find in a wild and untram- 
 melled life. 
 
 The cattlemen for a great part of the year have little to 
 
28 
 
 RANCH 
 
 do, except to keep their buildings in order and attend to the 
 few animals they keep with them. When the cattle are to be 
 gathered together, branded and counted, or driven from one 
 range to another, then the cattleman rides, day after day, as 
 madly as a Bedouin in the desert. 
 
 There is probably no better riding than can be seen at the 
 summer round-ups, where dozens of vast herds of cattle have 
 been gradually driven in from their ranges and collected in a 
 dense mass in some open place, for the owners to pick out 
 their respective cattle. Any cow or steer found unbranded 
 then can be taken possession of by any one; such cattle are 
 called Mavericks, and there are more of them than would be 
 supposed ; they might be called Ishmaelites among cattle. 
 
 A Lonely Ranch. 
 
 As the ranchman prospers, he adds building after building 
 to his ranch. You may read the history of many ranches in 
 the successive stages of buildings, from the roughest of log 
 cabins, which was at first the dwelling and is now merely 
 an outhouse for tools, implements, etc., up to the two-story 
 wooden house, possibly clapboarded, which was at first the 
 dream and is now the home in which the ranchman's wife 
 takes pride, and in which you will find one or more carpeted 
 rooms, a rocking-chair or two and a newspaper or magazine. 
 
 I know one ranch, a vSheep-ranch, in which the record runs 
 farther back than the log house ; it runs back to a dugout, a 
 sort of compromise between a cave and a huge oblong ant-hill, 
 in which the resolute sheepman lived, or rather burrowed, for 
 
RANCH I.IFK. 
 
 29 
 
 more than a year, when he began his ranch life, like David, 
 with a few sheep in the wilderness. Now he is the owner 
 of two ranches and many thousand sheep. 
 
 The one chief and greatest objection to ranch life is the food. 
 This need not be so bad, but there seems an unconquerable 
 tendency in men living lonely and isolated lives, and doing 
 with their own hands all the work to be done in the house, to 
 shirk cooking, adopt the easier methods and fall into a dreary 
 monotony of diet. 
 
 The difhculty of procuring any variety of fresh meats, also, 
 is another trouble which it is easier to evade by a perpetual 
 recourse to ham and bacon than in any other way. 
 
 The trouble of milking cows and making butter is also very 
 easily evaded by going without both butter and milk ; and it 
 is no uncommon thing to find a ranchman owning many 
 hundreds of cows and not milking one. All these things are to 
 be taken into account by people who are often recommended 
 to go out on some ranch and rough it for a year. 
 
 But after all is said and summed for and against ranch 
 life, there remains a certain element in it which can be neither 
 said nor summed ; and whose worth each individual will 
 reckon at his own individual valuation, and cannot safely 
 estimate for any other man. It is the nearness to nature, the 
 remoteness from man, all of which goes to make up his 
 outdoor life. 
 
 What the Bedouin knows of the desert he could never tell ; 
 and the ranchman would probably find it quite as hard to give 
 reasons for his love of ranch life. 
 
 HKI.KN Hunt Jackson. 
 
Cowboys of the Plains. 
 
 There is little of romance attending the real life of the 
 Western herder. It is about as hard a life as a young man 
 can undertake, unless he enters upon it with his hands 
 full of gold ; even then it is no boy's sport, if he is really in 
 earnest. 
 
 I know a graduate of one of our great Eastern colleges, a 
 young man of culture and fortune, who went to Colorado with 
 sufficient money to buy and stock a large ranch. He was wise 
 enough to know that success depended upon strict attention 
 to business ; and out of a home of luxury he stepped into a 
 hut, where to-day he cooks his own breakfast, washes his own 
 clothes, sleeps hard and works hard, all as cheerfully as if he 
 had never known a life of less hardship and toil. 
 
 In summer he starts off before sunrise, with a piece of 
 jerked beef at his saddle-bow, to ride all day among his cattle, 
 seeing that they do not stray too far from good feed and 
 water ; returning only at night, to cook and eat a hasty 
 supper, and throw himself, weary, but thoroughly contented, 
 on his hard couch. 
 
 Sometimes he does not come home at all for days. Often 
 in winter he rides up into the mountains, among the canons of 
 which his cattle find shelter from the storms, and sleeps on the 
 snow, wrapped like an Eskimo, with just a breathing-hole in 
 his blanket, resting comfortably, with the temperature of the 
 Colorado night sinking below zero. 
 
 This is the life of his choice. But he is his own master, 
 and the master of other men. There are other former college 
 boys who are now cowboys, but only a small proportion of 
 them have his immense advantages. 
 
 He acts^ as his own foreman, thereby saving a great 
 expense. Foremen on large ranches command high wages, 
 often a share in the increase of the vStock, but it is only an 
 
COWBOYS OF THE PLAINS. 
 
 31 
 
 experienced, able and fortunate man who obtains a situation 
 of this kind. 
 
 The ordinary herder works hard under strict discipline, 
 obeying orders like a soldier, for thirty or forty dollars a 
 month. A good roper, however, gets more. A roper is one 
 who can throw the lasso and capture a steer stronger than 
 his horse. It requires skill and agility to do that. 
 
 The Cowboy in Winter. 
 
 By saving his wages and investing them in cattle, the 
 cowboy may in time get a small herd of his own, which will 
 rapidly grow to be a large herd. Many prosperous ranchmen 
 have begun business in this way. 
 
 But the majority of cowboys remain cowboys until they 
 wear out, or weary of the work and turn to something else. 
 The hard life they lead induces reckless habits, and drink is 
 
32 
 
 COWBOYS OF THK PIvAINS. 
 
 the curse of many a generous fellow, who without it could not 
 fail to become an honorable and useful citizen. 
 
 The traveller notices a great difference among cowboys, in 
 different sections of the country, in respect to sobriety. Here, 
 as a class, they are steady and industrious ; there, reckless 
 and dissipated almost to a man. It seems as if a few strong 
 spirits among them influenced the rest, for good or ill. Hence 
 the danger which every young man incurs who leaves family 
 and friends and becomes the daily associate of a powerful, 
 generous, jovial, but too often unprincipled set of men. 
 
 To a "tenderfoot" who comes among them, timid and 
 complaining, afraid of hardships, they can be rough enough 
 in their fun-making. But a stranger exhibiting quiet qualities 
 of pluck and endurance will find them as kind and helpful as 
 brothers. 
 
 In winter the cattle on open ranges are mostly left to take 
 care of themselves. They get together in immense, straggling 
 herds, from different ranches, feeding on sage-brush, dry 
 buffalo-grass and bunch-grass, and drifting with the storms, 
 protecting one another by the mass in which they move, until 
 they strike the mountain or some sheltered vale. Travelling 
 through western Kansas, I saw the carcasses of thousands of 
 cattle lying on the north side of the fences bordering the 
 railroad track, where their drifting had been intercepted by 
 the fence, and they had perished from cold and starvation. 
 
 It is the business of the cowboy to prevent, if possible, 
 such calamities. Then in spring comes the general round-up. 
 The herds of various owners are all mingled together ; and 
 some have strayed twenty or thirty or more miles from home. 
 The country has to be scoured two or three times over, to 
 bring in all the stragglers from the gulches and small streams ; 
 and weeks are ^pent in bringing all together in one enormous 
 bunch. 
 
 All the herders of the region unite in the work of the 
 round-up. They travel in companies, each with its cook and 
 camping apparatus, carrying their canned food with them, 
 
COWBOYS OF THK PI^AINS. 
 
 33 
 
 even their canned milk, if they wi.sh milk for their coffee ; for 
 one thing a cowboy never does is to milk one of his herd. 
 
 If they wish for fresh meat, they may, perhaps, shoot an 
 antelope or deer, where such wild game still abides. Otherwise, 
 they choose a Maverick out of the herd for the butcher's steel. 
 A Maverick is an animal that has no brand ; so-called after a 
 
 The Work of the Round-Up. 
 
 man of that name whose herd, it was noticed, increased 
 magically, and who was found to make a businCvSS of picking 
 up stray cattle that bore no owner's mark. 
 
 If no Maverick is handy, they choose any well-conditioned 
 steer, kill and eat it, crediting it to the owner whose brand it 
 bears. 
 
 The round-up has reached its most important stage when 
 all the cattle of that part of the country have been bunched. 
 Then comes the work of cutting out. The most skilled of the 
 cowboys ride in among the frightened and bellowing herd and 
 
34 
 
 COWBOYS OF THK PLAINS. 
 
 separate the different brands, cutting out with wonderful dash 
 and rapidity the cattle of each owner. 
 
 The movement, the yelling, the bellowing, the rush of 
 rider and horse, the flying rope, the running out of the 
 selected animals, — all this gives great animation to the scene. 
 
 Occasionally, in the round-up, neither the brand nor the 
 earmarks of a beast can be readily made out. In that case 
 the rope is used, the creature thrown, and its sides washed, to 
 bring out traces of the hot iron, which, once burnt into the 
 flesh, are never wholly effaced. 
 
 The laws concerning the brands of cattle and sheep are 
 very strict. In Denver there is an official register of all the 
 legal brands in the state. No man is allowed to. imitate 
 another man's brand ; and he must have his own duly 
 registered. If he buys an animal, he at once adds his own 
 brand to that of its former owner. 
 
 Cowboys become very skilful riders, and they are 
 sometimes fond of showing off. In southern Colorado I 
 witnessed some performances which were as good as any 
 equestrian feats I ever saw. A cowboy rode through the 
 streets of a small town at full gallop, picking up whatever 
 was thrown in the way before him, — a hat, a whip, a 
 handkerchief. This he did by stooping from his saddle, 
 putting down one hand to the ground, while he held on by 
 the other and by his feet, and springing up into his place 
 again without even slackening speed. 
 
 Then he galloped through the streets, lassoing dogs, 
 cattle, and even his friends. I noticed that the rope was 
 gathered in a coil, with a noose at the end about six feet long ; 
 this was swung around the rider's head several times, and 
 finally projected twenty or thirty feet, with surprising 
 accuracy, at the object to be captured. A dog usually 
 slipped his head out of the loop as it tightened, and ran away 
 yelping ; but a horned creature had to wait until released. 
 
 But the most exciting fun was when two cowboys, in 
 picturesque hats and fantavStically fringed leather leggings, 
 
COWBOYS OP THK PLAINS. 
 
 35 
 
 mounted on the briskest of ponies, attempted lassoing each 
 other. As one flung his rope, the other would dodge it by 
 dropping down on his horse's neck, or leaning over the side 
 of his saddle ; then he would spring up and fling his rope in 
 turn . 
 
 Once both were noosed ; then it was diverting to see the 
 trained horses pull and back and brace themselves, and the 
 men haul at the ropes, each trying to free himself and at 
 the same time to drag down his antagonist. The horses 
 seemed to understand the friendly game, and to enjoy it as 
 well as the men, though they themselves sometimes got lassoed 
 over the neck or about the legs. 
 
 I most earnestly advise every youth who is ambitious of 
 being a ranchman or a cowboy to learn something of the trials 
 and hardships he will have to undergo before attempting that 
 new life ; then, if resolved to undertake it, to set out fully 
 prepared to encounter, with Spartan sobriety, hot suns, cold 
 nights, and the hardest of hard fare and hard work. Unless 
 his health is of the soundest, let him not risk it in the saddle 
 and bivouac of the Colorado cowboy's life. 
 
 If he has money, and wishes to go into the business of 
 cattle-raising, let him first learn that business on a well-ordered 
 ranch. After a few months he may be able to decide whether 
 it will suit him, or whether he can safely invest his life and 
 capital in it. 
 
 J. T. Trowbridgk. 
 
 T ^ ^ ^ i|ilM 
 
The Great Cattle-Trails. 
 
 When the government opened the Indian Territory lands 
 to settlement it ended a unique feature of the prairies, the 
 cattle-trails. These broad, hard-floored paths, two or three 
 hundred yards wide, reaching away over valley and hill for 
 five hundred miles, were the thoroughfares leading up from 
 the vast feeding-grounds of Texas and New Mexico to the 
 shipping stations of the North. The cattle that followed these 
 irregular roads were worth millions of dollars. 
 
 From the start under Texas skies until the freight-train 
 carried the last of the herd from the Kansas or Nebraska 
 station, the herders lived in almost continuous excitement and 
 severe labor. But the task was one that hundreds of energetic 
 young men enjoyed, for the cowboy was a power when on the 
 trail. Moreover, his position was often the starting-point 
 toward the wealth and dignity of a cattle-owner, with a ranch 
 and herds of his own. 
 
 The first trail across the Indian Territory was opened in 
 1867 by Joseph G. McCoy of Illinois, then scarcely more than 
 a boy, after he had heard some stockmen talking of the 
 peculiar condition of the cattle industry. The herds of Texas 
 were increasing rapidly, but there was no way to get them to 
 market. 
 
 Young McCoy went out on the railroad then partly built 
 across Kansas, and after a long interview with the manager 
 persuaded him to construct stock-yards at Abilene, the 
 extreme western limit of the completed track. The manager 
 had little faith in the project, but decided to give the 
 enthusiastic vivSitor a chance. 
 
 McCoy sent out messengers, who rode toward Texas, 
 seeking the cattlemen. For some weeks they journeyed 
 through the Indian Territory, and were usually laughed at 
 when they proposed driving cattle to the new shipping-point. 
 
THE GREAT CATTLE-TRAILS. 
 
 37 
 
 Nevertheless, one herd of twenty-five hundred head was turned 
 northward, and the owners made such handsome profits that 
 the business grew rapidly. 
 
 Thirty-seven thousand head were shipped that season and 
 nearly eighty thousand in 1868. Thenceforth the business 
 steadily increased and became permanent. The trails were 
 
 soon well-defined, and could be seen for miles, brown and 
 dusty furrows, washed by the rains, flanked by drifted 
 sand-banks, and sprinkled with skeletons of animals that had 
 died on the road. 
 
 Individual ranch-owners sometimes broke their own paths, 
 but nine-tenths of the north-bound cattle were driven over the 
 established courses. During the height of the season the 
 herds were so close together as to be with difficulty kept from 
 
38 
 
 THE GREAT CATTI,E-TRAILS. 
 
 mingling. Five and even seven or eight thousand cattle were 
 driven in a body. The narrow column, strung out for two 
 miles or more, with its broad-hatted guards riding at intervals 
 alongside, had much the appearance of an army on the march. 
 
 A peculiarity of cattle on the trail is that they arrange 
 themselves instinctively in regular order. Once well under 
 way, certain broad-breasted ones will be found always in the 
 lead. Others will cause much annoyance by wandering from 
 the line in search of novel experiences, while the weak drift 
 steadily to the rear and are finally deserted, as prey for the 
 skulking coyotes. 
 
 Not more than ten to fifteen miles a day were made by the 
 herds, and many weeks were spent on the march. The cattle 
 were guarded night and day by the herders in relays. A 
 camp-wagon with cooking-utensils and sleeping arrangements 
 followed the moving procession, and was the temporary home 
 of the guards. 
 
 Added to his liability to attack when separated from his 
 pony, the cowboy had to contend with the danger of stampede. 
 To control five thousand fleet Texas cattle, having long, 
 sharp-pointed horns, is no simple task, for at the crackling of 
 a stick or the howl of a wolf every head may be raised, and 
 the hairy mass run off in a blind panic. It is impossible to 
 stop the herd by riding in front of it. 
 
 The common method of bringing the mad creatures to their 
 senses was by riding on one side of the leaders, and gradually 
 turning them until the herd was running in a circle. Then, 
 however, another danger arose, that of "milling." This 
 turning like a millstone wore out the less muscular animals, 
 and it was necessary to stop it as soon as possible. 
 
 Sitting quietly on their horses, the cowboys would join in 
 some old-fashioned hymn, singing lustily the pious words 
 familiar in boyhood. One by one the whirling cattle would 
 halt and listen, until soon the whole herd was quiet once more. 
 
 A soothing influence was attributed to any musical sound, 
 and the herders had a custom of attaching a heavy bell to the 
 
THE GRKAT CATTI.K-TRAII,S. 
 
 39 
 
 stirrup or saddle-horn, believing that the steady ringing made 
 the cattle more tractable. 
 
 Frequently half a herd would be lost by a night stampede, 
 the cattle rushing pell-mell off a bluff or into a morass. There 
 was a feeling of relief on the part of both owners and cowboys 
 when, after an outbreak of this kind, the great herd were 
 peacefully grazing as before. 
 
 Sometimes a herd of buffalo would cross the trail in a wild 
 rush from some foe, and it was with difficulty that the cattle 
 could be kept from following their bovine cousins. 
 
 Indian attacks were always to be feared. Again, the 
 exposure which came from all-night rides in the saddle 
 through drenching storms was trying to the health. The 
 rivers were broad and sometimes deep. Crossing them 
 entailed no little risk. 
 
 Arrived at the shipping station at the northern end of the 
 trail, the cowboy prepared for a period of enjoyment. After 
 loading the unruly steers he was paid off for the year, and 
 with his pockets filled with money he too often indulged in 
 a week of dissipation. 
 
 In 1869 and 1870 half a million head of cattle w^ere shipped 
 from Abilene, and the next year a full million were driven 
 over the trails. Other stations were now shipping, but most 
 of the herds headed toward Abilene. For twenty miles in 
 every direction they were pasturing on the plains through the 
 late summer and fall. Never before or since in the West have 
 so many cattle been massed in so small a territory. 
 
 It was an unfortunate season for the dealers. Spanish 
 fever broke out among the herds, and the Eastern markets 
 would not allow the Texas cattle to enter. Three hundred 
 thousand head remained on the prairies of central Kansas 
 when fall came. 
 
 Early in the winter, about the first of December, a three 
 days' storm of sleet, which froze as it fell, covered the buffalo- 
 grass with ice. The cattle died of starvation by the thousand, 
 and their carcasses were skinned and left on the plain. 
 
40 THB GRKAT CATTI,E-TRAII,S. 
 
 From one station fifty thousand hides were shipped, from 
 another twenty thousand, and from Abilene thirty thousand. 
 Hundreds of horses and a score of cowboys perished, and 
 that winter is yet remembered as the most terrible in Kansas 
 history. 
 
 After that there was no more boom in cattle-drives, but 
 year after year from one to two hundred thousand head came 
 leisurely over the trails, finding ready market. Even after 
 the railroad had made its way through the Indian Territory 
 the cattlemen kept the trails well worn, because they could, 
 by driving overland, escape the semi-tropical heat of the South 
 and save considerable expense in freight. 
 
 The cattle business is greater in the West to-day than ever. 
 There are a hundred head where there was one during the 
 palmy cattle-trail days, but they are scattered over the settlers' 
 farms and the fenced ranches, instead of roaming the prairies. 
 
 In the Northwest, in Wyoming, Montana and Idaho, are 
 great ranches, with their cowboys and round-ups and 
 brandings. Trails lead from park to park, and along the 
 foot-hills of the Rockies make highways for transferring 
 cattle from the ranches of New Mexico to the northern 
 feeding-grounds, where, after having spent the summer 
 moving slowly over the prairie, they are fattened on the corn 
 of Nebraska and Dakota. These paths, however, resemble 
 little in size or use the original trails of the middle West. 
 
 Where the herds once crossed the Indian Territory, the 
 settlers are planting corn and sowing wheat. But traces of 
 the great cattle-trails will remain for years to come. Together 
 with the weather-worn buildings, saloons and gambling- 
 houses in the old time, the cattle-towns and the unmarked 
 graves of cowboys in the prairie cemeteries, they are the 
 visible tokens of a passing era and its attendant life. 
 
 C. M. Harger. 
 
The Language of Cattle-Brands 
 
 The language of cattle-brands is very perplexing to a man 
 who has never before met it. It is written on the hides of 
 living cattle with a hot iron for a pen. A man may never 
 have to learn to write it, but he may have trouble enough in 
 reading it after it is written. 
 
 At present a large part of the branding is done with what 
 are known as dotting-irons. There are two of these ; one a 
 straight iron bar and one a half-circle. With these two irons 
 nearly any brand imaginable can be made, but necessarily 
 only in a somewhat imperfect manner. When we consider the 
 material and the instruments used in the writing, we cease to 
 wonder that the writing itself is hard to read. 
 
 Suppose, for instance, that you were on your pony galloping 
 across the prairie, and that about a hundred yards or more 
 
 to the right you should see a steer with what look — 
 
 like scars on its left hip, something like these marks : "T I 
 How would you tell what kind of a brand you had noticed ? 
 An algebra student might possibly call it minus or plus T, but 
 the ranch foreman would only stare and wonder what that 
 meant. He himself would probably say something like this : 
 
 "Say, pardner, I noticed one of them barcrossty steers 
 back in that bunch yonder." 
 
 Probably the reader may not remember ever having heard 
 the word barcrossty before ; Noah Webster was equally 
 ignorant when he compiled his dictionary. There are many 
 other words used on the stock-trail that he never heard of. 
 However, it is written on the hips of thousands of cattle on the 
 plains as clear as can be. Look at the brand again : bar-cross-T. 
 How could it be made any plainer ? 
 
 Suppose, again, that a muscular-looking man with two 
 six-shooters in his belt should bring his wiry little bronco to 
 a halt and address you thus : 
 
42 ME I.ANGUAGE OF CATTl^E-BRANDS. 
 
 ''Hold on there a minute, pard. Have you seen any of 
 them nail-shoe-nail steers over on your part of the range?" 
 
 Would you know how to answer him ? Probably ^ 
 not, for the brand which he refers to is made like this : — ' ^ — 
 That half-circle in the centre is supposed by courtesy to be 
 a horseshoe, while the two straight lines sticking out at each 
 end are nails. So you can clearly see the nail-shoe-nail. 
 
 Now the reader has got this much of a start at ^ 
 learning the language, let him try to read this brand : — ^ 
 It is the shoe-bar brand, and is used by one of the wealth- 
 iest stockmen in Texas. It is quite easy to read, after you 
 know how to read it. You will have little or ^ 
 no difficulty in reading two more simple brands : ^ 
 Cattle that wear the first sign are known as the anvil stock ; 
 those bearing the second mark are the circle-bars cattle. 
 "^1 — ) — Here is still another brand that may possibly be 
 \ harder for you to read. It is the brand of a wealthy 
 stock-owner whose name is Mr. Drake. It is supposed to be 
 the picture of a drake, or duck. It is merely a matter of 
 justice, though, to remark that the likeness is a gross libel on 
 Texas ducks. It does not look like them at all. 
 
 — Here is another brand, in which the likeness is not 
 
 — much better. This is the turtle brand, and it takes 
 two impressions of the half-circle and six of the straight bar to 
 make it. Two of these latter are for the head and tail ; the 
 other four are for the legs. 
 
 Of course many of the brands in use consist of letters 
 and figures, but these have been used so often that a new 
 combination is difficult to find. Moreover, most letters can be 
 added to or changed until the original brand is lost sight of. 
 Changing brands was formerly one of the most frequently 
 practised methods of cattle-stealing. 
 
 The story is told of a man named Charles Upton who 
 came to Texas shortly after the war, and took for his brand 
 CD. A dishonest neighbor settled near him and took for 
 his brand I C U. Thus by merely one stroke of his iron he 
 
THK lyANGUAGK OF CATTlvK- BRANDS. 
 
 43 
 
 got his brand on many of his neighbor's cattle. The first man 
 then changed his brand to I C U 2. ".I see you, too." By 
 using the additional characters he got back all his original 
 cattle with good interest. 
 
 A few years ago a thrilling story was told in The Youth's 
 Companion of the recovery of a large herd from cattle-thieves 
 who adroitly changed a brand of two letters. The owner, 
 Joseph Villemont, marked his cattle with his initials, ^ 
 which, by the skilful addition of only three straight w ai 
 lines, the clever stock-thieves changed to this brand 
 and at the round-up claimed all the bar-Y-N stock. Their 
 dishonesty was discovered by an acute cowboy, who recognized 
 in their herd a j-v steer with which he had had a tussle some 
 time before. 
 
 It is to prevent such dishonest practices that some of the 
 brands have been brought into use which I have described. 
 They may seem unnecessarily complicated, but they show the 
 owners' determination to secure a mark that cannot be easily 
 disfigured, and that shall prove entirely distinct from all 
 previously registered brands. 
 
 P. W. Hqrn. 
 
Breaking a Bronco. 
 
 Anna's first view of the performance called breaking a 
 bronco was from a corral fence. She sat out of harm's way, 
 on the farther side of the cattle-shoot, a little enclosure leading 
 into the corral. 
 
 The two young men, or boys, looked quite picturesque. 
 They wore stiff, seatless, leather trousers with fringed seams, 
 for protection against barbed wire, sharp stones and the like. 
 The usual far- western gear, flannel shirts, sombreros and 
 buckskin gloves, completed their dress. 
 
 On this occasion John took a well-broken horse named 
 Stub, collected, or rounded up, a bunch of eight animals, and 
 drove them into the corral. It was amusing to watch the boys 
 circumventing these horses till all were within the gate. 
 Then Stub was tied without, the bars put up, and John and 
 Carlos walked into the corral. 
 
 After several vain attempts, John lassoed a dun mare, which 
 they were especially anxious to break, passed the loose end of 
 his rope around the snubbing-post and held it tight. Carlos 
 speedily noosed the mare also. He then let the other horses 
 into the pasture. 
 
 The boys, to tame the dun, concluded to choke her down. 
 Carlos kept behind her at a safe distance, holding his rope 
 taut, and gradually drove her close to the snubbing-post. 
 John drew his rope shorter as fast as she approached. The 
 dun, with both ropes around her neck, stood breathing hard. 
 Carlos pulled on his rope, choking her, and she soon lay 
 down. He ran and knelt on her neck. 
 
 She threw up her head a few times, but made no other 
 resistance while he pulled her jaws open and proclaimed her 
 a three-year-old. 
 
 He next loosened his rope on her neck and knotted it 
 securely at the chest. Then he caught her right hind foot in 
 
BRKAKING A BRONCO. 
 
 45 
 
 a noose and tied it firmly. In his hurry he had made a 
 mistake and caught up the wrong hind foot. A horse is 
 broken from the left side, as it is mounted from that side. 
 However, as the dun was evidently not fierce, it was decided 
 to let the rope remain as it was. 
 
 All this time John had been holding his rope steady on the 
 other side of the post, in case the dun should try to get away. 
 Now he secured it and came round to help Carlos. 
 
 They tied a blind, or cloth, just above her eyes. Then 
 Carlos rose from the dun's neck and tried to scare her up. 
 She would not budge, but lay and groaned till Anna thought 
 she must be dying. The boys said she was only sulking. 
 
 As she persistently refused to rise, they used the blacksnake 
 whip on her, but to no purpose. So John pulled her head up 
 by the snubbing-rope and 
 Carlo's pushed her from 
 behind. She gave a wild 
 scramble, and stood erect 
 on three feet. 
 
 While Carlos had been 
 on her neck he had patted 
 and rubbed her, to gentle 
 her by degrees, but she did 
 not like it — wild horses 
 never do. 
 
 When she was standing, Carlos gradually approached her 
 to draw down the blind above her eyes. She backed off as 
 far as she could till choked by the noose that was around her 
 neck and secured to the snubbing-post. Then she lay down 
 again. 
 
 They hoisted her up once more, and blinded her by pulling 
 the cloth down over her eyes ; ^ then John threw on the 
 saddle-blanket and the saddle. She immediately lay down 
 and refused to move, even when they raised the blind. The 
 boys took a brief rest, while she groaned continuously. 
 
 They lifted her again till she scrambled up, when the 
 
 A Three-year-old. 
 
46 
 
 BREAKING A BRONCO. 
 
 saddle was quickly cinched, or girthed. As they finished, 
 she lay down again and began to groan dolefully. 
 
 A bridle was placed in her mouth, and the rope confining 
 her foot taken off. She was allowed to lie and groan while 
 John brought up a red colt and turned him into the pasture. 
 When he returned, the dun had discovered that her foot was 
 free, and she was standing. 
 
 John brought Stub to a convenient spot, removed the 
 snubbing-rope, and pulled down the blind over the dun's eyes. 
 
 Getting Ready to Ride. 
 
 Then he led her into the road by tugging at the bridle, while 
 Carlos went behind with a whip and touched her when she 
 balked. 
 
 Carlos took the bridle and sprang into the saddle. John 
 pulled up the blind and jumped aside. Away went the dun, 
 racing across the prairie. Whenever she came too near 
 barbed wire or other danger, John, on Stub, headed her off. 
 
 Half an hour's hard running tired her out, and John drove 
 her again into the corral. The bridle was of no use to guide 
 her until she had had several breakings-in, but it was useful 
 in holding her head up to prevent her bucking, or leaping up 
 
BRKAKING A BRONCO. 
 
 47 
 
 and coming down on her forefeet. To buck thoroughly a 
 horse must get its head down to its knees. 
 
 As soon as they were in the corral John dismounted from 
 Stub and held the dun's blind down while Carlos sprang off. 
 It took over two hours to tire her out this time. 
 
 There is as much difference in horses as in human beings, 
 so bronco-breaking was an ever-novel sight to Anna. She 
 learned that there were in the West professional horse- 
 breakers, who go about breaking broncos for from three 
 dollars to eight dollars per animal, riding each horse from two 
 to six times. It is a hard life, and soon cripples a man. 
 
 The next horse the boys broke was named Texas. He 
 took the process very calmly, but after he had been used 
 several times he proved a bucker. Fr)r his first experiment 
 he chose a time when Carlos was alone and remote from 
 assistance. Carlos stayed by him, but with some difficulty, 
 as he was not expecting such behavior. 
 
 Texas was not choked down, but after being snubbed up 
 was caught by the hind leg and thrown. This is the method 
 usually employed with a full-grown animal. 
 
 It is said by old bronco-breakers that a horse is easier to 
 conquer if he bucks at first. He then learns thoroughly that 
 his rider is his master. An animal that bucks after being in 
 use becomes, if he succeeds in unseating his rider, very hard 
 to cure of this habit. He is then known as a spoilt horse. 
 
 Hestkr Washburnk. 
 
A Chase for Wild Horses. 
 
 Toney lived on the plains near the famous North Platte 
 River. One day, while following some thievish Indians, he 
 discovered a number of wild horses, and planned to capture 
 the whole herd. 
 
 He told his discovery to several friends whose lives were 
 spent in the saddle, herding horses and cattle, and who owned 
 tough, wiry broncos. It was agreed that a concerted effort 
 should be made to secure the herd for the good price they 
 would bring in the local market. 
 
 The men assembled, as agreed upon, and with six or seven 
 days' rations for the party and forage for their horses in a 
 wagon, they started for the Blue Water, which they reached 
 in a day's march. Here they camped on the stream and 
 gave their riding horses a good rest, while on the next day 
 two men with the horses from the wagon rode up the valley 
 ^ to locate the herd. Although the horses did not appear, their 
 fresh tracks were seen, and the two men returned to camp 
 to report the fact. 
 
 Before the sun had set that day, four of the horsemen, 
 with their blankets tied behind their saddles, left camp and 
 ascended the valley to the place in the creek bottom 
 where the tracks of the wild horses that came to drink in the 
 morning and cool of the evening were thickest. Posting one 
 man in sight of the drinking-pool, the others took positions 
 down the stream about a mile apart, in such locations that 
 the horses could not drink without being seen. 
 
 Their purpose was to keep the wild horses from getting a 
 drink that evening or next morning, so that on the morrow's 
 run they would be at a great disadvantage, compared with 
 their own fresh horses. 
 
 One of the men saw them trooping down as dusk was 
 coming on. He let them get very near the water, then 
 
A CHASK FOR WII.D HORSKS. 
 
 49 
 
 frightened them back ; not violently, but just enough to make 
 them take to the hills. In about a half-hour they came 
 cautiously back, stopping every minute or two, with ears 
 pricked forward, to survey the scene, especially where the 
 horsemen had appeared. 
 
 The Wild Horses. 
 
 Again he allowed them to approach near to the water, 
 when he slowly rode toward them, and they trotted rapidly 
 away as before. 
 
 Soon darkness set in, and as these animals never travel at 
 night it was fair to presume that they had gone to rest with- 
 
50 
 
 A chase: for wiIvD horses. 
 
 out their evening drink, a deprivation to which they were not 
 altogether unaccustomed. Having discovered where the wild 
 horses came to drink, the scattering line of men drew together 
 at this point, partook of a cold supper, picketed their horses 
 on the best patches of grass near by, and, spreading their 
 blankets on the ground, went to sleep. 
 
 At the first break of day they arose, ate their breakfast 
 cold, and with their horses saddled, waited for their prey. 
 They strung along the stream, but not so far apart as before, 
 for when the wild horses put in an appearance again they 
 wanted to be near enough for concerted action. They had 
 not waited very long when the horses came over the hills and 
 down into the valley, toward the stream, with an assured walk, 
 as if they felt certain that their annoyance of the evening 
 before must have had ample time to get away. 
 
 When the horses were about to drink, they were turned 
 back toward the hills and followed by the nearest two men 
 at a slow trot. The other two men now mounted and walked 
 their horses to the top of the nearest high hill overlooking the 
 country for miles, and there sat down to wait. The horsemen 
 following the herd rode at a trot to the crest of the hills, where 
 they saw them on a distant ridge, probably a mile away, 
 and turned toward them. 
 
 Again they followed at a trot, the intention being to 
 allow them no time to graze. This desultory and long dis- 
 tance chase was kept up until the wild horses had been 
 followed some twelve or fifteen miles to the northwest, when 
 the two horsemen, by making a wide detour, got around 
 them and started them back. 
 
 Now the chase was made much more energetic, and the 
 whole caravan was kept at a good swinging gallop, till the 
 two horsemen recognized that they were very near the Blue 
 Water again, when they pressed the panting wild horses at a 
 fast run, although they were not able to get closer than four 
 or five hundred yards. Lathered with sweat, the pursuers 
 and pursued reached the Blue Water, and as the latter gained 
 
A CHASK FOR WIIvD HORSKS. 
 
 51 
 
 the crest the second set of men took up the chase, giving the 
 wild horses hardly time to breathe, and running them over the 
 same course. 
 
 Hardly two or three miles had been made before it was 
 seen that the wild horses could be easily turned to the right 
 or left ; and after a mile or so was added to this distance they 
 were sent back, and once more approached the fated hill, with 
 their pursuers not a hundred yards behind them. The two 
 men on the hill drew cuts for the next run, for the horses were 
 so well in hand that a single horseman on a rested animal 
 'could easily control them and direct their movements. 
 
 This single rider hardly chased them a mile before he 
 turned them and brought them back, almost as hard as he 
 could press them, not ten yards in their rear. The next 
 man, when he desired to turn them at the end of his chase 
 out over the rolling prairie, simply dashed through the 
 exhausted herd, and when sighted coming back he was seen 
 lashing the rear ones to keep them going. 
 
 The two most tired horsemen now returned to camp, 
 leaving the freshest at this alternating pursuit ; and when 
 the wild horses, thoroughly tired out and tamed down, could 
 be driven in any direction whatever, as if they were so many 
 domesticated cattle, these two turned them toward the camp, 
 keeping them at a gait that gave them no rest. 
 
 When they passed the camp, the other horsemen had 
 exchanged their animals for fresh ones, and taking the herd 
 on hand they drove them across the North Platte River 
 so fast that they could not drink. They were followed 
 by the entire camp, wagon and all, for the fastest speed the 
 horses could possibly maintain now was only a good dog-trot. 
 
 At the close of the day they had the satisfaction of driving 
 the whole herd into a cattle-corral at a railroad station, some 
 fifteen miles distant, and before the sun had set the next day 
 they sold them to a wealthy ranchman. 
 
 Max Owen. 
 
Ancient Farmers and Sportsmen. 
 
 Long before Columbus claimed this continent for his 
 ♦ sovereign, thousands of steady, patient, industrious farmers 
 tilled the soil and planted wheat in Texas. They were 
 dwarfs in size, but having six legs, were capable, perhaps, of 
 enduring as much fatigue as larger beings. They were 
 dumb, but possessed a silent language quite as eloquent 
 and intelligible to each other as any taught in asylums for 
 deaf-mutes to-day. 
 
 The prairies of southern and western Texas are dotted all 
 over with little knolls that look like bald-headed men, because 
 their sides are covered with herbage, while their tops are bare. 
 The baldness is caused by ant-hills. If you examine one 
 of these knolls any time after the middle of January, and 
 sometimes even earlier, you will find the summit alive with 
 ants who are farmers. 
 
 vSome are carrying off the accumulated debris left by winter 
 winds and rains, some are turning up the soft earth with their 
 mandibles, others bringing up tiny grains from the granaries 
 underground, and still others planting these grains in the 
 earth. 
 
 A few weeks later, if you should ride over this same 
 prairie, you would find every knoll crowned with a little 
 circular patch of tender green. It is the young ant-wheat. 
 
 A nearer view will show you the farmers still at work, 
 though not in such numbers. They cut out every weed as 
 soon as it appears, and drag it out of the field, which is 
 generally about three feet in diameter, forming a solid 
 wheel, of which the entrance to the ant-hill is the hub, and 
 a narrow, beaten path on the outer rim the tire. Weeds, 
 sticks, everything that hinders the growth of the crop is 
 carried beyond the tire of the wheel. 
 
 But perhaps the strangest sight of all will reward 
 
ANCIKNT FARMERS AND SPORTSMEN. 
 
 53 
 
 inspection when the wheat is ready for harvest. All the 
 available working force of the farm is brought out. The 
 wheat is now from three to six inches high, according to 
 locality and fertility of soil. 
 
 A tiny granger selects his stock and, climbing to the top, 
 cuts off the highest grain of wheat and brings it down. A 
 second granger takes it at the foot of the stalk and carries it 
 to the hill, where a third receives and takes it down to the 
 barns, which are underground. 
 
 These barns are oblong cells, with arched ceilings, and 
 walls smooth as marble and perfectly waterproof. One hill 
 will have a large number of barns, and these are usually 
 all full at the end of the harvest. One, and sometimes two 
 barnfuls are saved for seed. " 
 
 When the crop is harvested, every stalk is cut down and 
 carried out of the field. Sometimes two crops are raised in a 
 year. But the farmer is not idle after harvest. He gathers 
 leaves for the wiijter quarters, having first brought out all of 
 last year's bedding, and does a hundred little chores ; in fact, 
 the Texas ant works pretty much all the year, and doesn't 
 hibernate, like the New Mexico planter. 
 
 In the South we call a man who raises only grain a farmer, 
 and one who raises sugar, or cotton, or both, a planter ; 
 therefore I call my New Mexico agriculturist a planter. 
 Perhaps he came to this continent with the Texas farmer, and 
 being more adventurous, pushed farther west ; or perhaps he 
 came the Pacific route, and fled eastward with the Indians 
 from the Spaniard. Anyway, he is nearly related to the 
 Texas ant, although the latter is red and larger than the 
 Mexican, who is nearly black. 
 
 When I went to New Mexico I thought I had found my 
 old Texas friends in that odd and surprising country ; for I 
 saw the round fields in every direction. But a nearer view 
 showed me it was not ant-wheat that flecked the arid mesa 
 and rocky canon with pale green disks. 
 
 Week after week I watched these little plantations up in 
 
The Ancient Sportsmen. 
 
 The Ancient Farmers. 
 
ANCIENT FARMERS AND SPORTSMEN. 
 
 55 
 
 a canon fifteen hundred feet above sea-level. Instead of 
 wheat-stalks, they were covered with a small spreading plant, 
 which grew close to the ground, one plant sometimes covering 
 an area of four inches, sometimes two or three, but never 
 more than an inch and a half high. As the summer wore on, 
 a white veil spread over the delicate green of the little fields, 
 until they looked like patches of snow. 
 
 Every day I watched the planters for hours. One August 
 morning I saw unusual bustle and activity in a plantation 
 near my window, and going to my usual post of observation, 
 a very large ant-hill on the side of the mountain, I found my 
 planters picking cotton ! By this time the little plants were 
 entirely covered with a soft white furze, and hundreds of ants 
 were stripping the leaves and stems of their fleecy robes. 
 
 I have seen many cotton-fields picked in my life, but none 
 left so clean as these. The leaves of this cotton plant are 
 about half an inch long, cylindrical in shape, and about the 
 thickness of a pencil-lead. One ant would strip five or six 
 leaves and carry the cotton in a loose ball on his head down 
 into the hole. He did not shift his burden, as the Texas ant 
 does, from one to another. By what process he himself 
 was picked of the tiny particles that clung to his legs and 
 mandibles I do not know, but I do know that every ant 
 coming out of the nest was spick-and-span clean. 
 
 After the cotton was all picked the leaves were cut off and 
 carried into the nests, and the stalks cut down and hauled off. 
 
 When my parents moved to Texas, in 1840, it was little 
 better than a wilderness. Wild animals hardly deserved 
 that epithet, they were so tame. I suppose that nowhere in 
 that vast state could now be seen the very extraordinary 
 performance I am about to relate. I never saw it before or 
 since, but I certainly saw it then, and so vivid is the picture 
 in my memory that I seem to see it now as I write. 
 
 We were travelling from Houston to Grimes County, 
 bowling along at a brisk trot over the smooth prairie-road in 
 the cool of the morning. Suddenly the carriage stopped and 
 
56 
 
 ANCIENT FARMERS AND SPORTSMEN. 
 
 the driver cried, in a frightened voice, " Look at the cranes 
 playing ball ! " 
 
 On the bare top of a knoll on the right of us, and quite 
 near enough to be seen distinctly, was a group of five cranes 
 of the kind known in Texas as sand-hill cranes. Four of 
 them stood at equal distances apart, forming a square, and a 
 fifth stood off a few feet from the players, as if keeping tally. 
 The four players were tossing a ball, high in the air, from 
 corner to corner, catching it as it came down, and passing it 
 on in like manner. One would catch it, toss it up toward his 
 right-hand neighbor, and so on. 
 
 After watching them for about ten minutes, we found out 
 what the fifth crane was for. One of the players missed a 
 ball ; it could not have reached the ground before the fifth 
 crane caught it, when the unlucky loser stepped out, the odd 
 crane took his place, and he waited in turn for a miss from 
 some other player to get in. 
 
 I do not know how long we sat there enjoying this novel 
 game before father's curiosity to see what sort of a ball they 
 had, caused him to ride up to the enthusiastic sportsmen. He 
 almost touched them before they saw him, and with a loud 
 " ky-ank ! ky-ank ! " they flew away. 
 
 The ball proved to be a hair ball, such as all Texas 
 cattle-raisers know and dread. They form in the stomachs of 
 cattle, and are always fatal. Near the playground was the 
 dried carcass of the animal in which, no doubt, the cranes 
 found their plaything. 
 
 AuREiyiA H. MOHI,. 
 
t 
 
 The Water Cactus. 
 
 We sometimes read, in narratives of travel and adventure 
 in the deserts of the Southwest, that men in the last 
 extremities of thirst have saved their lives by obtaining 
 water from a species of cactus called the Fish-Hook Cactus, 
 or Water Cactus. 
 
 This plant when fully grown bears a general resemblance 
 to the Giant Cactus, and both varieties are frequently' found 
 growing side by side. But the Water Cactus is readily 
 distinguished from the other by its broad, fiat spines curv^ed 
 like fish-hooks, while those of the Giant Cactus are slender 
 and tapering, like needles. 
 f Another distinguishing trait is noted in the ridges from 
 
 which the spines protrude. On the Giant Cactus these run 
 perpendicularly from base to apex, like the fluting of an 
 Ionic column ; while on the Water Cactus they ascend the 
 shaft in spiral fashion, giving the plant a marked corkscrew 
 appearance. 
 
 During the first few years of its growth the Water Cactus 
 is spherical or globular in form. Its subsequent growth is a 
 gradual elongation upward, so that it becomes ovate in form, 
 and finally cylindrical, attaining a height, when full-grown, 
 of six to seven feet, with a diameter rarely exceeding fourteen 
 to sixteen inches. 
 
 To be able to find and recognize the plant is not enough ; 
 one must know how to make it give up the life-saving fluid ; 
 and this is by no means an easy task. The pulpy interior is 
 enveloped in a skin more impenetrable than the toughest 
 leather, and further protected with an array of stout, wiry 
 spines, so springy that the largest rock thrown against them 
 will violently rebound, leaving them uninjured. No animal 
 save man can make any impression on this porcupine of the 
 vegetable kingdom ; and even man, unless provided with 
 
58 
 
 THE WATER CACTUS. 
 
 fire, as well as an axe or stout-bladed knife, would find it 
 impossible to penetrate one. 
 
 There is but one method of dealing with the spines, and 
 that is fire. They burn like tinder, taking fire readily from a 
 few dead leaves or straws ignited at the base of a cactus on 
 the windward side. The flame spreads rapidly from spine to 
 spine, consuming them instantly with a fierce, crackling 
 blaze ; and in less than one minute both fire and spines have 
 disappeared. 
 
 Then it only remains to chop or cut a segment from the top 
 of the now denuded cylinder, and scoop out a basin in the soft, 
 spongy interior. By continued pounding with the back of the 
 axe, water enough will 
 ooze into the hollow to 
 satisfy the thirst of twenty 
 men. 
 
 Should the searcher 
 after water be provided 
 only with a knife, as is 
 generally the case, the job 
 of effecting an entrance 
 
 . The Water Cactus. , 
 
 IS long and tedious, for 
 
 the tough rind cuts no more easily than a tin fruit-can ; in 
 fact, it is more difficult to cut, as it does not present so firm a 
 resistance to the knife. 
 
 The entire inner portion of the cactus somewhat resembles 
 the white of a watermelon in consistency, but is more springy 
 and fluffy. One may squeeze water from it as from a sponge, 
 water, too, that is quite cold and refreshing, so impervious is 
 the tough skin, even to the blistering heat of the sun, that 
 may have been beating down on the plant all day. 
 
 Those who have never suffered thirst on a scorching desert 
 cannot readily imagine the delicious sensation experienced in 
 squeezing a lump of this cold, snow-white cactus heart in the 
 mouth, when one's throat is on fire and one's lips parched 
 and swollen. 
 
THE WATER CACTUS. 
 
 59 
 
 It must be acknowledged, however, that-this cactus-water 
 is really palatable only when one is extremely thirsty. One 
 summer, while prospecting a difl&cult mountain-range where 
 no other water could be obtained, I depended for nearly a 
 week on these cacti alone ; and I grew so weary of it that 
 I almost preferred going thirst}'. 
 
 The water, when first obtained, has a whitish, smoky tint, 
 though it settles clear as cr\-stal in an hour or two. It has a 
 flavor, when one is not thirst}', somewhat like raw potatoes. 
 This becomes extremeh' disagreeable after a while, and is not 
 removed b}' boiling ; though it is not noticeable in tea or 
 coffee, nor in bread. 
 
 However, beggars cannot be choosers ; and one who is 
 reduced to the necessity of partaking of this cactus beverage 
 is not generally in a critical mood. 
 
 P. C. BiCKXELL. 
 
Government Camels. 
 
 It is not generally known, or not generally remembered, 
 that the United States Government at the close of the Civil 
 War was the proprietor of sixty-five or more camels, which 
 were kept at the abandoned military post of Camp Verde, 
 about fifty miles west of San Antonio, Texas. 
 
 These camels were chiefly the descendants of a herd 
 imported some years before by the government as an 
 experiment to test their adaptability as pack-animals for 
 frontier service. Should it prove successful, it was proposed 
 to utilize them for many purposes in which the long-suffering 
 mule had hitherto been employed. 
 
 The results of the experiment were satisfactory, and it is 
 not easy to see why it was abandoned. Possibly the breaking 
 out of the war had much to do with it. The government had 
 much graver questions to consider than that of supplanting 
 the veteran mule by these ships of the desert. It was 
 generally admitted that these animals were peculiarly 
 adapted to the wants of the army, and especially to the 
 cavalry branch of it. 
 
 Not only were they capable of carrying with ease double 
 a mule's load, but they were in many other respects superior 
 as pack-animals. They could subsist, and even thrive, where 
 a mule would starve, and they required water only once a 
 week. 
 
 Another great recommendation for the frontier was the 
 impossibility of stampeding them. As a test, men hid 
 themselves in the bushes, and as the camels came along 
 rushed out suddenly, shouting and firing pistols. The camels 
 viewed these demonstrations with an expression of supreme 
 disgust, merely turned their heads to one side, and continued 
 their stately march unmoved. 
 
 During the war these animals were cared for by the 
 
GOVERNMKNT CAMKLS. 
 
 6l 
 
 Confederate Government. They were not utilized in any way 
 that I ever heard of, but were simply kept stabled in the 
 old cavalry corrals at Camp Verde, in charge of the same 
 attendants employed by the United States Government before 
 the surrender of its property to the Confederates. 
 
 Major King and myself found ourselves detailed, with 
 fifty men, for a tour of three weeks in the vicinity of Camp 
 Verde, to report especially on the number and condition of 
 the government camels, which had been so long lost sight of. 
 The old post of Camp Verde is beautifully situated in the 
 Bandera hills, and in former times, when regularly garrisoned, 
 must have been a delightful station. 
 
 At the time of our arrival, however, the first troops since 
 the withdrawal of the garrison in 1861, everything was in the 
 most dilapidated state. Officers' and men's quarters and the 
 hospital building were the homes of numerous herds of goats. 
 Destruction and decay reigned supreme, where once neatness 
 and the strictest order had prevailed. The only part of the 
 post that seemed to have survived, in a measure, the neglect 
 of years, were the cavalry stables, which were now occupied 
 by the sixty-five camels. 
 
 As our detail of fifty men filed round to the open side of 
 the corral, every camel made a rush for the picket fence, 
 which was the barrier on that side. Thrusting their long 
 necks over the paling as far as possible, they stared with the 
 stoniest of stares at the unusual sight of a company of cavalry, 
 at the same time uttering their peculiar guttural sound, which, 
 in sixty-five different keys, made the most unearthly din. 
 
 The effect on the horses of the command was electrical, 
 and in the highest sense ludicrous. Every one seemed 
 possessed with the insane desire to walk on his hind legs and 
 spar the air with his forefeet. Many men were thrown, while 
 with others the horses, wild with terror, took the bit in their 
 teeth and made a clean bolt with their riders across the 
 prairie. A more demoralized body of troopers could not have 
 been found during the hottest battle of the war. 
 
62 
 
 GOVERNMENT CAMEIvS. 
 
 Not for some time could the scattered men and horses be 
 got together and something like order restored, and it was 
 several days before the horses and camels became reconciled 
 to each other, but they finally got on good terms and occupied 
 the same stable during our stay at the post. 
 
 The camels afforded us the greatest amusement. The first 
 evening of our arrival Major King and I strolled down to the 
 
 The Approach of Old Frances. 
 
 Stable to look at the menagerie, and while in the corral 
 watching the feeding process Major King lighted his pipe. 
 After he had taken a whiff or two, an immense camel, or 
 dromedary, one of the original herd, was observed coming 
 directly toward us, with most solemn and stately tread, and 
 with eyes fixed and immovable. 
 
 Old Frances, for that was the name of this beast, was a 
 
GOVKRNMBNT CAMEIyS. 
 
 63 
 
 most formidable-looking object. We stood our ground for a 
 moment and then retired a little ; as this towering presence 
 continued to advance, apparently as resistless as fate, we 
 became wholly demoralized, like our horses, and bolted out 
 of the corral. 
 
 A shout of laughter from one of the keepers called a halt. 
 We were informed that we were in no danger, and that 
 Old Frances only wanted a smoke, which proved to be the 
 fact. We were also told that some camels were very fond of 
 tobacco-smoke, and would follow any one about who was 
 smoking. 
 
 After we had found out the cause of Old Frances' 
 attention, we gave her all the smoke she wanted. To place 
 the bowl of the pipe in her nostril and blow hard through the 
 stem seemed to have the best effect. She would give a loud 
 snort, and throwing her head back almost on her hump, 
 would curl up her lip, close her eyes, and seem lost in an 
 ecstasy of enjoyment. Two rounds of this smoking business 
 fully satisfied her, and nothing could induce her to indulge 
 again until after several hours had passed. 
 
 These camels were, with one exception, as gentle as sheep. 
 The children of the keepers played among them with perfect 
 safety, and often climbed on the backs of the younger ones. 
 
 The only vicious one was the huge stallion. Major, who 
 was very dangerous, and was kept securely chained. His 
 chief delight was to kill every mule he could get at, and his 
 method of doing so was certainly original. He would place 
 his breast-bone on his victim's back, and by throwing forward 
 his great weight, would crush the poor brute to the earth, 
 and break its back. 
 
 Only one man dared lead the Major to water, and he did 
 not do it unnecessarily often. This performance was quite a 
 complicated one, for the Major took his own time. He would 
 walk a few steps, then stop to browse a few moments, and 
 no power bn earth could induce him to move on until he 
 was ready. A little farther on he would, perhaps, rear on 
 
64 
 
 GOVKRNMKN'T CAMKI.S. 
 
 his hind legs to nip the foliage of a live-oak tree, often 
 reaching to an astonishing height from the ground. The 
 man in charge could do nothing but stand meekly by until 
 his lordship saw fit to complete the trip. This watering 
 process generally consumed several hours, and the keeper 
 thanked his stars when it was over. 
 
 The scene in the morning, when the camels were taken out 
 together, was quite Oriental. Sixty-five strung out in single 
 file. Old Frances in the lead and the young ones bringing up 
 the rear, made a long line. One could always tell, without 
 looking, when the camels were out, for every ■ tethered mule 
 would bray and tug at his halter, and every loose animal 
 would charge around like mad till the camels were out of 
 sight. 
 
 Orders from Washington finally came to sell these animals 
 by public auction, and they were soon disposed of at a very 
 low price, chiefly to circus and menagerie owners, and were 
 dispersed in the United States and Mexico. 
 
 A. I. Pkck, U.S.A. 
 
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