went to Dodge City on horseback. Had good company, for I struck up with Charley Shiner who was headed for the same point. I think I can truthfully say we were never out of sight of a herd of cattle from there to Dodge City. Arriving at Dodge City I delivered the proceeds of the cattle to Miller & Green and after resting up I was sent back down the trail by Col. John Dewees on some business that carried me almost to the Washita. As I started back to Dodge City I was again fortunate in having good company and more of it, this time coming up with Green Mills and Zeke Hilliard of Lockhart, and A. B. McQueen of Winston county, Miss. It was a pleasure to travel with such good men.

In 1880 I made my last trip over the trail, this time for myself, but in 1884 my two younger brothers, T. H. Ellison and R. R. Ellison, J. T. Block and myself sent a herd from Presidio county in the Big bend country in charge of the late Nat Jackman, who was a brother to W. T. Jackman. I met these cattle up there and delivered them to the Durbin Land & Cattle Co. on Sweetwater, about 150 miles north of Cheyenne, and had to throw them all down and brand them, some four or five thousand head.

I believe this winds up my trail experience. There is a warm place in my heart for all of the old cowmen and trail boys. The men who bought the cattle and paid me to drive them are nearly all gone now; many of my comrades who worked with me on the trail have also passed on, and the balance of us are on the shady side of life. Like the cowboy who, when asked why he had cut a certain cow back, reared in his stirrups and said "She is too ancient,' we, too, are getting "ancient." Trail driving is but a memory now, and will never return. When the summons comes for our last trip let us be ready to go. My postoffice address is Fort Cobb, Oklahoma, and I would be pleased to hear from any of the old boys who would care to write to me.

HAD PLENTY OF FUN

By Gus Black, Eagle Pass, Texas

I have no time to write books. If I gave all of my experience on the trail it would fill this book and then some. From 1875 to 1882 I suppose I had more experience, good and bad, than any one man on the trail, with Indians, buffalo, horse rustlers, and cutthroats, and during that time I worked eighteen hours out of every twenty-four. Wound up in 1882 without a dollar in hand, but in possession of several thousand dollars worth of fun. I am now seventy-one years old and can ride a horse just the same as of old. I have been right here in Texas ever since the morning star first "riz," and when you publish your next book I hope to be a retired stockman, for my time will then be my own, and I will give you something good. However, since you insist, I will relate a few incidents and you can arrange them to suit yourself.

I went up the trail the first time with Ben Duncan and Jim Speed of Frio county, and the second time with Woodward & Oge of the same county. For many years I was boss for Lytle & McDaniel and Lytle & Schreiner.

One year while on the trail we found Red River out of banks at Red River Station, with fifteen or twenty herds there waiting to cross. I was in charge of a herd of 3500 cattle and was anxious to get across. The toll man was demanding $1.25 per head for crossing cattle at that point, but I was determined not to pay it, for the total amount seemed too high, so of two high things I decided to choose the river. While my herd was stopped on the Texas side of the river, and the toll collector was absent, I swam across to the other side and made arrangements with a man over there to come and ferry my wagons over. Then I swam back and got from two to five men from each outfit there to help me. This gave

me a bunch of some forty or fifty men and we pushed my cattle right into the raging river and rushed them across. Just as we emerged on the other side the toll man appeared on the bank we had left and I yelled back to him: "You are too slow to collect from Gus Black.'

I delivered many cattle for Lytle & Schreiner in Wyoming and Nebraska. One year this firm sold several herds to Governor Bush of Wyoming. One trip Governor Bush came out to meet the herd in company with Captain Lytle, and we entertained him in camp. That morning I had found a couple of long horns which had slipped off the head of a dead cow on the trail, and in a spirit of fun I fitted them onto the just-sprouting horns of a dogie yearling with our drags. That little old yearling was a comic sight with those great long horns on its head, and caused lots of fun for the boys. When Governor Bush was looking over the herd he espied this "long-horned" yearling, and began to hurrah Captain Lytle about the animal. I told the Governor that it was just a yearling, but he said it was a four-year-old, and would bet any amount of money on its age. I told him I would bet $200 it was a yearling. He promptly covered the bet, saying he knew I was a hard-working man, and he hated to take my money, but he wanted to prove my ignorance and teach me a lesson. At the same time he said he would just as soon bet me $1000, but knew I could not afford to lose that much money. I told him to put it up, that I always "blowed in" my money anyhow and would just as soon let him win it as anybody else. So the bet was made, and then I roped the dogie and took those horns off. Governor Bush was dumbfounded, and the laugh was on him. When settlement came around I told him to keep his money, as he was so d-d ignorant I just wanted to teach him a lesson. Then he set up the whiskey and cigars to the outfit.

On another trip, after we crossed Smoky River we

encountered a colony of grangers who made it a rule to charge every herd fifty dollars for permitting passage through their community. I rode into the village and consulted with their chief leader who informed me that the charge was made to pay for inspecting herds for contagious diseases, etc. I told him I had no money but would give him a draft on Captain Lytle, which he said would be satisfactory as Captain Lytle's check was good anywhere in the world. He asked me to kindly add another ten dollars to the amount for tobacco for the villagers, which I did, and then put my herd through. The first telegraph station I reached I wired Captain Lytle that I had been buncoed out of sixty dollars and to refuse to pay the draft. Those fellows were skinning us and I figured that turn about was fair play.

I am glad George Saunders took the lead in the organization of the trail drivers of the early days, for such an association has long been needed to preserve the history of the rugged noble men who made the cattle industry. I hope to live to see the day when that monument suggested by Mr. Saunders is placed on the old trail as a tribute to those who have gone their way and a reminder to oncoming generations that we "blazed the trail" and vouchsafed unto them peace, happiness and prosperity.

SLUMBERED THROUGH THE SHOOTING

By H. H. Peel, Jourdanton, Texas

I went up the trail the first time in the spring of 1881 with a Crouch Brothers' herd from Frio county, in charge of George Wilcox. We had the usual experiences of driving and stampeding, and at Doan's Store on Red River a near-shooting. Fortunately the bad man's pistol hung in the scabbard and as he was well covered by sev