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About The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current | View Entire Issue (June 29, 1913)
3 nX4IN'COWBOYLAND ft la- AS soon as I reached the meeting; place I -would find out the wagon to -which I was assigned. Riding to lt,I turned my horses into the saddle band and reported to the wagon boss, or. In his absence, to the cook always a privileged character, who -was al lowed and expected to order men around. He would usually grumble eavagely and profanely about my hav ing been put with his wagon, but this was merely conventional on his part; and !f I sat down and said nothing he would probably soon ask me if I wanted anything to eat, to which the correct answer was that I was not hungry and would wait until meal-time. The bed ding rolls of the riders would be strewn round the grass, and I would put mine down a little outside the ring, where I would not be in any one's way, with my six or eight branding-Irons beside It. The men would ride in, laughing and talking with one another, and per haps nodding to me. One of their num. ber, usually the wagon foreman, might put some question to me as to what brands I represented, but no other word would be addressed to me, nor would I be expected to volunteer any conversa tion. Supper would consist of bacon, Dutch oven bread, and possibly beef; onoe I won the good graces of my com panions at the outset by appearing with two antelope -which I had shot. After supper I would roll up in my bed ding as soon as possible, and the others would follow suit at their pleasure. At S in the morning or thereabouts, jat a yell from the cook, all hands would 'turn hurriedly out. Dressing was a j-simple affair. Then each man rolled and corded his (bedding if he did not. the cook would leave it behind and he would go without any for the rest of the trip and came to the fire, where he picked out a tin cup, tin plate, and knife and fork, helped himself to cof- , fee and to whatever food them was. and ate It standing or squatting as best suited him. Dawn was probably break ing by this time, and the trampling of j unshod hoofs showed that the night ( wrangler was bringing in the pony herd. iTwo of the men, would then run ropes mo "Aguu ai riKlll. angles lO One another, and into this as a corral the horses would be driven. Each man might rope one of his own horses, or more often point It out to the most : skillful roper of the outfit, who would t rope It for him for if the man was an unskillful roper and roped the wrona- . horse or roped the horse in the wrong i piaca xnere was a cnance or the whole (herd stampeding. Each man then sad ,dled and bridled his horse. This was '.usually followed by some reiolnta ybucking on the part of two or three of wo mvious, especially- ln xne eariy days rof each round-up. The bucking was J always a source of amusement to all xne men wnose norses did not buck, una these fortunate ones would gather i round giving Ironical advice, and espe ' daily adjuring the rider not to "iro to ; leather" this Is, not to steady himself un me saddle oy catcAing hold of the ' saaaie-norn. TT IiOng Circle. As soon as the men had mounted, the 'whole outfit started on the long circle, .the morning circle. Usually the ranch f foreman who bossed a given wagon was .put In charge of the men of one group by the round-up foreman; he might -keep his men together until they had 1 gone some 10 or 15 miles from camp, and then drop them in couples at differ ent points. Each couple made Its way toward the wagon, gathering all the ' cattle It could find. The morning's ride might last six or eight hours, and it was still longer before some of the men tot in. Singly and In twos and threes t,they appeared from every quarter of 'the horizon, the dust rising from the i hoofs of the steers and bulls, the cows and calves, they had collected. Two or (three of the men were left to take care of t-ue herd while the others changed horses, ate a hasty dinner, and then came out to the afternoon work. This consisted of each man In succession being sent Into the herd, usually with : a companion, to out out the cows of his I brand or brands which were followed I by unbranded calves, and also to cut 1 out and mavercks or unbranded Tear. ' lings. We worked each animal gently out to the edge of the herd, and then . with a sudden dash took it off at a run. y It was always desperately anxious to 'break back and rejoin the herd. There ) was much breakneck galloping and twisting and turning before its desire . was thwarted and It was driven to loin .' the rest of the cut that Is, the other . animals which had been cut out, and i which were being held by one or two other men. Cattle hate belner alone. ' and it was no easy matter to hold the first one or two that were cut out; but soon they got a little herd of their own, and then they were contented. When the cutting out had all been done, the calves were branded, and all misadven tures of the "calf wrestlers."" the men who seized, threw, and held each calf when roped by the mounted roper, were hailed with yelling laughter. Then the animals which for one reason or an other It was desired to drive along with the round-up were put Into one herd and left In charge of a couple of night guards, and the rest of us would loaf ' back to the wagon for supper and bed. With the Night Herd. By this time I would have been ac cepted as one of the rest of the outfit and all strangeness would have passed off. the attitude or my fellow cow f St." Si punchers being one of friendly forgive ness, even toward my spectacles. Night guards for the cattle herd were then assigned by the captain of the wagon, or perhaps by the round-up foreman, according to the needs of the case, the guards standing for two hours at a time from 8 in the eevning till 4 in the morning. The first and last watches were preferable, because sleep was not broken, as In both of the other two. If things went well, the cattle would soon bed, down and nothing further would occur until morning, when there was a repetition of the work, the wagon moving each day eight or ten miles to some appointed camping place. Each man would picket his night horse near the wagon, usually choos-, ing the quietest animal in his string for that purpose, because to saddle and mount a "mean" horse at night is not pleasant. When utterly tired it was hard to have to get up for one's trick at night herd. Nevertheless, on ordi nary nights the two hours round, the cattle In the still darkness were pleas ant. The loneliness, under the vast empty sky, and the ellence, in which the breathing of the cattle sounded loua, ana the alert readiness to meet any emergency which might suddenly arise out or the formless night, all oombtned to give one a sense of sub dued Interest. Then, one soon got to know the cattle of marked Individual ity, tne ones that led the others into mischief; and one also grew to recog nise the traits they all possessed in common and the impulses which, for instance, made a whole herd get up to. wards midnight, each beast turning round and then lying down again. But by the end of the watch each rider had studied the cattle Until It rrew mo notonous and heartily welcomed his re. net guard. A. newcomer, of course, had any amount to learn and sometimes the simplest things were those which brought him to grief. i une night early in mv career T fallow satisfactorily to identify the direction in wnicn x was to go In order to reach the night herd. It was a pitch-dark night- I managed to get started "rK ana. i never round either the "era or xne wagon again until sunrise, wnen I was greeted with withering scorn by the injured cowpuncher who naa Deen otmged to stand double guard because I had failed to ralleva him There were other misadventures that x rati wnn wnere the excuse was great er. The DUnchersc n rfvht rr, , . """" i ouiuo. me cattle in re verse directions, calling and singing to them if the beasts seemed restless, to keep them quiet. On rare occasions something haDoened that ty, ne sxampeae ana then the duty of the riders was to keep with them as long as possible and try gradually to get A Stampede. One night there was a heavy storm o.uu ji m us who were at the wagons were obliged to turn out hastily to help the night herders. After a while thete was a terrlflo peal of thunder. tne ligntnmg struck right by the herd, ana away an tne beasts went, heads iih uui-uB uiu miis in xne air. or a minute or two I could make out nothing xne uarn rorm oi tne beasts run ning on every side of me. and I hnnM have been very sorry if my horse had stumbled, for those behind would have trooaen me aown. -men the herd SDilt. part going to one side, while the other part seemingly kept straight' ahead, and I galloped as hard as ever "beside them. I was trying to reach the point xne leading ammais in order to turn them, when suddenly there was a tre- menaous spiasning in rront. I could dimly make out that' the cattle imme- THE SUNDAY OKEGWIAN, PORTLAND, r ;3 5k - 5- irVjKSSgSS 3r mm 0 .1 if 7 twvu (I t. , diately ahead and to one side of me weio disappearing and the next mo ment the horse and I went off a cut bank Into the Little Missouri. I bent away back In the saddle, and thougn the horse almost went down he just recovered himself and, plunging and struggling through the water and quicksand, we made the other side. Here I discovered that there was an other cowboy with the same part of the herd that I was with; but almost I immediately we separated. I galloped hard' through a bottom covered with big Cottonwood trees, and stopped the part of the herd that I was with, but almost immediately they broke on me again, and repeated this twice. Finally, toward morning, the few I had left came to a hart. It had been raining hard for some time. I got off my horse and leaned against a tree, but before long the In ternal cattle started on again, and JUNE 29, 1913. AtW EODORE PGDSEVELT, '.- -rT7)lo with, ... if? 1 r VI TP" had to ride after them. Dawn came soon after this and I was able to make out where I was and head the cattle back, collecting other little bunches as I went. After a while I came on a cowboy on foot carrying his saddle on nis nead. He was my companion of the previous night. His horse had gone full speed into a tree and killed Itself, the man. however, not being hurt. I could not help him, as I had all I could do to handle the cattle. When I got them to the wagon most of the other men had already come in and the riders were just starting on the lonsr circle One of the men changed my horse for n-f wnile I ate a hasty breakfast, and then we were off for the day's work. Forty Honrs In the Saddle. As only about half of the night herd had been brought back, the circle rid ing was particularly heavy, and it was 10 hours before we were back at the wagon. We then changed horses again and worked the whole herd until after sunset, finishing just as it grew too dark to do anything more. By this time I had been nearly 40 hours In the sad dle, changing horses five times, and my clothes had thoroughly dried on me, and I fell asleep as soon as I touched the bedding. Fortunately some men who had gotten In late in the morning had had their sleep during the daytime, so that the rest of us escaped night guard and were not called until 4 next morn ing. Nobody ever gets enough sleep on a rouna-up. The above was the longest time for consecutive hours I ever had to be In the saddle. But, as I have said. changed horses five times, and it is a great lightening of labor for a rider to have a fresh horse. Once when with Sylvane Ferris I spent 16 hours on one horse, riding 70 or 80 miles. The round up had reached a place called the ox bow of the Little Missouri, and we had to ride there, do some work around the cattle, and ride back. A Moonlight Canter. - Another time I was 24 hours on horse back In company with Merrifleld with out changing horses. On this occasion we did not travel fast. We had been coming taok with, the wagon from hunting trip In the Big Horn Moun tains. The team was fagged out. and we were tired of walking at a snail's pace beside It. When we reached coun try that the driver thoroughly knew, we thought it safe to leave him. and we loped in one night across a distance which It took the wagon the three fol lowing days to cover. It was a beautiful moonlight night. star-. w and the ride was delightful. All day long we had plodded at a walk, weary and hot. At supper time we had rested two or three hours, and the tough little riding horses seemed as fresh as ever. It was in September. As we rode out of the circle of the firelight the air was cool in our faces. Under the bright moonlight, and then under the star light, we loped and cantered mile after mile over the high prairie. We passed bands of antelope and herds of long- horn Texas cattle, and at last, just as the first red beams of the sun flamed over the bluffs in front of us, we rode down into the valley of the Little Mis souri, where our ranch house stood. Good Horses and Bad. I never became a good roper, nor more than an average rider, according to ranch standards. Of course a man on a ranch has to ride a good many bad horses, and is bound to encounter a certain number of accidents, and of these I had my share, at one time crack ing a rib, and on another occasion the point of my shoulder. We were hun dreds of miles from a doctor, and each time, as I was on the round-up, I had to get through my work for the next few weeks as best I could, until the injury healed of Itself. When I had the opportunity I broke my own horses, doing It gently and gradually and spending much time over It. and choos ing the horses that seemed gentle to be gin with. With these horses I never had any dlffloulty. But frequently there was neither time nor opportunity to handle our mounts so elaborately. We might get a band of horses, each having been bridled and saddled two or three times, but none of them having been broken beyond the extent implied in this bridling and saddling. Then each of us In succession would choose a horse (for his string), I as owner of the ranch being given the first choice on each round, so to Bpeak. The first time I was ever on a round-up Sylvane Ferris. Merrifleld, Myer, and I each chose his string in this fashion. Three or four of the animals I got were not easy to ride. The effort both to ride them and to look as If I enjoyed doing so, on some cool morning when my grinning cowboy friends had gath ered round "to see whether the high- headed bay could buck the boss off, doubtless was of benefit to me, but lacked much of being enjoyable. The time I smashed my rib I was bucked off on a stone. The time I hurt the point of my shoulder I was .riding a big, sulky horse named Ben Butler, which went over backwards with me. When we got up it still refused to go anywhere; so, while I sat It, Sylvane Ferris and George Myer got their ropes on Its neck and dragged It a few hun dred yards, choking but stubborn, all four feet firmly planted and plowing the ground. When they released the ropes it lay down and wouldn't get up. The roand-up had started; so Sylvane gave me his horse. Baldy, which some times bucked but never went over backwards, and he got on the now re arlsen Ben Butler. To my discomfiture, Ben started quietly beside us, while Sylvane remarked, "Why, there's noth ing the matter with this horse; he's a plumb gentle horse." Then Ben fell slightly behind and I heard Sylvane again. "That's all right! Come along! Here, youl Go on. you! HI, hi. fel lows, help me out! he's lying on me!' Sure enough, he was; and when we dragged Sylvane from under him the first thing the rescued Sylvane did was to execute a war-dance, spurs and all. on the Iniquitous Ben. We could do nothing with him that day; subsequent ly we got htm so that we could ride him, but he never became a nice sad dle horse. Fancy Ropera and Hard Workers. As with au otner rorms or work, so on the round-up, a man of ordinary power, who nevertheless does not shirk things merely because they are dis agreeable or Irksome, soon earns his place. There were crack riders and ronera who just because they felt such overweening pride In their own prowess were not really very valuable men. Continually on the circles a cow or calf would get Into some think patch of bulberry bush and refuse to come out; or when it was getting late we would pass some bad lands that would probably not contain cattle, but might Vsl F : "irVi. t i. Jl or a steer would turn fighting mad, or a calf grow tired and want to lie down. If in such a case the man stead ily persists in doing the unattractive thing, and after two hours of exaspera tion and harassment does finally get the cow out. and keep her out, of the bulberry bushes, and drives her to the wagon, or finds some animals that have been passed by in the fourth or fifth patch of bad lands he hunts through, or gets the calf up on his saddle and takes it In anyhow, the foreman soon grows to treat him as having his uses and as being an asset of worth in the round-up, even though neither a fancy roper nor a fancy rider. When at the Progressive convention last August I met George Myer for the first time in many years and he re called to me an incident on one round up where we happened to be thrown together while driving some cows and calves to camp. When the camp was only just across the river, two of the calves positively refused to go any further. He took one of them in his arms and atter some hazardous ma neuvering managed to get on his horse. in spite of the objections of the latter. and TOde into the river. My calf was too big for such treatment, so in de spair I roped it. Intending to drag it over. However, as soon as I roped It the calf started bouncing and bleating and, owing to some lack of dexterity on my part, suddenly swung round the rear or tne norse. bringing the rope under his tail. Down went the tail tight and the horse went into figures. as the cowpuncher phrase of that day was. There was a cut bank about four feet high on the hither side of the river and over this the horse bucked. We went into the water with a splash. With a "pluck" the calf followed, de scribed a parabola in the air and land ed beside us. Fortunately this took the rope out from under the horse's tail, but left him thoroughly frightened. Ha could not do much bucking In the stream, for there were one or two places where we had to swim, and the shallows were either sandy or muddy; but across we went, at speed, and the calf made a wake like Pharaoh's army In the Red Sea. Fighting Fire. On several occasions we had to light Are.. In the geography books of my youth prairie fires were always por trayed as taking place in long grass, and all living things ran before them. On the Northern cattle plains the grass was never long enough to be a source of danger to man or beast. The fires were nothing like the forest fires In the Northern woods. But they de stroyed large quantities of feed and we had to stop them where possible. The process we usually followed was to kill a steer, split It In two length wise, and then have two riders drag each half steer, the rope of one running from his saddle-horn to the front leg and that of the other to the hind leg. One of the men would spur his horse over or through the line of fire and the two would then ride forward, dragging the steer bloody side downward along the line of flame, men following on foot with slickers or wet horse blankets to beat out any flickering blaze that was still left- It was exciting work, for the Are and the twitching and pluck ing of the ox carcass over the uneven ground maddened the fierce little horses so that it was necessary . to do some riding in order to keep them to their work. After a while it also be came very exhausting, the thirst and fatigue being great, as with parched lips and blackened from head to foot, we tolled at our task. The Stockmen. In those years the Stockmen's Asso ciation of Montana was a powerful body. I was the delegate to it from the Little Missouri. The meetings that I attended were held In Miles City, at that time a typical cow town. Stock men of all kinds attended. Including the biggest men In the stock business men like old Conrad Kohrs, who was and Is the finest type of pioneer in all the Rocky Mountain country, and Granville Stewart, who was afterward appointed Minister by Cleveland. I think, to. the Argentine, and "Hash knlfe" Simpson, a Texan, who had (Concluded on Page 7,
