ranch is now and crossed the Canadian River at Billie Williams' store. That night Colonel Todd and I fell out and I quit. He talked a long time to me before I would agree to stay with the outfit until he got out of the Indian country.

The next morning when I went out to try to get a wild turkey, I rode into a bunch of Indians. "Jack Moore" carried me from them and when I got to the herd, I had been struck with several arrows, so was "Jack Moore." Jimmie Billings cut the arrows out of both of us with a pocket knife. I lost quite a lot of blood. While they were at work on me, William Packer rode up and had me put in his wagon and in a few days I was in the saddle again. But "Jack Moore" and I parted forever. I finished my trip with Harrow & Packer, who had three hundred head of butcher cattle which they were taking to Bloomington, Ill.

We passed Caldwell, Kansas, and were in Wichita Falls on the 4th day of July, 1871, just two years after the first peg was driven into the ground to lay out the town. The cattle were shipped from Florence, Kansas.

William Slaughter and I went across the country to Abilene. Wild Bill, or I should say William Hickok, was city marshal. He was very kind to me and I thought a great deal of him.

I shipped cattle from Abilene to St. Louis for Jim Reed, a one-armed man. One day while I was asleep at the Belle Hotel in St. Louis, Zack Mulhall called and asked what I was dreaming. I told him of "home." He then asked me why I did not go home. I told him to go to the ticket office with me and the first train that went out I would go on it. The train went east just one hour before the one went west. I found things changed from what they were when they left.

GARLAND G. ODOM

Among the foremost men in the cattle industry of Texas was G. G. Odom, of Ballinger, Texas. He was born in Baldwin county, Alabama, December 16, 1852, and was brought to Texas by his parents a year later. The family settled at San Antonio where his father, Thomas L. Odom, engaged in

ranching.

Garland Odom was a cowboy on his father's ranch until 1872, when he embarked in the cattle business for himself, becoming a trailer and driving his herds to Kansas markets. In 1876 he and his father drove 4,000 head of cattle to Runnells county and established the O. D. Ranch, with Fort Chadbourne as headquarters. While engaged in trail driving, Mr. Odom met and enjoyed the friendship of such old timers as Dewees, Maberry, Dawson, Fountain Hemsley, Nunn, Burnett, Deedis, Lowe, Slaughter, Collins, Cood Adams, and others whose names are familiar to the cowboys of those days.

G. G. ODOM

In 1879 he organized the Odom-Luckett Land & Livestock Company, of which he was general manager, and proceeded to buy and acquire title to a large body of land. In 1883 his company fenced in about 100,000 acres, the first pasture of any great importance in that section of the state. This met with a great deal of opposition from a certain element, and "wire cutting" gave the company no end of trouble, the "cutters" clipping about forty miles in one night. In 1886 Mr. Odom drove a large herd to Arizona and established a ranch at White Mountain,

in Apache county, and again took up trailing, driving several herds to Montana and the Dakotas.

Mr. Odom became connected with leading business interests of Ballinger, Texas, and in all of his ventures he attained remarkable success. He was married at San Antonio, January 28, 1875, to Miss Sallie M. Crigler, and to them were born two daughters.

REMINISCENCES OF AN OLD TRAIL DRIVER

John C. Jacobs, San Antonio, Texas

Any one who would like to make a trip over the old cattle trail, from Texas to Montana with a herd of cattle, should meet President George Saunders, with his organization of old trail drivers, at their annual meet at the Gunter Hotel, San Antonio, Texas, in October of each

year, where they proceed to tear down every wire fence in the State, load up their chuck wagon with its raw hide stretched under the hind axle, get their cow ponies together, round up vast herds of longhorned cattle, throw them on the trail for a three to seven months' drive to northern markets, and after they have sold out and got their big roll of the long green, they stage a two-nights' ball at the Gunter. It would do your heart good to see the old timer swing the modern girl a-goin' and a-comin'. "In his mind" he owns more cattle than Job of Uz ever saw. His grand-daughter has to step some to keep time with him in an old-fashioned square dance. He has gone back on the range, turned his wolf loose, and forgotten the years that have flown. The most of his life has been spent out

JOHN C. JACOBS

under Mother Nature's great blue, and the sixty-five to seventy-five years rest lightly upon his shoulders.

The rattle of horns and hoof (in the lobby) is to him as the fountain of youth. He has mounted his cuttin' horse and "lit a shuck." Herds of cattle going over the trail run in numbers from one to five thousand. After a herd is thrown on the trail, cattle of different temperament take their different places in the herd while traveling-they, like men, have their individuality. A few take the lead and keep the lead during the entire drive, others follow and keep their places. Then comes the middle and principal part of the herd, and last what is called the drags, and they are drags from the day they leave the ranch to the end of the drive. When watering and grazing they mix and mingle but when thrown back on the trail each division finds its respective place.

To handle a herd of all steer cattle on the trail requires the very best cowboy skill, and a herd boss who can speak the bovine language. If they ever stampede one time, there is danger of trouble the entire drive. A cowboy might carelessly get off his horse while the cattle were resting on the bedding ground, and if the horse. should shake himself the rattle of the saddle would likely start a stampede, and only a cow puncher knows what that means. When the cattle are restless on the bedding ground the boys on night herd hum a low, soft lullaby (like a mother to her child). It has a quieting effect and often saves trouble.

A frontier cow range develops many peculiar characters, and many incidents that are stranger than fiction. I haven't the space to touch on more than one of them.

Judge Roy Bean was justice of the peace in a suburb of San Antonio, which is now in the city limits, but still known as "Beanville." Civilization was closing in on the Judge, so he bundled up and went West, and located on the Mexican border, west of the Pecos river. Lily Langtry, while filling an engagement here, met the old

Judge, and was very much taken with his personality. The Judge named the station he founded west of the Pecos, "Langtry," and in after years Miss Langtry, while crossing to the Pacific coast, would stop over and spend a day with her friend and admirer. None of the counties were organized in that part of the country, so the Judge got an appointment as Justice of the Peace at Langtry. He was running a saloon there, and he built a house near by and painted on it in large letters: "Judge Roy Bean's City Hall and Seat of Justice. He is the Law West of the Pecos."

It is said of the old Judge that a man was found dead on his range, and he had $50 and a pistol on his person. The Judge held an inquest over the body and fined the corpse $50 for carrying a pistol!

It is said that a friend of the Judge's killed a Mexican and when the constable brought the man in for a preliminary trial, the Judge said he could find no law in his books against killing a Mexican, and instructed the officer to release the prisoner. The Judge never adjourned his court and was always ready for action.

Stations were' far between on the Southern Pacific railroad and Langtry was a water station. Passengers had time while the engine was taking water to rush over to the Judge's saloon and take something stronger. On one occasion a passenger took a bottle of beer-price one dollar-and handed the Judge a twenty. The customer thought the Judge a little slow in making the change, and indulged in a few cuss words and fears of getting left. The Judge fined him nineteen dollars for contempt of court, and informed the gentleman that if he had anything further to say derogatory to the dignity of the court he would lock him up for thirty days. The old Judge was a fine man and a most interesting character. At his death he willed Miss Langtry his brace of pistols.

I would be pleased to go on and write of the splendid character among the cowboys. They have a side to their