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THE RIFLE AS AN AID TO CIVILIZATION.
There is a trite saying that "the pen is mightier than the sword." It is an equally true one that the bullet is the pioneer of civilization, for it has gone hand in hand with the axe that cleared the forest, and with the family Bible and school book. Deadly as has been its mission in one sense, it has been merciful in another; for without the rifle-ball we of America would not be to-day in the possession of a free and united country, and mighty in our strength.
And so has it been in the history of all people, from the time when David slew Goliath, down through the long line of ages, until in modern times, science has substituted for the stone from David's sling the terrible missiles that now decide the fate of nations. It is not, therefore, so harsh an expression as it seems to be at first sight, that it is indeed the bullet which has been the forerunner of growth and development.
It is in the Far West of America, however, and along our frontier, that the rifle has found its greatest use and become a part of the person and the household of the venturesome settler, the guide, the scout, and the soldier; for nowwhere else in Christendom is it so much and so frequently a necessity for the preservation of life, and the defense of home and property. It is here, too, among the hunters on the plains and in the Rocky Mountains, that one sees the perfection of that skill in marksmanship that has become the wonder of those who are not accustomed to the daily use of weapons. Yet if it were not possessed - if there were not the quick eye, the sure aim, coolness in the moment of extreme danger, whether threatened by man or beast - life in that section would be of little value, and a man's home anything but a safe abiding place.
There are exceptional cases of men life "BUFFALO BILL," Major North, and others, whose names are more or less familiar among the mighty hunters of the West, who excel in the use of rifle and pistol, and to which, time and time again, they and those around them have owed their lives. And they are the worthy successorts of a long line of marksmen whose names are also "familiar as household words." Who does not recall David Crockett and his death-dealing rifle in the Alamo? Daniel Boone, of Kentucky, and the heroic exploits that have been written concerning them in the early pages of our country's history?
It is to the end that the people of the East, or rather those who are not acquainted with the rough life of the border and especially that portion of it in which the rifle plays so important a part, may personally witness some of the feats of Western men, that MESSRS. CODY &Co. have determined to introduce in their "great, realistic pictures of Western life" a series of shooting exhibitions. The manner in which buffalo are hunted, the exciting chase at close quarters, the splendidly trained horses who participate in the chase, the hunt for elk, the stealthy devices of Indians in capturng the fleet-footed animals - all these will be illustrated in a manner that has never been witnessed East of the Mississippi River. - Buell's Life on the Plains.
A HISTORICAL COACH OF THE DEADWOOD LINE, THE INDIANS' ATTACK ON WHICH WILL BE REPRESENTED IN "BUFFALO BILL'S" WILD WEST, AND ALSO ITS RESCUE BY THE SCOUTS AND PLINSMEN.
The people of the Eastern States of the Union are accustomed to regard the West as the region of romance and adventure. And, in truth, its history abounads with thrilling incidents and surprising changes. Every inch of that beautiful country has been won from a cruel and savage for by danger and conflict. In the terrible wars of the border, which marked the early years of the Western settlements, the men signalized themselves by performing prodigies of valor, while the women, in their heroic courage and endurance, afforded a splendid example of devotion and self-sacrifice. The history of the wagon trains and stage coaches that preceded the railway is written all over with blood, and the story of suffering and disaster, often as it has been repeated, is only known in all of its horrid details to the bold frontiersmen who, as scouts and rangers, penetrated the strongholds of the Indians, and, backed by the gallant men of the army, became the avant couriers of Western civilization and the terror of the red man.
Among the most stirring episodes in the life of the Western pioneer are those connected with the opening of new lines of travel, for it is here, among the trails and canyons where lurk the desperadoes of both races, that he is brought face to face with danger in its deadliest forms. No better illustration of this fact is furnished than in the history of the famous DEADWOOD COACH, the scarred and weather-beaten veteran of the original "star route" line
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of stages, established at a time when it was worth a man's life to sit on its box and journey from one end of its destination to the other. The accompanying picture affords an idea of the old relic, and it is because of its many associations with his own life that it has been purchased by "BUFFALO BILL" and added to the attractions of his "GREAT REALISTIC EXHIBITION OF WESTERN LIFE."
It will be observed that it is a heavily built Concord stage and is intended for a team of six horses. The body is swung on a pair of heavy leather underbraces, and has the usual thick "perches," "jacks" and brakes belonging to such a vehicle. It has a large leather "boot"--behind, and another at the driver's foot-board. The coach was intended to seat twenty-one men--the driver and two men beside him, twelve inside and the other six on top. As it now stands, the leather blinds of the windows are worn, the paint is faded, and it has a battered and travel-stained aspect that tells the story of hardship and adventure. Its trips began in 1875, when the owners were Messrs. Gilmour, Salsbury & Co. Luke Voorhees is the present manager. The route was between Cheyenne and Deadwood, via Fort Laramie, Rawhide Buttes, Hat or War Bonnet Creek, the place where "BUFFALO BILL" killed the Indian Chief, "Yellow Hand," on July 17, 1876, Cheyenne River, Red Canyon, and Custer. Owing to the long distance and dangers, the drivers were always chosen for their coolness, courage and skill.
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In its first season the dangerous places on the route were Buffalo Gap, Lame Johnny Creek, Red Canyon, and Squaw Gap, all of which were made famous by scenes of slaughter and the deviltry of the banditti. Conspicuous among the latter were "Curley" Grimes, who was killed at Hogan's Ranch; "Peg-Legged" Bradley, Bill Price, who was killed on the Cheyenne River; "Dunk" Blackburn, who is now in the Nebraska State Prison, and others of the same class, representing the most fearless of the road agents of the West.
On the occasion of the first attack the driver, John Slaughter, a son of the present marshal of Cheyenne, was shot to pieces with buckshot. He fell to the ground and the team ran away, escaping with the passengers and mail, and safely reached Greeley's Station. This occurred at White Wood Canyon. Slaughter's body was recovered, brought to Deadwood, and thence carried to Cheyenne, where it is now buried. The old coach here received its "baptism of fire," and during the ensuing summer passed through a variety of similar experiences, being frequently attacked. One of the most terrific of these raids was made by the Sioux Indians, but the assault was successfully repelled, although the two leading horses were killed. Several commercial travelers next suffered from a successful ambush, on which
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occasion a Mr. Liebman, of Chicago, was killed and his companion shot through the shoulder.
After this stormy period it was fitted up as a treasure coach, and naturally became an object of renewed interest to the robbers; but owing to the strong force of what are known as "shotgun messengers" who accompanied the coach, it was a long time before the bandits succeeded in accomplishing their purpose. Among the most prominent of these messengers were Scott Davis, a splendid neighborhood; Boone May, one of the best pistol shots in the Rocky Mountain regions, who killed Bill Price in the streets of Deadwood, together with "Curley" Grimes, one of the road agents; Jim May, a worthy brother brother - a twin if not in birth. Few men have had more desperate encounters than he, and the transgressors of the law have had more desperate encounters than he, and the transgressors of the law have had many an occasion to feel the results of his keen eye and strong arm whenever it has become necessary to face men who are prepared to "die with their boots on." Still another of these border heroes (for such they may be justly termed) is Gail Hill, now the deputy sheriff of Deadwood, and his frequent companion was Jesse Brown, an old-time Indian fighter, who has a record of incident and adventure that would make a book. These men constituted a sextette of as brave fellows as could be found on the frontier, and their names are all well known in that country.
At last, however, some of them came to grief. The bandits themselves were old fighters. The shrewdness of one party was offset by that of the other, and on an unlucky day the celebrated Cold Spring tregedy occured. The station had been captured, and the road agents secretly occupied the place. The stage arrived in its usual manner, and without suspicion of danger the driver, Gene Barnett, halted at the stable door. An instant afterward a volley was delivered that killed Hughey Stevenson, sent the buckshot through the body of Gail Hill, and dangerously wounded two others of the guards. The bandits then captured the outfit, amounting to some sixty thousand dollars in gold.
On another occasion the coach was attacked, and, when the driver was killed, saved by a woman - Marth Canary, better known at the present time in the wild history of the frontier as "Calamity Jane." Amid the fire of the attack, she seized the lines, and, whipping up the team, safely brought the coach to her destination.
When "BUFFALO BILL" returned from his scout with Gen. Crook, in 1876, he rode in this self-same stage, bringing with him the scalps of several of the Indians whom he had met. When afterwards he learned that it had been attacked and abandoned, and was lying neglected on the plains, he organized a party, and starting on the trail, rescued and brought the vehicle into camp.
With the sentiment that attaches to a man whose life has been identified with the excitement of the Far West, the scout has now secured the coach from Col. Voorhees, the manager of the Black Hills stage line, and hereafter it will play a different role in its history from that of inviting murder and being the tomb of its passengers. And yet the "Deadwood Coach" will play no small part in the entertainment that has been organized by "BUFFALO BILL" and partner for the purpose of represnting some of the most startling realities of Western life, in a vivid representation of one of the Indian and road agents' combined attacks.
THE COW-BOYS
Among the many features of the Wild West not the least attractive will be the advent in the East of a band of veritable "cow-boys," a class without whose aid the great grazing pampas of the West would be valueless, and the Eastern necessities of the table, the tan-yard, and the factory would be meager. These will be the genuine cattle-herders of a reputable trade, and not the later misnomers of "the road", who, in assuming an honored title, have tarnished it in the East, while being in fact the cow-boys' greatest foe, the thieving, criminal "rustler." To Wilkes' Spirit of March, the editor is indebted for a just tribute and description of the American ranchman:
"THE COW-BOY. - The cow-boy! How often spoken of how falsely imagined, how greatly despised (where not known), how little understood! I've been there considerable. How sneeringly reffered to, and how little appreciated, although his title has been gained by the possession of many of the nobelest qualities that form the romantic hero of the poet, novelist, and historian; the plainsman and the scout. What a school it has been for the latter! As 'tall oaks from little acorns grow,' the cow-boy serves a purpose, and often develops into the most celebrated ranchman, guide, cattle-king, Indian-fighter, and dashing ranger. How
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old Sam Houston loved them, how the Mexicans hated them, how Davy Crockett admired them, how the Comanches feared them, and how much you 'beef-eaters' of the rest of the country owe to them, is a large-sized conundrum. Composed of many 'to the manner born,' but recruited largely from Eastern young men, they were taught at school to admire the deceased little George in exploring adventures, and though not equaling him in the 'cherry-tree goodness,' were more disposed to kick against the bull-dozing of teachers, parents, and guardians.
"As the rebellious kid of old times filled a handkerchief (always a handkerchief, I believe) with his all, and followed the trail of his idol, Columbus, and became a sailor bold, the more ambitious and adventurous youngster of later days freezes on to a double-barreled pistol and steers for the bald prairie to seek fortune and experience. If he don't get his system full it's only because the young man weakens, takes a back seat, or fails to become a Texas cow-boy. If his Sunday-school ma'am has not impressed him thoroughly with the chapter about our friend, Job, he may at first be astonished, but he'll soon learn the patience of the old hero, and think he pegged out a little too soon to take it all in. As there are generally openings, likely young fellows can enter, and not fail to be put through. If he is a stayer, youth and size will be no disadvantage for his start in, as certain lines of the business are peculiarly adapted to the light young horsemen, and such are highly esteemed when they become thoroughbreds, and fully possessed of 'cow sense.'
"Now 'cow sense' in Texas implies a thorough knowledge of the business, and a natural instinct to divine every thought, trick, intention, want, habit, or desire of his drove, under any and all circumstances. A man might be brought up in the States swinging to a cow's tail, yet, taken to Texas, would be as useless as a last year's bird's next with the bottom punched out. The boys grow old soon, and the old cattle-men seem to grow young; thus it is that the name is applied to all who follow the trade. The boys are divided into range-workers and branders, road drivers and herders, trail-guides and bosses.
"As the railroads have now put an end to the old-time trips, I will have to go back a few years to give a proper estimate of the duties and dangers, delights and joys, trials and troubles, when off the ranch. The ranch itself and the cattle trade in the State still flourish in their old-time glory, but are being slowly encroached upon by the modern improvements
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that will, in course of time, wipe out the necessity of his day, the typical subject of my sketch. Before being counted in and fully indorsed, the candidate has had to become an expert horseman, and test the many eccentricities of the stuborn mustang; enjoy the beauties, learn to catch, throw, fondle - oh ! yes, getnly fondle (but not from behind) - and ride the 'docile' little Spanish-American plug, an amusing experience in itself, in which you are taught all the mysteries of rear and tear, stop and drop, lay and roll, kick and bite, on and off, under and over, heads and tails, hand springs, triple somersaults, standing on your head, diving, flip flaps, getting left (horse leaving you fifteen miles from camp - Indians in the neighborhood, etc.), and all the funny business included in the familiar term of 'bucking', then learn to handle a rope, catch a calf, stop a crazy cow, throw a beef steer, play with a wild bull, lasso an untamed mustang, and daily endue the dangers of a Spanish matador, with a little Indian scrap throwin in, and if there is anything left of your they'll christen it a first-class cow-boy. Now his troubles begin (I have been worn to afrizzled end many time before I began) ; but after this he will learn to enjoy them - after they are over.
"As the genreal trade on the range has often been described, I'll simply refer to a few incidents of a trip over the plains to the cattle markets of the North, through the wild and unsettled portions of the Territories, varying in distance from fifteen hundred to two thousand miles - time, three to six months - extending through the Indian Territory and Kansas to Nebraska, Colorado, Dakota, Montana, Idaho, Nevada and sometimes as fas as California. Immense herds, as high as thirty thousand or more in number, are moved by single owners, but are driven in bands of from one to three thousand, which, when under way, are designated 'herds.' Each of these has from ten to fifteen men, with a wagon driver and cook, and the 'kingpin of the outfit,' the boss, with a supply of two or three ponies to a man, an ox team, and blankets; also jerked beef and corn meal - the staple food. They are also furnshied with mavericks or 'doubtless-owned' yearlings for the fresh-meat supply. After getting fully under way, and the cattle broke in, from ten to fifteen miles a day is the average, and everything is plain sailing in fair weather. As night comes on, the cattle are rounded up in a samll compass, and held until they lie down, when two men are left on watch, riding round and round them in opposite directions, singing or whistling all the time, for two hours, that being the length of each watch. The singing is absolutely necessary, as is seems to soother the fears of the cattle, scares away the wolves or other varmints that may be prowling around, and prevents them from hearing any other accidental sound, or dreaming of their old homes, and if stopped would, in all probability, be the signal for a general stampede. 'Music hath charms to soother the savage breast,' if a cow-boy's compulsory bawling out lines of his own composition:
Lay nicely now, cattle, don't need any rattle, But quitely rest until morn; For if you skedaddle, we'll jump in the saddle, And head you as sure as you're born,
can be considered such.
Some poet may yet make a hit On the odds and ends of cow-boys' wit.
"But on nights when 'Old Prob' goes on a spree, leaves the bung out of his waterbarrel above, prowls around with his flash-box, raising a breeze, whispering in tones of thunder, and the cow-boys voice, like the rest of the outfit, is downed out - steer clear, and prepare for action. If them quadrupeds don't go insane, turn tail to the storm, and strike out for civil and religious liberty, then I don't know what 'strike out' means. Ordinarily so clumsy and stupidlooking, a thousand beef steers can rise like a flock of quail on teh rood of an exploding powder mill, and will scud away like a tumble weed before a high wind, with a noise like a receding earthquake. Then comes fun and frolic for the boys!
"Talk of 'Sheridan's ride, twenty miles away!" That was in the daytime, but this is the cow-boy's ride with Texs five hundred miles away, and them steers steering straight for home; night time, darker than the word means, hog wallows, prairie dog, wolf and badger holes, ravines and precipices ahead, and if you do your duty, three thousand stampeding steers behind. If your horse don't swap ends, and you hang to them until daylight, you can bless your lucky stars. Many have passed in their checks at this game. The remembrance of the few that were foot loose on teh Browery a few years ago will give an apporximate idea of the three thousand raving bovines on the war path. As they tear through the storm at one flash of lightning, they look all tails, and at the next flash all horns. If Napoleon had had a herd at Sedan, headed in the right direction, he would have driven old Billy across the Rhine.
"The next great trouble is in crossing streams, which are invariably high in the driving season. When cattle strike swimming water they generally try to turn back, which eventuates