41
27
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.'
(Picture)
"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 nest with the bottom punched out. The boys grow odl 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
42
28
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 stubborn mustang; enjoy the beauties, learn to catch, throw, fondle--oh! yes, gently 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, handsprings, 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 endure the dangers of a Spanish matador, with a little Indian scrape thrown in, and if there is anything left of you they'll christen it a first-class cow-boy. Now his troubles begin (I have been worn to a frizzled end many times before I began); but after this he will learn to enjoy them--after they are over.
"As the general 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 far 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 underway, 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 furnished 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 small 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 it seems to soothe 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 soothe the savage breast,' if a cow-boy's compulsory bawling out lines of his own composition:
Lay nicely now, cattle, don't heed any rattle, But quietly 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 pet may yet make a hit On the odds and ends of cow-boy's wit.
"But on nights when 'Old Prob' goes on a spree, leaves the bung out of his water-barrel above, prowls around with his flash-box, raising a breeze, whispering in tones of thunder, and the cow-boy's voice, like the rest of the outfit, is drowned 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 stupid-looking, a thousand beef steers can rise like a flock of quail on the roof of an exploding powder mill, and will send 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 Texas 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 the Bowery a few years ago will give an approximate idea of the three thousand raving bovines on the war path. As they tear through the storm at one flash of lightning, they look at 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
43
29
(Picture)
in their 'milling,' that is, swimming in a circle, and if allowed to continue, would result in the drowning of many. There the daring herder must leave his pony, doff his togs, scramble over their backs and horns to scatter them, and with whoops and yells, splashing, dashing, and didoes in the water, scare them to the opposite bank. This is not always done in a moment, for a steer is no fool of a swimmer; I have seen one hold his own for six hours in the Gulf after having jumped overboard. As some of the streams are very rapid, and a quarter to half a mile wide, considerable drifting is done. Then the naked herder has plenty of amusement in the hot sun, fighting green-head flies and mosquitoes, and peeping around for Indians, until the rest of the lay-out is put over--not an easy job. A temporary boat has to be made of the wagon-box, by tacking the canvas cover over the bottom, with which the ammunition and grub is ferried across, and the running-gear and ponies are swum over afterward. Indian fights and horse-thief troubles are part of the regular rations. Mixing with other herds and cutting them out, again avoiding too much water at times, and hunting for a drop at others, belongs to the regular routine.
"Buffalo chips for wood a great portion of the way (poor substitute in wet weather) and the avoiding of prairie fires later on, vary the monotony. In fact, it would fill a book to give a detailed account of a single trip, and it is no wonder the boys are hilarious when it ends, and, like the old toper, swear 'no more for me,' only to return and go through the mill again.
"How many, though, never finish, but mark the trail with their silent graves, no one can tell. But when Gabriel toots his horn, the 'Chrisholm trail' will swarm with cow-boys. 'Howsomever, we'll al be thar,' let's hope for a happy trip, when we say to this planet, adios!
"J. B. OMOHUNDRO (TEXAS JACK)." ________
THE VAQUERO OF THE SOUTHWEST.
Between the "cow-boy" and the "vaquero" there is only a slight line of demarcation. The one is usually an American, inured from boyhood to the excitements and hardships of his life, and the other represents in his blood the stock of the Mexican, or it may be of the half-breed.
In their work, the methods of the two are similar; and, to a certain extent, the same
(Picture)
44
30
is true of their associations. Your genuine vaquero, however, is generally, when off duty, more of a dandy in the style and get-up of this attire than his careless and impetuous compeer. He is fond of gaudy clothes, and when you see him riding well mounted into a frontier town, the first thought of an Eastern man is that a circus has broken loose in the neighborhood, and this is one of the performers. The familiar broad-brimmed sombrero covers his head; a rich jacket, embroidered by his sweetheart perhaps, envelopes his shapely shoulders; a sash of blue or red silk is wrapped around his waist, from which protrude a pair of revolvers; and buckskin trousers, slit from the knee to the foot, and ornamented with rows of brass or silver buttons, complete his attire, save the enormous spurs, with jingling pendants, are fastened to the boots, and announce in no uncertain sound the presence of the beau ideal vaquero in full dress.
His saddle is of the pure Mexican type, with high pommel, whereon hangs the inevitable lariat, which in his hands is almost as certain as a rifle shot.
Ordinarily he is a peaceful young fellow, but when the whiskey is present in undue proportions, he is a good individual to avoid. LIke the cow-boy, he is brave, nimble, careless of his own life, and reckless, when occasion requires, of those of other people. At heart he is not bad. The dependence on himself which his calling demands, the dangers to which he is subjected while on duty, all compel sturdy self-reliance, and he is now slow in exhibiting the fact that he possesses it in a sufficient degree at least for his own protection. True types of this peculiar class, seen nowhere else than on the plains, will be among the attractions of the show; and the men will illustrate the methods of their lives in connection with the pursuit and catching of animals, together with the superb horsemanship that is characteristic of their training. ________
ON A MUSTANG. BY THE EDITOR OF "TEXAS SIFTINGS."
The majority of Texas ponies buck, or pitch, as it is sometimes termed, whenever circumstances seem to demand an exhibition of this facetious break, or the condition of things seems to justify the sportive caprice. In fact, some ponies will buck for hours, only stopping to get breath for a fresh start. This kind is recommended for the use of dyspeptics and invalids suffering from the torpidity of liver. A pitching mustang, when working on full time and strictly devoting his attention to business, is the most moving sight I ever beheld. His spine seems to be of whalebone, and he appears to possess all the elements of a steamboat explosion, a high-pressure pile-driver, an earthquake, in addition to the enthusiasm of a county convention. We were glad to find that ours were not bucking ponies, and we congratulated each other on the fortunate circumstance. Of course, as we argued, if there had been any buck in them it would have developed itself at an early age in the journey. Understand, we were not afraid. I named my pony "Deliberation"; the name seemed so appropriate--no pomp or circumstance about him--and he was so gentle and tranquil; nothing seemed to flurry him. You could throw the reins on his neck and strike a match on the pommel of the saddle. I say you could do this, but the after fate of that match would be of no moment to you; you would be otherwise engaged. I regret to say that tI tried the experiment. I lighted a match--at least I think I did--but there was a haziness about the subsequent proceedings that prevents accuracy of statement. I distinctly remember striking the match. At that moment, however, I was fluently propelled upward; a tornado caught me--whirled me around eleven times. As I came down a pile-driver drove me in the stomach, and I came to search with that sensation (only intensified) that a man feels who sits down in what he imagines to be a high chair, and which he afterward thinks was about seven feet lower than his estimate. I saw whole milky ways of constellations that never before existed. I real
(Picture)
45
31
(Picture)
ized for the first time the dense solidity of the earth, and made the astonishing discovery that under certain circumstances our planet, instead of revolving on its own axis once in every twenty-four hours, can rush around at the rate of at least one hundred revolutions a minute. There are not in the whole range of languages, acient, modern, or porfane, terms sufficiently expressive to describe the state of my feelings, the amount of mud on my person, or the chaotic condition of my brain. As soon as the earth settled down to the usual speed of her diurnal motion, I came to the conclusion that it was not alwasy best to judge by appearances. I had been hasty in bestowing a distinctive congnomen on my erratic steed. He had no more deliberation in him than has a fugitive flea under the searching scrutiny of a determined woman. I renamed him. This time I called him "Delay," because delay is--but it does not matter.
Come to think of it since, the reason was weak. If, however, the reader should pierce the intricate labyrinth of mental ingenuity that constitutes the conundrum, I trust he will be charitable enough to consider the circumstances connected with its perpetration.
There are times that try men's souls. There are seasons in every Christian's life when he wishes he was not a church member for just about five minutes, that he might have a chance to do justice to the surroundings. Such to me was the trying moment when I gathered my bruised remains together, and looking around, saw the festive "Delay" quietly eating grass, while a little distance off sat the doctor on his pony complacently whistling, "Earth hath no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal." ________
GENERAL CONSULATE OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.
MR.NATE SALSBURY, ROME, 30 MARCH, 1890.
RESPECTED SIR:
The Roman papers report that COLONEL CODY has engaged with Don Onorio Caeteni, Herzog of Sermoneta, Prince of Teano, etc., etc., that he will to-morrow ride in the Exhibition of this town some of his untamed stallions.
I send you, therefore, some of this gentleman's reference lists, also information as to his family and his horses, which may be of interest at this time.
The great lordly family of the Cajetans is the oldest amongst the noble families of Rome. The Cajetans were once the lords over the entire Roman districts of Velletri (twenty-five miles south of Rome), near Fondi (on the Terracina side).
They gave two Pontiffs to the Throne of St. Peter, Gelasius II. (1118), and Boniface VII. (1294), and were the close allies of the Colonnas and the Orsinis in their long contests with the Papacy in the eleventh and twelfth centuries.
Their large estates were confiscated by Pope Alexander VI. (1492-1503), but were afterwards restored under another Pontiff.
The present chief representative of the family is Don Onorio Caetani, Herzog of Sermoneta, Prince of Teano, etc., etc. He is the son of the late Prince Michael Angelo Caetani, renowned for his studies and commentaries on the works of the poet Dante, and his manifold services in the interests of Italian culture and art in general.
The family residence in Rome is the Cajetan Palace, where the family pedigree and archives are kept.
These genelogies and documents are the most complete of all the graet historic Roman families. Some of the branches of the pedigree are dated back into Cajetans of the ninth and tenth centuries.
The small village of Cisterna, where the untamed stallions are kept, lies about thirty-one miles south of Rome; it is situated on the same line as the old Appian Way. The