The Log of a Cowboy: A Narrative of the Old Trail Days Read online

  CHAPTER II

  RECEIVING

  It was a nice ten days' trip from the San Antonio to the Rio GrandeRiver. We made twenty-five to thirty miles a day, giving the saddlehorses all the advantage of grazing on the way. Rather than hobble,Forrest night-herded them, using five guards, two men to the watch oftwo hours each. "As I have little hope of ever rising to the dignityof foreman," said our _segundo_, while arranging the guards, "I'lltake this occasion to show you varmints what an iron will I possess.With the amount of help I have, I don't propose to even catch a nighthorse; and I'll give the cook orders to bring me a cup of coffee and acigarette before I arise in the morning. I've been up the trail beforeand realize that this authority is short-lived, so I propose to makethe most of it while it lasts. Now you all know your places, and seeyou don't incur your foreman's displeasure."

  The outfit reached Brownsville on March 25th, where we picked up Floodand Lovell, and dropping down the river about six miles below FortBrown, went into camp at a cattle ford known as Paso Ganado. The RioGrande was two hundred yards wide at this point, and at its then stagewas almost swimming from bank to bank. It had very little current, andwhen winds were favorable the tide from the Gulf ran in above theford. Flood had spent the past two weeks across the river, receivingand road-branding the herd, so when the cattle should reach the riveron the Mexican side we were in honor bound to accept everythingbearing the "circle dot" the left hip. The contract called for athousand she cattle, three and four years of age, and two thousandfour and five year old beeves, estimated as sufficient to fill amillion-pound beef contract. For fear of losses on the trail, ourforeman had accepted fifty extra head of each class, and our herd atstarting would number thirty-one hundred head. They were coming upfrom ranches in the interior, and we expected to cross them the firstfavorable day after their arrival. A number of different rancheros hadturned in cattle in making up the herd, and Flood reported them ingood, strong condition.

  Lovell and Flood were a good team of cowmen. The former, as a youth,had carried a musket in the ranks of the Union army, and at the end ofthat struggle, cast his fortune with Texas, where others had seennothing but the desolation of war, Lovell saw opportunities ofbusiness, and had yearly forged ahead as a drover and beef contractor.He was well calculated to manage the cattle business, but wasirritable and inclined to borrow trouble, therefore unqualifiedpersonally to oversee the actual management of a cow herd. In repose,Don Lovell was slow, almost dull, but in an emergency wasastonishingly quick-witted and alert. He never insisted on temperanceamong his men, and though usually of a placid temperament, when out oftobacco--Lord!

  Jim Flood, on the other hand, was in a hundred respects the antithesisof his employer. Born to the soil of Texas, he knew nothing butcattle, but he knew them thoroughly. Yet in their calling, the pairwere a harmonious unit. He never crossed a bridge till he reached it,was indulgent with his men, and would overlook any fault, so long asthey rendered faithful service. Priest told me this incident: Floodhad hired a man at Red River the year before, when a self-appointedguardian present called Flood to one side and said,--"Don't you knowthat that man you've just hired is the worst drunkard in thiscountry?"

  "No, I didn't know it," replied Flood, "but I'm glad to hear he is. Idon't want to ruin an innocent man, and a trail outfit is not supposedto have any morals. Just so the herd don't count out shy on the day ofdelivery, I don't mind how many drinks the outfit takes."

  The next morning after going into camp, the first thing was theallotment of our mounts for the trip. Flood had the first pick, andcut twelve bays and browns. His preference for solid colors, thoughthey were not the largest in the _remuda_, showed his practical senseof horses. When it came the boys' turn to cut, we were only allowed tocut one at a time by turns, even casting lots for first choice. We hadridden the horses enough to have a fair idea as to their merits, andevery lad was his own judge. There were, as it happened, only threepinto horses in the entire saddle stock, and these three were the lastleft of the entire bunch. Now a little boy or girl, and many an olderperson, thinks that a spotted horse is the real thing, but practicalcattle men know that this freak of color in range-bred horses is theresult of in-and-in breeding, with consequent physical and mentaldeterioration. It was my good fortune that morning to get a good mountof horses,--three sorrels, two grays, two coyotes, a black, a brown,and a _grulla_. The black was my second pick, and though the color isnot a hardy one, his "bread-basket" indicated that he could carry foodfor a long ride, and ought to be a good swimmer. My judgment of himwas confirmed throughout the trip, as I used him for my night horseand when we had swimming rivers to ford. I gave this black the name of"Nigger Boy."

  For the trip each man was expected to furnish his own accoutrements.In saddles, we had the ordinary Texas make, the housings of whichcovered our mounts from withers to hips, and would weigh from thirtyto forty pounds, bedecked with the latest in the way of trimmings andtrappings.

  Our bridles were in keeping with the saddles, the reins as long asplough lines, while the bit was frequently ornamental and costly. Theindispensable slicker, a greatcoat of oiled canvas, was ever at hand,securely tied to our cantle strings. Spurs were a matter of taste. Ifa rider carried a quirt, he usually dispensed with spurs, though, whenused, those with large, dull rowels were the make commonly chosen. Inthe matter of leggings, not over half our outfit had any, as a trailherd always kept in the open, and except for night herding they weretoo warm in summer. Our craft never used a cattle whip, but ifemergency required, the loose end of a rope served instead, and wasmore humane.

  Either Flood or Lovell went into town every afternoon with some of theboys, expecting to hear from the cattle. On one trip they took alongthe wagon, laying in a month's supplies. The rest of us amusedourselves in various ways. One afternoon when the tide was in, wetried our swimming horses in the river, stripping to ourunderclothing, and, with nothing but a bridle on our horses, plungedinto tidewater. My Nigger Boy swam from bank to bank like a duck. Onthe return I slid off behind, and taking his tail, let him tow me toour own side, where he arrived snorting like a tugboat.

  One evening, on their return from Brownsville, Flood brought word thatthe herd would camp that night within fifteen miles of the river. Atdaybreak Lovell and the foreman, with "Fox" Quarternight and myself,started to meet the herd. The nearest ferry was at Brownsville, and itwas eleven o'clock when we reached the cattle. Flood had dispensedwith an interpreter and had taken Quarternight and me along to do theinterpreting. The cattle were well shed and in good flesh for such anearly season of the year, and in receiving, our foreman had beencareful and had accepted only such as had strength for a long voyage.They were the long-legged, long-horned Southern cattle, pale-coloredas a rule, possessed the running powers of a deer, and in an ordinarywalk could travel with a horse. They had about thirty vaqueros under acorporal driving the herd, and the cattle were strung out in regulartrailing manner. We rode with them until the noon hour, when, with theunderstanding that they were to bring the herd to Paso Ganado by teno'clock the following day, we rode for Matamoros. Lovell had otherherds to start on the trail that year, and was very anxious to crossthe cattle the following day, so as to get the weekly steamer--theonly mode of travel--which left Point Isabel for Galveston on thefirst of April.

  The next morning was bright and clear, with an east wind, whichinsured a flood tide in the river. On first sighting the herd thatmorning, we made ready to cross them as soon as they reached theriver. The wagon was moved up within a hundred yards of the ford, anda substantial corral of ropes was stretched. Then the entire saddlestock was driven in, so as to be at hand in case a hasty change ofmounts was required. By this time Honeyman knew the horses of eachman's mount, so all we had to do was to sing out our horse, and Billywould have a rope on one and have him at hand before you couldunsaddle a tired one. On account of our linguistic accomplishments,Quarternight and I were to be sent across the river to put the cattlein and otherwise assume control. On the Mexican side ther
e was asingle string of high brush fence on the lower side of the ford,commencing well out in the water and running back about two hundredyards, thus giving us a half chute in forcing the cattle to takeswimming water. This ford had been in use for years in crossingcattle, but I believe this was the first herd ever crossed that wasintended for the trail, or for beyond the bounds of Texas.

  When the herd was within a mile of the river, Fox and I shed oursaddles, boots, and surplus clothing and started to meet it. The waterwas chilly, but we struck it with a shout, and with the cheers of ouroutfit behind us, swam like smugglers. A swimming horse needs freedom,and we scarcely touched the reins, but with one hand buried in a manehold, and giving gentle slaps on the neck with the other, we guidedour horses for the other shore. I was proving out my black, Fox had agray of equal barrel displacement,--both good swimmers; and onreaching the Mexican shore, we dismounted and allowed them to roll inthe warm sand.

  Flood had given us general instructions, and we halted the herd abouthalf a mile from the river. The Mexican corporal was only too glad tohave us assume charge, and assured us that he and his outfit were oursto command. I at once proclaimed Fox Quarternight, whose years andexperience outranked mine, the _gringo_ corporal for the day, at whichthe vaqueros smiled, but I noticed they never used the word. On Fox'ssuggestion the Mexican corporal brought up his wagon and corralled hishorses as we had done, when his cook, to our delight, invited all tohave coffee before starting. That cook won our everlasting regards,for his coffee was delicious. We praised it highly, whereupon thecorporal ordered the cook to have it at hand for the men in theintervals between crossing the different bunches of cattle. A Marchday on the Rio Grande with wet clothing is not summer, and thevaqueros hesitated a bit before following the example of Quarternightand myself and dispensing with saddles and boots. Five men were thendetailed to hold the herd as compact as possible, and the remainder,twenty-seven all told, cut off about three hundred head and startedfor the river. I took the lead, for though cattle are less gregariousby nature than other animals, under pressure of excitement they willfollow a leader. It was about noon and the herd were thirsty, so whenwe reached the brush chute, all hands started them on a run for thewater. When the cattle were once inside the wing we went rapidly, fourvaqueros riding outside the fence to keep the cattle from turning thechute on reaching swimming water. The leaders were crowding me closewhen Nigger breasted the water, and closely followed by several leadcattle, I struck straight for the American shore. The vaqueros forcedevery hoof into the river, following and shouting as far as themidstream, when they were swimming so nicely, Quarternight called offthe men and all turned their horses back to the Mexican side. Onlanding opposite the exit from the ford, our men held the cattle asthey came out, in order to bait the next bunch.

  I rested my horse only a few minutes before taking the water again,but Lovell urged me to take an extra horse across, so as to have achange in case my black became fagged in swimming. Quarternight was aharsh _segundo_, for no sooner had I reached the other bank than hecut off the second bunch of about four hundred and started them.Turning Nigger Boy loose behind the brush fence, so as to be out ofthe way, I galloped out on my second horse, and meeting the cattle,turned and again took the lead for the river. My substitute did notswim with the freedom and ease of the black, and several times cattleswam so near me that I could lay my hand on their backs. When abouthalfway over, I heard shoutings behind me in English, and on lookingback saw Nigger Boy swimming after us. A number of vaqueros attemptedto catch him, but he outswam them and came out with the cattle; theexcitement was too much for him to miss.

  Each trip was a repetition of the former, with varying incident. Everyhoof was over in less than two hours. On the last trip, in which therewere about seven hundred head, the horse of one of the Mexicanvaqueros took cramps, it was supposed, at about the middle of theriver, and sank without a moment's warning. A number of us heard theman's terrified cry, only in time to see horse and rider sink. Everyman within reach turned to the rescue, and a moment later the man roseto the surface. Fox caught him by the shirt, and, shaking the waterout of him, turned him over to one of the other vaqueros, who towedhim back to their own side. Strange as it may appear, the horse nevercame to the surface again, which supported the supposition of cramps.

  After a change of clothes for Quarternight and myself, and rather latedinner for all hands, there yet remained the counting of the herd. TheMexican corporal and two of his men had come over for the purpose, andthough Lovell and several wealthy rancheros, the sellers of thecattle, were present, it remained for Flood and the corporal to makethe final count, as between buyer and seller. There was also present ariver guard,--sent out by the United States Custom House, as a matterof form in the entry papers,--who also insisted on counting. In orderto have a second count on the herd, Lovell ordered The Rebel to countopposite the government's man. We strung the cattle out, now logy withwater, and after making quite a circle, brought the herd around wherethere was quite a bluff bank of the river. The herd handled well, andfor a quarter of an hour we lined them between our four mountedcounters. The only difference in the manner of counting between Floodand the Mexican corporal was that the American used a tally stringtied to the pommel of his saddle, on which were ten knots, keepingcount by slipping a knot on each even hundred, while the Mexican usedten small pebbles, shifting a pebble from one hand to the other onhundreds. "Just a mere difference in nationality," Lovell had meinterpret to the selling dons.

  When the count ended only two of the men agreed on numbers, The Rebeland the corporal making the same thirty-one hundred and five,--Floodbeing one under and the Custom House man one over. Lovell at onceaccepted the count of Priest and the corporal; and the delivery,which, as I learned during the interpreting that followed, was to besealed with a supper that night in Brownsville, was consummated.Lovell was compelled to leave us, to make the final payment for theherd, and we would not see him again for some time. They were allseated in the vehicle ready to start for town, when the cowman said tohis foreman,--

  "Now, Jim, I can't give you any pointers on handling a herd, but youhave until the 10th day of September to reach the Blackfoot Agency. Anaverage of fifteen miles a day will put you there on time, so don'thurry. I'll try and see you at Dodge and Ogalalla on the way. Now,live well, for I like your outfit of men. Your credit letter is goodanywhere you need supplies, and if you want more horses on the trail,buy them and draft on me through your letter of credit. If any of yourmen meet with accident or get sick, look out for them the same as youwould for yourself, and I'll honor all bills. And don't be stingy overyour expense account, for if that herd don't make money, you and I hadbetter quit cows."

  I had been detained to do any interpreting needful, and at partingLovell beckoned to me. When I rode alongside the carriage, he gave mehis hand and said,--

  "Flood tells me to-day that you're a brother of Bob Quirk. Bob is tobe foreman of my herd that I'm putting up in Nueces County. I'm gladyou're here with Jim, though, for it's a longer trip. Yes, you'll getall the circus there is, and stay for the concert besides. They sayGod is good to the poor and the Irish; and if that's so, you'll pullthrough all right. Good-by, son." And as he gave me a hearty, ringinggrip of the hand, I couldn't help feeling friendly toward him, Yankeethat he was.

  After Lovell and the dons had gone, Flood ordered McCann to move hiswagon back from the river about a mile. It was now too late in the dayto start the herd, and we wanted to graze them well, as it was ourfirst night with them. About half our outfit grazed them around on alarge circle, preparatory to bringing them up to the bed ground as itgrew dusk. In the untrammeled freedom of the native range, a cow orsteer will pick old dry grass on which to lie down, and if it issummer, will prefer an elevation sufficient to catch any passingbreeze. Flood was familiar with the habits of cattle, and selected anice elevation on which the old dry grass of the previous summer'sgrowth lay matted like a carpet.

  Our saddle horses by this time were fairly well b
roken to camp life,and, with the cattle on hand, night herding them had to be abandoned.Billy Honeyman, however, had noticed several horses that were inclinedto stray on day herd, and these few leaders were so well marked in hismemory that, as a matter of precaution, he insisted on putting a ropehobble on them. At every noon and night camp we strung a rope from thehind wheel of our wagon and another from the end of the wagon tongueback to stakes driven in the ground or held by a man, forming atriangular corral. Thus in a few minutes, under any conditions, wecould construct a temporary corral for catching a change of mounts, orfor the wrangler to hobble untrustworthy horses. On the trail allhorses are free at night, except the regular night ones, which areused constantly during the entire trip, and under ordinary conditionskeep strong and improve in flesh.

  Before the herd was brought in for the night, and during the supperhour, Flood announced the guards for the trip. As the men usuallybunked in pairs, the foreman chose them as they slept, but was underthe necessity of splitting two berths of bedfellows. "Rod" Wheat, JoeStallings, and Ash Borrowstone were assigned to the first guard, fromeight to ten thirty P.M. Bob Blades, "Bull" Durham, and FoxQuarternight were given second guard, from ten thirty to one. PaulPriest, John Officer, and myself made up the third watch, from one tothree thirty. The Rebel and I were bunkies, and this choice of guards,while not ideal, was much better than splitting bedfellows and havingthem annoy each other by going out and returning from guardseparately. The only fault I ever found with Priest was that he coulduse the poorest judgment in selecting a bed ground for our blankets,and always talked and told stories to me until I fell asleep. He was alight sleeper himself, while I, being much younger, was the reverse.The fourth and last guard, from three thirty until relieved afterdaybreak, fell to Wyatt Roundtree, Quince Forrest, and "Moss"Strayhorn. Thus the only men in the outfit not on night duty wereHoneyman, our horse wrangler, Barney McCann, our cook, and Flood, theforeman. The latter, however, made up by riding almost double as muchas any man in his outfit. He never left the herd until it was beddeddown for the night, and we could always hear him quietly arousing thecook and horse wrangler an hour before daybreak. He always kept ahorse on picket for the night, and often took the herd as it left thebed ground at clear dawn.

  A half hour before dark, Flood and all the herd men turned out to beddown the cattle for our first night. They had been well grazed aftercounting, and as they came up to the bed ground there was not a hungryor thirsty animal in the lot. All seemed anxious to lie down, and bycircling around slowly, while gradually closing in, in the course ofhalf an hour all were bedded nicely on possibly five or six acres. Iremember there were a number of muleys among the cattle, and thesewould not venture into the compact herd until the others had laindown. Being hornless, instinct taught them to be on the defensive, andit was noticeable that they were the first to arise in the morning, inadvance of their horned kin. When all had lain down, Flood and thefirst guard remained, the others returning to the wagon.

  The guards ride in a circle about four rods outside the sleepingcattle, and by riding in opposite directions make it impossible forany animal to make its escape without being noticed by the riders. Theguards usually sing or whistle continuously, so that the sleeping herdmay know that a friend and not an enemy is keeping vigil over theirdreams. A sleeping herd of cattle make a pretty picture on a clearmoonlight night, chewing their cuds and grunting and blowing overcontented stomachs. The night horses soon learn their duty, and arider may fall asleep or doze along in the saddle, but the horses willmaintain their distance in their leisurely, sentinel rounds.

  On returning to the wagon, Priest and I picketed our horses, saddled,where we could easily find them in the darkness, and unrolled our bed.We had two pairs of blankets each, which, with an ordinary wagon sheetdoubled for a tarpaulin, and coats and boots for pillows, completedour couch. We slept otherwise in our clothing worn during the day, andif smooth, sandy ground was available on which to spread our bed, wehad no trouble in sleeping the sleep that long hours in the saddlewere certain to bring. With all his pardonable faults, The Rebel was agood bunkie and a hail companion, this being his sixth trip over thetrail. He had been with Lovell over a year before the two made thediscovery that they had been on opposite sides during the "lateunpleasantness." On making this discovery, Lovell at once rechristenedPriest "The Rebel," and that name he always bore. He was fifteen yearsmy senior at this time, a wonderfully complex nature, hardened byunusual experiences into a character the gamut of whose moods ran fromthat of a good-natured fellow to a man of unrelenting severity inanger.

  We were sleeping a nine knot gale when Fox Quarternight of the secondguard called us on our watch. It was a clear, starry night, and ourguard soon passed, the cattle sleeping like tired soldiers. When thelast relief came on guard and we had returned to our blankets, Iremember Priest telling me this little incident as I fell asleep.

  "I was at a dance once in Live Oak County, and there was a stutteringfellow there by the name of Lem Todhunter. The girls, it seems, didn'tcare to dance with him, and pretended they couldn't understand him. Hehad asked every girl at the party, and received the same answer fromeach--they couldn't understand him. 'W-w-w-ell, g-g-g-go to hell,then. C-c-c-can y-y-you understand that?' he said to the last girl,and her brother threatened to mangle him horribly if he didn'tapologize, to which he finally agreed. He went back into the house andsaid to the girl, 'Y-y-you n-n-n-needn't g-g-g-go to hell; y-y-yourb-b-b-brother and I have m-m-made other 'r-r-r-rangements.'"