29

27

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 poet may yet make a hit
On the odds and ends of cow-boys' wits.

"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 explodinig 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 frollic 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 holds, 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 all tails, and at the next flash all horns. If Napolean 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 in their 'millin,' 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 one, 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, 'swears 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 'Chisholm trail' will swarm with cow-boys. 'Howsomever, we'll all 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 and American, injured 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 method's of the two are similar; and, to a certain extent, the same 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 his 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-rimmed 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

27

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 poet may yet make a hit
On the odds and ends of cow-boys' wits.

"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 explodinig 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 frollic 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 holds, 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 all tails, and at the next flash all horns. If Napolean 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 in their 'millin,' 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 one, 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, 'swears 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 'Chisholm trail' will swarm with cow-boys. 'Howsomever, we'll all 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 and American, injured 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 method's of the two are similar; and, to a certain extent, the same 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 his 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-rimmed 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