The Trail Drivers of Texas: Interesting Sketches of Early Cowboys and Their Experiences on the Range and on the Trail During the Days that Tried Men's Souls--true Narratives Related by Real Cow-punchers and Men who Fathered the Cattle Industry in Texas
John Marvin Hunter, George Washington Saunders
Cokesbury Press, 1925 - Cattle trade - 1044 pages
These are the chronicles of the trail drivers of Texas, those rugged men and, sometimes, women who drove cattle and horses up the trails from Texas to northern markets in the late 1800s. Gleaned from members of the Old Time Trail Drivers' Association, these hundreds of real-life stories--some humorous, some chilling, some rambling, all interesting-form an invaluable cornerstone to the literature, history, and folklore of Texas and the West.--Amazon.com.
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Abilene asked Association became began Bill born boss bought boys brand brother buffalo bunch called camp cattle close Colorado cook cowboy Creek crossed delivered Dodge City drive drove early father five four friends gave George give ground hands head herd herd of cattle hold horses hundred Indians John Kansas killed knew known land later leaving lived looked lost Mexico miles months morning moved never night passed ranch range reached received Red River returned riding rode rope saddle San Antonio sent side sold soon South spring stampede started steers stopped Territory Texas things thought thousand told took town Trail Drivers train trip trouble turned wagon wanted Wichita wild Worth young
Page 202 - Let Fate do her worst ; there are relics of joy, Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy ; Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care, And bring back the features that joy used to wear. Long, long be my heart with such memories filled ! Like the vase, in which roses have once been distilled — You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will. But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.
Page 850 - I'm mean or small. Make me as wide and open as the plains, As honest as the horse between my knees, Clean as the wind that blows behind the rains, Free as the hawk that circles down the breeze. Forgive me, Lord, when sometimes I forget; You know about the reasons that are hid, You know about the things that gall and fret, You know me better than my mother did. Just keep an eye on all that's done and said. Just right me sometimes, when I turn aside, And guide me on the long, dim trail ahead. That...
Page 933 - Go in' back to town to draw my money, Goin' back home to see my honey. With my knees in the saddle and my seat in sky I'll quit punching cows in the sweet by and by. Coma ti yi youpy, youpy ya, youpy ya, Coma ti yi youpy, youpy ya.
Page 850 - em say I'm mean or small! Make me as big and open as the plains, As honest as the hawse between my knees, Clean as the wind that blows behind the rains, Free as the hawk that circles down the breeze.
Page 933 - I went to the boss to draw my roll, He had it figgered out I was nine dollars in the hole.
Page 1009 - O'er life's uneven road; And when unconquered sorrows, The weary hours invest, The kindly words of old friends Are always found the best. There are no friends like old friends, To calm our frequent fears, When shadows fall and deepen Through life's declining years ; And when our faltering footsteps Approach the Great Divide, We'll long to meet the old friends Who wait the other side.
Page 366 - IT is my joy in life to find At every turning of the road, The strong arm of a comrade kind To help me onward with my load : And since I have no gold to give, And love alone must make amends, My only prayer is, while I live, — God make me worthy of my friends!
Page 850 - You understand the things that gall and fret; You know me better than my mother did. Just keep an eye on all that's done and said And right me, sometimes, when I turn aside, And guide me on the long, dim trail ahead That stretches upward toward the Great Divide.
Page 932 - My hoss throwed me off at the creek called Mud, My hoss throwed me off round the 2-U herd. Last time I saw him he was going cross the level A-kicking up his heels and a-running like the devil. It's cloudy in the West, a-looking like rain, And my damned old slicker's in the wagon again. Crippled my boss, I don't know how, Ropin