Chapter VI. Camp Supply

by Andy Adams

　　In gala spirits we broke camp the next morning. The herd had leftthe bed-ground at dawn, and as the outfit rode away to relievethe last guard, every mother's son was singing. The cattle were arefreshing sight as they grazed forward, their ragged frontcovering half a mile in width. The rest of the past few days hadbeen a boon to the few tender-footed ones. The lay-over hadrejuvenated both man and beast. From maps in our possession weknew we were somewhere near the western border of the ChickasawNation, while on our left was the reservation of three blankettribes of Indians. But as far as signs of occupancy wereconcerned, the country was unmarked by any evidence ofcivilization. The Chisholm Cattle Trail, which ran from Red Riverto the Kansas line, had almost fallen into disuse, owing toencroachments of settlements south of the former and westward onthe latter. With the advancement of immigration, Abilene andEllsworth as trail terminals yielded to the tide, and the leadingcattle trace of the '70's was relegated to local use in '84.The first guard was on the qui vive for the outfit whosecamp-fire they had sighted the night before. I was riding withClay Zilligan on the left point, when he sighted what we supposedwas a small bunch of cattle lying down several miles distant.When we reached the first rise of ground, a band of saddle horsescame in view, and while we were trying to locate their camp, JackSplann from the opposite point attracted our attention andpointed straight ahead. There a large band of cattle under herdgreeted our view, compelling us to veer to the right andintersect the trail sooner than we intended. Keeping a clearhalf-mile between us, we passed them within an hour and exchangedthe compliments of the trail. They proved to be "Laurel Leaf" and"Running W" cattle, the very ones for which the InternationalRailway agent at the meeting in February had so boastfully shownmy employer the application for cars. The foreman was cursinglike a stranded pirate over the predicament in which he foundhimself. He had left Santo Gertrudo Ranch over a month beforewith a herd of three thousand straight two-year-old steers. Butin the shipment of some thirty-three thousand cattle from the tworanches to Wichita Falls, six trains had been wrecked, two ofwhich were his own. Instead of being hundreds of miles ahead inthe lead of the year's drive, as he expected, he now foundhimself in charge of a camp of cripples. What few trainsbelonging to his herd had escaped the ditch were used in fillingup other unfortunate ones, the injured cattle from the otherwrecks forming his present holdings."Our people were anxious to get their cattle on to the marketearly this year," said he, "and put their foot into it up to theknee. Shipping to Red River was an experiment with them, and Ihope they've got their belly full. We've got dead and dyingcattle in every pasture from the falls to the river, while thesein sight aren't able to keep out of the stench of those thatcroaked between here and the ford. Oh, this shipping is a finething--for the railroads. Here I've got to rot all summer withthese cattle, just because two of my trains went into the ditchwhile no other foreman had over one wrecked. And mind you, theypaid the freight in advance, and now King and Kennedy havebrought suit for damages amounting to double the shippingexpense. They'll get it all right--in pork. I'd rather have aclaim against a nigger than a railroad company. Look at yourbeeves, slick as weasels, and from the Nueces River. Have to holdthem in, I reckon, to keep from making twenty miles a day. Andhere I am--Oh, hell, I'd rather be on a rock-pile with a ball andchain to my foot! Do you see those objects across yonder abouttwo miles--in that old grass? That's where we bedded night beforelast and forty odd died. We only lost twenty-two last night. Oh,we're getting in shape fast. If you think you can hold yourbreakfast down, just take a ride through mine. No, excuse me--I've seen them too often already."Several of the boys and myself rode into the herd some littledistance, but the sight was enough to turn a copper-linedstomach. Scarcely an animal had escaped without more or lessinjury. Fully one half were minus one or both horns, leavinginstead bloody stumps. Broken bones and open sores greeted us onevery hand; myriads of flies added to the misery of the cattle,while in many instances there was evidence of maggots at work onthe living animal. Turning from the herd in disgust, we went backto our own, thankful that the rate offered us had beenprohibitory. The trials and vexations of the road were merenothings to be endured, compared to the sights we were thenleaving. Even what we first supposed were cattle lying down, wereonly bed-grounds, the occupants having been humanely relieved byunwaking sleep. Powerless to render any assistance, we trailedaway, glad to blot from our sight and memory such scenes ofmisery and death.Until reaching the Washita River, we passed through a delightfulcountry. There were numerous local trails coming into the mainone, all of which showed recent use. Abandoned camp-fires andbed-grounds were to be seen on every hand, silent witnesses of anexodus which was to mark the maximum year in the history of thecattle movement from Texas. Several times we saw some evidence ofsettlement by the natives, but as to the freedom of the country,we were monarchs of all we surveyed. On arriving at the Washita,we encountered a number of herds, laboring under the impressionthat they were water-bound. Immediate entrance at the ford washeld by a large herd of young cattle in charge of a negro outfit.Their stock were scattered over several thousand acres, and whenI asked for the boss, a middle-aged darky of herculean figure waspointed out as in charge. To my inquiry why he was holding theford, his answer was that until to-day the river had beenswimming, and now he was waiting for the banks to dry.Ridiculing his flimsy excuse, I kindly yet firmly asked himeither to cross or vacate the ford by three o'clock thatafternoon. Receiving no definite reply, I returned to our herd,which was some five miles in the rear. Beyond the river's steep,slippery banks and cold water, there was nothing to check a herd.After the noonday halt, the wrangler and myself took our remudaand went on ahead to the river. Crossing and recrossing oursaddle stock a number of times, we trampled the banks down to afirm footing. While we were doing this work, the negro foremanand a number of his men rode up and sullenly watched us. Leavingour horses on the north bank, Levering and I returned, andignoring the presence of the darky spectators, started back tomeet the herd, which was just then looming up in sight. Butbefore we had ridden any distance, the dusky foreman overtook usand politely said, "Look-ee here, Cap'n; ain't you-all afraid oflosin' some of your cattle among ours?" Never halting, I replied,"Not a particle; if we lose any, you eat them, and we'll do thesame if our herd absorbs any of yours. But it strikes me that youhad better have those lazy niggers throw your cattle to oneside," I called back, as he halted his horse. We did not lookbackward until we reached the herd; then as we turned, one oneach side to support the points, it was evident that a clearfield would await us on reaching the river. Every horseman in theblack outfit was pushing cattle with might and main, to give us aclean cloth at the crossing.The herd forded the Washita without incident. I remained on thesouth bank while the cattle were crossing, and when they wereabout half over some half-dozen of the darkies rode up andstopped apart, conversing among themselves. When the drag cattlepassed safely out on the farther bank, I turned to the duskygroup, only to find their foreman absent. Making a few inquiriesas to the ownership of their herd, its destination, and othermatters of interest, I asked the group to express my thanks totheir foreman for moving his cattle aside. Our commissary crossedshortly afterward, and the Washita was in our rear. But thatnight, as some of my outfit returned from the river, where theyhad been fishing, they reported the negro outfit as havingcrossed and encamped several miles in our rear."All they needed was a good example," said Dorg Seay. "Under awhite foreman, I'll bet that's a good lot of darkies. They werejust about the right shade--old shiny black. As good cowhands asever I saw were nigs, but they need a white man to blow and bragon them. But it always ruins one to give him any authority."Without effort we traveled fifteen miles a day. In the absence ofany wet weather to gall their backs, there was not a horse in ourremuda unfit for the saddle. In fact, after reaching the IndianTerritory, they took on flesh and played like lambs. With theexception of long hours and night-herding, the days passed inseeming indolence as we swept northward, crossing rivers withouta halt which in previous years had defied the moving herds. Onarriving at the Cimarron River, in reply to a letter written tomy employer on leaving Texas behind us, an answer was foundawaiting me at Red Fork. The latter was an Indian trading-post,located on the mail route to Fort Reno, and only a few milesnorth of the Chisholm Crossing. The letter was characteristic ofmy employer. It contained but one imperative order,--that Ishould touch, either with or without the herd, at Camp Supply.For some unexplained reason he would make that post hisheadquarters until after the Buford herds had passed that point.The letter concluded with the injunction, in case we met any one,to conceal the ownership of the herd and its destination.The mystery was thickening. But having previously declined toborrow trouble, I brushed this aside as unimportant, though Igave my outfit instructions to report the herd to every one asbelonging to Omaha men, and on its way to Nebraska to becorn-fed. Fortunately I had ridden ahead of the herd aftercrossing the Cimarron, and had posted the outfit before theyreached the trading-station. I did not allow one of my boys nearthe store, and the herd passed by as in contempt of such awayside place. As the Dodge cut-off left the Chisholm Trail someten miles above the Indian trading-post, the next morning wewaved good-bye to the old cattle trace and turned on a northwestangle. Our route now lay up the Cimarron, which we crossed andrecrossed at our pleasure, for the sake of grazing or to avoidseveral large alkali flats. There was evidence of herds in ouradvance, and had we not hurried past Red Fork, I might havelearned something to our advantage. But disdaining all inquiry ofthe cut-off, fearful lest our identity be discovered, wedeliberately walked into the first real danger of the trip.At low water the Cimarron was a brackish stream. But numeroustributaries put in from either side, and by keeping above theriver's ebb, an abundance of fresh water was daily secured fromthe river's affluents. The fifth day out from Red Rock was anexcessively sultry one, and suffering would have resulted to theherd had we not been following a divide where we caught anoccasional breeze. The river lay some ten miles to our right,while before us a tributary could be distinctly outlined by thecottonwoods which grew along it. Since early morning we had beenparalleling the creek, having nooned within sight of itsconfluence with the mother stream, and consequently I hadconsidered it unnecessary to ride ahead and look up the water.When possible, we always preferred watering the herd betweenthree and four o'clock in the afternoon. But by holding ourcourse, we were certain to intersect the creek at about the usualhour for the cattle's daily drink, and besides, as the creekneared the river, it ran through an alkali flat for somedistance. But before the time arrived to intersect the creek onour course, the herd turned out of the trail, determined to go tothe creek and quench their thirst. The entire outfit, however,massed on the right flank, and against their will we held them ontheir course. As their thirst increased with travel, they maderepeated attempts to break through our cordon, requiring everyman to keep on the alert. But we held them true to the divide,and as we came to the brow of a small hill within a quarter-mileof the water, a stench struck us until we turned in our saddles,gasping for breath. I was riding third man in the swing from thepoint, and noticing something wrong in front, galloped to thebrow of the hill. The smell was sickening and almost unendurable,and there before us in plain view lay hundreds of dead cattle,bloated and decaying in the summer sun.I was dazed by the awful scene. A pretty, greenswarded littlevalley lay before me, groups of cottonwoods fringed the streamhere and there, around the roots of which were both shade andwater. The reeking stench that filled the air stupefied me forthe instant, and I turned my horse from the view, gasping for amouthful of God's pure ozone. But our beeves had been scentingthe creek for hours, and now a few of the leaders started forwardin a trot for it. Like a flash it came to me that death lurked inthat water, and summoning every man within hearing, I dashed tothe lead of our cattle to turn them back over the hill. JackSplann was on the point, and we turned the leaders when withintwo hundred yards of the creek, frequently jumping our horsesover the putrid carcasses of dead cattle. The main body of theherd were trailing for three quarters of a mile in our rear, andnone of the men dared leave their places. Untying our slickers,Splann and I fell upon the leaders and beat them back to the browof the hill, when an unfortunate breeze was wafted through thatpolluted atmosphere from the creek to the cattle's nostrils.Turning upon us and now augmented to several hundred head, theysullenly started forward. But in the few minutes' interim, twoother lads had come to our support, and dismounting we rushedthem, whipping our slickers into ribbons over their heads. Themastery of man again triumphed over brutes in their thirst, forwe drove them in a rout back over the divide.Our success, however, was only temporary. Recovering our horseswe beat the cattle back, seemingly inch by inch, until the rearcame up, when we rounded them into a compact body. They quieteddown for a short while, affording us a breathing spell, for thesuddenness of this danger had not only unnerved me but every oneof the outfit who had caught a glimpse of that field of death.The wagon came up, and those who needed them secured a change ofhorses. Leaving the outfit holding the herd, Splann and I tookfresh mounts, and circling around, came in on the windward sideof the creek. As we crossed it half a mile above the scene ofdisaster, each of us dipped a hand in the water and tasted it.The alkali was strong as concentrated lye, blistering our mouthsin the experiment. The creek was not even running, but stood inlong, deep pools, clear as crystal and as inviting to the thirstyas a mountain spring. As we neared the dead cattle, Splann calledmy attention to the attitude of the animals when death relievedthem, the heads of fully two thirds being thrown back on theirsides. Many, when stricken, were unable to reach the bank, anddied in the bed of the stream. Making a complete circle of theghastly scene, we returned to our own, agreeing that between fiveand six hundred cattle had met their fate in those death-dealingpools.We were not yet out of the woods. On our return, many of thecattle were lying down, while in the west thunder-clouds wereappearing. The North Fork of the Canadian lay on our left, whichwas now our only hope for water, yet beyond our reach for theday. Keeping the slight divide between us and the creek, westarted the herd forward. Since it was impossible to graze themin their thirsty condition, I was determined to move them as faras possible before darkness overtook us. But within an hour wecrossed a country trail over which herds had passed on their waynorthwest, having left the Chisholm after crossing the NorthFork. At the first elevation which would give me a view of thecreek, another scene of death and desolation greeted my vision,only a few miles above the first one. Yet from this same hill Icould easily trace the meanderings of the creek for miles as itmade a half circle in our front, both inviting and defying us.Turning the herd due south, we traveled until darkness fell,going into camp on a high, flat mesa of several thousand acres.But those evening breezes wafted an invitation to come and drink,and our thirsty herd refused to bed down. To add to ourpredicament, a storm thickened in the west. Realizing that wewere confronting the most dangerous night in all my cattleexperience, I ordered every man into the saddle. The remuda andteam were taken in charge by the wrangler and cook, and goingfrom man to man, I warned them what the consequences would be ifwe lost the herd during the night, and the cattle reached thecreek.The cattle surged and drifted almost at will, for we werecompelled to hold them loose to avoid milling. Before ten o'clockthe lightning was flickering overhead and around us, revealingacres of big beeves, which in an instant might take fright, andthen, God help us. But in that night of trial a mercy wasextended to the dumb brutes in charge. A warm rain began falling,first in a drizzle, increasing after the first hour, and bymidnight we could hear the water slushing under our horses' feet.By the almost constant flashes of lightning we could see thecattle standing as if asleep, in grateful enjoyment of thesheeting downpour. As the night wore on, our fears of a stampedeabated, for the buffalo wallows on the mesa filled, and water wason every hand. The rain ceased before dawn, but owing to thesaturated condition underfoot, not a hoof lay down during thenight, and when the gray of morning streaked the east, what asense of relief it brought us. The danger had passed.Near noon that day, and within a few miles of the North Fork, werounded an alkaline plain in which this deadly creek had itssource. Under the influence of the season, alkali had oozed upout of the soil until it looked like an immense lake under snow.The presence of range cattle in close proximity to this creek,for we were in the Cherokee Strip, baffled my reasoning; but thenext day we met a range-rider who explained that the presentcondition of the stream was unheard of before, and that nativecattle had instinct enough to avoid it. He accounted for itscondition as due to the dry season, there being no general rainssufficient to flood the alkaline plain and thoroughly flush thecreek. In reply to an inquiry as to the ownership of theunfortunate herds, he informed me that there were three, onebelonging to Bob Houston, another to Major Corouthers, and thethird to a man named Murphy, the total loss amounting to abouttwo thousand cattle.From this same range-man we also learned our location. CampSupply lay up the North Fork some sixty miles, while a plaintrail followed up the first bottom of the river. Wishing toavoid, if possible, intersecting the western trail south ofDodge, the next morning I left the herd to follow up, and rodeinto Camp Supply before noon. Lovell had sighted me a miledistant, and after a drink at the sutler's bar, we strolled asidefor a few minutes' chat. Once I had informed him of the localityof the herd and their condition, he cautioned me not to let mybusiness be known while in the post. After refreshing the innerman, my employer secured a horse and started with me on myreturn. As soon as the flag over Supply faded out of sight in ourrear, we turned to the friendly shade of the timber on the NorthFork and dismounted. I felt that the precaution exercised by thedrover was premonitory of some revelation, and before we arosefrom the cottonwood log on which we took seats, the scales hadfallen from my eyes and the atmosphere of mystery cleared."Tom," said my employer, "I am up against a bad proposition. I amdriving these Buford cattle, you understand, on a sub-contract. Iwas the second lowest bidder with the government, and no soonerwas the award made to The Western Supply Company than they sentan agent who gave me no peace until they sublet their contract.Unfortunately for me, when the papers were drawn, my regularattorney was out of town, and I was compelled to depend on astranger. After the articles were executed, I submitted thematter to my old lawyer; he shook his head, arguing that aloophole had been left open, and that I should have secured anassignment of the original contract. After studying the matterover, we opened negotiations to secure a complete relinquishmentof the award. But when I offered the company a thousand dollarsover and above what they admitted was their margin, and theyrefused it, I opened my eyes to the true situation. If cattlewent up, I was responsible and would have to fill my contract; ifthey went down, the company would buy in the cattle and I couldgo to hell in a hand-basket for all they cared. Their bond to thegovernment does me no good, and beyond that they areirresponsible. Beeves have broken from four to five dollars ahead, and unless I can deliver these Buford herds on my contract,they will lose me fifty thousand dollars.""Have you any intimation that they expect to buy in othercattle?" I inquired."Yes. I have had a detective in my employ ever since mysuspicions were aroused. There are two parties in Dodge this veryminute with the original contract, properly assigned, and theyare looking for cattle to fill it. That's why I'm stopping hereand lying low. I couldn't explain it to you sooner, but youunderstand now why I drove those Buford herds in different roadbrands. Tom, we're up against it, and we've got to fight thedevil with fire. Henceforth your name will be Tom McIndoo, yourherd will be the property of the Marshall estate, and theiragent, my detective, will be known as Charles Siringo. Any moneyor supplies you may need in Dodge, get in the usual form throughthe firm of Wright, Beverly & Co.--they understand. Hold yourherd out south on Mulberry, and Siringo will have notice and belooking for you, or you can find him at the Dodge House. I'vesent a courier to Fort Elliott to meet Dave and Quince, and onceI see them, I'll run up to Ogalalla and wait for you. Now, untilfurther orders, remember you never knew a man by the name of DonLovell, and by all means don't forget to use what wits Naturegave you."