cluster of white brush. The Indians passed uncomfortably close to us on their way to some other place, as the settlement was not molested that night. They confined their raids mostly to stealing of stock, such as horses and mules. However, they did not hesitate in "lifting a scalp" if chance offered. Some time later Indians appeared at night and made a raid on our settlement, taking with them a number of horses, and happened to lose one of their own-a little dun pony. We took up this pony and fed him so that he was soon nice and fat. One evening we took him out to graze near the house, and had gone back some 300 yards when we saw a bunch of redskins leading away our fat little pony, and we lost no time in hiding. We found the cut hobble next morning about ten feet from where we had left the horse, and I guess the Indians had watched us and waited long enough for us to leave and then took the animal. That very night the Indians stole horses all over the settlement. They also visited a place belonging to Nic Haby. He had his horses and mules in a pen and was guarding them, hiding behind a large live oak tree. Early in the night he noticed his horses becoming restless, and directly an Indian appeared above the fence and jumped into the corral among the horses. Nic Haby was a good shot and the Indian found it out. The following morning a neighbor of Haby's came over to tell Haby his trouble with Indians and the loss of horses he had sustained, when he espied the dead Indian. He drew his dirk and plunged it into the redskin's body, exclaiming: "That is the sonof-a-gun; he stole my horses." They put a rope around the Indian's head and dragged him up on the mountain, turning him over to the mercies of the buzzards and hogs. They accorded him the same burial that the redskins gave their white victims. For a long time thereafter nobody would eat pork.

After I was large, or old enough to work out, I started freighting, my first trip being with a two-horse wagon

from San Antonio to Fort Clark. There were generally from six to ten wagons making the trip at the same time, partly for protection and also for assistance which in the rainy season was quite imperative. After a trip or two I bought a three-and-a-half-inch Studebaker wagon and hitched up six animals. We freighted to Del Rio, to Eagle Pass and to Fort Clark from San Antonio, Texas. We would take out merchandise and bring back raw material-wool and hides, and sometimes a load of empty beer bottles, or "dead soldiers" as we called them. We had some experiences with our work teams stampeding at night, and sometimes we would catch up with them next day ten or twelve miles away, homeward bound. In those days there were no graded roads; a wagon track, or a number of them, would be called a road if it had the name of its destination tacked to it. Sometimes a road would be 100 feet wide or wider, according to where the ground was most solid and suitable for travel. When the rainy spell set in the roads were almost impassable. Sometimes we hitched as many as sixteen animals to a wagon to pull it out of the mud, and would move it 100 feet or so, then hook on to the next one, until we had them all out of the mud. I have seen the time that we were camped for weeks on this side of the Frio River on account of high water and impassable roads. We had an old mule team that we used in swimming the river when going to Uvalde for bacon and meal. We had plenty of meat, such as rabbits, venison and also fish. In 1881, with the coming of the Southern Pacific Railroad, our trade went "blooe." I became foreman of the Judge Noonan ranch southwest of Castroville, Texas, and worked there until I went up the trail in 1884.

Ed Kaufman and Louis Schorp, both of them alive to this day, gathered a herd of some 450 head of horses in Medina County, Texas. With them were J. M. Saathoff, Ehme Saathoff, a cook by the name of Ganahl Brown, and myself. We started from Castroville and drove by

way of Bandera, Kerrville and over the "old trail," crossing the Red River at the old Doan Store. We herded the horses the first few nights and later let them graze or rest during the night to themselves. We had a very wet trip, it raining almost every day while we were on the way. Feed for the horses was plentiful and our crew fared on wild game, cornbread and black coffee. We came across our first Indians when we arrived in the Indian Territory. They were very friendly and would eat tobacco and sugar "out of your hand." These articles were always on their mind and after their preliminary "How" they would never fail to ask for them. When the meals we were cooking were ready there would always be some "self-invited" Indian guest or guests to fall in and help themselves and eat to their heart's content. One day an old buck rode up to me in the usual way and asked for "terback." I handed him a plug and after he gave two or three of his "compadres" each a chew he took one himself and stuck the balance in his pocket. I argued and asked him to give me back my plug, but he said: "Pony boss, he be good," and rode off.

It was customary to pay a duty on horses crossing the reservation, and our boss paid the Indians in horses, but they also stole some twenty-five head from us before we got away from them. We did not have very much trouble with the horses, and our trip took up something like four months from Castroville, Texas, to Dodge City, Kansas. We camped with our herd about six miles south of Dodge City, on Mulberry Creek. The first thing we did when we arrived there was to go to town, get a shave and haircut, and tighten our belts by a few good strong drinks. Here I also met George W. Saunders-the same George who is now the worthy president of the "Old Trail Drivers' Association."

While here our boss, Ed Kaufman, got summons that some important business demanded his immediate return to Medina County. He left the herd in our charge until

such a time when he should return, in about 30 days. After he got back to the herd he sold it to Mr. Wilson, of Pueblo, Colorado, where he had to deliver the horses for him.

After delivery of the horses at Pueblo, Colo., I hired to Wilson, and worked for a couple of months, when I was sent back to Dodge City to receive and take charge of a herd of 3,500 head of two-year-old stocker steers for Wilson. I started the herd and the cattle would stampede every blooming night. Often in the morning we had to help from thirty to forty of the poorer steers on their feet by a tail-hold and lift. This was repeated for some eight or ten days, and we could only make from five to six miles per day. We tired of herding the cattle at night, so would scatter the herd over a large area of ground to give them more elbow room. This worked like a charm, for as long as the cattle were not in close formation they would not get excited so easily and we had

no more runs.

We took the herd about sixty miles below Pueblo to the Wilson ranch, branded the 3,500 head, and six more herds which had been delivered there, amounting to another 3,500-7,000 head in all; besides branding, we dewlapped every animal. We built our own pens and chutes to do this, and hard work it was. Still, we had lots of old-time pleasure to relieve the monotony. Every Saturday afternoon at two o'clock we would quit work and go to a dance, start dancing at 4 P.M. and dance till after sunrise Sunday morning. We had lots of refreshments, booze, beer and kindred "exhilarators." Sometimes a little shooting scrape would change the scenery, but was of passing interest. From the Wilson ranch I returned home by way of Kansas City. I remained at home a short time and took up some state land in 1885, fenced it-and then went west to Brewster and Presidio Counties, where I worked for Sam Harmon of Alpine, Texas. Harmon was a roundup boss and attended to the brand

ing and gathering of stock. The first work we did was out of the ordinary-we tried to dig a well. We blasted through 65 feet of solid rock and left a "dry hole." Later I worked for F. Collins a long time.

In 1892 I left Alpine and went home to Medina County, got married to Johanna Schweers and settled down five miles north of Quihi-on Sturm Hill.

ATE STOLEN MEAT, ANYWAY

By Jim Wilson, Alpine, Texas

I was born in Bee County in 1861, so I am not as old as some of the boys who had lots of experience up the trail in the 70's. I went up the trail to Kansas in 1880, leaving Bee County with a herd for Millett & Lane, and

turned them over in the Indian Territory. Dave Clair and I went with Woodward & Oge, with Jim Newton as boss. Bill Hancock, a brotherin-law to Newton, was with the outfit, and as he was about my age, we fell in together somewhat. One night Dave Clair, Bill Hancock, myself and a boy from Kansas were on herd when a severe thunderstorm came up, and we drifted off with the cattle. The Kansas boy was pretty badly scared during the storm and kept saying that his people were all killed in a storm and he just knew we were going to be killed, too. Bill got excited, too, and asked me: "Did you ever pray?" I told him no, not in a long time.

JIM WILSON

He said, "Some of us