posing themselves by climbing on the tops of some log cabins which afforded them shelter. In order to appease the outraged citizens, the United States Government in a few days moved the Indians from the Brazos, in Texas, to Fort Sill, Indian Territory. After this open warfare by all of these tribes, augmented by the assistance of the Kiowas and Navajos of New Mexico, became general and more relentless all along the Texas border. Captain Cureton and his neighbors were in the saddle almost constantly every light moon, without any pay or equipment from the government. Many Texans who became noted in after years were of these noble patriots who suffered through these perilous days. Among them I might mention: Col. Charles Goodnight, of Goodnight, Texas, who produced the cross between the cow and buffalo, known as the catalo; Col. C. C. Slaughter and his brother, Pete; one of the Sangers, of Sanger Brothers, the famous merchants; the Hittsons; the Bells; and many others.

Of the numerous battles these volunteer pioneers had with the Indians, I will mention one on Yellow Wolf Creek, a tributary of the Colorado, near old Fort Chadborne, in which several Indians were killed and Jimmie Lane, one of the whites, was mortally wounded. In the last days of November, 1860, the Comanches murdered several people, including women and children, near where Mineral Wells, Texas, is now situated; and on the 5th day of December, 1860, Captain Cureton assembled his citizen soldiers, and the noble merchants of Weatherford, Texas, Carson, Lewis, and others, freely gave supplies for their packs, and they took the trail. At or near Belknap, Captain Cureton sent a messenger to Captain Sul Ross, who had a small company of state troops nearby, and Capt. Ross applied to the United States commander at Fort Camp Cooper, and the latter sent a lieutenant with forty men with the expedition. When the forces arrived on a tributary of Pease River, they encountered

the Comanches under Chief Peta Nocona, father of Quanah Parker, and pretty well slaughtered the entire band, Captain Ross wounding the chief in a hand-to-hand encounter in the battle. Upon refusal of the chief to surrender he was killed by Captain Ross' interpreter. In this battle was captured Cynthia Ann Parker and baby girl, who were brought back to her relatives, who had not seen or heard of her since her capture by the Comanches at the massacre at Parker's Fort in the '30's.

In March, 1861, Captain Cureton and his old frontier volunteers joined the Confederate Army, and served in the territory assigned them during the entire period of the Civil War.

In the meantime, the Indians were a great menace, and there were many adventures and battles too numerous to mention in this brief sketch of my father's life.

A band of Lipans, Kickapoos, and Potawatamies left Fort Sill to emigrate to Old Mexico, purporting to keep out of the war, in which they had nothing in common with the combatants. They routed themselves just beyond the Texas ranchers; but, unfortunately perhaps, Captain Gillentine, of Erath county, was buffalo hunting near old Fort Phantom Hill, located in what is now Jones county, in 1864, and discovered the trail of these Indians going southwest. Captain Gillentine at once gave the alarm, and some 500 Texans rushed to the scene, Captain Cureton in the thick of the swim. They took the trail of the Indians near the place of discovery, and on the 8th day of January, 1865, came upon them on Dove Creek, a tributary of the Concho, and the fight was on. In the encounter the Texans lost some 30 or 40 men, and had to outrun the Indians to save the others. In fact, it may be said that the Texans were routed "boots and spurs.

Many times the Indians sacked the town of Palo Pinto, robbed the stables of horses and mules, and on one occasion shot John B. Slaughter when he stepped out of his house at night.

We early Texans of the upper Brazos had to go to Dallas or McLennan county, Texas, for our breadstuff in those early times. Near the beginning of the Civil War, Cravens and Darnell built an inclined wheel cornmill in Golconda, the first name given to Palo Pinto, run by the tread of oxen on the wheel, and we fared well, as we were able to grow corn along the Brazos where the Indians had set the example before us. But the Red Man, always, bent on some mischief, came along and killed the big mulatto negro who was the miller while he was out hunting his oxen, and we had to fall back on the old hand steel mill, which was demonstrative evidence that man should eat his bread by the sweat of his face.

In 1870 Captain Cureton took an immigrant train of 70 people overland from Texas to California, and owned most of the herd of cattle carried by his boys to the Pacific coast at the same time. Captain Cureton returned from California, and was sheriff of Bosque county from 1876 to 1880, the period of time immediately succeeding the reconstruction days, when the country was infested by the worst of criminals, and when the sheriff and his deputies literally stood between the inhabitants of the community and assassins and thieves. He died and was buried in Bosque county in May, 1881, survived by all of his children and by his wife, who survived him until May, 1906, when she died at the home of her daughter, the wife of Judge O. L. Lockett, of Cleburne, Texas.

TRAIL RECOLLECTIONS OF GEO. W. ELAM

I was one of the earliest settlers in Bandera county, when that section was wild and unsettled. The country was full of game. I established my ranch on the West Prong of the Medina River. As with most of the pioneers of those days, I erected a log house, and left the opening for the fireplace, and was waiting for a chimney builder to come and put up my chimney. To keep the rain out,

I covered the opening with a wagon sheet. One night, after we had gone to bed, a negro boy whom I had brought with me from Dallas county, and who slept on a pallet on the floor near the fireplace, suddenly cried out, "O, mas Elam! Fo God! Ole Satan hisself is here, an' done come for us!" I raised up and looking towards the frightened "coon," whose eyes were bulged out so that you could have roped them with a grape vine, I saw, to my surprise, a great big, black mountain bear making himself at home in the room. There he sat on his haunches, by the fireplace, looking as unconcerned as you please. Before I could get my gun, Mr. Bruin suddenly jumped out of one of the window openings and disappeared in the darkness.

Stock raising was the principal and virtually the only industry in the country, and the range was open and free for all. I did not go up the Trail until 1875. In the spring of that year we left Bandera with a herd of one thousand head for Ogallala, Nebraska. Lige Childs was boss, but as he was not as well acquainted with the country as I was, I was virtually made boss of the herd. Our outfit in addition to Childs, was composed of Sammy Schladaer, John McKenzie, John Brock, Sylvester Bethreum, and myself, with one or two others whose names I have forgotten. When we got to the Colorado River, it looked to me like it was five miles wide. This, however, didn't "faze" us in the least, and we swam the herd across without any material loss. As the weather continued bad, with rains and storms, we had to swim the main Brazos and the Clear Fork. When we got to Denison, on Red River, Childs sold out, and we came back over the trail.

Some funny things happened on our way up, but one of the most serious episodes occurred when we got near Fredericksburg. One of the sturdy farmers of that section (there were but few farming settlements in the country) near whose farm we had passed, came to the

herd and to his surprise saw his old family milk cow, as he honestly thought, marching slowly and peacefully away from home, in the midst of our cattle. The news spread through the settlement like wildfire, and in a short while there must have been a hundred or more indignant neighbors of his around our herd. They had the effrontery to insinuate that Childs was trying to steal old Betsy. The result was that Childs was arrested by the Sheriff and taken to jail at Fredericksburg. It did look like he was a "goner." However, just as they got him to the jail door, one of the boys who had gotten there and had shaken hands with Childs, suddenly reminded him that he had a bill of sale to that cow in his coat pocket. Whereupon Childs reached into his pocket and produced the paper which showed that he had bought old Betsy down in Atascosa county. There was a consultation among the irate farmers and the Sheriff. It didn't hardly look right to put a man in jail for stealing an animal when he had a bill of sale to it. So they told Childs he could go, but that the farmer would keep the cow. Childs grew indignant, and told them that just as soon as he had delivered his herd he was coming back and file suit for his property and would have that cow if he had to take the case to the Supreme Court of the United States. For some reason or other, Childs never did file that suit. This unjust and unfortunate suspicion on the part of that farmer caused us to hold up for three days on the Perdinales. After proving his innocence, Childs went back to Bandera for five hundred head more cattle, and I went on in charge of the herd and waited at the Colorado for him to come up.

Those old times, with their frontier ways and customs, have long since been superseded by the modern conveniences and developments of civilization. But the men who blazed the way for the material greatness which is ours today, were grand and noble spirits and are entitled to the grateful remembrance of their fellow-countrymen.