Chapter VI

Cow-Boy History--Mustangs and Broncos--Cow-Boys with
Six-Shooters--Dodge City--Boot Grave-yard--Prairie
Mysteries--Dance-Halls--Sketch of Buffalo Bill--Theory of the
Plains--Trading-House--Antelope Chase--We Prepare for a Mountain
Tour.

Most persons of ordinary information have heard something of the character of the population of the great American plains, and have observed that the _cow-boys_ have had their share of attention and comment. From actual observations made during my long roam upon the prairies I feel able to contribute a few lines that will no doubt be interesting to persons who have read such speculative and varied accounts, and who wish to be well and truly informed.

The great country that has been described as adapted to no other purpose than stock-raising is necessarily almost exclusively populated with cow-men; and, without legal restraint, the prairie fairly trembles with their power. I am personally acquainted with many of the boys; and while I have many _warm friends_ among them, I also have some _deadly enemies_. I have studied their dispositions, and, by the instrument of warmest confidence, have drawn from their bosoms many dark and hidden secrets. When a person takes into consideration the _position_ and _surroundings_ of these boys, he is not astonished at the almost unexceptionably bold, bestial, and immoral character of these creatures of the broad western wilds. In _civilized_ and _Christianized_ regions, if a person be disposed to be rough and immoral--though he often meets those of like disposition and is _encouraged_,--he _must_ and _will_, from time to time, come in contact with those whom the faintest throbbings of natural manhood will move him to respect; for instance, the sweet smile or the soft, silver-toned word from the lips of a kind female or the address of a noble man. As he walks the streets by the dim light of the gas-lamp, profaning the Sabbath or planning dark vices, the sweet strains from the lips of the worshipers away up in the tabernacle will waft out of the open window upon the soft evening zephyrs and irresistibly appeal to his faint sensibilities. The voice of the good minister is heard; and though the heart be mailed with a coat of evil and the spark of celestial fire called conscience be almost smothered, these soft influences are felt and are fuel to the fire of man’s natural sensibilities. And back of all this is the strong hand of the law, backed by public sentiment, with which the latitude of man’s privileges is measured out. The checks are so many and so great that it is some time before the conscience of man can be overcome by the rolling waves of immoral and iniquitous temptations. But it is quite otherwise in the unsettled country where the musical strains do not reach nor the words of the gospel sound, and where the sweet influence of womanhood is not shed, and worst of all, where the _law_ is the _will_ and the might makes the right. There is nothing to stay the degeneration into which mankind is naturally so prone to drift; and in several years’ life with such surroundings the sensibilities of man become as callous as a stone. The very atmosphere is impregnated with profanity, and new-comers can seldom resist the epidemic. Many of these boys stay alone away out upon distant ranges for several months at a stretch without seeing a human being, with the howl of the wolf and the angry growl of the wild beasts constantly floating upon the prairie breeze, and the monotony broken now and then by the war-whoop of the treacherous red-man, who cruises upon the plain beneath his white plume, seeking the lives and scalps of the lone boys. The effect of a life in the open air, and a diet of wild meats, together with the influences of an unsettled country, I have already felt by actual experience; and he who has described the wickedness and boldness of the cow-boy in the strongest language I will assure you is not guilty of exaggeration, for indeed they are savages. They do most all their work upon horseback; and being in the saddle every day, they are so expert at equestrianism that it is amusing to see them ride. They walk so little that the muscles of their legs are very weak, and on foot they can do very little. They always keep a pony picketed close by, and if they want to go a quarter of a mile the pony is saddled.

The bronco is a California pony, and the mustang is a pony that was found upon the plains of Mexico. Both these breeds are used by cow-men; and they are, with few exceptions, very hard to break. They are natural _buckers_; and some of them never forget it, and take a heat at it after being rode for several years; that is, they put their head between their knees, stick out their tails, and then begin to jump stiff-legged. The first lunge will perhaps be four or five feet forward, the next several feet backward, then from side to side, and all the while bawling like an ox. They sometimes begin as soon as the sinch is drawn and before it is fastened, and tearing furiously from the boy they buck over the plain until the saddle comes off or until they are entirely exhausted. It is a curious habit, but it appears to be natural with them; and if any person takes it to be an agreeable exercise to back one of these professional buckers, he should try it on once, and I will assure him that one fall upon the back of the neck will be sufficient to convince him that he was mistaken. It takes _practice_ to be able to ride one of these fellows; and men considered good riders in the East are tipped by these ponies as easily as a stone from a slippery log. To see a big tender-foot back a bucker is about as funny a thing as I ever witnessed. The first jump the boy pops up about six inches, the next a foot, and so on. Soon he pops up so high that the pony gets one pop ahead of him, and when he comes down the pony is gone; and with a thud he comes to the ground, usually upon the back of his shoulders, with his feet gesticulating wildly in the direction he came from. These boys are so well up to them, however, that they do not think much about it, _ordinarily_, though there is one sometimes that it takes the best rider to stick. I saw a boy mount a pony that it was said could not be rode, while he said he could not be thrown. The pony began his wickedest; and such bucking I never saw. He bucked for full fifteen minutes, and was worried down. The blood was gushing from the mouth and nose of the rider. The powerful jerking had almost _ruined_ him; and of the effects of that ride he said he never expected to be cured. “But,” said he, “in all my riding-experiences in fifteen years upon the prairie, I never backed the like.” Now, when a little _mule_ once learns to buck, he is what the cow-boys call double-geared lightning; for this, with the natural-born ability of the mule, enables him to come as near _playing hell_ as is possible without using the real material; and a person who did not see him begin would swear it was a _herd_ of mules dashing around, so numerous and violent are his maneuvers. When a wild pony is to be broken he is roped, a saddle strapped upon him, and the rider takes his seat. He is then turned loose upon the prairie to cut capers, while the other boys ride after him to keep from going too far, or from jumping into bogs or gutters. As they come dashing over the prairie whooping and hallooing, the pony bucking and bawling, and the rider applying his big spurs, the sight is grand; and it is seldom one of these boys is moved from his seat. When the pony is worried out, he then puts a bridle on him and drills him. Of course it would be impossible to ride these fellows with the saddles that are used in the states. But, as has been said, these saddles are large, the horn is high, and when mounting a bad pony a roll of blankets is tied upon the saddle-skirt, and it is difficult to get a rider from his seat. Some of these boys have been almost _born_ in the saddle; and riding _so much_, they are so bow-legged they can hardly walk. I have seen these boys ride along on a dead run and grab up in succession four and five silver dollars that were laid upon the ground fifty yards apart. They become very _venturesome_ and _mischievous_, and sometimes catch the big-horned Texas steers, jump upon their backs, pull their tail up over the shoulder, and my, oh! what a time! The steer bounds away snorting, bucking, and bellowing; but in spite of his efforts the boy holds on to the tail and keeps his seat. When they want some milk they ride out and rope a cow; and while the pony holds the cow they milk what they want. From so much _practice_, these boys are as expert with the six-shooter as with the pony; and persons considering themselves good shots should not brand themselves superior until once shooting a round or two with a cow-boy. I have seen boys ride over the river bridge at Granada, and at a dead run shoot two and three glass telegraph insulators from the railing in one round from the six-shooter. They practice this so much that they can shoot better from a pony than from the ground. Some have the cells filed out, so that the firing can be done more rapidly. There are saloons all along the railroads and cattle-trails, and when the boys are out alone upon the range for some time they feel like having a _picnic_ when getting to where somebody lives. They are usually very liberal when they have money, and everybody present is called on to “come up and represent.” Whisky is considered the _grace of God_ in this country, and of course it is very seldom refused. Now, if there are several together, a few drinks about makes happiness full; and the ball then opens. The boys all draw good wages, their expenses are light, and most of them aim to spend in saloons every dollar that is not needed for actual necessaries. They often draw from fifty to one hundred dollars at once, and spend every dollar of it before leaving a saloon. There are men making fortunes off the cow-boys to-day. There are professional gamblers lurking around most of these frontier saloons, and they watch to _intoxicate_ the boys and then play them out of their money. Though the game be begun in the best of humor, it is usual for each man to lay his six-shooter at his side; and the _maxim_ is, _mind your eye_. As long as everything is done squarely there is no trouble; but the first man that is caught tricking is in hot quarters; and I have seen some deadly battles without one word spoken. Sometimes the gamblers entirely strip the boys, and with an understanding, when there is a large pot, they point the six-shooters at the gamblers’ heads and pull in the pile.

Some years ago Dodge City, Kansas, was given up to be the roughest and most wicked place in the United States. It is situated right where the Texas trail crosses the railroad, and was a regular stock-center. Numbers of cow-boys were constantly going in and out, and whole dens of gamblers and prostitutes were quartered here for lucre. The population being composed of _such beings_, and the clash of the six-shooter being the voice of the law, the vilest consequences are but natural. Ah! many a man played his last game here, and mingled his dying-breath with the lurid smoke of the six-shooters. Men were shot down like dogs, and buried as they fell, red with gore and horribly mangled.

There is at this place a yard called the _Boot Grave-yard_, a place well known to all western men, and called thus from the fact that thirty-eight men have been buried here with their boots on. There was scarcely a day that there was not a riot in town among the cow-boys, or between the cow-boys and gamblers; and of course _shooting_ and _cutting_ was the consequence. Emigrants passing through with wagons, and not knowing the place, were decoyed into dark places and robbed. Passengers from the trains, on going in for refreshments and showing any amount of money, were trapped and robbed, and were killed upon resistance. You are a stranger in the country, and they are all cliqued together; and what are you to do? If you go to making much trouble, or get to shooting off your mouth, the consequences can be imagined. Even when there are _officers_, they are not able to command order; for the first day they try it a ball from some unknown villain will strike him. Hence the officers are usually cliqued with the desperadoes. The easier a person can get out of these places the better; for the officers themselves will put you into a dungeon for the gamblers to rob you.

Fully one half the gamblers and cow-boys of the West are persons who have committed dark crimes and fled thither to escape _justice_; and wickedness, when once _launched_, will find in this country easy sailing.

As has been said, almost every cow-boy has one pony and riding-rig of his own. In case he should come into a place and _kill_ somebody, this pony is calculated to skip with to another part, thereby avoiding the necessity of riding off one of the company’s horses.

The regular initiation to the cow-boys’ society is three murders; and when they find that you are good stuff, and will shoot without ceremony, you are one of the _boys_; and you may depend upon it that you have friends who will stand by you in the hours of darkest danger. But if you prove to be a _brag_ and a _coward_, your misfortunes are laughed at.

If a criminal is pursued, and he can reach the banks of the Arkansas River anywhere west of Dodge City, and then understands the plains, he is as safe as though he were in an uninhabited land. Or if he does not understand the prairie, and goes to a cow-camp and tells the boys what is up, if he has the right appearance one of them will mount a _pony_ and give _him_ one, and lope across to another range. Persons who do not know the country can not _follow_ a person here; and if it is tried, and you do not perish from _thirst_, death will meet you in _some way_--you can rest assured of that. Telegraph-wires and officers of the law are of little avail here in running down a felon; and if a person keeps on his guard, and stays upon the range away from the towns, there is no danger of ever being taken.

Many of the boys are _never_ caught off their guard, and the belt is upon them at the board and in the bed. They are _ever_ prepared. Every stranger is watched with an eagle eye, and the least suspicion is nipped in the bud.

There was one boy who had been upon the plains for several years, and who had proved himself a hero. He had committed murder in Alabama and fled from justice, and a New York _detective_ had been employed to hunt him down; but it was some years before a clue could be found. He one night came to the home of the widowed mother, and passing himself off as a peddler not long from Germany, in a long, cunning conversation he obtained a slight trace of the felon son; and at length he trailed him to the Colorado plains. He learned that he was cow-punching; and the only way to get him was to cow-punch too. So, rigging himself out in a cow-boy’s dress, he hired to a company and went to work. He was at the business several weeks, and at length came across his man. He had been very careful about every word and motion, and, assuming a careless appearance, he was not in the least suspicioned. He knew he was in a dangerous position; for if the cow-boys even mistrusted him he would be shot. But with great cunning and ingenuity he had avoided all suspicion; and after awhile he became quite intimate, and was taken into the cow-boy’s confidence. He watched his opportunity, and was alone with his man upon the Tepee, in Texas, one beautiful summer’s eve; and they both stooped to drink from the little stream. The detective was careful to arise first, and drawing his six-shooter he leveled it upon his man, and as he rose said, “Surrender, and be quiet; for you are my prisoner.” Quick as a flash the cow-boy saw his position, and resolved to make the most of it. Maintaining his presence of mind he coolly remarked, “Well, I suppose you want my arms.” The detective, not realizing his real danger, and not considering the cow-boy’s dexterity with a pistol, assented to the boy handing him the pistol, but kept his aim. The six-shooter was drawn from the scabbard, the fore-finger was slipped into the guard in front of the trigger, and, taking the pistol by the barrel, he reached it to the detective; and as he let down his own arm and reached for the extended weapon the cow-boy whirled the six-shooter, caught the handle, and in a twinkling a ball was sent whizzing through the body of the detective; and he lay pouring his life-blood upon the green bank of the Tepee, at the very feet of his intended victim.

It was only by long acquaintance and the most perfect confidence that I was intrusted with these secrets. I passed by the dead body before the color had quite left the cheeks. He was a fine-looking man, with an intellectual appearance; but, lest he should give himself away, he had cleaned out his pockets, and there was not even a paper by which his name could be ascertained. There may be a good woman and loving family somewhere in New York to-day waiting for the return of a long-absented loved one; but God forbid that it should be he whose bones lie bleaching on the banks of the Tepee. There are many such cases; and could the ghastly skulls but tell their tales, great volumes could be written of what will ever remain a deep secret.

Persons traveling over the plains will from time to time come upon human remains, some but partially decomposed and others disarticulated skeletons. A few miles north of the Arkansas River, in eastern Colorado, there is a long, deep hollow that from the great number of skeletons found therein is called _Dead Man’s Arroyo_. They appear to have been there for many years; but there is not a mark upon the valley rocks or spirit-whisper in the soft air to tell the sad tale. It is _supposed_ that a hunting outfit was surprised at night and murdered by the Indians.

While hunting in the pan-handle country, we found the skeletons of four ponies lying in a circle, and a human skeleton (apparently a negro) lying among them. There were seventy-two Winchester cartridge-shells by his side; and it is thought that he was attacked by Indians, and for shelter shot down all his ponies, then fought off his enemies until his ammunition was exhausted, and died by a cruel hand. I have spent many interesting hours in the careful investigation of these mysteries, and surmising the causes and means by which these results were effected. From the fact that crime can be committed in the silence of the lonely plain, with so little _danger_ of ever being discovered (the body often wasting to a skeleton before being discovered), there are many cold-blooded killings. When the least difficulty occurs among persons here, the arbitrator is almost invariably the six-shooter.

There are _dance-halls_ in many of the _little towns_ within the cow-boy’s range. They are usually built of sod or _adobe_, and are about fifty feet long and thirty feet wide. In one corner there is a bar; and in the back end of the building are several small rooms in which stay the female dancers. They are usually Mexican girls. Musicians are employed to stay here all the time; and every night some of the cow-boys, Mexicans, or miners come in,--often from twenty and thirty miles,--for a dance. At the end of each set each boy must take his partner to the bar. Drinks and cigars are usually two bits apiece, and the lowest is fifteen cents apiece or two for two bits. If it is found out that there are boys in who have much money, the bar-keeper posts the musicians and the sets are cut very short. As long as the boys will spend money the dance is kept up, if it is all night; but so soon as the money stops the dance stops. The profits are large, and among these reckless boys a shrewd hall-man often clears from one hundred and fifty to two hundred dollars in a single night. Knowing the character and disposition of the persons who attend these balls, and considering the attending circumstances upon these occasions, the scenes can be readily imagined. Desperadoes gather in from all directions, boys meet here to settle quarrels, and cow-boys and Mexicans being _natural_ enemies, there are often mighty lively times. Each boy is ambitious to be a _bad man_; and after they get pretty well fired with liquor the recklessness commences and the wild spirit begins to glitter. Six-shooters are jerked, knives are drawn, and with wild yells bottles and glasses are shot from the bar, lights are fired down, and the basest profanity floats out of the appertures of the earthly hell upon the prairie breeze. Old grudges are stirred up, bullies try to pick a quarrel from others and then strike them down and try to run the house. One boy will imagine himself insulted by some other, and getting his friends together a fight is begun. Boys are shot down upon the dancing-floor, and each man tries to be the bloodiest. The consequences of these wicked balls are often very bitter, and there are some sickening scenes to be viewed in the morning light. I recollect being at Las Animas, Colorado, one night when there was a dance at the old Alhambra (a Mexican dance-hall), and I went to the ball to see how things were carried on and to learn the Colorado styles. I got there early in the evening, and the Mexicans were having a big fandango in six-eight time. About nine o’clock the cow-boys began to gather in, when things began to warm up and the scene put on a new aspect. The cow-boys got wild with liquor, and riding around the hall yelling and shooting, they made the old _adobe_ dust fly like sand in a hurricane. Bullets whistled in every direction, and when one cut through my beard I concluded things were getting a little _warm_; but wanting to see it _all_, I got behind the bar with the tender. There were a good many _Mexicans_ in the hall, and the two parties began to contend for the house. There were two doors in _front_, and three boys arranged themselves in a line at either door. The doors were then thrown open by others, and leaning low upon the ponies, the six boys plunged their spurs into the sides of their animals and like a flash rushed into the house. They rode up to the lights and struck them down with their six-shooters; and then in the darkness the bloody contest was hand-to-hand. The women screamed, the horses snorted, the cow-boys shot, and the Mexicans cut. I knew the contest was bloody, and I was anxious to know how the thing was coming on; but the horses were prancing around so furiously, and it was too dark to dodge the bullets that were flying like rocks in an earthquake, so I kept behind the bar and waited for the curtain to rise. In about five minutes the noise abated; and when the lamps were lighted a horrible spectacle met my view. The ponies were all out; but three of the riders were horribly mutilated and bleeding upon the floor. Two Mexicans (greasers) were also riddled with bullets and gasping in death, while others were badly wounded. I went out among the cow-boys and found that some of them were also deeply gashed and bleeding. They had got the _worst_ of the battle; and being late in the night they concluded to disperse and come in _some_ other night for some more fun. There was not a boy in the crowd that appeared to be in the _least affected_ with the loss of his comrades, and with wild whoops they rushed off like the wind. Going into the hall I found the band playing, and the Mexicans were preparing to continue the ball. The five bodies were dragged up in the corner and a blanket thrown over them, and in the blood of the expired men the fandango was carried on till the morn began to dawn. This was a regular _dance-hall_ scene, and not in any way an unusual one. I attended balls at a number of different halls, and witnessed many bloody riots.

Of course, these halls are not allowed near towns of much _size_ or _importance_, where men live with their _families_, but are mostly in small places, and in many cases are far out upon the range. They are built in all shapes. The very air is contaminated with the vicious venom that arises from their walls like the odor from hell. Some are built by digging into the _ground_ a few feet and then putting a few feet of _adobes_ on top, making the ceiling just high enough for a man to _walk_ under; and when the fiends gather in the nights are made hideous and the noise of the riots sounds like the rumbling of the infernal regions. These houses are the manufactories of evil and the polluted fountains from which untold misery and wickedness have been drunk by the unfortunate ones who traveled thither. Many a noble though _ambitious_ young man, the pride of a happy family and the delight of his fellow-comrades, has gone west to seek his fortune, like his forefathers in years gone by. The location is often made in these wild places, and when the cultivated delicacy and human timidity are once a little numbed, he walks with his _comrades_ and is soon led to their venomous dens. Though it may be a little _shocking_ at first, there is nothing but his own lonely conscience to discourage him and warn him of the enormity and danger; and under the circumstances the _ordinary_ man is tempted and will go down. When he visits these houses the seeds are sown in his breast that the oxygen of prairie air will hasten to maturity.

Every man who visits these places has his life in his hand; and it is as easily dropped as though it were the most insignificant article. Often when a fond family is daily looking for a loved one to return, his spirit is winging the subtile air and his bones are bleaching upon the prairie, the secret, like the body, melting into clay. Of course, as was said, these vile places and extremely wicked inhabitants are principally found in small towns in the midst of the unsettled _country_ or where these earthly hells are pitched in the midst of the plain; for there are some _pretty_ little towns and _good_ people. It appears somewhat strange that man--and not only man--will so degenerate, and become so extremely wicked and beastly; but it appears that the average person, when living in a wild, unsettled country, surrounded with so much evil, loses all his refinement and develops into a new creature.

While picturing western life and relating frontier adventures it may be _proper_ and perhaps _interesting_ to many to give a sketch of the life of Hon. Wm. F. Cody,--“Buffalo Bill,”--a man known the world over as a border hero, of whom too much can not be said in the way of praise for valuable services rendered the Government as an army-scout, guide, and Indian-fighter.

Born in Iowa in 1843, at a time when that state was a border, and at an early age going with his father to Kansas, in the midst of the troubles there that “tried men’s souls,” William F. Cody was reared amid scenes of danger, and met with many thrilling adventures ere he reached his thirteenth year, becoming a “boy hero” when killing his first Indian before he entered his teens.

The death of his father, from the result of wounds received in the Kansas war, left the boy the support of his mother and sisters, and, precocious for his years, he joined an emigrant-train as teamster, and rapidly rose from that position to hunter and guide over the overland trails to the far West.

Of his numerous adventures, narrow escapes, Indian battles, and hardships volumes could be written--for he made his name famous along the border from Utah to Texas; and though a mere boy in years, few men were his superior in strength and endurance, while the cunning of the red-man he matched with equal cunning, and, in fact, won the name of being able to “out-Injun, Injun.”

Of Mr. Cody’s gaining the title of “Buffalo Bill” several stories are told, one of which is that when a boy-hunter to one of Russell, Major & Waddell’s trains, carrying Government supplies west to the forts, he was alone on the prairie one day, hunting, when he espied a tremendous herd of buffaloes coming toward him at full speed. The train-encampment was miles away, the boy was on foot, and there was but one chance to escape being trampled to death, and that was to reach a lone cotton-wood tree some distance off. A fleet runner, he gained the tree and drew himself up into the branches just as the herd of thousands of buffaloes came tearing along beneath him. Scarcely had he mentally congratulated himself upon his lucky escape when he espied behind the herd half a hundred Sioux warriors in full pursuit; and he knew that they would make short work of him, for they would also pass under the tree. To remain was certain death; and his fertile mind saw a chance,--one in a thousand,--and he seized upon it at once. He would drop down on the back of a huge buffalo-bull, and thus ride out of danger. This he did, landing astride of the back of an animal that, frightened fearfully, endeavored to throw him off, but in vain. Fortunately the herd headed in the direction of the train-encampment, and as the men ran out to secure fresh buffalo meat they saw that one of the bulls had a rider, and a crack shot bringing the animal down, it was found to be Bill Cody, who was then and there christened “Buffalo Bill.”

Another account is that when hunting for the hands on the Kansas Pacific Railroad he, in one season, killed four thousand two hundred and eighty buffaloes, and thereby won the title that he is known by the world over.

As a pony-express rider, when fifteen years of age, under the famous Alf. Slade, Buffalo Bill won a name as being a rider of marvelous skill and endurance, making, on one occasion, a continuous ride of three hundred and thirty-two miles, and accomplishing the whole distance in twenty-two hours,--truly a wonderful feat.

But it was when he became a scout in the army that he made his greatest name; and the general officers under whom he has served, and those who have served with him, give him the credit of being a man of unimpaired skill in prairie craft, indomitable courage, a miraculous marksman with rifle and revolver, and at all times a gentleman.

Receiving only a common-school education, Buffalo Bill has since educated himself; for, a thorough reader of human nature and close observer of men and things, he falls naturally into the ways of polite society, while, a great reader, he has a fund of general information one would not believe possible to be attained by a person who had led his arduous, busy, and adventurous life.

Over six feet in height, formed like an Apollo, and as handsome as a picture, he is a man to attract universal attention wherever he goes, to which, however, he seems utterly indifferent.

At the time of the visit of the Grand Duke Alexis to the United States, General Sheridan selected Buffalo Bill as his guide, and he received from the duke a magnificent diamond ring in return for his services, and an invitation to visit him in Russia, which Mr. Cody says he will one day accept.

Acting also as guide and hunter for numerous parties of English noblemen hunting on the plains, and also for Mr. James Gordon Bennett, J. G. Hecksher, Leonard and Lawrence Jerome, Colonel Schuyler Crosby, and other noted Americans, he soon became known as a _bona fide_ frontiersman.

When the late Mr. Frank Leslie made his memorable trip to the Pacific coast, Buffalo Bill was his invited guest through the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

Thus becoming famous through his own deeds, Mr. Cody was seized upon as the hero of many an “o’er true tale” in the weekly papers, and was urged to come to the East and engage in a dramatic enterprise, in which he has been successful as an actor, and made a snug fortune.

As a pistol and rifle shot Mr. Cody has no superior; and his deeds with fire-arms are simply miraculous, and must be seen to be believed.

At present Mr. Cody resides at North Platte, Nebraska, where he has a large cattle-ranch, which yields him a handsome sum annually, and where he is known as a “cattle-king.”

The cause of this great region of the plains spreading out treeless and devoid of vegetation has been the subject of extravagant _conjecture_, and some queer _theories_ have been advanced. Some persons think that it was once covered with trees and plants, but was swept over by fire, which so thoroughly destroyed all seed and roots that there was nothing left to sprout; hence the broad, clear range. All persons who have _been_ upon the plains will scout all such theories, for nothing will grow there if planted. The physical condition of this great track is but the reasonable effect of the working of natural laws. _Rain_ is all that is required to make the desert beam and blossom like the beautiful valleys of the _states_, though of course it would take some years to turn the dry sands into soil. No well-informed person wonders why _Sahara_ is a desert; and though the region of the plains is visited with a few more little showers, and the surface is not so sandy, yet the _principle_ is the _same_. What falls from the clouds is but that which arises by the process of evaporation from the waters below. The evaporation from our little _inland_ waters is very _limited_, that as _rain_ it would amount to very few and feeble showers. The great oceans, seas, and gulfs that fringe the continent are the mighty reservoirs from which rise our dews and refreshing showers; and wherever their moisture is not carried, the effect is invariably that of which the great deserts of the world, and the mighty plains of America, bear testimony to-day. In this case, the distance is so great from the waters north and east that all the moisture is lost before it reaches the prairie-land. It is also a great way from the gulf, and to the west the _mountain ranges_ rear their cold summits aloof to extract the dampness from the Pacific breeze. Hence, so long as the broad, open waters roll in their present channels, and the hills and valleys remain, the American plains will divide the East from the West, and their dry surface will glitter in the bright, burning sun. It is, nevertheless, an excellent stock-range; and judging from the mighty herds annually shipped from this great field, it appears a _necessary_ pasture-land for the _world_. It appears that the all-designing Providence, in the creation, prepared for the contingencies of mankind, and adapted this region to its present use, as well as the mountain-sides to the glittering diamonds and rusty ores.

There being so little rain here, there are no stagnant waters to poison the air; and the atmosphere being so dry substances do not _rot_, but simply wither, dry up, and blow away. Carcasses will sometimes lie for _several years_ before the hide is broken. There are, consequently, no noxious substances to impart their impurities, and the air is left perfectly wholesome. The buzzard and blow-fly have no putrefying masses to hover over, and are consequently not known here. Fresh meat can be hung up in the open air, without salt, and it will dry out sweet and beautiful; hence, the West for health. For pulmonary troubles, this pure, dry atmosphere is the balm of life; and there are numbers of healthy and happy persons in the West to-day, rejoicing and praising the western angel who snatched them from the brink of eastern graves.

But to go back. I said we calculated to go into _business_ in the valley for the winter; and so we did. Charles turned cow-boy, and stayed at the home ranch during the winter; Dave and John were employed at the round-house; and, seeing a chance to make money yet _another_ way, I built a trading-house upon the prairie at the end of the railway-section at Granada, where stand a few little houses. I stocked with blankets, rough clothing, hats, boots, flour, corn, tobacco, cigars, etc. A small space was partitioned off at one end for a bar-room, and I hired a well-known and influential cow-boy to attend to this, not thinking the latter an _honorable_ part of my business, to _Ohio_ eyes, but aware that if a person wants to sell in any country he must keep what the people want to buy; for _otherwise_ he is not patronized. My customers were cow-boys, Mexicans, Indians, emigrants, and the few settlers in the valley. Of course, one would naturally expect lively times once in awhile, under such circumstances; but I could smell the money in the air.

Myself and my hands were largely acquainted with the boys; and they came in from all directions, saying that they wanted to spend their money with us. The bar-keeper was _admired_ by all the boys; and having great influence over them, he seldom had much trouble. I bought furs from the Indians and hunters, and realized large profits. Taking strips of bright-colored calicoes, I tied them in bunches; and the Indian being great for dashing _colors_, a few cents’ worth of calico bought many an Indian fur. They are also slaves to _tobacco_ and _whisky_; and it was seldom they took _money_ away, no matter how many furs they brought in. They never _wanted_ to _sell_, but to _trade_.

The boys here are very _curious_ about _luxuries_ and _oddities_; and I used to have much sport with them. One time I sent to Kansas City for a keg of pickled pig’s-feet; and when there were a good many _boys_ in I opened it. After the boys found that they were good, I sold half a keg, at fifteen cents apiece, before I stopped. It was amusing to see them running round, each with a pig’s-foot in his hand. At another time I bought a number of large silk _neck-ties_; and after selling _one_, I sold the whole lot the same day for one dollar and seventy-five cents apiece. They tied them round their necks, and used them for hat-bands. Of course the _profits_ were large upon all sales, and I made money fast. This was in the winter of 1878-9,--the time of the great excitement and emigration to Leadville,--and being right on the route, from fifty to seventy-five wagons daily passed my place for a couple of months. The weather was usually bad and the traveling hard; and most every one of the outfits needing something in my line, my sales ran from seventy-five to one hundred and fifty dollars per day for several weeks. I shall leave the reader to _guess_ at the _margins_, and only say that we did not _deal_ in nickels. We were all now located at the same place, and were making money; and many a fine old time we had together in that old Arkansas valley.

We and several other persons kept a pack of greyhounds, and we often went out for a chase. When wanting a chase, each boy going would saddle a good pony, and, with the hounds trained to stay close in the rear, we would ride out over the plain, looking cautiously for a flock of antelopes, deer, a jack-rabbit, or a wolf. When a flock of antelopes or deer is seen, the riders take advantage of the hills and ravines and get just as close as possible without being discovered; then, turning the hounds _loose_, away they go with the speed of the wind. If the hounds are well bred, and can be gotten within a _quarter_ before beginning the chase, they will usually be successful; otherwise the fleet animals are likely to escape.

The _antelope_, as has been said, is a very vigilant and spirited animal; and as they bound away in the chase they almost baffle the eye. They always try to run down hill; and as they seldom run straight very far, the riders can cut across and keep _near_ all the time, and often run into the flock without going half as far as the hounds. A flock of antelopes flying over the plain, with a pack of hounds close in the rear, and followed by excited horsemen hallooing and flying their hats, is truly a grand _sight_ as well as an agreeable sport. The chase is sometimes _short_, and sometimes ten miles long; and I have rode among a flock when they were trotting slowly along, with mouths wide open, and the hounds within ten steps coming slowly along, with their great red tongues lolling out. A well-bred buck antelope is a little more than the average greyhound can overtake. The antelope is swifter than the deer. Sometimes a large, well-developed _jack-rabbit_ jumps up; and when he lays his long ears back upon his neck and gets down to his best he goes like the news upon a telegraph-wire--only touching the high places--and appears like a row of jack-rabbits. He can outrun the _antelope_ for a short _distance_, but can not hold out so long. When a large _gray wolf_ is started up there is fun. The dogs soon overtake him; but to kill him is another thing. I have seen one wolf whip six hounds, and get away. Hunters do not like to have their hounds tackle a _large_ one, for he cuts them up so.

The cow-men and homesteaders are often visited by their _eastern friends_, and these chases are grand sport for them. I recollect that one time two young fellows came out to visit their brother in his little _adobe_ in the valley; and learning of the sport, they were overanxious for a chase. They asked us to take them out; and finding that they were plug-hatted, nickel-plated fellows, with lots of _conceit_, we concluded to have some fun. They bragged of their _riding_ ability, and being thus relieved of the responsibility of breaking a couple of tender-foot necks, we brought up two spirited ponies used to the chase,--and one a professional _bucker_ when he took a _notion_,--and he would often take a notion in the heat of the chase. The silk-hats, broadcloth, and kid-gloves glistened in the sunlight, and their heads stuck up through the glazed standing-collars; and as we pranced out upon the range I could hardly conceal my _laughter_ when I thought of the fun to come. All at once a powerful jack-rabbit jumped from a bunch of grass and sped away like the wind. The hounds flashed by and were gone, and the ponies needed no urging. In a few hundred yards the man on the bucker touched his pony too far back with his foot; and _Jerusalem!_ to see that pony buck was a caution. The first jump the old plug-hat rolled off over the sand like a cannon-ball upon Lookout Mountain, the collar flew open, and the breeches burst; the next he was popping a foot above the saddle with his coat-tail playing in the air like the national flag; and the next he was picking himself out of the sand, limping around on one leg, pulling up his breeches, wiping the blood from his nose, and speaking the Colorado dialect as nearly as possible, while the pony ran off in the chase. The _other_ kiddy, finding that he could not _hold_ his pony, had let go the rein and was holding to the saddle-horn with his legs spread out like the holy cross, and his horse just flying. He ran among the hounds; and the rabbit turning short, the pony gave one stiff jump, whirled upon his hind feet, and ran on. The plug-hat flew, the rider scooted forward, tearing open his vest and pants upon the saddle-horn, and holding around the horse’s neck with a death-grip. The next turn the _second_ kid-glove went scooting his nose in the sand and his heels in the air. We saw that they were not _killed_, and ran on. After we had the _rabbit_ we took a hearty laugh, and then caught the ponies and went back for the good riders, who had stopped to rest. The _classic_ language had flown, and they were together brushing off their plugs and knocking the sand from their ears, and talking in such language that any _Colorado boy_ could understand every word they said. Well, there was no _fun_ in the chase for them, so we went back and the boys “set ’em up.” The stiffening was from their collars, and the conceit from their minds; and I’ll bet if an eastern man tells _them_ that he can ride _any Colorado pony_, they will say to themselves, “_He’s a liar._” The _ways_ of the _people_ and even the _horses_ of Colorado have to be _learned_; and to a fresh eastern man it is a big lesson.

A man and wife by the name of Mills, passing here _en route_ for Leadville, being a little short in finance, and finding that employment could be had at the round-house, concluded to put up in a little board shanty that stood near my place, and _work_ a few days. That very night several cow-boys came in, and, as usual, did considerable yelling and shooting. In the morning, finding six bullet-holes through his house, he related his night’s adventure, and told how he and his wife had propped the doors and then lay behind the stove, and said he would not stay in that house and run his chances for the whole d----n round-house. So, taking his outfit, he moved across the railroad a half mile down the river, and there put up a _tent_ for his house. That afternoon a few cow-boys came in, and the sheriff and two deputies from Las Animas happening to be there, a trouble arose and the boys rode out and charged upon the house. _Firing_ commenced, and the sheriff, with a large needle-gun, shot dead one of the _ponies_, leaving its rider dismounted. He ran right down the railroad toward the _tent_; and in firing after him a bullet went through the tent, and several others buzzed by. This was too much for the man in the _tent_, and he started back East that very night by the light of the moon. He said if a man could not even live in a tent out on the _prairie_ without being shot at every day and night, _he_ had enough of the _West_.

Well, things went on, and toward spring my brother came out from Ohio for his _health_. When the fur-season was going out, and the Leadville travelers began to drop off, I sold out and began to prepare for a trip into the mountains. My brother enjoyed the light, pure air and western novelties, and decided to go along. Another young man named William Gray, from Sutton, Nebraska, also decided to go. My old camp-outfit was trimmed up, and everything was prepared to make the trip a pleasant as well as an instructive one. Friend Charles had been called home to Ohio by the illness of his father, and Dave and John decided to stay in Colorado, and not go any farther west. It was quite _shocking_ to me to think of going on and leaving behind my old comrades, with whom I had traveled so many days, and eaten so many meals in our little camp up and down through the broad, wild West; and especially _John_, who started with me from Ohio, and sat with me upon the lonely plains in the bleak winds of winter, and sultry breath of summer; whose tongue parched with mine upon the desert, and who fought the same hungry pangs--one who had proved himself a _noble_ and _gallant_ companion, and _brave_ in the hour of _trial_. But it must be done; and after giving each other our best advice, we took a long good-bye--perhaps forever.

That parting I shall not forget,
Though I live to be aged and gray;
For comrade ties did _scarcely_ let
Me tear from them away.