Chapter IV. Mingling with the Exodus

by Andy Adams

　　By noon the herd had grazed out five miles on its way. The boyswere so anxious to get off that on my return the camp wasdeserted with the exception of the cook and the horse-wrangler,none even returning for dinner. Before leaving I had lunched atLos Lobos with its owner, and on reaching the wagon, Levering andI assisted the cook to harness in and start the commissary. Thegeneral course of the Nueces River was southeast by northwest,and as our route lay on the latter angle, the herd would followup the valley for the first day. Once outside the boundaries ofour camp of the past week, the grass matted the ground with itsrank young growth. As far as the eye could see, the mesas,clothed in the verdure of spring, rolled in long swells away tothe divides. Along the river and in the first bottom, the timberand mesquite thickets were in leaf and blossom, while on theoutlying prairies the only objects which dotted this sea of greenwere range cattle and an occasional band of horses.The start was made on the 27th of March. By easy drives andwithin a week, we crossed the "Sunset" Railway, about thirtymiles to the westward of the ranch in Medina. On reaching thedivide between the Leona and Frio rivers, we sighted our firstherd of trail cattle, heading northward. We learned that some sixherds had already passed upward on the main Frio, while a numberof others were reported as having taken the east fork of thatriver. The latter stream almost paralleled the line betweenMedina and Uvalde counties, and as we expected some word fromheadquarters, we crossed over to the east fork. When westward ofand opposite the ranch, Runt Pickett was sent in for anynecessary orders that might be waiting. By leaving us early inthe evening he could reach headquarters that night and overtakeus before noon the next day. We grazed leisurely forward the nextmorning, killing as much time as possible, and Pickett overtookus before the wagon had even gone into camp for dinner. Lovellhad not stopped on his return from the west, but had left withthe depot agent at the home station a letter for the ranch. Fromits contents we learned that the other two Buford herds hadstarted from Uvalde, Sponsilier in the lead, one on the 24th andthe other the following day. Local rumors were encouraging inregard to grass and water to the westward, and the intimation wasclear that if favorable reports continued, the two Uvalde herdswould intersect an old trail running from the head of NuecesCanon to the Llano River. Should they follow this route there waslittle hope of their coming into the main western trail beforereaching the Colorado River. Sponsilier was a daring fellow, andif there was a possible chance to get through beyond the bordersof any settlement, he was certain to risk it.The letter contained no personal advice. Years of experience intrail matters had taught my employer that explicit orders wereoften harmful. The emergencies to be met were of such a variednature that the best method was to trust to an outfit worming itsway out of any situation which confronted it. From theinformation disclosed, it was evident that the other Buford herdswere then somewhere to the northwest, and possibly over a hundredmiles distant. Thus freed from any restraint, we held a duenorthward course for several days, or until we encountered somerocky country. Water was plentiful and grass fairly good, butthose flinty hills must be avoided or sorefooted beeves would bethe result. I had seen trails of blood left by cattle from sandycountries on encountering rock, and now the feet of ours were asecond consideration to their stomachs. But long before the herdreached this menace, Morg Tussler and myself, scouting two fulldays in advance, located a safe route to the westward. Had weturned to the other hand, we should have been forced into themain trail below Fredericksburg, and we preferred the sea-room ofthe boundless plain. From every indication and report, thispromised to be the banner year in the exodus of cattle from theSouth to the then new Northwest. This latter section wasaffording the long-looked-for outlet, by absorbing the offeringsof cattle which came up from Texas over the trail, and marking anepoch barely covering a single decade.Turning on a western angle, a week's drive brought us out on ahigh tableland. Veering again to the north, we snailed alongthrough a delightful country, rich in flora and the freshness ofthe season. From every possible elevation, we scanned the west inthe hope of sighting some of the herd which had followed up themain Frio, but in vain. Sweeping northward at a leisurely gait,the third week out we sighted the Blue Mountains, the firstfamiliar landmark on our course. As the main western trailskirted its base on the eastward, our position was easilyestablished.So far the cattle were well behaved, not a run, and only a singleincident occurring worth mention. About half an hour before dawnone morning, the cook aroused the camp with the report that theherd was missing. The beeves had been bedded within two hundredyards of the wagon, and the last watch usually hailed therekindling of the cook's fire as the first harbinger of day. Buton this occasion the absence of the usual salutations from thebed-ground aroused Parent's suspicion. He rushed into camp, andlaboring under the impression that the cattle had stampeded,trampled over our beds, yelling at the top of his lungs. Arousedin the darkness from heavy sleep, bewildered by a bright fireburning and a crazy man shouting, "The beeves have stampeded! theherd's gone! Get up, everybody!" we were almost thrown into apanic. Many of the boys ran for their night-horses, but ClayZilligan and I fell on the cook and shook the statement out ofhim that the cattle had left their beds. This simplified thesituation, but before I could recall the men, several of them hadreached the bed-ground. As fast as horses could be secured,others dashed through the lighted circle and faded into thedarkness. From the flickering of matches it was evident that theboys were dismounting and looking for some sign of trouble.Zilligan was swearing like a pirate, looking for his horse in themurky night; but instead of any alarm, oaths and derision greetedour ears as the men returned to camp. Halting their horses withinthe circle of the fire, Dorg Seay said to the cook:"Neal, the next time you find a mare's nest, keep the secret toyourself. I don't begrudge losing thirty minutes' beauty sleep,but I hate to be scared out of a year's growth. Haven't you gotcow-sense enough to know that if those beeves had run, they'dhave shook the earth? If they had stampeded, that alarm clock ofyours wouldn't be a circumstance to the barking of the boys'guns. Why, the cattle haven't been gone thirty minutes. You cansee where they got up and then quietly walked away. The groundwhere they lay is still steaming and warm. They were watered alittle too soon yesterday and naturally got up early thismorning. The boys on guard didn't want to alarm the outfit, andjust allowed the beeves to graze off on their course. When daybreaks, you'll see they ain't far away, and in the rightdirection. Parent, if I didn't sabe cows better than you do, I'dconfine my attention to a cotton patch."Seay had read the sign aright. When day dawned the cattle were inplain view about a mile distant. On the return of the last guardto camp, Vick Wolf explained the situation in a few words. Duringtheir watch the herd had grown restless, many of the cattlearising; and knowing that dawn was near at hand, the boys hadpushed the sleepy ones off their beds and started them feeding.The incident had little effect on the irrepressible Parent, whoseemed born to blunder, yet gifted with a sunny disposition whichatoned for his numerous mistakes.With the Blue Mountains as our guiding star, we kept to thewestward of that landmark, crossing the Llano River opposite someIndian mounds. On reaching the divide between this and the nextwater, we sighted two dust-clouds to the westward. They were tento fifteen miles distant, but I was anxious to hear any word ofSponsilier or Forrest, and sent Jake Blair to make a social call.He did not return until the next day, and reported the first herdas from the mouth of the Pecos, and the more distant one asbelonging to Jesse Presnall. Blair had stayed all night with thelatter, and while its foreman was able to locate at least a dozentrail herds in close proximity, our two from Uvalde had neitherbeen seen nor heard of. Baffled again, necessity compelled us toturn within touch of some outfitting point. The staples of lifewere running low in our commissary, no opportunity havingpresented itself to obtain a new supply since we left the ranchin Medina over a month before. Consequently, after crossing theSan Saba, we made our first tack to the eastward.Brady City was an outfitting point for herds on the old westerntrail. On coming opposite that frontier village, Parent and Itook the wagon and went in after supplies, leaving the herd onits course, paralleling the former route. They had instructionsto camp on Brady Creek that night. On reaching the supply point,there was a question if we could secure the simple staplesneeded. The drive that year had outstripped all calculations,some half-dozen chuck-wagons being in waiting for the arrival ofa freight outfit which was due that morning. The nearest railroadwas nearly a hundred miles to the eastward, and all supplies mustbe freighted in by mule and ox teams. While waiting for thefreight wagons, which were in sight several miles distant, I madeinquiry of the two outfitting stores if our Buford herds hadpassed. If they had, no dealings had taken place on the credit ofDon Lovell, though both merchants knew him well. Before thefreight outfit arrived, some one took Abb Blocker, a trailforeman for his brother John, to task for having an odd ox in hiswheel team. The animal was a raw, unbroken "7L" bull, surly andchafing under the yoke, and attracted general attention. Whenseveral friends of Blocker, noticing the brand, began joking him,he made this explanation: "No, I don't claim him; but he cameinto my herd the other night and got to hossing my steers around.We couldn't keep him out, and I thought if he would just goalong, why we'd put him under the yoke and let him hoss thatchuck-wagon to amuse himself. One of my wheelers was getting alittle tenderfooted, anyhow."On the arrival of the freight outfit, short shift was made intransferring a portion of the cargo to the waiting chuck-wagons.As we expected to reach Abilene, a railroad point, within a week,we took on only a small stock of staple supplies. Having helpedourselves, the only delay was in getting a clerk to look over ourappropriation, make out an itemized bill, and receive a draft onmy employer. When finally the merchant in person climbed into ourwagon and took a list of the articles, Parent started back toovertake the herd. I remained behind several hours, chatting withthe other foremen.None of the other trail bosses had seen anything of Lovell'sother herds, though they all knew him personally or byreputation, and inquired if he was driving again in the same roadbrand. By general agreement, in case of trouble, we would pick upeach other's cattle; and from half a cent to a cent a head wasconsidered ample remuneration in buying water in Texas. Owing tothe fact that many drovers had shipped to Red River, it wasgenerally believed that there would be no congestion of cattlesouth of that point. All herds were then keeping well to thewestward, some even declaring their intention to go through thePanhandle until the Canadian was reached.Two days later we came into the main trail at the crossing of theColorado River. Before we reached it, several ominous dust-cloudshung on our right for hours, while beyond the river were others,indicating the presence of herds. Summer weather had already setin, and during the middle of the day the glare of heat-waves andmirages obstructed our view of other wayfarers like ourselves,but morning and evening we were never out of sight of theirsignals. The banks of the river at the ford were trampled to thelevel of the water, while at both approach and exit the groundwas cut into dust. On our arrival, the stage of water wasfavorable, and we crossed without a halt of herd, horses, orcommissary. But there was little inducement to follow the oldtrail. Washed into ruts by the seasons, the grass on either sideeaten away for miles, there was a look of desolation like that tobe seen in the wake of an army. As we felt under obligations totouch at Abilene within a few days, there was a constant skirmishfor grass within a reasonable distance of the trail; and we wereearly, fully two thirds of the drive being in our rear. Onesultry morning south of Buffalo Gap, as we were grazing past thefoot of Table Mountain, several of us rode to the summit of thatbutte. From a single point of observation we counted twelve herdswithin a space of thirty miles both south and north, all movingin the latter direction.When about midway between the Gap and the railroad we were met atnoon one day by Don Lovell. This was his first glimpse of myherd, and his experienced eye took in everything from a brokenharness to the peeling and legibility of the road brand. With methe condition of the cattle was the first requisite, but theminor details as well as the more important claimed my employer'sattention. When at last, after riding with the herd for an hour,he spoke a few words of approbation on the condition, weight, anduniformity of the beeves, I felt a load lifted from my shoulders.That the old man was in a bad humor on meeting us was evident;but as he rode along beside the cattle, lazy and large as oxen,the cockles of his heart warmed and he grew sociable. Near themiddle of the afternoon, as we were in the rear, looking over thedrag steers, he complimented me on having the fewesttender-footed animals of any herd that had passed Abilene sincehis arrival. Encouraged, I ventured the double question as to howthis one would average with the other Buford herds, and did heknow their whereabouts. As I recall his reply, it was that allNueces Valley cattle were uniform, and if there was anydifference it was due to carelessness in receiving. In regard tothe locality of the other herds, it was easily to be seen that hewas provoked about something."Yes, I know where they are," said he, snappishly, "but that'sall the good it does me. They crossed the railroad, west, atSweetwater, about a week ago. I don't blame Quince, for he's justtrailing along, half a day behind Dave's herd. But Sponsilier,knowing that I wanted to see him, had the nerve to write me apostal card with just ten words on it, saying that all was welland to meet him in Dodge. Tom, you don't know what a satisfactionit is to me to spend a day or so with each of the herds. Butthose rascals didn't pay any more attention to me than if I wasan old woman. There was some reason for it--sore-footed cattle,or else they have skinned up their remudas and didn't want me tosee them. If I drive a hundred herds hereafter, Dave Sponsilierwill stay at home as far as I'm concerned. He may think it'sfunny to slip past, but this court isn't indulging in any levityjust at present. I fail to see the humor in having two outfitswith sixty-seven hundred cattle somewhere between the StakedPlain and No-Man's-Land, and unable to communicate with them. Andwhile my herds are all contracted, mature beeves have broke fromthree to five dollars a head in price since these started, and itwon't do to shout before we're out of the woods. Those fool boysdon't know that, and I can't get near enough to tell them."I knew better than to ask further questions or offer anyapologies for others. My employer was naturally irritable, andhis abuse or praise of a foreman was to be expected. Previouslyand under the smile of prosperity, I had heard him laudSponsilier, and under an imaginary shadow abuse Jim Flood, themost experienced man in his employ. Feeling it was useless topour oil on the present troubled waters, I excused myself, rodeback, and ordered the wagon to make camp ahead about four mileson Elm Creek. We watered late in the afternoon, grazing thenceuntil time to bed the herd. When the first and second guards wererelieved to go in and catch night-horses and get their supper, myemployer remained behind with the cattle. While feeding duringthe evening, we allowed the herd to scatter over a thousandacres. Taking advantage of the loose order of the beeves, the oldman rode back and forth through them until approaching darknesscompelled us to throw them together on the bedground. Even afterthe first guard took charge, the drover loitered behind,reluctant to leave until the last steer had lain down; and allduring the night, sharing my blankets, he awoke on every changeof guards, inquiring of the returning watch how the cattle weresleeping.As we should easily pass Abilene before noon, I asked him as afavor that he take the wagon in and get us sufficient supplies tolast until Red River was reached. But he preferred to remainbehind with the herd, and I went instead. This suited me, as hispresence overawed my outfit, who were delirious to see the town.There was no telling how long he would have stayed with us, butmy brother Bob's herd was expected at any time. Remaining with usa second night, something, possibly the placidness of the cattle,mellowed the old man and he grew amiable with the outfit, andmyself in particular. At breakfast the next morning, when I askedhim if he was in a position to recommend any special route, hereplied:"No, Tom, that rests with you. One thing's certain; herds aregoing to be dangerously close together on the regular trail whichcrosses Red River at Doan's. The season is early yet, but overfifty herds have already crossed the Texas Pacific Railway.Allowing one half the herds to start north of that line, it givesyou a fair idea what to expect. When seven hundred thousandcattle left Texas two years ago, it was considered the banneryear, yet it won't be a marker to this one. The way prices aretumbling shows that the Northwest was bluffing when they offeredto mature all the cattle that Texas could breed for the nextfifty years. That's the kind of talk that suits me, but last yearthere were some forty herds unsold, which were compelled towinter in the North. Not over half the saddle horses that came upthe trail last summer were absorbed by these Northern cowmen.Talk's cheap, but it takes money to buy whiskey. Lots of thesemen are new ones at the business and may lose fortunes. The banksare getting afraid of cattle paper, and conditions aretightening. With the increased drive this year, if the summerpasses without a slaughter in prices, the Texas drovers can thanktheir lucky stars. I'm not half as bright as I might be, but thisis one year that I'm smooth enough not to have unsold cattle onthe trail."The herd had started an hour before, and when the wagon was readyto move, I rode a short distance with my employer. It waspossible that he had something to say of a confidential nature,for it was seldom that he acted so discouraged when his everyinterest seemed protected by contracts. But at the final parting,when we both had dismounted and sat on the ground for an hour, hehad disclosed nothing. On the contrary, he even admitted thatpossibly it was for the best that the other Buford herds had helda westward course and thus avoided the crush on the main routes.The only intimation which escaped him was when we had remountedand each started our way, he called me back and said, "Tom, nodoubt but you've noticed that I'm worried. Well, I am. I'd tellyou in a minute, but I may be wrong in the matter. But I'll knowbefore you reach Dodge, and then, if it's necessary, you shallknow all. It's nothing about the handling of the herds, for myforemen have always considered my interests first. Keep this toyourself, for it may prove a nightmare. But if it should provetrue, then we must stand together. Now, that's all; mum's theword until we meet. Drop me a line if you get a chance, and don'tlet my troubles worry you."While overtaking the herd, I mused over my employer's last words.But my brain was too muddy even to attempt to solve the riddle.The most plausible theory that I could advance was that somefriendly cowmen were playing a joke on him, and that the old manhad taken things too seriously. Within a week the matter wasentirely forgotten, crowded out of mind by the demands of thehour. The next night, on the Clear Fork of the Brazos, astranger, attracted by our camp-fire, rode up to the wagon.Returning from the herd shortly after his arrival, I recognizedin our guest John Blocker, a prominent drover. He informed usthat he and his associates had fifty-two thousand cattle on thetrail, and that he was just returning from overtaking two oftheir five lead herds. Knowing that he was a well-posted cowmanon routes and sustenance, having grown up on the trail, I gavehim the best our camp afforded, and in return I received valuableinformation in regard to the country between our present locationand Doan's Crossing. He reported the country for a hundred milessouth of Red River as having had a dry, backward spring, scantyof grass, and with long dry drives; and further, that in manyinstances water for the herds would have to be bought from thosein control.The outlook was not to my liking. The next morning when Iinquired of our guest what he would advise me to do, his answerclearly covered the ground. "Well, I'm not advising any one,"said he, "but you can draw your own conclusions. The two herds ofmine, which I overtook, have orders to turn northeast and crossinto the Nations at Red River Station. My other cattle, stillbelow, will all be routed by way of Fort Griffin. Once across RedRiver, you will have the Chisholm Trail, running throughcivilized tribes, and free from all annoyance of blanket Indians.South of the river the grass is bound to be better than on thewestern route, and if we have to buy water, we'll have theadvantage of competition."With this summary of the situation, a decision was easilyreached. The Chisholm Trail was good enough for me. Following upthe north side of the Clear Fork, we passed about twenty miles tothe west of Fort Griffin. Constantly bearing east by north, a fewdays later we crossed the main Brazos at a low stage of water.But from there to Red River was a trial not to be repeated. Wirefences halted us at every turn. Owners of pastures refusedpermission to pass through. Lanes ran in the wrong direction, andopen country for pasturage was scarce. What we dreaded most, lackof drink for the herd, was the least of our troubles, necessityrequiring its purchase only three or four times. And like aclimax to a week of sore trials, when we were in sight of RedRiver a sand and dust storm struck us, blinding both men and herdfor hours. The beeves fared best, for with lowered heads theyturned their backs to the howling gale, while the horsemen caughtit on every side. The cattle drifted at will in an uncontrollablemass. The air was so filled with sifting sand and eddying dustthat it was impossible to see a mounted man at a distance offifty yards. The wind blew a hurricane, making it impossible todismount in the face of it. Our horses trembled with fear,unsteady on their feet. The very sky overhead darkened as ifnight was falling. Two thirds of the men threw themselves in thelead of the beeves, firing six-shooters to check them, whichcould not even be heard by the ones on the flank and in the rear.Once the herd drifted against a wire fence, leveled it down andmoved on, sullen but irresistible. Towards evening the stormabated, and half the outfit was sent out in search of the wagon,which was finally found about dark some four miles distant.That night Owen Ubery, as he bathed his bloodshot eyes in a pailof water, said to the rest of us: "Fellows, if ever I have a boy,and tell him how his pa suffered this afternoon, and he don'tcry, I'll cut a switch and whip him until he does."